Thursday, 21 June 2007

So Long, Farewell, A bientot

My brother has left for la Ville-lumière, Paris, leaving me with my parents in miserable Southampton. You are quite possibly confused, thinking "But he lives in Aberystwyth, why now Southampton?" Well, I'm a student, and Southampton is where my parents live, but seeing as mostly my friends read this (occasionally) they'd know that.

So I moved into my flat at Aberystwyth, and it’s all nice. All except Mily (my flatmate) is turning it pink, so I will have a bachelor bedroom rather than a bachelor pad. If all else fails I will strategically place crabs all around the flat, seeing as it is one of her deepest phobias. That’ll teach ‘er. After a few days I left for home, and had quite a pleasant (7 hour) train journey, but it was by no means remarkable. I got on, sat down, got off- and that’s about it. No enraged drunks wielding knives or women going into labour I’m afraid.

The first Friday I was back I went to see Spiderman 3 with Jo. I thought it was quite good, after everyone saying how it was a disappointment. I suppose the fact I had received negative press about it went for its favour, as I did not have high expectations. Also, I’m never one to agree with the mob. Not much happened between then and my brother’s awaited arrival (except the church BBQ, which involved a strange dog-lady). So Tuesday my brother graced us with his presence, however, as he has a job in Paris (at McDonald’s, I can’t scoff, at least he has one), so could only stay for a week. On Friday we went to see another film, with Jo and Katy: The Fantastic Four. Stone-the-crows! it was awful. Okay, not that bad, but mediocre at best.

Oh, I nearly missed out the trip to Poole. We went to Poole to meet up with Kaylee, and that was an enjoyable thorough-fair! We looked at Poole pottery, caught up with each other’s gossip, and went to a sweet shop (though the Turkish delights were disappointing). We dined, as always, at a Wetherspoons. I also brought a HUGE complete works of Shakespeare, from The Works, and want to by the Colan-Doyle one as well.

Saturday we went to The Fisherman’s Rest in Lymington. It is renowned for its brilliant food, but its service can be a bit bi-polar. When we came in we had to wait at the bar for 10 minutes, without even being acknowledged with a “We’ll be with you in a moment.” Then the miserable barman didn’t give my dad a full pint (which in his books deserves instant dismissal, but he was in his 50s so probably the manager). The waitresses were very friendly, and the starter went without a hitch. Then we came to the fated main course. Oh, poor, woeful fated main. Sorry, just hyping up a banal restaurant faux pas story. I had ordered venison, and it wasn’t until the rest of my family had been served their meals did they realise they had run out of venison and not cooked me my meal. But the waitress was profusely apologetic and I asked for a pork dish, that my mum had, and that was out within 5 minutes- what’s more, it was delicious and free! Yes, I saved £14! I was, however the only one to have dessert (cheesecake as usual).

Sunday was Father’s Day. We cooked him fried breakfast, and then a cream-tea for the evening. My grandparents joined us for the evening soiree. I cooked a chocolate cake, scones and cheese scones with a red onion relish. All of which (even if I do say so myself) were practically perfect in every way. Before you go on about modesty- false modesty is just hypocrisy.

Tuesday, Stephen abandoned, forsook, and left me. Not that I begrudge him living in beautiful, vibrant Paris, while I’m stuck here.

Today, I went to the Post Office, and met Margaret from down the road. She’s a lovely old dear that we buy our eggs from, and she plies us with a boundless supply of rhubarb. So I walked back with her, and found out she’s been living in the area all her life, and moved into the farm where she lives in 1954. So there you go, some random social history. By the way, Stephen, the speculation to whether her name is actually Margaret is over because someone had a chat with her, calling her that name.

So that’s a basic overview since I last wrote. However, I expect that now I’m home I’ll probably write a few more entries than I usually do.

1 comment:

  1. How can you nearly forget me, Stephen doesn't and he is in a whole different country to me whereas you are half hour down the road from me.