The One in the Gorilla Suit

Last year some of you may recall my disappointment at returning home for my brother's wedding - not the fact he was throwing away his bachelorhood but the fact I missed the great gorilla race. What is that? Some of you may ask. Well I will ask the following of you. Given the chance to dress up as a gorilla and then run around central London crossing the Thames a few times with 1000 odd fellow dressed in a similar matter would you dare to take on the challenge? Now I suppose the majority of you are saying "That sounds right up your alley" and indeed you would be right - but I managed to drag in a couple of lads from work as well.

My training consisted of jogging - building up to 10km for about the 2 months before. The circuit was only 7.5km but I figured the extra kms would account for the gorilla suit. This was a little bit of a miscalculation on my part. The costume we had chosen was a pirate theme. Not really sure why we went for this one but it seemed a safe bet we would be the only ones. The course essentially followed a zig zag across the bridges of the Thames (Tower, London, Southwark and Blackfriars) which seemed like a rather scenic route. Unfortunately each of the bridges required a climb of stairs which is not particularly easy to accomplish in a gorilla mask. To illustrate how tricky, my sis-in-law was running for about 20m beside me trying to take my photo and I didn't see or hear her (and you might know she is not particularly quiet - sorry sis).

The run itself was quite good and we did seem to get quite a good cheer from the unsuspecting tourists who probably assumed they wouldn't be taking photos of gorillas that day. I was probably doing quite well until the last km or so when the crowd thinned out and there wasn less urge to push on. I finished in a time of around 50 mins which was about 5 past what I expected although I was still rather proud of my effort.

I think I had probably sweated roughly what a pelican can hold in his beak, which was evident when I took off the ape gloves and a pool of water washed out. Satisfied with our effort we headed straight to the bar for some rehydrating. A couple of beers later and I was being carried to the next bar by all. I did wear the gorilla mask on the tube and scared quite a few of the passengers on our journey.

If we are all around next year we have all vowed to do it again (I have the suit, it would be rude not too) - so any suggestions on a theme would be grateful.

The One from the Fest

Warning: The Womble Blog does not endorse any excessive drinking from shoes.

"Shoe, Shoe, Shoe, Shoe!" Was our catchphrase of this years Oktoberfest. The goal of Oktoberfest is to drink as many steins, eat as much pork knuckle and slam back as many shoes as possible. Contrary to any warnings appearing on this sight it is tradition to drink excessively from any shoe available. Unfortunately it was my turn to provide the shoe this year and the green ferrari's certainly held up to the watertight test. Luckily enough most nationalities joined in to drink from the cherished shoe. The poor few that declined were heckled and booed until our voices were hoarse. Questions pondered for millennia have now been answered:

1. How many people can fit into a bag locker at the train station? (two)
2. Is it possible to drink yourself sober? (not sure - too drunk to remember)
3. What is the best hat to wear at the fest? (Horse hat)

4. What is the worst hat? (The little boy hat)

5. Where is the most comfortable place to nap on your drunken stumble home? (Train tracks)

6. Does wine belong at the fest? (Only when drunk out of a mini Stein)

The One in the Croatian Bars

The girl and I headed ourselves to Croatia for a week to enjoy sunshine, good food and wine. This turned out to be an amazing trip for us, taking us both by surprise by the surroundings and culture you become immersed in. We visited Split, Dubrovnik, Korcula and Hvar. Each location differed immensely but gave us the same enjoyable feeling. I thought it would have been very hard for one to go there and not feel the same.

The highlights of our trip were vast however it is a few of the many bars we visited that I need to tell you about. We spent several nights in Dubrovnik and each afternoon we ended up at a bar called - Buza. Apart from the bar being appropriately named it was the location that drew us back. The bar is situated on the rocks outside the cities main walls right on the ocean. The sunset is amazing as you watch the boats sail past, as well as the steps leading down to the ocean it self so that you can cool the afternoon heat off with a swim.

We considered staying at Dubrovnik for longer but alas I am glad we moved on to Korcula, if only for a night, as we found the coolest cocktail bar I am ever likely to see. The name of the bar is Massimo but it is the location that will fascinate you - it is situated at the top of a turret. Overlooking the water you climb up to the top via a ladder. The drinks are taken to the top via a pulley up the side of the turret. The girl being the sensible one limited her cocktails in thought of the climb back down. Not one to shy away from an a difficult situation (especially alcohol induced) I decided to continue drinking a few more Mojito's to raise the bar. By the time we left it was apparent the girl did the sensible thing as I certainly struggled my way down the ladder. Surprisingly enough the staff were acting as if this was the norm and went about their business.

From Korcula we headed to Hvar - one of the more popular tourist spots for the fashionably young tourists. The bar we found on this island, called Hula Hula bar was right on the rocks although not quite the cliff face of Buza. Here we met up with the lil sis who was at the end of her 3 month holiday. She had found a friend on her travels and they were suitably catching up on their tans before heading back to the Australian summer. The bar was a rather pumping place with plenty of drinks and some very nice tunes pumping out for all to enjoy. If the beer wasn't enough to cool you down the water a few steps away certainly did the job. We spent a couple of afternoons at this bar sunning ourselves and drinking (no guesses for which one the girls were doing and which one I was doing).

Overall the trip was fantastic and contrary to this entry we did venture outside the bars. The beauty of this country however is no matter what you are up for it caters for everything. The hardcore tourist to the relaxed sloth - there is something for everyone.

The One with the Free Phone

Due to my hectic offshore schedule it became apparent that I would miss the few gigs that my favourite band had reformed to play. Geographically everything in Europe is close but logistically trying to organise everything is a massive hassle. That being said this was possibly my last chance to see Faith No More play.

The Cousin had picked the French festival "Rock en Seine" as the easiest for us to get to and the most likely for me to attend. We caught the Eurostar over mid-afternoon and decided to commence our boozing. We went to a few bars that we new to get into the Parisian spirit. Many bars were visited and a large quantity was consumed.

We ended up at a very French Brasserie that provided quite a feast (and even more wine). By the time we finished up it was well into the late evening so we metroed it back to the arrondissement we were staying in. It was rather late and we found a pretty dodgy bar devoted to 'the clash' to have a few pints in before it closed.

As we were walking back to the hotel we passed a stylish, Indian restaurant looking, cocktail bar that seemed to be pumping. We ventured inside for a night cap. The cousin headed to the bar and I sat at a comfy couch nearby. After the last couple were served the barman looked at my cousin and proceeded to tell him they were closed. This puzzled us for many reasons and I could see a verbal altercation in the mix. As I got up and moved to the bar I noticed something on the floor beside it. I bent down picked it up and returned my hands to my pocket. Grabbing the cousin we moved onto the street as he questioned my motive. As we walked down the street I produced a brand new iPhone from my pocket. Funnily enough it was locked and in French so I had no way to find it's owner. Even funnier is how easily the phones can be 'jailbroken' to be used by anyone. As such I now have a brand new iPhone.

The festival the next day turned out to be amazing which is solely contributed to a grand FNM performance and a free iPhone.

Thy One from Thee Globe

The Shakespeare's Globe has been around in old London town in its various forms for more years then I care to find out. A group of us went along for his most famous of tragedy - Romeo & Juliet.

We decided to get the £5 standing tickets to really experience the peasant life - which realistically would be my status back then. It was clear we were in the povo section when a woman fainted after standing there for too long. She was dragged to the side as the show carried on.

As the show got into it I noticed the lads playing the characters of Romeo and Tybalt were black. This was not in the least unusual, and they were were both rather good in the role (particularly Romeo), until the parents of Romeo came on stage with their skin as white as a ghost. Later on Juliet's description of him "Either my eyesight fails or thou look'st pale" pushed it a little further towards the edge. It took me to the end of the play, whether unintentionally or not, who did all the killing. Tybalt Kills Mercutio, Romeo kills Tybalt before killing himself. Three of the four deaths are the result of a black man.

I will leave you with my favourite quote: "Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you bag- gage! You tallow face!"

The One with the Upgrade

The Girl and I decided to take advantage of cheap Eurostar tickets to fulfill one of my European goals - spend a whole weekend eating/drinking only waffles, mussels and beer. It was also a good opportunity to check out a few statues of children and dogs urinating. For the uneducated - these goals can all be achieved in Brussels...

We met at St Pancreas demolished some sushi and wine in fairly quick fashion before heading for our train. As we approached our carriage the attendent turned us back revealing that there was no airconditioning here and we would be directed elsewhere into the business class seats. As we approached there was a small queue and it was clear they were struggling to find everybody seats.

As we got to the front of the line a rude couple pushed in front of us which was pretty amusing to me although they copped a rough serve from the girl. I pulled her aside to explain they would not exactly leave us behind - although her point was she didn't want to miss out on the business class upgrade. After they had seated everone else the train manager spoke to a few of his colleagues and it was apparent we would not be in this carriage.

"Follow me," he explained, "I have a special carriage for you." He then escorted us to a private room at the front of the carriage - with two large chairs and a couch. We reclined back into our chairs and left the door open. Quite a few people walked past and jealously looked in and it became even better after we opened our bottle of champagne.

Eventually the rude couple walked past, pausing in disbelief, with their jaws ajar before I reached over and with a smug smile slid the door closed. We could hear the woman berating the man as they wandered off down the corridor to the echoes of our laughter.

The One with the delays

The girl had her birthday recently and I decided that a trip to Venice would put me in the good books. We arrived with a few hours to spare in order to make good use of the lounge at the airport. It wasn't until we got through customs that we were told our flight would be delayed from 7 until 10pm.

Not wanting to miss a minute of enjoying the weekend we did the only thing we new would lessen the annoyance - hit the booze in the lounge. Most of the flights were delayed that day because of an emergency landing so the lounge was fairly full. In spite of this we manged to grab a great window seat near the bar and promptly went about our business.

A few drinks later more bad news hit us with our flight being delayed until 1am. Again not wanting to put a damper on things we grabbed more vintage wine and cheese. We noticed that more than half the flights for that evening had been cancelled so a bad feeling was building up from within.

The Girl was very agitated and was checking the board frequently to find out when ours would be cancelled which was fortunate when for some reason our flight got brought forward. In typical style when you booze it before travel we were now late and had 5 mins to get to our departure gate.

Fortunately for us most passengers were in the same boat so the gate was held until all the passengers arrived. We took off and 2 hours later arrived at 2am in a very humid Venice. Because of the late arrival the trains were closed and no taxis were around.

Earlier in the week I had debated on pre-booking a rather expensive water taxi that thankfully I favoured in order to spoil the girl. Upon exiting the arrivals hall we were greeted by an empty airport. We made our way over to a closed taxi desk that had a man telling people there were no taxis available.

The Girl spied a note stuck to the top of his desk with my name and a phone number on it. We dialled the number and after a brief exchange was told to head to the wharf our water taxi would be there shortly.

A few of our fellow passengers questioned whether hitching a ride was likely but my response being the boat was only able to accommodate 2 people. We had a short wait at the wharf before our boat arrived. The taxi was an impressive vessel and had room for about 12 people. The chirpy driver led us on board and grabbed our bags. As we pushed off from the wharf we saw the same passengers waving as they hurried along the wharf to try and get a lift. And in true Venician style we continued on our way in a romantic ride for 2.

The One with the Bet

One of the things of certainty most people know about me: A bet taken with the remote chance for me to win is money in the bank.

Some of the guys at work came up to me one morning discussing the need they had for various reasons to lose some weight. Having successfully acquired a Heathrow injection on my arrival I figured it was probably a good idea for myself to participate. Knowing my mental attitude I figured I would need something a little more to drive my motivation. Mentioning the propostion of involving a wager intrigued my colleagues and in a short space, a cast of 10 had included themselves in the challenge.

The rules: Most weight lost as a % of total body weight. 1 month was the duration of the competition. Winner takes all.

As we discussed what our potential weight loss would be I assumed a 10kg limit was achievable. 2.5kg a week seemed a reasonable assumption. It was discussed amoung a few of us over the morning coffee (which was now an apple in place of my favoured latte). One of the chaps scoffed at my assumption and provoked a response "Care for a wager on that?" Thus I had him offer to double the pot if I could achieve the goal (and give it up if I didn't make it). The thought never crossed my mine that I wouldn't lose either of these but the potential was there to be out £220.

I commenced the first week with total booze ban and fitness kick. Jogging 5km everyday and swimming 3 times a week. My diet changed rapidly and the clincher was no booze. It became apparent to others (but also myself) that I was not an entertaining goon on the evenings of social activities but never the less let the reputation take a beating for the good of the bet. My cockiness was showing after the first day when I decided to "pre" spend my winnings on a Wii fit. After the first week my weight had come down 4kg.

Amazed at the rapid loss a few people mentioned that was likely but it would get much harder from here on. This appeared to be true - I only lost 3 kg after the second. Half way there and one of my close friends was having a deportation party as the Visa had run its course. The girl and I attended where I came to the realisation why bars and clubs serve booze - there is nothing fun about them without it.

At the end of the third week I had lost just short of 9kg total. This rather excited me and I actually trained even harder - figuring hitting the goal early would be able to slow everything down.

For some reason during the final week my body hit a wall and my weight did not want to drop anymore. 2 days out from the weigh in I still had 1 kg to go. Being the determined man I am, I figured the only thing to do was hit runway model / jockey mode. I stepped up the training and stopped the food intake. The night before the weigh in I put on as many layers of clothes that would fit and wrapped myself up in several blankets.

Sure enough I woke up in the morning drenched through but feeling in good shape to hit the scales. I had another jog before hitting work. The weigh in was later in the day so I decided to check on the scales what my last ditch efforts had produced. In utter frustration my weight loss was at 9.9kg. I headed to the pool with one of my colleages to try and knock off the last gram.

Upon returning to work a crowd had gathered for my weigh in. A number of people had mentioned it was rather noticeable however I was still worried about the last gram. Jumping on the scales I was impressed to see a total loss of 10.3kg stare back at me. A few people were in disbelief that I had lost that amount but I headed straight to the water cooler to try and replenish the bodies reserves. The closest rival was 4% behind me so I cleaned up the full £400.

On the way home I felt rather lightheaded and had to stop several times with the stars spinning in my eyes. It is safe to say that it was a rather unhealthy venture but enduring the hardship made it rather more satisfying.

"It's all about the Benjamins"

The One with the Drive

Ferrari F-360GT - Silverstone Circuit! I was in the hot seat and getting instructed on the vehicle. We had been through some basic training on how the car would handle through the corners and basic braking zones. The instructor had mentioned that we would probably not be taking the car to its full potential - although I intended to prove him wrong. I watched most of the other drivers slowly limp out of the pits and down to the track. My car was the last to go but instead of cautiously making my way I put my foot down and booted it. This seemed to please my instructor as he didn't take to my lack of circuit racing at all. The exit onto the track is at the back of the course before Vale. so I could ease my way around the first couple of corners. The thing about Silverstone is that it is so wide and flat you fell like you're in a car park. This makes hitting the apex a little tricky but I soldiered on. It seemed incredible that my many years on the Playstation and PSP had little help for my practical track experience. I knew the corners but hitting them in a real car was a bit harder. Around Beckett's the first 2 laps I was a little wide and couldn't get out of the corner quick enough. But the third lap was my swan song. I kept the car tight throughout with only a slight hiccup at the Priory. As I came to Beckett's my line was superb and I got the acceleration timed just right on the exit. As I came to the end of the straight I looked down to see 165km/hr on the dash. Unfortunately we had to brake a little earlier to pit in otherwise I am sure it would of been well over 170km/hr. Even so I was very proud of my laps and the instructor sounded pretty impressed by the final lap. I received a score of 82% from him and he said it was unfortunate to be judged on all 3 laps rather than the last. I don't think I am ready for my super licence yet - but there is potential.

The One in New York

After a terrible flight, even sitting 3 rows behind Anthony Stewart Head (Giles from Buffy) could not lighten our spirits. He was a rather nice chap and was friendly enough to talk to. We waited in the immigration line for over an hour and it was interesting his celebrity status didn't help fast tracking him through.


The Girl didn't enjoy my running commentry of the natives - particularly my over use of the word 'Seppo'. In fairness I had only be using it when one of them acted indecently, rudely or just plain annoying. By the time we left the baggage claim we had thought up a new word to represent the 'Seppo' culture - Hutts. It is fair to say that Hutts was used in the majority of my sentences.

The first morning we ate at Toms Restaurant (Monks Diner from Seinfeld). I had to try the Pancakes and Bacon. Superb. We then ventured through Central Park. We then took in some classic sights - the original soup nazi kitchen, apartment block from friends and a couple of the Sex and the City sights. We ended up in an Irish bar for a drink when we were approached to join their 'Superbowl Party'. Possibly the fact that the girl and I had not been to one before but more the fact it was $20 all you can eat and drink we decided to stay. I must say it probably would of been a rather boring game had we not tried to get triple our moneys worth.

The following night we headed to Madisen Square Garden to watch the Lakers visit. The Girl had managed to pick up some quality tickets on halfway and I was chuffed to see Kobe drop 61 on the Knicks. The atmosphere was incredible and the Lakers victory lit up Sportscentre later that evening.


Early the next morning we decided to try our luck with Lettermen tickets. I went to Hello Deli to grab a rather tasty sandwhich off Rupert. The show was an experience. Unfortunately the guest was an impeached governer that had little relevence to the Girl and I. It wouldn't surprise me if he is convicted at the end of his trial. I am not suggesting he is guilty it just seemed that he wouldn't be on the receiving end of a favourable verdict.