tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81154032473307952272024-03-05T04:09:33.215-08:00BIG LIFE IIHi and welcome to my blog. As a published writer I use this space to promote and showcase my writing. I hope you enjoy your visit and any comments would be greatly appreciated. Find out more about me with links to my published works here: http://about.me/rpmcquillanAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03523726052300407172noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115403247330795227.post-24383628682658119402013-08-19T15:07:00.000-07:002013-08-19T15:07:21.364-07:00INSIGHTS INTO MY BOOK: 'BIG MAN & OTHER STORIES<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="usercontent"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span></span> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GJrnwCFVWsfdba5mNVoCVN-5H0ETFuQSez5zgE8cZyQaKV14kFq8p1lJK5AuAE5Mf3CRE4qfoB5eGJL1MPgyu7lXmuIMItBmqNI5U9f-QgIIxC4K9hRhSX9dVqCdCIwTpjdlPrp19GBE/s1600/big+man+dark+grey-page-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GJrnwCFVWsfdba5mNVoCVN-5H0ETFuQSez5zgE8cZyQaKV14kFq8p1lJK5AuAE5Mf3CRE4qfoB5eGJL1MPgyu7lXmuIMItBmqNI5U9f-QgIIxC4K9hRhSX9dVqCdCIwTpjdlPrp19GBE/s200/big+man+dark+grey-page-001.jpg" width="152" /></a><span class="usercontent"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">1) 'I write
what I feel. I kind of think that if you don't write what you want then what's
the point of writing? Sticking to conventions...I tried that and my writing
stank,' </span></span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br />
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<span class="usercontent">So says Tony Aycliffe, the writer character in the
opening story, 'The First Day.' Like many people, I feel that I most definitely
have a 'multi-layered,' personality - perhaps more than most, who knows! </span><br />
<br />
<span class="usercontent">My creation of Tony Aycliffe explores the small part of
me that would love to DROP EVERYTHING and just WRITE (whether this would
actually make somebody a better writer or not, is open to debate by the way -
but i digress!). </span><br />
<br />
<span class="usercontent">His quote above of 'writing what you feel/not sticking
to conventions' is something I very much believe in (so long as the writing in
question is good! ;-)) and is certainly true of a story such as 'One More Hand'
- which is taken almost entirely from dictaphone recordings, and explores three
distinct, and very different, emotions: i) downtrodden/pissed off/irritated;
ii) euphoric; iii) laid-back/going with the flow; all felt in a short period of
time in Las Vegas. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="usercontent">This story doesn't really follow any so called 'short
story conventions' that i know of, but - hopefully - it works on some level
that readers can relate to.</span><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">2) The
most common question asked to me about my book is: 'what is it like?/What
writers is it similar to?' - I honestly don't know how to answer that question!
<br />
<br />
All I will say is that, to me, it is all about the writing: that is the writing
ITSELF, and not so much the story. A great story helps of course! But to me, my
favourite writers are ones that I can read and read and it doesn’t matter what
they are writing about.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">So
I don’t really know ‘what writers I am like,’ but here is a list of some of my
favourite Authors in no particular order.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hopefully some of these genius writers have influenced and shaped my
writing, even if it is just the tiniest bit! – Dostoyevsky, Mailer, Hunter S.
Thompson, Kafka, Salinger, Twain, Orwell, Richard Price, Douglas Coupland,
Victor Hugo, Henry Miller, Cervantes, Bret Easton-Ellis, Steinbeck, Nathanael
West, Hemingway, Martin Amis. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"></span> </div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">ENJOY!<span style="display: none; mso-hide: all;">n't even
matter what they are writing about. <br />
<br />
So I don't really know 'what writers I am like', but here is a list of my
favourite Authors in no particular order. Hopefully some of these genious
writers have influenced and shaped my writing, even if it is just the tiniest
bit! - Dostoyevsky, Mailer, Hunter S. Thompson, Kafka, Salinger, Twain, Orwell,
Richard Price, Douglas Coupland, Victor Hugo, Henry Miller, Cervantes, Bret
Easton Ellis, Steinbeck, Nathanael West, Hemingway, Martin Amis.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://about.me/rpmcquillan">http://about.me/rpmcquillan</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="display: none; mso-hide: all;">n't even
matter what they are writing about. <br />
<br />
So I don't really know 'what writers I am like', but here is a list of my
favourite Authors in no particular order. Hopefully some of these genious
writers have influenced and shaped my writing, even if it is just the tiniest
bit! - Dostoyevsky, Mailer, Hunter S. Thompson, Kafka, Salinger, Twain, Orwell,
Richard Price, Douglas Coupland, Victor Hugo, Henry Miller, Cervantes, Bret
Easton Ellis, Steinbeck, Nathanael West, Hemingway, Martin Amis.ENJOYEEhttp://about.me/rpmcquillanhttp://about.me/rpmcquillan</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03523726052300407172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115403247330795227.post-31076644249739668982013-08-07T06:43:00.000-07:002013-08-07T18:44:29.933-07:00Excerpt from forthcoming work, set in July 1998 in Brighton - a follow-up to 'Another Late One'<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I wake up in my brother’s lounge room and straining
a glance across at the red digital display to my right I read “13:15”, which I
soon realise means I have just had an unbroken thirteen-hour sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lie there staring up at the ceiling for a
minute or so and then when I try to roll over onto my side I feel my whole
body’s heaviness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My head thumps repeatedly and I feel like I could vomit at any moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I feel absolutely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">horrendous </i>and
decide immediately that lying on my back and staring up at the ceiling will do
for now. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I slowly begin to recall the
events of the last few days and the flight back last night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I lie there, barely able to move, I have
perhaps my first proper realisation that this needed to stop; I needed to calm
down and take a break otherwise I would probably kill myself before long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d also had enough of waking up on other people’s
floors or in strange rooms I didn’t recognise. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d had enough.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">TWO WEEKS AGO<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> I was in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The George and Dragon</i>, down one of the
narrow back streets of Brighton – one of our most common haunts for a night’s
drinking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was cool in there; kind of
like grungy and a little bit ‘sticky’ in places, but it had character, and a
hell of a lot of stories to tell if it could’ve talked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had been a quiet and chilled one tonight;
a few laughs, a few amusing tales told.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked at
my watch at ten past ten and figured I’d probably have one more and call it a
night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tomorrow was Thursday, which was
usually more lively anyway, tended to be a bit madder; so I supposed that
everyone would be feeling the same and say <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">good
night, same time tomorrow chaps</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sophie
had been busily texting now for about half an hour and I thought it a bit rude;
but I knew what Soph was like so I wasn’t too bothered really, nor was I gonna
bother her; it was her business.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘So you seein’ that Russian bird again then
Spots?’ enquired Terry over the general chatter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Polish,’ corrected Spotty.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Polish…whatever; you been…err,’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Not really like,’ Spotty shrugged his
shoulders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had heard something from
Stace about Spotty and a foreign girl.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Ahhh, she sounded well nice,’ said Sophie
sympathetically, though only taking a brief glance up at us from her phone,
that she was still mid-texting in her lap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Soph’s hair tonight was burgundy coloured and spiked up a little; quite
refined by her standards. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘When was this like?’ I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Friday night,’ said Terry, pointing at
Spotty across the table from him, ‘this lad somehow found his way into some
foreign student night,’ he laughed, ‘what was the story again Spots?’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Spotty was rolling himself a cigarette,
which he then licked before sealing it deftly, ‘it’s my mate…he works with this
Russian guy, Ukrainian or whatever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’d
had a couple of spliffs, a few beers and we were at a loose end. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So my mate rings up this Russian…Ukrainian
lad, and he’s at this private party in some club.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First off, can I just say it was a<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>fucking <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">long </i>conversation they had on the phone; my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">god</i>…’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I laughed, as did
Terry at Spotty’s humourous way of putting things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tel was nodding and smiling broadly as if
he’d already heard the story before, but was more than happy to sit through it
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘I mean…it had been a good night
anyway but he left me stood there freezing my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">nuts</i> off;’ he tapped the cigarette down on the table top
repetitively, ‘I was seriously going to leave him there…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">seriously</i>; the guy was taking absolute liberties.’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘It couldn’t have been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>long,’ added Stace.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘It was!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I kept signalling to him to hurry the fuck up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was Stuart,’ he looked to me now as I’d
met Stuart before and I nodded in recognition, ‘you know how he goes on
sometimes.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t, but anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Cut a long story short, he’s evidently trying
to talk his way into this party, but he keeps having to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">repeat</i> himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, he
keeps going over and over the same stuff – they kept seeming to agree
everything but then he would repeat the same bit of the plan all over again –
as if he couldn’t cope without knowing it off by heart or something.’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘So get to the party bit,’ urges Bell.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘I’m getting there, I’m getting there,’ he
lights up the cigarette and Stace has lit up too next to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would like one but I’m really trying to give
up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am tempted anyhow but concentrate
on the story, hoping the urge will go away.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘So we get there and even after all the
planning and the endless conversation, we get to the club – which I swear, I
know Brighton like the back of my hand but I ain’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">never</i> been down this street before, but anyway – we get there and
Stu starts moaning and gesticulating wildly – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">right</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">outside the club</i> –
that Alex (that’s the Russian’s name) should be there to meet us; “he should be
fucking <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">out </i>here,” he’s gesturing,
“where the fuck <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is </i>he?”’ Spotty is
miming the actions and the serious, angry look on his face brings out giggles
around the table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘So I’m looking at
Stuey,’ he continues, his eyes flicking around the table at all of us, ‘about
to tell him, “look it’s not really the end of the world like, maybe it’s not
meant to be,” when I notice these two great big doormen looking at us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, they are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">big</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of ‘em’s got this
great big Mars Bar down his cheek and he’s wearing this tight black jacket and
he looks like some evil Bosnian straight out of the fuckin’ KGB or something,’
I have to put my beer down as I nearly slop it everywhere laughing; everyone is
laughing, ‘so I’m trying to signal to Stuart, trying to somehow say with my
eyes: “look mate, there’s two great big evil bastards over there who are
looking at us as if they want to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">kill </i>us,”
but then this tall bloke comes out of the club and chats briefly to one of the
doormen; Stuey spots him and I work out it must be Alex, ‘cos Stu starts to
walk towards him at the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He walks
up there with all the confidence in the world, as if he’s just going to walk
straight into the club, never mind the doormen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m shaking my head at this point thinking, “Do I want to just leave <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">now</i>?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Do I really want to show that I have any association with this
bloke?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I amble towards the door
anyway, both doormen put an arm out to stop Stuey, but the guy’s got the crust
to look up in surprise at this point, as if he has genuinely <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just noticed</i> these two big bastards
stood there!’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have finished my drink now and really
want another one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’ll be last orders
soon and I really want a big double but I’m not going to the bar just yet, I
need to hear the rest of the story.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘They’re looking at him like there’s NO
CHANCE he’s getting in there; “this is party,” says the one bouncer in a thick
Eastern European accent, shaking his head, “students only,” he adds, “are you
student?” Obviously we’re not but then Alex is speaking to them and I’m so impressed
at how calm he is and he even gives me a smile and a wink as he’s talking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s at this point that I think, “he’s going
to get us <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in</i> here, there really isn’t
a problem,” and I quicken my step as I sense the bouncers weakening and the
next thing I know we’re being welcomed in – but even then Stuart tries to give
the Bouncers a dirty look as he walks past them into the club.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unbelievable!’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Everyone is loving the story and I realise how much I adore nights like
these when the vibe is good and the drink is flowing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a pause as Terry offers everyone
another drink and –of course – everybody accepts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I am at the bar helping Tel with the order
I hear Stace ask ‘Where’s Caine tonight?’ and Bell answers that he spoke to him
a few hours ago and that he sounded completely wasted and that he was probably
having trouble moving from his couch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
was a familiar story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Carry on then,’
said Terry, laying the last of the drinks down on the already cluttered table,
full of empty glasses and bottles.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘So anyway,’ Spotty laughs quickly, smiling
from ear to ear and shaking his head with a<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">
far off </i>look in his eyes, ‘it’s a crazy night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Half the girls in there…well half the<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> people</i> in fact, seem to be wearing
these tall, curly wigs, like white or red or yellow and people are dressed up
like I don’t know what.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could’ve just
stood there looking at people and that would’ve constituted a good night, I’m
telling you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was like some fucked up <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rocky Horror Show</i> stroke<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Elvira</i> stroke <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Barry Lyndon</i> theme party or something; but there were some
seriously fit girls in there; sorry,’ he gestured to Stace and Sophie as if to
apologise for offending them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
if!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’d heard it all and more from us
over the years.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Don’t worry about that,’ answered Soph, her
phone in her pocket now and glowing with enthusiasm for the story as she always
did, ‘carry on love!’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘And I’m getting some really mixed looks
and I don’t know why,’ Spotty continued, ‘I mean, I guess I was over-casual for
such a night but I figured it kind of worked in a strange way…perhaps…I don’t
know,’ he shook his head again, ‘so then Stu introduces me to Alex and then
we’re at this big table with about seven blokes and two girls plus me and Stuey
and everyone’s smoking and chatting closely into each other’s ears, but there
was a nice atmosphere in there – kind of friendly, but cool at the same
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I look around and there’s some
girls dancing, two of these girls with the wigs…and I don’t know why – I
haven’t danced all night and rarely do I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever</i>
dance come to that, but I instinctively get up and start fuckin’ boogying. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t even know what the song is, but before
I know it this girl is chatting to me like she’s dead interested and it turns
out she’s from Poland and where am I from?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I think she knew I was English – surely she did – but I thought at the
time she was expecting me to say the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Czech
Republic</i> or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hungary</i> or
something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, I’m really getting on
with this girl and I’m starting to feel a real vibe happening, but then Alex is
up on the dance floor talking to me, right close to my ear;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You like this girl?” he’s asking – and I
don’t know what he means by it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know
how Russians – or Ukrainians or whatever he is – you know how they talk
sometimes if you’re not used to it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To
me he sounded almost <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">threatening</i>, so
I’m thinking, “Shit, this is his fucking <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">girlfriend</i>”
and I’m terrified he’s going to take me out; but then he grabs my neck and back
of my shoulder, like in a really strong grip and he says almost <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in</i> to my ear now, “this is nice girl,
you hear me?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am still trying to dance
opposite her at this point; I mean I’m thinking: “I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">like</i> you Alex, but firstly I can SEE she’s a nice girl – I’d worked
that bit out – and secondly, I kind of seemed to be doing alright without you
matey,” but all I say is, “yea, yea,” or something dumb like that and then
there’s a crowd dancing with us and the moment is lost; soon after that the
girl disappears.’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Oh no, so what happened?’ asked Soph,
excitedly sitting up and clapping her hands together.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘No it was alright man!’ he exclaimed with
a broad grin on his face, ‘I met her at the bar about fifteen minutes
later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know where she’d been,
but we start…you know…at the bar and then at the end of the night she came back
to mine.’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Good work sunshine,’ I smiled, ‘so was it
worth it?’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Aye it were a good shag,’ he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone laughed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Spotty’s Yorkshire accent, where he was
originally from, coming to the fore as it occasionally did.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Tell them what you were telling me
yesterday,’ urged Terry, beaming.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘What’s that?’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘About, you know, the apparent boyfriend
and stuff,’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Oh right; well we’re back at mine and…well,
we’d done it…and then we’re lying in bed and Eva – that’s her name – starts
going on about how her boyfriend doesn’t do this and doesn’t do that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I ask “where was your boyfriend tonight?”
thinking that he could’ve been at the party and I could be in a spot of bother
like, but she says, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dusseldorf</i>,” and
laughs and I laugh too.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sighs and
looks off dreamily for just a moment, ‘but…I don’t think anything else is gonna
happen with her.’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘But I thought you said she was nice?’
Stace said before taking a slug of her drink; she appeared to be quite
drunk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Yea she is…oh I dunno!’ he put his drink
down on the table, not without feeling, ‘it’s always the wrong bird at the
wrong time…’</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">----------------------------------------------------</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My books to purchase or sample here:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/BIG-MAN-Other-Stories-ebook/dp/B00AZOSDEG/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1375901675&sr=8-2&keywords=r.p.mcquillan">http://www.amazon.co.uk/BIG-MAN-Other-Stories-ebook/dp/B00AZOSDEG/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1375901675&sr=8-2&keywords=r.p.mcquillan</a></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/A-Lot-Answer-For-ebook/dp/B00D8NM3RE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1375901675&sr=8-1&keywords=r.p.mcquillan">http://www.amazon.co.uk/A-Lot-Answer-For-ebook/dp/B00D8NM3RE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1375901675&sr=8-1&keywords=r.p.mcquillan</a></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p>Follow me on Twitter @RichMcQuillan</o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p>Thanks for reading!</o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03523726052300407172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115403247330795227.post-55363631283363260222013-03-28T10:17:00.000-07:002013-03-28T10:17:22.172-07:00Excerpts from 'BIG MAN & Other Stories'<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The First Day:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCpeOuI6YssyNyRjos0iv1y8lFfB9ZmTukB0o6hKCXF5SGn8oDz94viOR40MiS3SlmcLuIn5fIVtJL3rVoAahpwFAGLznkeI8D3VbYMZNuCi7-3v5yiO7tYHphIwb2JadFCDyIQxOZSTXt/s1600/230630_119317624907662_679633872_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCpeOuI6YssyNyRjos0iv1y8lFfB9ZmTukB0o6hKCXF5SGn8oDz94viOR40MiS3SlmcLuIn5fIVtJL3rVoAahpwFAGLznkeI8D3VbYMZNuCi7-3v5yiO7tYHphIwb2JadFCDyIQxOZSTXt/s200/230630_119317624907662_679633872_n.jpg" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘You have to make tough decisions in life, but you should never lose
sight of what your ultimate goal is.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
was looking at me now, and I realised what a friendly face he had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘Why are so many people content to plod through life?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did it for a while, I must admit, but I
realised it wasn’t for me.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Do We Leave Him Here? (or 'Dead Weight'):</span></span></b></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">‘Do we leave him here?’ asked
Jerry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I laughed loudly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Big Gary had
been slumped on the table for almost an hour now, passed out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘Leave him <i>here</i>?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How would
you like that if it was <i>you</i>?’ answered Pete.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘Yea but…’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘Leave him here…’ Pete muttered laughing wryly and shaking his head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘Well…’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘We’re in a foreign country!’ I snapped angrily, ‘Do you think he wants
to be woken up at six o’clock tomorrow morning by some Turkish trucker?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘Yea…or robbed,’ added Pete<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘Aye’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘Okay okay, I get the picture.’ Jerry scraped his chair in noisily.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">An Affair:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 12pt 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was
mesmerised now; she couldn’t have told you how long she stood watching him, but
she couldn’t take her eyes away – loving the way he moved; his cool, casual
air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She imagined the way he smelled,
the way he looked and remembered the way she’d went nearly breathless the first
time he had held her in his arms.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Big Man:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A tear rolled down Toby’s right cheek and he hurriedly wiped it away
with the back of his hand, then looked round nervously to see if the old man
had noticed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He turned and walked back
by Toby at that moment so he quickly wiped his face and eyes with both hands
this time, determined to get all signs of the tear out of sight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The headmaster was sitting down again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘You’d better hope…’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Toby looked at him briefly before looking down again to where he had
been looking before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘You’d better hope, that Brian is okay…comes back as normal,
otherwise…well, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Toby’s eyes almost ran again, but he was determined not to cry in front
of old Morris.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘Get yourself along to your next lesson Toby.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Toby looked up, able to hold Sir’s gaze this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he got up to leave he couldn’t feel his
legs properly, they felt like jelly and he couldn’t feel them fully as he
walked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘And Toby?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The boy turned round and saw Sir again; he looked bigger and more
imposing to him somehow, seemed to be almost staring <i>into</i> him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘These are your <i>friends</i>.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">One More Hand:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">I’m mentally exhausted…had it up to <i>here</i>
with Vegas and Blackjack and chasing money and trying to think of what to do,
what to bet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems like in this god
forsaken place <i>everything</i> is against you…not only have you got the odds
against you, but you’ve got clueless players coming in and out of the game,
you’ve got dealers who can’t wait to pull the next card, not giving you any
time to concentrate…you’ve got all the noise distracting you – not allowing you
to focus…you’ve got the sheer, overpowering <i>size</i> of this place…’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Best Man:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I remember the first five minutes being pleasant enough, but as the
drinks started to flow, Debbie seemed to be griping about everything and
answering Tony back rudely whenever he dared to speak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I recall at one point early in the meal
staring out across the Strip and realising that the view was different from
what it had been when I’d first sat down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I tried to concentrate my mind – thinking perhaps that I might be losing
it completely – but as I stared across the table and out through the windows, I
realised that the restaurant was ever so slowly revolving!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘Yea we’re movin’’ said a middle-aged American man on the next table to
us, sat with his family, ‘isn’t it neat?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As if my head wasn’t battered enough already.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Real Mrs. Docherty:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘Do you want to take a walk for a while Mrs. Docherty?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can always come back, and we’ll tell you
immediately if there’s any change.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Marie looks up to the nurse then, wide-eyed, as if aware of her for the
first time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘Yes…yes…okay,’ she looks back to her husband on the bed, her hand still
clasped in his – loosely now – but she can’t let go somehow, as if letting go
of his hand was to let go of everything they had. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘In a moment nurse…I’ll just stay here…’ she finishes speaking in
mid-sentence, then the nurse rubs the top of her back gently. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘Okay,’ the nurse says softly, ‘but take a break soon, it will do you
good.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The nurse leaves the room and Marie suddenly feels more alone than she’s
ever felt in her whole life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
struggles to get a tissue from her bag, as she breaks out into sudden, full
sobs of pain and misery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A Girl Called Fran:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As the biggest of the rubbery-looking
creatures made a sudden lurch in the direction of the small bunch ahead of
Nick, there was a shriek and then a blonde girl flung her arms in the air and
ran away, high stepping in the sand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
looked at the girl closely as the others laughed and edged back too; with her
quite tall height and slimmish figure she ought to have been quite athletic,
but she seemed clumsy and ungainly as she got a further twenty metres away from
the Sea Lions before daring to look round.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She wore a white bobble hat with fluffy pom-poms hanging down at the
side, which had been swinging about frenetically as she ran.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was flushing all over her face as she
quickly adjusted her jeans, a big joyous smile on her face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘Oh don’t pick on me!’ she shouted, as the guide laughed at her, along
with the others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was laughing too,
albeit still red and embarrassed and Nick realised that he hadn’t taken his
eyes away from her during the whole incident.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Another Late One:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My name is Cockney, except that’s not
my real name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, sometimes I
forget my real name, and so do my friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m also not a Cockney.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m a real easygoing guy, I mean, excessively so; I seem to have a
problem saying no to anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I let any
number of people stay at my house anytime and everybody borrows things from me,
some of which I actually get back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiibeFc7ccGRu7tPr2gOIOUgl9xC66euvaAQS1GCyu-gAM2EHaKCmXj9SgTWTHKMsoBIvmPVXyncIwh3cO1rHk-y2CzDoOmoPdsnUeZW5i_rLUyZxZe-JN1hzIf_5Fm-P3b3j00sKAxq0uz/s1600/big+man+dark+grey-page-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiibeFc7ccGRu7tPr2gOIOUgl9xC66euvaAQS1GCyu-gAM2EHaKCmXj9SgTWTHKMsoBIvmPVXyncIwh3cO1rHk-y2CzDoOmoPdsnUeZW5i_rLUyZxZe-JN1hzIf_5Fm-P3b3j00sKAxq0uz/s320/big+man+dark+grey-page-001.jpg" width="244" /></a><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Thanks for reading!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Read 'The First Day' or purchase the whole book for just £1.53 @ </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/BIG-MAN-Other-Stories-ebook/dp/B00AZOSDEG/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1364490307&sr=8-1">http://www.amazon.co.uk/BIG-MAN-Other-Stories-ebook/dp/B00AZOSDEG/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1364490307&sr=8-1</a></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Follow me on twitter @RichMcQuillan</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></b></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03523726052300407172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115403247330795227.post-45094621392157106422013-02-27T17:15:00.000-08:002013-02-27T17:15:04.168-08:00Why i hate the latest Betfair Advert<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In a perfect world, people
that love sport would watch it purely for enjoyment or for the way it makes
them FEEL.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To those that don’t
understand or like sport this is difficult to describe – but it’s the way I
feel about the Champions League and what used to be known as the European Cup:
a buzz, an inner feeling that something magical or incredible may be about to
happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But with the influx in recent years
of the internet, the temptation to gamble on the sports we love (or any sport
for that matter) is more constant than it has ever been: from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bet 365</i>’s Ray Winstone almost sinisterly
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">imploring</i> us to ‘Bet in-play…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">now</i>,’ to the often hilarious Chris
Kamara / Tiziano Crudeli ads for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ladbrokes</i>,
there is literally no escaping the constant urge to make sport ‘more
interesting’ by staking some of your hard-earned money on it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Facebook </i>recently, I listed my ‘Favourite
Sports Teams’, amongst other things, as something to enhance my homepage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little did I know that a well-known Gambling
Site would use this information to offer me a free £10 bet on Watford FC (my
team) on my HOME page, complete with a link.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I didn’t input my information for this reason.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did it to let people know what Sports Teams
I support, and to get a bit of my beloved Watford on my page.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So what if I happened to be a recovering
Gambling addict?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would it be fair to
show me these constant reminders – on a website that has nothing to do with
Gambling – that a bet is just a click away?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is getting too much in my opinion – the people that want to bet will
find a way to, regardless of the advertising; but for a recovering addict who
is trying to do anything to take his mind off Gambling, or someone on the edge,
who thinks he or she may have the<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">
beginnings</i> of a problem, these types of links and offers can be dangerous.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Personally, I only gamble
online and only on certain sports, certain events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My site of choice is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Betfair</i>, a site that allows you, on their Betting Exchange, to Back
or ‘Lay’ (backing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">against</i> something,
e.g. backing a certain team NOT to win) against another <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Betfair </i>user who wants to stake on the OPPOSITE result.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This has always seemed like a much more
sensible way to gamble to me: after all, now I didn’t have to ‘beat the odds’
that the Betting Site had set, I just needed to be smarter than another gambler.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(This also makes very sound and reliable
business sense from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Betfair</i>’s point
of view too - because now for every winner on their exchange there is also a
loser; they make their profits not from those customers that lose, but from the
5% commission they take from every win).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then there is ‘in-play’ betting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The great thing about this fairly new
innovation is that now you can win money by NEVER BEING RIGHT.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, you read that correctly: you can win by
just putting on the right bets at the appropriate time, and you can come away a
winner, no matter what the outcome is.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is where the latest <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Betfair</i> advert comes in.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>Betfair</em>, like all popular
Betting Sites and Shops in the UK, promote ‘responsible gambling.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This means that they encourage Gambling only
for fun, for leisure, and only with money you can afford to lose; that they
supply information for those who think they may have a gambling problem, and to
direct them to the appropriate help should they need it – such as through <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gamcare or Gamblers Anonymous</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is why I am completely dumbfounded as to
what <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Betfair </i>have done with their
latest advert – that the main protagonist, to me (and I have many years’
experience of working in the Gaming industry), shows many of the traits of a
problem gambler, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Betfair</i>
themselves, through the way they have shot the advert, seem completely cool
with this.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The advertisement starts with a ‘regular’
guy in the pub: a snippet of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Clive
Tyldesley </i>commentary tells the viewer that a football match involving Manchester
United is on the TV.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our man’s fingers
drum nervously on the table as he reaches for his phone to look at <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Betfair</i>’s latest in-play odds of the
match he is watching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For a start, there
is something about betting on your phone when you’re ‘out and about’ that
smacks of a dependence on Gambling, in my opinion; but that’s another story.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘You’ve backed United to win,’ says the
voice-over after the TV commentary has informed us that they lead 3-1; ‘do you
cash out?’ the voice teases us, ‘or don’t you?’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On closer inspection, the cash-out option
is offering our man a £7.18 profit on a £20.00 bet, when the maximum he is hoping
to win is £8.00 if he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">doesn’t</i> cash
out (and if United win); he decides not to cash out, as the camera cuts to his
anxious-looking, staring eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Everton (Man. United’s opponents) pull a
goal back to make it 3-2, he runs his hands through his hair; again, we get the
‘Do you / Don’t you?’ voice-over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
United put another away to restore their two-goal cushion, the scene cuts back
to the crowd of people watching the game, and although everybody else in the
pub seems to be enjoying the game, our <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Betfair
</i>Gambler’s enjoyment looks <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">strained</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We see a close-up of the nervous look on his
face and the sweat building on his brow; we get a thumping heartbeat sound
effect, indicating his increased stress, tension and anxiety.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As his finger hovers over the Cash Out
option again (showing the same option to take a £7.18 profit), I’m thinking:
surely if the stress is THAT GREAT, you would take the guaranteed profit at
this point – is eighty-two pence really worth getting uptight about –
especially when you could be enjoying the game and a relaxing beer with your
friends? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But obviously, he doesn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, at 4-3, the camera points down at
him, seeming to focus on him alone, indicating – to me at least – that this is how
he feels: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">alone in the world</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All this to the repeated thumping
heartbeat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now he DOES decide to Cash
out, for the lesser profit of £4.35, from his £20.00 bet (rather than running
the risk of losing his whole £20.00 should Everton equalise).<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As he cashes out, it is worth noting that the
director decides to show this part with the pub <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">completely deserted</i> but for him; I have no idea what this is
supposed to signify, other than – once again – that he is all alone in more
ways than one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When, inevitably, Everton
do equalise to show us that his Cash out was wise (this was the genuine Premier
league match from the back end of the 2011-12 season that ended 4-4), his
buddies on either side of him don’t seem too impressed, but he has a little
fist clenching celebration to himself; to me this indicates, not for the first
time in this ad, that Gambling online is a solitary hobby, rather than a social
one – for although he is able to punt at the pub, nobody is sharing in his pain
and joy.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My point is this: that with the increased
popularity of Sports Gambling, online and otherwise, this will inevitably lead
to an increased number of addicts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
is NOT a nice situation to be in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is
one that can wreck lives, cause severe depression and desperateness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I appreciate that a very high percentage of
people DO enjoy a punt purely for the fun of it, or bet because they have a
‘fancy’ for a certain team on a particular day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those people do not usually get into this situation;
but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Betfair</i>, and other Gambling
companies, if they are genuinely going to take an interest in the wellbeing of
their customers, need to take a look at how they promote, and advertise their
sites and services.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a fine line
between caring for your customers or coming across as hypocritical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This advert, when you get down to it, is
one that does not show a customer having a pleasant Gambling experience.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Follow me on Twitter @RichMcQuillan</span></span><br />
<span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sample my book @ <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/BIG-MAN-Other-Stories-ebook/dp/B00AZOSDEG/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1362013958&sr=1-1">http://www.amazon.co.uk/BIG-MAN-Other-Stories-ebook/dp/B00AZOSDEG/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1362013958&sr=1-1</a></span></span><br />
<span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span><span style="font-size: large;">Thanks for reading!</span></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03523726052300407172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115403247330795227.post-66289173129862638942013-01-13T18:47:00.002-08:002013-01-31T13:24:07.981-08:00Link to my first book on Kindle - BIG MAN & Other Stories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6J2B9XCSrVzpJbaRXOoP92jM2lXhIWxnTYX9GEtYaL5ZtG-iWLRGVoWFi4DSeb01O0II5vBWLOi-04tdAWNporU8bhhtfOvCknZFFzf8Op3aaWE0d6zNQTAHja_SQPKkKNfXoXHAmXRVv/s1600/230630_119317624907662_679633872_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6J2B9XCSrVzpJbaRXOoP92jM2lXhIWxnTYX9GEtYaL5ZtG-iWLRGVoWFi4DSeb01O0II5vBWLOi-04tdAWNporU8bhhtfOvCknZFFzf8Op3aaWE0d6zNQTAHja_SQPKkKNfXoXHAmXRVv/s1600/230630_119317624907662_679633872_n.jpg" /></a><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/BIG-MAN-Other-Stories-ebook/dp/B00AZOSDEG/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1358131516&sr=8-1">http://www.amazon.co.uk/BIG-MAN-Other-Stories-ebook/dp/B00AZOSDEG/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1358131516&sr=8-1</a><br />
<br />
<br />
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03523726052300407172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115403247330795227.post-83789998155142315742012-12-20T19:52:00.000-08:002012-12-20T19:52:04.528-08:00An Amusing Scene in the Library<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A few days ago I was at the main library in the nearest city
to where I lived; I didn’t have the internet at home so I was planning to use
the web for an hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The library was
busy so I had to pre-book – I got given my computer number and the time
allocated for me to use it which was around forty minutes away at 4.15pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To kill time I perused the bookshelves then
sat and read a newspaper; when the time got near I climbed the stairs to the
first floor where the computers were.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made my way over
to my terminal and the monitor read: ‘Time left: 2 minutes, 7 seconds’ in large
white figures and it was counting down each second.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would just have to wait another couple of
minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sitting right in front of the
computer, side-on to it and facing each other, were a couple, probably in their
late-sixties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were extremely grim
and dirty-looking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The man was wearing a
thick grey jumper and warm-looking green coat even though we were indoors and
it was a sunny and warm day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The few
hairs he had clinging to the top of his head were dark and extremely greasy-looking;
they were swept back to the top of the back of his head into a kind of knot but
then the hair spread out again to the lower part of his head – but instead of
naturally flowing down to a stop or being neatly trimmed, it stopped in a sharp
square well short of his neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked
utterly ridiculous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The woman, who was
sitting directly in front of my monitor, was extremely fat and ugly-looking with
thick, tape-repaired glasses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had a
few warts on her face and single grey hairs sprouting out from under her nose
and on her chin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They clearly weren’t
using the computer but I wasn’t going to move them out of the way until the
time ran out; but then, as it got to under a minute to my turn the woman delved
into a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tesco</i> carrier bag and pulled
out some sandwiches wrapped in cling-film.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She passed one to her partner, opened one herself and started taking big
hungry mouthfuls.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the countdown
on the monitor got to zero it was exactly 4.15 and ‘RESERVED’ appeared on the
screen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I approached the couple and told
the woman that I needed to use the computer; she just grunted, barely appearing
to register me, and pointed at the screen with a mouthful of sandwich – bringing
my attention to the word ‘RESERVED’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Yes, reserved for
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i>!’ I exclaimed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She grunted again
and then in no particular hurry, they gathered their stuff together and
disgruntledly and very slowly left the spot – her face seemed to say: “what a
pain in the arse you are, could you not use a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">different </i>computer?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> I
pulled a chair to the screen and sat down to start my session, greeted by a
sharp smell of dirt and body odour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03523726052300407172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115403247330795227.post-20495814290011923812012-06-27T06:08:00.000-07:002012-06-27T06:08:30.909-07:00ZERO STAR ACCOMMODATION<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXDqc10_x9-qi_RpAAVSq09u7UibiSkszhBzi4dL4MUbUns-opJONa-uaK2uVqLeWefu7B4QOr9Sk9daXEguAzZf7NtsxDuNFpm_4dv_qF0zxMO9PEJwABpHYmFujkZjKIaDJyenpgNVC/s1600/IMG_1501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="111" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXDqc10_x9-qi_RpAAVSq09u7UibiSkszhBzi4dL4MUbUns-opJONa-uaK2uVqLeWefu7B4QOr9Sk9daXEguAzZf7NtsxDuNFpm_4dv_qF0zxMO9PEJwABpHYmFujkZjKIaDJyenpgNVC/s200/IMG_1501.JPG" width="200" /></a>I awoke to people murmuring and fidgeting about; one or two people were sitting up bleary-eyed with straggly “bed-hair”. The thing that struck me straight away was how cold it was in the room. It was probably as close to freezing as it could possibly be, indoors. I pulled my meagre bedcover and blanket around myself and curled up in a futile effort to get warm.<br /> As more and more people got up I felt as though I really ought to make a move to get up soon, but I felt so lethargic and so cold; I really wasn’t cut out for early mornings. I then noticed the Irish lad, Richard in the top bunk across the room, sitting up mumbling under his breath. We looked at each other and said our good mornings.<br /> ‘I really need to get up at some point,’ I said, still wrapped in my covers, my teeth chattering.<br /> ‘I tell you one thing we need’, said Richard in his strong Irish accent, not moving from his sitting up position; ‘a fecking heater!’<br /><br /> I think I may have been the last of the twenty into the shower that morning. As I made my way there, Richard was coming back the other way, his hair soaking wet and looking white in the face; he was visibly shaking and tight from the cold.<br />‘Nice shower?’ I enquired.<br />‘Jesus…you wouldn’t get this for fecking murder,’ he said, ‘I’ve never been so fecking cold in all me life,’ before his walk quickened back to the room.<br /> I then endured less than five minutes of freezing cold water that supposedly went under the guise of a shower.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03523726052300407172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115403247330795227.post-74368347001832691862012-03-12T16:52:00.002-07:002012-03-12T17:01:41.291-07:00FOOTBALL AS BEAUTY - Milan vs Barcelona '94<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh1fJv1ajlXzZIehXTZHnhj-_vAUF54Q6PFtjnXBwko7UN99w8le_4A-3cLyQsvx-PCNvtxvfHnof_LWVm78OvpOubmGNJwzUeGTQ6l3_8Vcbng6Rr8AY3fIUoGLjcHX5yCnKS5KBj-Oza/s1600/389403_mediumsquare.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh1fJv1ajlXzZIehXTZHnhj-_vAUF54Q6PFtjnXBwko7UN99w8le_4A-3cLyQsvx-PCNvtxvfHnof_LWVm78OvpOubmGNJwzUeGTQ6l3_8Vcbng6Rr8AY3fIUoGLjcHX5yCnKS5KBj-Oza/s1600/389403_mediumsquare.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It's injury time at the end of the first half in the 1994 European Cup Final and Milan are one-nil up against Barcelona. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rossi throws it out to Panucci, the left back. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Panucci rolls it inside to Maldini who plays it up the left wing to Massaro; Massaro tries a little dart up the left, but finds there’s no room so, shielding the ball carefully, comes back, rolls it back to Panucci. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s played across the defence, Maldini to Galli; Galli plays a lovely high ball out to the right, ten yards inside the Barcelona half to Savicevic, who skilfully touches it back to Boban…Boban, first time, just opens his foot up, gives it back…Savicevic, delighted, checks inside with beautiful quick feet and runs towards the edge of the Barca penalty area then plays a back-heel that’s so subtle you don’t know he’s done it until it’s at Boban’s feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Boban rolls it coolly out right to Tassotti supporting from the back, Tassotti shapes to cross but just rolls it back inside to Boban. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Boban looks up and drifts it out to the left to Donadoni – and this is where the move comes alive – Donadoni, with absolutely classic and precision wing play, teases the defender, waits for him to commit, then just pushes it past in a split second, so beautifully: the ball holding up in the turf as if by divine providence of what is to come.<br />
He runs towards goal about two yards from the by-line, takes two touches, looks up, and then with the outside of his right foot, rolls it behind the farthest two forward – both marked – but invitingly back to Massaro, who only has to stand on his right foot and swing his leg at it from fifteen yards out, and it <em><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">flies</span></em> into the opposite corner beating Zubizaretta who is left flailing. Absolutely beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful football.<br />
Fifteen passes from the goalkeeper to a beautiful goal – and Barcelona never had a <em><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">sniff</span></em> of the ball. This is a world-class team that destroyed a Manchester United side that won the double, four-nil, and Milan – in turn – have destroyed <em><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">them</span></em>.<br />
<br />
Less than two minutes into the second half, and the game is over. The ball gets floated up by Albertini…the Barcelona defender loiters on the ball; Savicevic just nicks it carefully but cleverly off the defender’s toe, then launches the most beautiful left foot volley over Zubizaretta’s head and into the net. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is just fantastic: a moment of pure opportunistic genius.<br />
<br />
When Romario heads thin air five minutes from the end with the score at 4-0, Barcelona’s misery is truly complete.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03523726052300407172noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115403247330795227.post-65689462460893577082012-03-05T14:07:00.001-08:002012-03-07T18:32:35.628-08:00"COWBOY MIKE"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1XxcI0wU-bZNStwD_rVVhJITzawfDMtXe_YDezecGqsfi8iWxTGaPWiXIpeGf3J6S3reF87srjWopuObsWp93xngwjHE7nuIt5j_CcQv-l39O0xhd4weIn8uQ32h-IF_1e9HTqDBNqH76/s1600/imagesCAN1NC06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1XxcI0wU-bZNStwD_rVVhJITzawfDMtXe_YDezecGqsfi8iWxTGaPWiXIpeGf3J6S3reF87srjWopuObsWp93xngwjHE7nuIt5j_CcQv-l39O0xhd4weIn8uQ32h-IF_1e9HTqDBNqH76/s200/imagesCAN1NC06.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Tunga","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">‘Man, I haven’t told you about Cowboy Mike…did I tell you about Cowboy Mike?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No I didn’t…man!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tunga","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘We were in this Bar in <i>San Francisco</i> - a few of us from the hostel - and it’s like, this Sports Bar…so we go in, have a couple of drinks or whatever, then we fancy a game of darts; we get some arrows from the bar and we start playing but then straight away, these two couples come up…they’re like, these two middle-aged American guys and their Japanesy looking girlfriends, or wives or whatever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tunga","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Anyway, they’re really boring, you can tell straight away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of them is this guy called Mike and the other is this, I can’t remember his name but he kind of had a Michael Bolton mullet going on, you know…receding at the top and sort of curly and long at the back, but it wasn’t cool I’ll tell you that much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, they’re giving it the big one, saying they play for the State at darts or something and they beat everyone in the bar regularly, so we challenge them to a game – and we’re terrible by the way – so me and my mate are playing this Mike and the Michael Bolton guy at doubles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tunga","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘So I’m chalking the names up, and I put ‘Mike’ down, then I’m asking the other guy for his name…so he tells me it and I’m chalking it up, when Mike says, ‘Actually, my friends call me “Cowboy Mike”’ and I just turn and look at him…I stare at him and I’m trying to get it into my head that he was telling me I’d made a mistake – that I shouldn’t have just written ‘Mike’ on the board but “Cowboy Mike”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried to contain myself, tried to hold it in, but I’ve started to laugh because my mate is looking at me with this hilarious, “eyebrows up” expression on his face; I turn around back to the board quickly, then methodically rub out “Mike” and put “C.M.” in inverted commas. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tunga","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Then we’ve started playing and me and my mate are struggling to keep straight faces; and they were shite at darts!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were <em>slightly</em> better than us, but you could tell they were no good; their throwing styles were <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">crap</span>, especially Cowboy Mike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Throughout the whole game we were saying things like: ‘Your turn Mike…I mean ‘Cowboy,’ and laughing and he didn’t even get the joke…didn’t get that we were taking the piss…he just kept playing and smiling, and his wife didn’t get it either, she just stood there like a lemon and laughed and smiled when they got anything over like, about <i>thir</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ty</i>, as if she was really impressed with her man’s darts prowess, unaware that her husband was full of shit and had told us that he was an All-California Pro or whatever; and his buddy - the whole time we were playing - never once called him ‘Cowboy Mike’.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tunga","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Afterwards we were like, “Yes, you have lots of friends…and they all call you ‘Cowboy Mike.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tunga","sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘What an idiot.’<o:p></o:p></span></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03523726052300407172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115403247330795227.post-73869678047490156662012-02-22T14:13:00.001-08:002012-02-22T14:43:30.221-08:00SOME OF MY FAVOURITE QUOTES - Bill Hicks Special<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: large;">Here are some of my favourite quotes by, or about the late American comedian Bill Hicks.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">These would all obviously be better delivered by the man himself, but enjoy!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw6FBWXECPO-YhJAWTgRZKHFsAkSD5P-w89Ketxjj4daS25eb5wnMG_iFLZk6B-imX8p4W4UMHR6zaOc8xhemcNESRbZN3unIu5_LksDn-8XUghzts3nDDoUXbODLPBooK7ipGstRaz8Pn/s1600/bill_hicks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw6FBWXECPO-YhJAWTgRZKHFsAkSD5P-w89Ketxjj4daS25eb5wnMG_iFLZk6B-imX8p4W4UMHR6zaOc8xhemcNESRbZN3unIu5_LksDn-8XUghzts3nDDoUXbODLPBooK7ipGstRaz8Pn/s200/bill_hicks.jpg" width="173" /></a></div>'I've been with the same girl for five years now, so I finally popped the question: "Why are we still seeing each other?"'<br />
<br />
'They lie about marijuana. Tell you pot-smoking makes you unmotivated. <em>Liiie</em>. When you're high, you can do everything you normally do, just as well, you just realise it's not worth the f---ing effort. There is a difference.'<br />
<br />
'No one has handguns in England, not even the cops. Now! In England last year they had fourteen deaths from handguns. Fourteen. Now! United States, I think you know how we feel about handguns. Whoo! I'm getting a warm, tingly feeling just saying the f---ing word to be honest with you. 23,000 deaths from handguns. But there's no connection...and you'd be a fool and a communist to make one. There's no connection between having a gun and shooting someone with it, and <em>not </em>having a gun and <em>not</em> shooting someone. There've been studies made, and there is no connection at all there. Yes. It's absolute truth. You know, fourteen deaths from handguns - probably American tourists, too...'<br />
<br />
'A lot of things are changing, and they all seem to be stemming from the return of a gentleman named Bill Hicks. A man who I can't figure out if he is near enlightenment or a black beast. I don't know. He's a genius and a putz and a child and a master all in one. And with the return of him on Wednesday, my life has been shaken like thunder. I have experienced every emotion and every shade of feeling since he's been back. Elation, joy, bliss, anger, depression, awe, love, hate, wonder, laughter, disappointment, fear, pain, have all passed through me. And generally all at the same time.'<br />
<em>Dwight Slade's journal, American Scream, The Bill Hicks Story (by Cynthia True).</em><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg73LcCtsghsnsATCY6z3OOPajraJeFW4HklbADrYGlruDYwTn7zJhL01j8tLMbgmlUxBTNschacdrmv51CO-Zx8CG5in92Y_q8DWdHtsesqy59hhyphenhyphen9xdGxMgilqybKWCZFYM3KUKdk3TFd/s1600/Bill-Hicks-006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg73LcCtsghsnsATCY6z3OOPajraJeFW4HklbADrYGlruDYwTn7zJhL01j8tLMbgmlUxBTNschacdrmv51CO-Zx8CG5in92Y_q8DWdHtsesqy59hhyphenhyphen9xdGxMgilqybKWCZFYM3KUKdk3TFd/s320/Bill-Hicks-006.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>'It's not a war on drugs, it's a war on personal freedom. Keep that in mind at all times.'<br />
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'He screamed into the microphone. His vision of a machine-gun-toting Jesus was positively malevolent. He acted out violent, bloody fantasies toward his former girlfriend, an assortment of politicians - even the Reagans' dog. he unearthed new, unimagined lows in bad taste...This is not a warm person. But is he funny? Oh yes.'<br />
<em>News and Observer reporter Michael Hetzer</em> on Bill Hicks</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03523726052300407172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115403247330795227.post-26723468499023963092012-02-17T17:53:00.000-08:002012-02-17T17:53:31.715-08:00The (nearly) golden tickets - as featured in '606 stories' on BBC Sport website<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuzL-Ij9FL2K2sgPn2T9NczZre73aH8V7KXk-Z1KJYIUdd3KvpNMogtyXz_5LxmiZaUBOmiyiijIwHfRhBqHZzWB3OHBwFes0vr7peD5I8mbq-CCkTRg-caWzC3WY4zlBNXdF4tR0YJKNT/s1600/6931966.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuzL-Ij9FL2K2sgPn2T9NczZre73aH8V7KXk-Z1KJYIUdd3KvpNMogtyXz_5LxmiZaUBOmiyiijIwHfRhBqHZzWB3OHBwFes0vr7peD5I8mbq-CCkTRg-caWzC3WY4zlBNXdF4tR0YJKNT/s200/6931966.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s 1996 and in the last game of the season we faced Martin O’Neill’s play-off chasing Leicester City at Vicarage Road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We needed a win and other results to go our way to stay up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went to the game with my best friend Nick, (a Fulham supporter).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We learnt on arrival, however, that the match was strictly an all-ticket affair, so ticket-less, we were turned away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could it be?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t miss this game!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We walked despondently away from the ground, back through town.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nick had arranged for his mum to pick us up after the game so he now rang her up, informing her that we were, unhappily, ready to be picked up now, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">before</i> the game.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then something quite remarkable happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A middle-aged man who neither of us had ever seen before, approached us and said something like, ‘Do you want to go to the game lads?’ to which we both moaned that we would be, but for the fact it was all-ticket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He then pulled out two match tickets and said that he’d got given them through some charity he works for and would we like them?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could have kissed him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite us trying to throw money into his hands, he wouldn’t take any of it, then after thanking him for about the millionth time, we legged it back to the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before we got there, my friend phoned his mum saying, ‘We don’t need picking up now – we just met god!’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could we really stay up after that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just knew I never had that much luck; I was a Watford supporter after all!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The game itself was an anti-climax and we lost 1-0.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Relegated.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But wherever you are my friend, thank you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you for giving your tickets to us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03523726052300407172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115403247330795227.post-61735183671419534412012-02-13T10:57:00.000-08:002012-02-13T10:57:26.605-08:00The Quiet Traveller<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdugyBwfTv_86LHBn_1X0IB_gJunSawA3x2kNvMgRMB8B6YFveIpN5XOX8Ai2Vp5imSThLMS_n-hTK8L0lPNcHyhOmPKsKUk-KzSrL_1wtJH-cQp0RzxScOPSWd5g91z4vYk7dJS2TNgXc/s1600/backpacker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdugyBwfTv_86LHBn_1X0IB_gJunSawA3x2kNvMgRMB8B6YFveIpN5XOX8Ai2Vp5imSThLMS_n-hTK8L0lPNcHyhOmPKsKUk-KzSrL_1wtJH-cQp0RzxScOPSWd5g91z4vYk7dJS2TNgXc/s200/backpacker.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Well, look who it <em>is</em>,’ said Margaret before immediately turning her back on me to face the bar. One of the lads raised his chin a little in acknowledgement of me but without a smile, as the other lad whispered something in his ear. Neither of the young men seemed happy or relaxed but I didn’t get the impression they were talking about me.<br />
I looked at Margaret in her designer jeans, designer top, designer trainers, designer jewellery and designer hair, half perusing the bottles of various spirits lining the shelves behind the bar and half glancing at herself in the mirror, always careful not to catch my eye. If I hadn’t got the vibe earlier on then I sure as hell was getting it now.<br />
‘Thought you’d join us after all then, eh?’<br />
It was Barry, the dark-haired, shorter lad. I turned to him and mumbled “yeah”, wishing I’d stayed at the hostel now, feeling ridiculous and alone even though they had asked me earlier if I had wanted to join them. Margaret continued to deliberately ignore me and the other lad was still talking quietly into his mate’s ear. Barry laughed this time.<br />
‘Yea, better than sitting in the room innit,’ said Barry again, laughing to himself and the blonde lad, Gavin, had turned his back on us and now stood at the bar, smirking. He glanced across at Margaret but she didn’t notice him; she was still sulking.<br />
I looked at Margaret again, determined to get some sort of recognition from her. What had I done? I kept myself to myself and so did she; what was with the animosity? And…well, look who it <em>is</em>; what the hell was that supposed to mean?<br />
I offered the lads a drink but they already had one. I didn’t offer Margaret one. She clearly didn’t want anything to do with me. <em>Fuck her</em>, I thought; she’s probably just upset about having such an old woman’s name.<br />
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* * * * * * * * * * *<br />
Back in the room lying on my bunk I wasn’t tired yet so I read a book for a while trying to make myself tired. I didn’t want to be awake when they all got back.<br />
I read for about an hour and it was nearly half-past eleven. I was just about to finish my last chapter for the night when I heard them; I groaned inside. They entered noisily, Barry and Gavin laughing, Margaret talking to them without humour and then they would laugh again.<br />
‘Look who it <em>is</em>,’ said Margaret.<br />
<em> Yes you said that earlier</em>, I thought to myself. I continued to read, determined not to show any sign that they were bothering me. The truth was I was happy relaxing and I was happy that I was me. Let Margaret be Margaret, I didn’t care.<br />
‘What are you reading?’ asked Gavin.<br />
‘A <em>book</em>,’ I huffed.<br />
‘Right…right,’ said Gavin sarcastically, like I’d said something fascinating.<br />
‘Leave him alone,’ said Barry.<br />
‘I only asked what he was <em>read</em>ing.’<br />
Margaret was fiddling around a lot in her handbag. I tried to continue reading but I’d just read the same sentence four times. I threw my book off to the side, closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03523726052300407172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115403247330795227.post-68042996346258920922012-02-10T11:36:00.000-08:002012-02-10T11:36:05.413-08:00SOME OF MY FAVOURITE QUOTES - PART II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsgGRNw6mdr4tz6gqWmCZGoo4BRT0VABhlmFunnXEREc5zrEHOQd6hfc4FOzkLVp5gXUe2SjtUdwFTGQMnnIVosU2mW_QjywAVyln_dY1eJPDuGAMDq5C_wJ3We4LjYjTaCwkCO-E9wWW_/s1600/henry-miller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsgGRNw6mdr4tz6gqWmCZGoo4BRT0VABhlmFunnXEREc5zrEHOQd6hfc4FOzkLVp5gXUe2SjtUdwFTGQMnnIVosU2mW_QjywAVyln_dY1eJPDuGAMDq5C_wJ3We4LjYjTaCwkCO-E9wWW_/s200/henry-miller.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">'How a man can wander about all day on an empty belly, and even get an erection once in a while, is one of those mysteries which are too easily explained by the 'anatomists of the soul.' ' - <em>Henry Miller</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">'When each day is the same as the next, it's because people fail to recognize the good things that happen in their lives every day that the sun rises.' - <em>Paulo Coelho</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">'She fitted into my biggest arm-chair as if it had been built round her by someone who knew they were wearing arm-chairs tight about the hips that season.' - <em>P.G. Wodehouse</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"We're freaks, that's all. Those two bastards got us nice and early and made us into freaks with freakish standards, that's all. We're the Tattooed lady, and we're never going to have a minute's peace, the rest of our lives, till everybody else is tattooed, too." - <em>J.D. Salinger</em> (from '<em>Zooey</em>')</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Udp89geGGo4z2PRVczLswp5SLwLJTyK-SIu0qKGm9bugPLmxzqAlBtShuXeazvkbFWKUrlzaDflP4AOb-wqmkH-84Cernih6xRR7sb3kPWrZMmq2hzIitLRcdGWNgvN9RRqxXJu9j99s/s1600/george_orwell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Udp89geGGo4z2PRVczLswp5SLwLJTyK-SIu0qKGm9bugPLmxzqAlBtShuXeazvkbFWKUrlzaDflP4AOb-wqmkH-84Cernih6xRR7sb3kPWrZMmq2hzIitLRcdGWNgvN9RRqxXJu9j99s/s320/george_orwell.jpg" width="239" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">'No one I met at this time failed to assure me that a man who is hit through the neck and survives it is the luckiest creature alive. I could not help thinking that it would be even luckier not to be hit at all.' - <em>George Orwell</em></span><br />
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03523726052300407172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115403247330795227.post-76272915362924599132012-02-08T14:04:00.000-08:002012-02-08T14:08:09.486-08:00SOME OF MY FAVOURITE QUOTES - PART I<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXxmU-6xHn77ET3gCD5JyP35YoUHb_7bdgCP0sUkUyC920w90cYvezTUdpdbixuX1NlFzRBnmpL_-P7dhyphenhyphenVJWgj7WjLOM409fJJAtIHUtbCtEdE4usuR5gvcOL4VeCMlvkhiT3B8qj8RtI/s1600/JohnSteinbeck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXxmU-6xHn77ET3gCD5JyP35YoUHb_7bdgCP0sUkUyC920w90cYvezTUdpdbixuX1NlFzRBnmpL_-P7dhyphenhyphenVJWgj7WjLOM409fJJAtIHUtbCtEdE4usuR5gvcOL4VeCMlvkhiT3B8qj8RtI/s200/JohnSteinbeck.jpg" width="153" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">'Even if teenage children aren't making a sound, it's quieter when they're gone.' - <em>John Steinbeck</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">'When the gods frown, the wise man learns to surf on their furrows.' - <em>Luke Rhinehart</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">'If someone has a wart on their nose or their forehead, it really does seem that the only thing anyone in the world wants to do is to look at your wart, laugh at it and condemn you for it, even though you may have discovered America in the meanwhile.' - <em>Fyodor Dostoyevsky</em></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrYmTm4Lt7yWICnpsAYyBZg-4sOAg1_i1hL_MGNAjPSHa28GSdLdHyP0HMfPZ758bBf74r-v6SvUEaymy5tpsP7sv7tkNZinkIP-BI6-kPdi66i6elYukJXgiWao_Lm1yQbl2nW1NwHQZr/s1600/Bruce-Lee-Jeet-Kune-Do-300x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrYmTm4Lt7yWICnpsAYyBZg-4sOAg1_i1hL_MGNAjPSHa28GSdLdHyP0HMfPZ758bBf74r-v6SvUEaymy5tpsP7sv7tkNZinkIP-BI6-kPdi66i6elYukJXgiWao_Lm1yQbl2nW1NwHQZr/s200/Bruce-Lee-Jeet-Kune-Do-300x300.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">'If money isn't so great, then why do rich people keep it all to themselves?' - <em>Douglas Coupland</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">'I'll never say I'm No. 1, but i'll never admit to being No. 2.' - <em>Bruce Lee</em></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03523726052300407172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115403247330795227.post-3052909035399227772012-02-01T12:34:00.000-08:002012-02-01T12:34:55.137-08:00The Road of Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tunga","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We said we’d keep in touch with each other, but of course, we never did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I figured she’d be at university and was probably loving it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took a few weeks off when I got back, then helped a friend out with a bit of casual work for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon after my return I was determined to go travelling again once I could afford it, or maybe I’d get a loan or something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was all I could think of for a few weeks and it seemed unthinkable to me that I would do anything else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had loved it and my memories of it all were wonderful, filling me with happiness.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Tunga","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three months after I returned I met Anna, who I started to date.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t sure if it would get serious, or if I wanted it to, but before long my whole life was being shaped by our relationship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were soon buying a house together and, caught up in many emotions and a wave of happiness and sudden contentment we were married a few months later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was happy, I mean, I loved Anna, and it felt right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t until I went back to more serious full-time work and started to pay-off the mortgage and go round <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">the supermarket </span>on a busy Saturday with Anna that I remembered my previous plans to travel again, and thought back to my adventures and of Fran and our week together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never told Anna about Francesca, but I guess I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about her from time to time.<o:p></o:p></span></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03523726052300407172noreply@blogger.com0