Spit Roast Sisters

Yesterday I had a referral from a site called Spit Roast Sisters, either that or someone searching for Spit Roast Sisters found my blog by mistake and was sorely disappointed to read about what I was having for dinner. The thought of someone sat there with a full robot chubby at their computer and landing here seems quite bizarre to me for some reason, but I'll encourage it. So I'm going all our for more Spit Roast Sisters traffic by mentioning Spit Roast Sisters more regularly than I would otherwise mention Spit Roast Sisters. So have you ever searched for Spit Roast Sisters online, or are you yourself a Spit Roast Sister? If so how does that work exactly, do you do the spit roasting or do you take it in turns to be spit roasted. I have a thousand questions and a limited attention span, so keep it short.

Slough beautiful Slough

1. I so want to make one of these - http://testroete.com/index.php?location=head
   
2. Lola's hometown continues to provide some gems - http://www.thetimes-tribune.com/news/woman_accused_of_vandalizing_store_fighting_with_cops_in_taylor
   
3. Ooh this is quite fun - http://www.incredibox.fr/
   
4. Mussels are on sale today I'm informed by Lola. £2.25 in Waitrose. Yum.
   
5. Can't decide how to get to Manchester next week, train-car-train-car. Hmmm decisions, decisions
   

Brand new home

1. We've moved house today from 260 to 264 so just next door really. Our floor is what I'm calling fake grass green. We are almost the only other residents and I feel I want to kick a football around in the empty space and break something valuable. Perhaps I'll just spill a coffee on the carpet for the time being.
   
2. There is a large chocolate muffin on my desk in front of me begging me to eat it. I may resist and take home to Lola. I'm sure she'll find that more than acceptable.
   
3. I've got my photography talk tonight and I still don't know where to begin. I think I may begin with the magic words, 'The beauty of photography is that you can take a picture of almost absolutely anything you like.' How brilliant is that? I'm starting to seriously worry about it now. I have become a massive fan of William Egglestone as a result.
   
4. Phew I think I finally worked out what the hell I'm going to be talking about. The words 'open discussion' were looming large at one point.
   
5. I've never had the luxury of working in the office with a visible sunset before. Slough almost looks beautiful. Although it may be the local car fires.

   
   

 

Pub Quizzical

1. It’s not the best feeling when everyone tells you that you were steaming the night before and you hadn’t really thought so at the time. I was just having a good time, plus I hadn’t eaten much, plus I was drinking wifebeater.



2. Unbelievably hungry today, I could eat a scabby horse. In fact I just might. Anyone got one?


3. Last night in the WindsorPublicHouse it was the pub quiz. We established that JP’s chosen specialist subject was ‘Which college did Elbow go to?’ The answer is Bury College. You can now challenge JP in his specialist subject since you know now as much as he does on the subject. This morning Lola’s job search promptly spewed up with a Resource Librarian at Bury College. Is it fate that I’m to be re-posted to Bury and more importantly, do they have a Guy Garvey Reading Room?


4. We came second in the pub quiz btw and we didn’t use iPhones as we later found out the winning team did. When you’re playing for £50 or more, this is quite frankly tantamount to embezzlement. Perhaps we’re being naïve and pub quizzes have turned into search engine competitions but if someone said, do you want to come down the pub and see who can find stuff on their iPhone the quickest, you say, no, but I’ll come down the pub, you nonce.


5. I’ve been working on my lecture on Monday night. So far I have three photographers lined up to talk about, Martin Parr, Gregory Crewdson and Jeurgen Teller. The more I research the subject, the more I realise this photography business is all bollocks really.

6. Lola thinks she's blind today, she should borrow some glasses from Councillor Eileen Kinnear.

Chicken and Pears anyone?

1. Today I have mustard poisoning, but I survived!
2. I’ve decided that it’s best to forget that I ever smoked at all and adopt the demeanour of a fresh faced Christian. In fact I’m thinking of growing a Ned Flanders’ November ‘tache and saying golly gosh and ooh rather. Perhaps I should give up the crystal meth too come to think of it.
3. At work it seems that next week we’re off to a prison camp. They’ve given us a plastic bag the size of a small cushion to place all our belongings in and a sticker to write our names on. Several people have expressed concern that a couple of people might hang themselves with their own belts in the first week. It’s troubling that a few people have felt a semi sordid pleasure at the new strict behaviour of the guards.
4. Speaking of hanging, Windows 7 seems to do this far too frequently for my liking. But at least it’s doing it politely and kindly looking into the problem for me.
5. Chicken and Pears, cooked by Christopher Walken. Do those three things go together?

1. I guess it’s not too late to stump up the first blog post of the year. It’s only November.

2. Not only am I living in a new Underbelly, it’s a Royal Underbelly. If there’s dark deeds to be exposed then they have to be here right?


3. I now have an accomplice, Lola. We’re married she’s from another country altogether and she finds the new Underbelly every bit as weird and exciting as the last.


4. I’ve been encouraging Lola to write her own blog, Stupid England as these seem to be every sixth words out of her mouth. Lola’s current obsessions are finding the right kind of milk/cream to go in her coffee, black mould and CCTV (she’s probably being watched constantly.) Roundabouts are causing her much grief, despite driving over 300 of them on Sunday, Lola has no idea how they work and watching me drive doesn’t provide her with any worthwhile clues.


5. I’m to give a talk on a subject I know very little about next Monday to the Photographic Society. Given that I was as tongue tied as Harvey Price after 4 pints of cider last time, this might prove difficult. The more I think about it the more I think it’s a bad idea. The woman that asked me said she wanted me to talk about Commercial photography versus regular photography. My brain heard, ‘Talk shit for half an hour’. Lola beamed confidence and pride as always. I’m glad she’s one of life’s researchers.

Bingo Balls

1. When you're living the dream in bed and breakfast accommodation there's not a great deal to do apart from lying on your bed watching the tellybox. I've never been a great tellybox watcher so when I do I like to watch quality items like Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles on Virgin 1. Well I would if it was any good. Why is it that any movie adaptation ends up like a mild action version of Dawson's Creek? Take Smallville. Fuck knows how many series of Clarke's sensitivity and Lana's miserable mood swings we had to put up with. Personally I think Clarke should have banged Chloe, Lana, Lex Luther and Lois in one night of ecstasy and coke fuelled excess, taped it and settled in for a good nights telly with the Kents.

2. I'm off to a Tone of Voice workshop this morning. Yeah like I need it...pfft.

3. An Italian girl who is a translator for The Simpsons told me last night that it's probably the most difficult thing she's ever done. It's so culturally specific she said that she can't imagine they even find it funny when it's translated. I asked her if she'd seen the new series and said that it wouldn't make any difference.

4. I've started taking pictures of people around the office. They hate me for it. Ha.

5. I love project meetings for projects that will never happen. It was full of 'lines in the sand', 'opportunities for change', bigtime bullshit bingo basically.

Image courtesy of Gimbulate

What goes around comes around

1. Firstly genius headline from the Daily Star today - Harry's Back in Chelsea.

2. New York here I come. I'm starting to get excited, it takes me a while you know.

3. It turns out that my sister has in fact fractured her kneecap rather than torn her cartilage, ouch. No doggy style for a while I guess.

4. Watched the magnificent, Miss Inbetweeny on BBC 3 last night, if you haven't seen it watch it on the BBC iPlayer.

5. My new B&B is rather nice. It's run by Laurent a French fella and he's fastidious. After the first day, he'd worked out and remembered that I don't like tomatoes and he removes the yolk from my eggs. How sweet.

LINK: Who can blame them?

Given the amount of paperwork the Police have to do combined with the amount of crime in Newport, who the fuck can blame these guys for wanting to get some sea air. If they'd have kidnapped a couple of Duffryn car thieves in the back it would have probably been classed as a Community service order or some such. Personally I think showing the ambition and skill to get as far away from Newport as physically possible shows courage and social progress. I'm glad they've resigned, perhaps they'll make the full step of moving out of the area and moving on with their lives.

Harvest Moonie

1. The first big dump of the day has given me time to reflect upon last night's culinary affair. The Dumb Bell could not be a more fitting description of a 'restaurant' so steeped in the smell of mildew, a teenage athlete sat on a mountain of damp towels would be appalled. I could only assume the place had been flooded in the past month. When I asked, I was told, 'You get used to it.' I'm sure you can also get used to syphilis but I'd choose not to. Now I'll state clearly that I didn't expect much but in my mind I had a semi-romantic notion of eating in Pottery Barn, not eating in a run down farm on the outskirts of Phnom Penn. I remember visiting a Harvester years ago, and they actually said it,'Have you ever been to a Harvester before.' It added tiny unique value, but you associated the phrase with the salad cart. Ah yes the salad cart, picture it now and you'll think of The Haywain by Constable and every harvest festival you're childhood can conjure, minus the tins of out of date kidney beans naturally. In forty minutes, a restaurant of maybe 50 salad dodging British diners did exactly that. To be fair, a chef (or someone dressed in white for the occasion), popped out to blow the dust off some tomatoes and turn over the darkened salad leaves. In the past the 'Have you been to a Harvester' routine was quickly followed by an introduction to the salad cart. Perhaps in the 80's when Harvesters appeared, this felt more like an invitation to slit your own throat but in today's health conscious Britain, surely they should be queuing up? Partly the problem lies with the menu, some meals state you have access to the compost heap and others don't, resulting in sublime confusion for the diner. Things didn't get much better when my own meal arrived. When asked when I wanted some sauces, the waiter leaned over to the adjacent table where an entire family had just finished eating and snatched their used and overflowing rack of sauces off their table and deposited it on mine. Naturally I didn't go near the horror, but the same waiter was quick to pass on the same rack to the next unfortunate table. Part way through the meal, I noticed some commotion at the front of the restaurant and as I paid, I asked what the problem had been.
"Some woman tried to do a runner."
"It's hardly any surprise." I replied.

The harvest truly is plenteous, but the laborers are few.

1. I'm feeling full of dough and starved of adventure.

2. The new trousers are proving a success.

3. I'm writing an article on Napster, I was gonna call it 'More tracks than Amy Winehouse', but I resisted.

4. Is it wrong to go to a harvester? http://www.harvester.co.uk/the-earlybird.html - The original spit roast, count me in! I'm emailing them now.

5. One day I'll tell you about my night out with the Bafta Award winning Ross Kemp, to give him his full name.

6. Dear Harvester,

I'm interested in bringing my girlfriend to your restaurant. She's a great fan of your spitroast and has mentioned on several previous occasions that your kitchen staff did a marvellous job filling her up. She did mention that the dips she was offered were somewhat salty but that once she had a few mouthfuls inside her, she'd got used to it. Anyway, my good people, any chance of a table and a decent spitroast at 7pm on Wednesday?

Yours Ever-Roastingly

Timothy Arbuckle III

7. I might as well make a Harvester prediction now.
i. The service will be dreadful.
ii. The food whilst plentiful, will be poor quality
iii. I will respond to the question 'Have you been to a Harvester before, with 'Yes, but it was dreadful, I hope you can do better.