Well I can see I am not going to enjoy Mondays much.
Started off fairly well, my only quibble was that the lecturer removed the slides too quickly (that and hitting us with a Monday 9 o’clock lecture is a little harsh). Then three hours off.
The second lecture came. The room is too small. We didn’t get there late, but managed to find ourselves sitting right at the back. Even with glasses the projector image was so small that it was impossible to read. The lecturer didn’t seem to care too much about the fact that only the first three rows of the lecture hall could hear him, but he managed to hear us at the back whinging enough for him to repeatedly say "Thank you!". Yes, this is a stats module… And then another two hours to fill in.
The third lecture was a bit of a shock. We were thrown right into the deep end. My fear was that it wasn’t the lecturer’s intention to do so. Most people dig holes for themselves. I found myself in someone else’s.
The last lecture was a joke. At 5pm, rather few people are alert enough to pick up on errors. In fact it’s hard enough to listen to the lecturer when the student is required to write constantly for an hour. The room itself wasn’t a joke, it was a six-part sitcom series. The seats were so close together I was sitting where two desks joined. I couldn’t see my paper for the elbows. I shall bring a pillow next week.
So I was a bit annoyed with it all. So I bought a Chinese. The end.
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A quick summary of last Friday: we had a big breakfast in Chez Pierre. We played ten-pin bowling. As ever, the second game was my best. And as ever, we never got to finish the second game, as we are only given an hour. But our team won… probably! Then we went home. Matt’s speaker cables became dislodged which caused some mild concern, and he was doing stuff he shouldn’t be doing whilst driving… But at least we weren’t in one of the many, many crashes on the way back that hindered our journey. Some were quite spectacular with the length of the queues and with the number of emergency vehicles involved. I don’t think I have ever seen such delays!
Our car was the first back, mainly thanks to Matt’s impatience on the motorways. We dropped Nick off then Matt and I waited at James’ and Louis’ for them to arrive. It wasn’t too much later they turned up, and so I said my goodbyes to everyone, and they soon departed. James, Louis and I had a good Chinese, and then bed.
The journey back up to Newcastle went largely without hitch until York, when signal problems set in, somehow. Anyway, I’m back!
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Hastings
We decided the night before that we would head to Maidstone and go bowling before we decided where we were going to go for our ‘road trip’ the next day. As it happens, the bowling was booked out, so we were out on our ear. James bought Schindler’s List on DVD from HMV, and we headed off. To Bearsted Green.
It was there in the hazy sunshine the scene was set. Two cars, two drivers, five passengers. Nick and James driving a Punto and a Fiesta respectively – myself and Steve in the Fiesta; Donna, Pete and Russell in the Fiesta. We pointed along the south coast on the map until fingers rested on Hastings. So along the A229 we headed before coming to rest at Cranbrook, where we stocked up on supplies (this is starting to sound like Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Road Trippin’). Then we continued the journey of near-death experiences (wreckless manoeuvres and skidding lorries) towards Hastings. On arrival, we descended the hills and played adventure golf. It is much more fun to play half-arsed, it is worth the embarrassment of being beaten by Donna (though I didn’t quite manage that either!). Pete pushed me into the sea and we mucked about for a bit before returning to Sittingbourne.
And after some of the worst decisions ever made this century, we managed to get to the Chinese. And as ever it was fantastic. Those bird-eye chillis were much hotter than I remember though – I shan’t be chewing the seeds in future!
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Cricket
As I was approaching Sittingbourne on the train on the Friday, I received a string of text messages from James asking me whether (as a last resort) I would play cricket for his team on the Saturday. And you know me, I can’t say no to a damsel in distress – or indeed anyone for that matter.
So indeed I went. I was placed, for the most part, at fine leg, which meant at the end of every over, I ran to the opposite end of the pitch. So that was pretty tiring, until I was placed at second slip for three or four overs. I made a stretching dive for the ball (which I knew I would never reach anyway) at second slip, but nothing else came my way. So I was sent back to fine leg. This was fine for me – all I had to do was to stop the balls going for four runs and covering for Al, which I did quite well.
And I batted at 11th man. I remembered most things James and Louis taught me that morning. I should have been out for a golden duck (stumped) but I was given the benefit of the doubt (twice) and lasted eight balls (or three overs) before being caught off the glove. A bit unlucky, but at least I lasted longer than I had anticipated.
Predictably, we lost. But we lost by less than fifty runs. I stopped Les from performing his one-man revival, but I got a pint of Fosters and a hefty Chinese as a reward for my sacrifice (being crap and attaining a bit of tan, and a few bruises and wrecking my trousers). So everyone played well (except me) and I have an official batting average (of zero, but never mind!). Northfleet CC will never ask me to play for them again!
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