Posted by sean on March 14, 2012 at 10:48 pm in Life In Bath, Pubs, Video Games with No Comments


Dan’s Return
Dan came back to Bath on Saturday. Sadly, it was just for the weekend and not to move back into his basement flat, where he once lived a life not dissimilar to that of Gollum from Lord of the Rings. Only his “precious” was AV equipment. Since leaving Bath, Dan has gone to live in London. A very different place to Somerset.

Dan, John and I went to Bathampton for out lunch. There is a nice pub there; The George, which sits by the canal path. The thought of food and drink in the sun was very tempting. Unfortunately, upon arrival at The George, we were ‘greeted’ by the rudest waitress I have ever met. She was just like Basil Fawlty, only with a bigger moustache.

After eating our meal or curried chicken skewers (indoors – the waitress wouldn’t let us sit outside), we met Simon. A further pub, The Boathouse, was visited for more drinks. This blog really makes my Saturday sound like a boozy pub crawl. Unfortunately, at this point, my drink count was a massive ONE. A pint of Stowford Press cider.

The evening was spent at mine. It was like old times. Retro games were played. Namely Super Bomberman 2 – which I was rubbish at. Goldeneye – which I was rubbish at. Mario Kart – which I was good at, because everyone else was rubbish. The only difference between the gaming at my flat in 2012 and the gaming at Dan’s flat in 2005, was that John was not thrown across the room by Dan, onto a family bucket of KFC, as was a weekly tradition a few years ago. Shame.

Run For Fun?
Every Sunday I make the short walk to the local newsagents to buy myself a copy of The Non-League Paper. This is the definitive Sunday newspaper. Who needs the red tops with their stories on what in-law Ryan Giggs is shagging, when you can read match reports on mediocre football games involving Bath City, Luton Town and Bristol Manor Farm.

This week, I was distracted on the way to collecting my newspaper. The roadside was cordoned off with barriers. Stewards patrolled the pavements and the occasional police officer stood on a street corner. What was going on? Had the London riots finally made their way to Bath? No. It was the annual Bath Half Marathon. An event where thousands of people run miles around the city. They’re mad. Fair play to them though. They no doubt raise a lot of money for charity and it must be very hard work. Shamefully, in the five years I have occupied my flat, on the marathon route, I have not ventured out of my front door to watch or cheer the  runners. It’s a bit too much effort.

Free Bus Pass?
On Monday it was my birthday. Didn’t get me a present? No worries. Would have been nice. Seriously, no worries. It wasn’t noticed. Much. Belated gifts are still acceptable, especially if they’re of the iPad variety. It was one of those supposedly milestone birthdays, which saw me turn 30. Like when I was 18 and 21, I didn’t have a party. After the Burger King Kids Club told me I was too old on my 16th, I vowed never to have a birthday party again ever. So do I feel different? No. Am I too old to run a marathon? I couldn’t before. Am I grumpy? I was before. Can I get on buses for free? Nope. Not for another 35-fucking years. Special birthday, my arse.

Fuck Wit Dre Day
I caught the X39 bus into town this afternoon. I made the mistake in forgetting that most students finish their working day before 2pm. As a result, the bus was full all the shits that had spilled out of a nearby college. One particularly annoying student was sat in front of me wearing a pair of comically oversized headphones. Being “down wit da kids” I was able to identify these as those Dre Beats headphones everyone keeps going on about, and not a pair of Princes Leia earmuffs. He looked ridiculous. Who does he think he is? Emmanuel Frimpong? How much do these headphones cost? Not cheap, I bet. £500? No doubt Dr. Dre’s latest sucker will be protesting about increased tuition fees and how he can’t afford to pay them. Of course he bloody can’t, he’s paying Dr. Dre’s pension by wearing those stupid things on his head. Wanker.

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