General miscellany
For photos which don't belong anywhere else...
One ♣ Zwei ∞ Trois € Cuatro ¥ Cinque α Seis π Zeven © Osam
So, you join us still in June 2007 and, following on from the evening in Cloud 23, this is what the Hilton tower looks like in the cold light of day.
The convention finished at around lunchtime on the Friday and we had opportunely booked an afternoon at Bramhall (I think) golf course. I'm a hacker in every way, often struggling to get the ball satisfactorily aerial, but there was a par three which with a large lake in between tee and green which brought out the worst and best in my play. Having said that, my complete shank off the tee with my first shot was quite easily mostly the fault of Mr Dave Hallam, who let out a big cough or sneeze just as I was in my swing. I immediately played another shot from the tee, this time landing it, somewhat unbelievably onto the green. Which just doesn't happen. (For me - clearly this is a key part of the game for professionals and other avid players.)
Not only that, but I then one-putted, holing it from (I dunno) fifteen to twenty feet. So, ignoring the mishit, which I quite often do when telling this story (since I was distracted by external forces), I got a proper birdie. Even if not, I got a bogey which was also probably a record. And here I am, celebrating in slightly camp fashion, with seemingly ill-fitting clothes.
Craig Gillespie, aka Morgan Spurlock, was suitably amused (and attired - it was a warm day). See more of Craig here.
So it looks like there were probably four of us: me (taking the photo), Craig with headgear, Gareth doing a jug impression and sulky Dave storming off (if memory serves he tends to mix brilliance and ineptitude with startling irregularity).
It's quite a picturesque course, though Craig, as he strode confidently towards his ball.
Not entirely sure why Dave is doing this, other than it is fast approach midnight and it is our second night out in two days.
A couple of days later and we convened once more, this time at Old Trafford for the fourth day's play between England and West Indies, a day which promised an England victory but saw a West Indies batting fightback (although England managed to win on day five). It puzzled Craig immensely.
They had sent Monty Panesar to field on the boundary near us.
In possibly the most unsurprisingly development ever, Dave had brought some quiche along with him. (Actually, it may have been me that brought this, only to inevitably share it with quiche-lover Dave.)
Katie expected that at least some of the scoreboard would start to make sense soon.
It began to get all too much for Craig - we wanted to see more wickets than this, but we only saw four. We just saw some fairly attritional (which is to say, proper) Test match cricket. It probably explains why I remember little of it, though.
I spent some of the following Friday at the Trafford Centre for some reason (I'd taken the day off), but rather than shopping I managed to get in some pool action with Katie, seen here playing with a long, thin white.
Here she is breaking off less than powerfully. Mum checks her phone in the background.
At first glance you would think I was now in surgery, but no! My fellow University of Warwick stalwarts had gone to the nearby Daytona go-karting centre for some frenetic, um, petrol-fuelled action. I started well, having made use of the practice laps more adventurously than most, and that early form ultimately gave me enough points to make the final (albeit a final with about 16 of the total 64 taking part), but Rob (pictured below) made steadier, improving progress to finish higher up in the final standings. Tom was further down the charts, hoping to later bolster his weekend points total with his chess prowess.
On our way to Sam's Chop House for our tea we happened to see the Beatles on stilts. As you do.
A classic pudding, chips and peas (lots of peas!) from the aforementioned chop house.
Classic morning-after-the-night-before hair from Tom here, as they do battle on Pro Evolution Soccer (probably 4 or 5).
More soon.
And here it is. Some goalmouth non-action, as the boys three of Warwick Uni found some fresh air in the hills of Buxton. We also played a bit of football.
My records suggest that this is from a couple of days later, at a post-work meal with a US colleague up from London. It obviously looked so tasty that I decided to take a picture (and also put that picture on this website). Does look nice. Can vaguely remember where we were but I cannot give you a name, unfortunately.
OK, we're now approaching the end of June 2007 with near-reckless abandon. Talking of abandon, here is Lynne back for the weekend from her summer-and-a-bit-of-spring-long volunteer work stint in Luton, engaging in the international (cricket) symbol of four runs with Sir Dave Hallam and Dame Jessica Sargeant, whilst watching a Twenty20 match between Lancashire and Durham at Old Trafford. (My statements are so full of facts, aren't they?)
Of course, the girls like to gas (figuratively speaking), which did not impress Dave. That don't impress him much.
But this does! This being beer, of course.
Records suggest that Lancashire won, thanks to 80 not out from Mal Loye, 49 from Steven Croft and 2-11 off four overs from Gary Keedy. Well, you did ask. Didn't you?
A couple of weeks later and we were at Lights of India for a Curry Night, home of the chutney quintet, and inspiring possibly the best review of a curry restaurant ever (see the first link).
Here is the breast-feeding daughter referenced in vespie's review, accompanied by not-so-resident goofball, Craig Gillespie (aka crespie), also known as Julie's father.
A random shot from work now, with an explicable wine-box-on-the-head pose from Mr Hallam, owner of a very cluttered desk (as usual). I somehow manage to get him to do the strangest things - I can't imagine he chose to do this.
The Hines were in Manchester towards the end of July 2007, and here you can see youthful-looking (compared to now) Eddie, Matt and Jordan. I think we were at Pizza Express.
Alison and Imogen here, distracted by something.
And the coolest of the dudes, young Tommy, approximately the age of two at this point I think.
A couple of days later, having been to Craig & Vicky's the night before (see here for more), we popped to Old Trafford, this time for some live music not cricket, provided by the Arctic Monkeys, Supergrass and the Coral.
With Lynne back in Luton on the Monday, I plotted an extravaganza for the following weekend, starting with a curry with Master Stephen Dillea in London on the Thursday night. My calendar suggests it was just meant to be drinks, but the Cobra and blurred waiter gives away the fact that we went for a curry.
I of course was also there.
Ste seemingly wanted to squeeze something, slightly worryingly.
That's it for now, leaving both the page and the fingers of Ste Dillea tantalisingly posed.
All aboard; next page.