Thursday 2nd October 2003|
So, this is October then . . . hmmm, I see.
Tuesday 7th October 2003|
Ah . . . joy, joy, joy, for soon I will be on holiday, on the other side of the planet.
And, is this theSam Jordison?
Anyone? Formerly of LRGS?
Lancaster didn't make it.
Maybe your town's listed. Can I go now? Bored
of this game.
Wednesday 8th October 2003|
"And then I came to the cellar, but this house was different to the others . . . a lot more tidy,
well kept, you know?"
"Sure, go on."
"And, erm . . . yeah, there was lots of pine or some kind of light wood. The air wasn't nearly as damp as
some of the other places. And . . . yeah. I came to a frosted glass door, which I assumed led to another
bathroom. When I saw the two figures in there, I didn't initially think anything odd; my first thought
was of the dimensions of this bathroom. It wasn't a huge bathroom, just kind of average, perhaps a bit
bigger. I could make out the shape of a bath, opposite the door, and there was a toilet in the corner
diagonally opposite to the head of the bath. But then these thoughts left me and I realised, 'These people are decomposing,'
and that's when the fear set in. One was sat on the toilet, kind of on the edge, facing the other person . . .
do I say person?"
"Do I . . . it's just that . . . I mean, they weren't even . . ."
"Just carry on, it doesn't matter. Where was the other one?"
"In the bath. But, erm . . . yeah, one was in the bath, and the other was . . ."
"On the toilet seat."
"Yeah, that's right . . ."
"And then what?"
"Well, I opened the door, not really thinking, and erm . . . they just disappeared, and that was it."
"How did you know they were decomposing? You saw them . . . through, erm . . . a 'frosted glass door' you say."
"I don't know . . . their skin didn't look right . . . black or dark green . . . mottled. I . . . I can't
say for sure, it just seemed that way, you know, that they had both been dead a very long time."
"Okay. That's fine. You may go now."
Saturday 11th October 2003|
Hmmm . . . I think this is another day I can leave blank. Today I noticed a dirty mug, placed to the
left of the sofa, on the last step leading up to the first floor. Having gathered two such dirty mugs
to a central location on the living room floor (thereby forcing me to move (and therefore wash) such
mugs on my way down to the kitchen), I decided to move this mug and place it with the other two, thereby
eliminating the need to make two separate journeys to transport the dirty mugs from their present
location to the kitchen.
Sunday 12th October 2003|
More on Crap Towns . . .
Mark Hunter, leader of Stockport Council said: "Everyone is entitled to an opinion but most residents of
Stockport say they are happy here. We happen to be a national leader in recycling and we would be very willing
to deal with all the left over copies of this obscure publication."
Ever wondered what flam is? This is it.
Those people are scaring me . . .
Friday 17th October 2003|
"Of course, you know that you only . . ."
"No, I . . . erm . . . I can't recall the light source."
Friday 31st October 2003|
So this was at the end of our second week in Australia . . . yes . . . Fortitude Valley and all that. I only have
the one photo from this night. Sharon sent this along. That night, at this bar called No. 12, there was this guy there,
taking pictures, for some kind of student, local newspaper thing (god knows). We all agreed it was fine to have our
picture taken, thinking nothing more of it. Couple weeks later, the picture ends up in print, which begs the question,
"How bad were the other pictures he took if this one actually made it to print?" From left to right, we have Dan,
Kerrin, me, Shazza and Rob. Dan and Shazza were showing us (Rob and I) around loads of bars/pubs/clubs that night and
I think this was the first one we went to (initially just the four of us). Kerrin was the first to show up, and then
. . . well, people, names, faces, beer and all that . . . it muddles things . . . I remember this farmer from several
hundred miles west of Brisbane, talking to him for a while . . . Kerrin had met him at the bar . . . he was called
Alan . . . for some reason (muddled), I ended up with his mobile phone number. Kerrin said random numbers as I tried
to take his number from him. Not her numbers, just random numbers.
And were we watching a fight kick-off as we sat outside Ric's Cafe Bar? No, that was Saturday.