Monday, April 28, 2008

Beatles everywhere!

An inventory of the weekend.

Plum sightings - seven.

Plum sightings by me - none, despite Dave's best efforts. I did, however, see a grainy photo of Johnny's on (I think) Owen's mobile.

Pub bannisters divorced from the fixings - One. Well done to Matt.

Buskers sung with - One. Again Matt with a glorious rendition of 'In My Life' on Saturday night.

Burgers - One.

Hot-dogs - One, shared drunkenly between myself, Johnny and Billy.

Car parks visited - One by the lads on Friday. They were there for drinking, and not dogging (or so they claim).

Sea hags kissed - One, again not by me. I kept Cassius well tucked up (again, despite Dave's best efforts).

Drinks drunk - 1,343.

It was a dinger of a weekend was Johnny's stag there in Liverpool. A DINGER. We drank from 6.30 in Dublin Airport on Friday morning until the plane home, where I force fed the groom one last can of Carlsberg served out by the Sky Clowns.

Between there were pubs visited from the Baltic Fleet to the Goose At The Queens to the Ibis Bar to the First National for the match, The Cavern Club (while I deposited myself in the pub of the same name earlier in the day), Jamie Carragher's restaurant, some Irish ex-pat place called The Liffey, another random drinkery with Richie and Dave on Friday night and the Hogshead.

None of those names will mean anything to my female readership, but given that all my mail subscribers were with me (5X and Ollie aside), they'll know.

Of course, the weekend was made up of all sorts of ridiculousness, bare asses and bras (well just one procured from Deccie, and heaven knows where he came across it), but I can't do it justice here. Photos will likely emerge in time.

One thing though, at every turn is a Beatles song or photo. "OK, we get it, they sang songs and came from Liverpool," I was caused to remark to Johnny when passing through customs.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Still afoot.

Yes it has been three weeks since my last post, what of it? Warm remains the blood coursing through these veins, and I’ve been fretting and plotting over Johnny’s impending stag party in Liverpool.

Oh glory be but it’s going to be lunacy, with 30 Irish souls, and one Athlonian, sunken in booze from the early hours of Friday until the middle hours of Sunday.

The Formule1 hotel houses us. I’m pretty nervous about this place, what with it being ranked the worst hotel in Liverpool, but take comfort from the fact that 16 other members of our party will be in rooms adjacent. Hopefully.

Otherwise, I’m on a midweek break from the bottle, given that the weekend just gone saw me destroyed in a bad way. We’d the suit fitting for the wedding on Sunday, with the aftermath seeing us guzzling our way through Foley’s, Toner’s, somewhere drunk and somewhere drunker again. As a result I eschewed beer with the lads for the match last night, an action regretted upon having to deal with Riise’s blunder completely sober. Sakes.

Anyway, those of you who know me most will know the summer plans are coming along nicely if slowly. Those of you who know me less will find out in good time what the devil I’m up to.

Friday, April 04, 2008

My health regime.

Well all is fine with the health, apparently, apart from the fact I've been warned off cheese and other cholesterol inducing food stuffs for the time being. Such a penance!

Due to a recent spate of lethargy and general upsidedownedness, I visited my medic in Limerick for fasting bloods, just to eradicate the possibility of anything debilitating like plague or the lurgy. Well, it all checked out grand except for the aformentioned and ever-so-slightly raised cholesterol, so I was posted a diet sheet.

The following is fine, to be eaten regularly: Chestnuts, walnuts, pinenuts, skimmed milk, soya milk, COTTAGE cheese, sorbet, Marmite, Bovril, lemon juice, herring, mackerel, wholemeal flour, fucking rice cakes, commeal, brown rice and crisp breads.

What do all the above have in common? I have never touched a single one. That is right.

The following is ok, to be eaten sporadically: White bread, teacake, pancakes, pistachio nuts, peanut butter, jam, marmalade, olives and oven chips.

Slightly better here, but any of the above should only be consumed twice to three times weekly. Incidentally, booze falls into this category. I felt this gave me carte blanche to get rubbered on Wednesday, but that's another story.

The following are 'treats': Most nuts, some cheeses like Edam and Camembert and Gouda and Brie, sugar coated cereals, jellies, malted or hot chocolate drinks made with skimmed milk only, chips and roast potatoes cooked in suitable oil (most likely not to be found in the Fish Bar across the road, again something I flouted on Wednesday), prawns, molluscs, crab, oysters, lobster and winkles. I have no idea what a winkle is. Oh, and tripe.

The above are to be consumed just once a week or less. And that means one of the above once a week, not all of the above once a week. Or somewhere in between. Must look into that.

Finally, completely verboten? Full fat milk or cream, most cheeses (the horror), sausages, luncheon meats, pate, sausage rolls, burgers, scampi, coconut (bizarrely enough, stay away from those Bounty bars kids!), cream filled biscuits, chocolates, toffee, fudge, cream soups, deep-fat-fried chips, normal roast potatoes and, most sadly, goose, which easily constituted a quarter of my daily diet before this fiasco.

What will I do without my daily goose dipped in chocolate lard? It's all too much.

I have three courses of action here. Action the first sees me embrace this new healthier eating pattern, replete with regular apples, Flora and Weetabix, and go back in six months to be told I'll live to be 100.

Action the second sees me stick to it for a couple of weeks but implement a strict exercise regime, based around a fuck load more than I'm doing currently, thereby off-setting the odd quarter pounder with cheese with muscle bounding daily workouts.

Action the third sees me ignoring the whole thing safe in the knowledge that my card is marked no matter what I do.

In reality, the whole thing will be a conundrum of all three. There will be times where I fold, times where I bound around Cabra like a man possessed with sweatbands and a glowing forehead, times where I choose the cup of hot water over the coffee, and times where I get completely buckled and pay for it for days. I can't promise to try and eat healthier, but I CAN promise to try to try.

(I wonder if I can eat these rashers. They're only three days out of date.)