Go Red Sox.

I have three pairs of red socks. One for each day of the series against the Yankees. I love being an October Sox fan. I make no claims for them unless they play against the Yankees or it's the post season. I would never root for them against the Mets.
I am sure that real Sox fans would get annoyed by my carpetbagging attitude but I really don't mind. Just be content that somewhere in Brooklyn there's an Englishman walking about with redsocks on in your honor.
And the best thing? I'm going to spend Sunday night at the wedding of the two biggest (yet socially acceptable) Yankee fans I know. He has been heard to question which is the more important, his wedding or the final game at Fenway.
I can't wait to see how it mixes up!

excuses, excuses.

Just so you all know I have been attempting to place lots of amusing comments upon other people's sites but have been pole axed by the wierd vagueries of my home wireless internet connection. It's been playing up a storm.

For instance I would have made several witty comments about the Johnny Damon poster that listmaker wrote about.
Actually I had not noticed the poster as the one day a week that I enter that building I try to keep my eyes closed, I am still quite traumatised by my six weeks of summer camp.
I was frustrated about not being able to mention the fact that I used to live right next door to the site of the Battle of Lansdown (1643). Weasel wrote about this and the comments page kept dissolving just as I was at my wittiest.
I was horrified not to be able to ask Handwashings where he buys his tofu.
I really wanted to complement Unwellness and Covetings on their fabbo sparkly Vegas weekend (despite the lack of GMB).
Maestra, I had to point out some home truths about your entry about the fictional establishment where you give us the tour of the floors, I was crushed.
And there are so many others, the list goes on.

In order to make up for all my shortcomings I have enclosed a rather marvellous picture of a doll a child made for me. It's actually a mini version of me!
Enjoy.

Map geek

I am a map geek, always have been, always will be.
I have now discovered a site that will distract me from now until my time comes.
I can only marvel at the future developments that will hit this site as technology catches up with it.
I feel like the man in 1962 who declared "By 1995 we will all be eating capsules for lunch!"
I was going to do things today, things like writing and going for a stroll with the lovely Ms Random Doubt.
The Gmap pedometer has now taken over, I have already found my birthplace (Rothbury Road, Wymondham, Norfolk, UK.
I have worked out exactly how far I ran the other night (about 6 miles from door to door, over the Manhattan Bridge and back over the Brooklyn).
I have also checked out the exact distance from our apartment to the Borough Hall subway station (just over 0.7 mile).
I don't know what I'm going to look up now but i'm sure it will be fantastic and that I will bore all my friends with tales of distances and hybrid maps and satellite imagery.

Kate rocks the Big Apple

Do you think my neice had a good time?

And you thought you'd heard enough about cricket....

I just started teaching the game to kids at school!

Being tall does indeed rock.

Conversations with an idiot.

We were fortunate enough to attend the delightful wedding of two wonderful friends this weekend. The venue was the Seaman's mission in downtown Manhattan. As the picture shows it's a great location nestled in amongst some of New York's most famous landmarks (as well as the ghosts of former landmarks).
It was while I was marvelling at the view that I had the following conversation.

Man at Wedding: "What is that? The Queensboro bridge?"
Me: "Er, you mean the Brooklyn Bridge?"
M.A.W: "Oh that's the fuckin Brooklyn Bridge? I never know which one is which"
Me (Assuming that he is one of the Midwestern contingent of guests and therefore in need of a quick NYC history lesson)"Yeah, that's the Brooklyn Bridge, the one next to it is the Manhattan and beyond the bend is the Williamburg, easy to remember, BMW just like the car"
M.A.W: "You know, I've lived in this city for eleven years and I still don't know this part of town, never been to Brooklyn, never gonna go, far too freaky".

Speechless, I left him to the view.

.

Catholic guilt #2.

Did i spend Sunday being stalked by iconography because I'd previously published about Catholic guilt? Or was it merely a continuation of the same dose?
It wasn't until I'd finished my lunch that I noticed the two huge bits of God staring at me.
Enough already.

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.

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Catholic guilt.

Until very recently I used to work alongside a devout Christian who took care to guide me in the ways of the Lord.
I used to joke with her and laugh off her advice whilst maintaing a high respect for her choice of faith.
Now she works with me no more.
Now when i look out of my new classroom window I have the whole gang glaring down at me.
I have to admit it is just a touch creepy.

I used to criticise others who didn't recycle properly or often. I also used to mock those who held onto copies of magazines in order to 'read them later'. Now I am both of those types of people. We have used airmiles to subscribe to a huge number of magazines, everything from foodie titles to 'Runner's world'. This is where many of them end up, underneath the wine rack in the living room.

The Ashes 2005. Final verdict.

We won the Ashes.
We won the Ashes.
We won the Ashes.
I just keep repeating it.
I'm going to take a day or two to calm down.
We won the fucking Ashes!
We won the fucking Ashes!!!!!
OK, I'll get back to sensible postings in a day or two.
Oh to be English in this hour!

The Ashes, final test.

"Raindrops keep falling on my head".
Slow, miserable, persistent English rain.
The Russians have General Winter.
The English (in cricketing terms at least) have Colonel Pissindown-Katzendogs.
Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain!

Pinchers

This time last week I was sailing through parts of the northern broads with my erstwhile sailing chum and lifestyle guru Henry Holland. Powered only by the wind and a desire for a lunchtime beer we spent the day trimming sails, watching for light air and avoiding shallows. We also talked about life and how to live it. Henry reminded me of a marvellous expression for the type of sailing that we were experiencing, "pinching".
"Pinching" is what you do when you are attempting to navigate the twisting narrow rivers and sounds of the broads. It's mostly to do with light air ( almost anyone can sail in heavy wind, just point and go whilst hanging on with grim menace) and trying to get from A to B with a minimum of effort.
We were sailing 'Fiddler' which was a slightly hopeful boat that had obviously seen better days.
Fiddler wasn't that bothered about pointing and certainly lacked the momentum required to carry us through such notorious light air spots such as the ironically named 'windy corner'.
So we were left to pinch as hard as we could, hoping that we would make it around the next bend without having to put in a tack and thus stop.
All the while we continued to dream about the next time we would get together and do all this and how we would perhaps make that call to the boatyard a touch earlier in the week in order to avoid ever having to sail 'fiddler' again.