Tuesday, August 16, 2011

No point to this one, just rambling

Well, we've come to the end of another weekend, not as great as the last one but did meet some fantastic people as well as some knob heads but that's just par for the course in this day and age I guess.
I met a girl who was over here from Guernsey (I know, poor her right?!) She's so tiny you could fit her right in your pocket. It makes me feel like gigantor but never mind, at least I don't have to worry about wearing heels around her hey!
I also gave a guy another chance to make a good impression at which he failed at miserably. I'm not saying that I need to be courted, impressed and wooed by new friends or potential bed mates (of which he is neither) but a bit of courtesy in this mad world does make a huge difference.
The first time I ever met this guy he came to meet me straight from having dialysis. He asked me if I knew what dialysis was and I was like "duh, I'm a vet nurse of course I know what dialysis is" although I said it in a more polite and socially acceptable way at which point he looked all disappointed like a dog who has had a sausage waved in front of his face (of the meat kind, you dirty minded miscreants!) and then seen said sausage disappear into the meaty mouth of his owner. Come on you all do it. At which point the conversation seemed to stumble slightly as you could see his brain searching lists of conversational topics which didn't involve dialysis.
Turns out there was none.
After the preliminaries, you know, what do you do? Nothing at the minute, I'm having dialysis, the conversation reached it's final death throes and we sat there staring at each other for what seemed like decades. I was on the point of faking an epileptic fit just to get out of there when the alarm on my phone went and I gleefully passed it off as "the emergency phone call" thankful  that my alarm sounds just like a ring tone. Don't judge me.
I know you've all done that too. Got a friend to call you half an hour after you go on a date with someone so if they do turn out to be crazier than Russell Brand on acid with the looks of a Gordon setter you can just high tail it out of there with a sunny "sorry my friends hamster just attacked her! Went straight for the jugular, gonna have to get her to A and E pretty sharpish so she can have her tetanus jabs so her head doesn't fall off" and then canter off into the sunset without a backward glance shaking the guilt off like misplaced rain drops.

Now, luckily this wasn't a date. It was a meeting of two people who on paper seemed to have similar interests to bring happiness in small increments into a world that is about as friendly as cancer.
I met him to have someone to go kayaking with which seemed like a sensible idea seeing as I have never been kayaking before and wanted to have someone there who a) knew what they were doing and b) would be able to record my last will and testament if I was pitched over the side and sunk like a stone to the bottom of ole Davey Jones locker. Why they call it that I don't know but still, that person could tell my mum to look after Ringo, divvy up my meagre possessions amongst my closest friends and referee the fight over who gets to keep Slash.
So, that's why I wasn't too bothered that he seemed to be a big dull dud. Plenty of fish in the sea so to speak. Actually he wasn't a big dull dud, he was a small dull dud. About the size of a hobbit but still a dull dud nonetheless. It was as though his illness defined him which is what I have found about people who are ill. I noticed it with my Dad as well when he came out of hospital and would announce cheerfully to anyone within hearing range "I've just had an operation" and many a time we've had to shuffle him away, crimson with embarrassment, muttering "they don't want to see your scar Dad".
And if it's someone you care about, you tend not to mind because yes, it has been a big thing in your life as well. You've lived through it too but when it's someone you've only just met, hoping to find some common ground, well...you just couldn't give a fuck really could you?
Be honest.
The only reason you engage that person is to be polite and what you're really thinking is "Oh God, how do I get out of this conversation without seeming like a callous, uncaring bastard? I wonder what to do for tea tonight? Ooo the new series of Dexter is on" and so on until you notice that they've finished and are waiting for your input at which point you just mumble an insincere "ooo I know" said in a northern accent of course and start winding the conversation to a hurried close.

Anyway, he contacted me again a few weeks ago saying that he was arranging a couch surfers meeting on the island (look up couch surfers, it's totally awesome) and would I like to be involved?
I thought, meh. It can't be that bad there will be other people there so it won't be like I have to keep the conversation going all by myself, there may even be some interesting people there so I said yes and arranged to meet at the weekend. Also all part of my new "lets say yes to things to have a more interesting and varied life" thing. Working wonderfully at the moment I don't think.

It didn't start off too well. He messaged everyone in the group saying that we were going to the battle of flowers and if anyone couldn't get into town to get a ticket to message him and he would pick one up. Seeing as I work weird hours and don't get into town very often I thought well, seeing as he's going in anyway I will see if he can pick one up for me too so I sent him a message to that effect and got the reply "sorry, I don't live or work anywhere near town so you'll have to get your own".

Strange, I thought. Why would you offer to do something that you clearly couldn't do? But, no matter. I shrugged it off and said it's OK, I'll buy my ticket on the door. Mildly irritating like thrush but you just shrug it off.
On the day of the battle, I turned up at the meeting place and there was no one there so I called dialysis guy (lets give him what he wants; a definition of himself by his illness) who said they were running late and would be there soon. I was with some other people as well, I thought the more the merrier so I said well we'll go in and meet you in there and I gave them directions to where we were standing.

A bit later I get a phone call asking where we were (I just told you that but never mind) so I told him and he says "Oh we're on the other side and it's easier for you to move than for me to try and move ten people" as if they were cows or window lickers not in full control of their own capabilities but again, only a mild irritation, so off I go, dog in hand again to find the missing couch surfers. A bit like wheres wally without the stripey jumpers. We meet and he hugs me on my arrival which I thought was a bit strange but went with it thinking maybe the first day we met he was having an off day. He had just come from dialysis after all.

I didn't really talk that much to him that night which was a bit of a relief but I did meet the girl from Guernsey so it was a nice night prettily rounded off by some lovely fireworks.

The next day we had arranged to go for a BBQ but the weather wasn't amazing so I didn't think it would be happening so I text DG (Dialysis Guy for those of you who haven't been paying attention) and asked if they were still at the tower and all I got back was "well, we are at Big Vern's"
Seriously, that was all. I started to get a bit brassed off with it all then so I didn't bother to reply thinking I'm not going to chase this ignorant ass round the island plus I didn't have a lot of credit and didn't want to waste it on him so I left it.
That night we had all arranged to go to the Splash and watch some bands, Rick being one of them and I had already got my ticket so off I toddled on my lonesome which is OK, I don't actually mind being by myself. I'd rather be by myself than in the company of idiots.
It was all going rather well and then the couch surfers turned up and it continued to go rather well seeing as I couldn't really hear what DG was saying given the difference in time zones between our heights. Sorry, that was mean. What I meant to say was that it was loud and I couldn't bend down enough to hear what he was saying. STOP IT!!!

Anyway, I had a lovely time with Guernsey Girl, we exchanged phone numbers and nurtured our fledgling friendship like a little baby bird and when Lloyd Yates came on I decided it was time to go as they are a bit of a yawn fest. Plus I was hungry not having had a BBQ that day.

The next day was sunnier and GG (Guernsey Girl- keep up will you) had said that they might try the BBQ that day as it looked nicer so I called her once I had finished interviewing Israel Cannan (you can check that out on Ringo meets next week) and asked what the plan was. She said they were going to ouaisne beach (however the fuck you spell that!) and I said OK cool, where abouts is that?
She said "you're asking me??!!" and promptly handed the phone over to DG whereupon my day got a lot worse.
He said (and I'm pretty much quoting verbatim here) "You'll have to look at a map because I'm a local and would have different land marks than you so it'll be easier for you to just look at a map and find it for yourself OK?" and then he passed the phone back to GG without even waiting for me to utter a response.

"Easier for who?" I thought. Anyone who knows me at all knows of my complete inability to read a map and my absolute lack of any sense of direction. I've even got lost in a car park for Pete's sake so this information was entirely useless to me. Not to mention the fact that I was parked in a lay-by with no map and no Internet access which made his "look on google maps" even more frustrating. The thing is, I know how to get to ouaisne, I just didn't know where they were going to be so what I really wanted was a landmark to meet them by. Maybe I should have made that clearer but I thought it would be universally understood that if you're meeting someone you say "I'll meet you by the such and such" so that there wouldn't be any confusion or abundance of lost souls wandering aimlessly, clutching their hair screeching "but he said meet at the beach, but where on the beach? Where?"

Needless to say this pissed me off and I was in no mood to go and find the sodding beach so I just said to GG "You know what, lets keep in touch, I'll come to Guernsey, you come to Jersey, we'll meet up and have a good time without that little Gollum man"

She was pretty understanding so I went off to play some guitar in an angry manner and when I got home I got a text from DG hobbit man saying " Ouaisne beach, google maps" That was all it said, the arrogant little fucker.

So I sent him a message back saying "Condescending twat, wikkipedia"

I think he got the message.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

The most amazing weekend

Well, I've got to say that I've just had one of the best weekends ever. It started on Friday I went up to Durrell to watch a performance of the most Scotish of Scottish plays; Macbeth. It was hilarious! Which is no mean feat with one of Shakesperes darkest plays but Oddsocks pulls it off wonderfully with some fantastic Scottish accents and lots of audience participation which I love!

Then on Saturday I went to Jersey Fish Festival where I played on the small stage for about half an hour although I don't think many people were actually listening but Jersey Bob gave me a free gate pass and a pass to the hospitality tent which was a little bit awesome to be honest. I did feel like a bit of a fraud sat up there with all the proper musicians cos I still don't actually believe I'm that good. It still feels as though people are just being polite. A little bit like "Aw go on, let the lil window licker sing. She bought a guitar along, give her a go!" Still think people clap at the end as a relief that I've finished but anyhow it was still cool. They fed me crab and lobster and cheese and grapes and even gave me free wine so I just kept quiet about being an imposter and accepted it all very gratefully.

Living it up with the pirate dog in the hospitality suite!

It was in the VIP (ha ha) area that I met Dave. A musican with the greatest beard I've seen in a long time (I kept wanting to touch it but people think you're strange if you do that). Dave is from New Zealand so don't ask him what part of Australia he's from, he gets a little upset by that. He took some great shots of Ringo the pirate dog and we chatted for a while about inconsequential crap. I don't remember the details but he seemed like a nice guy.

Ringo had a great day too.....
He sat on the stage behind me while I played waiting patiently for me to throw his sock. I did explain that I was a little busy but he was having none of it. I actually think he got more attention than I did. Everyone walking past was like "mmm, singer? Oh look at the dog, isn't he cute, how adorable, what singer?"
Then splats of rain came so I finished up and went off to find the hospitality tent, dog in one hand, guitar in the other and I bump into Murray Norton; radio presenter and owner of one of the nicest resteraunts in Jersey.
He asks me if I'm going to perform and I tell him I've already done it and he says "oh that's a shame but we can talk to you anyway" so I say "sure" then stand around for a bit while he talks to someone chattering away in his ear (live on radio I presume) then we have a little chat and once again I do believe I came across like the village idiot because the pressure builds, the excitement rises, I become a rabbit in the headlights and can say.............

fuck all.

Well, I don't mean I said nothing and just stood there staring at him like a deaf mute, I mean that all that came out of my mouth may well have been jibbering nonsense but I don't know because when I came to out of my waking coma he was off down the pier to talk to the nutters launching themselves into the harbour with their homemade flying devices.
I shrugged it off womanfully and head off to find the hospitality tent and the free wine.
Oh and Ringo had a great day too playing with the kids and adults and a plastic cup. Who says you need expensive dog toys?!

On Sunday I woke up and did the obligatory facebook check and saw that mejulie said there was surf so I checked to see that they were Ally sized waves (ie not going to kill me sized waves) and went off to play in the water in my new wetsuit that I only just discovered fitted that morning as the last time I tried it on I was totally hungover and too feeble to do anything other than pull it just past my knees before collapsing in a dehydrated crumple on the living room floor.

So, bodyboard in hand (not graduated to proper surfboard yet) I went down to St Ouens hoping that the real surfers wouldn't laugh at me or kill me in a point break kind of way.
After surfing (well, I say surfing, I really just stand in the sea with a wetsuit and a board while the waves hit me) I go and collect my guitar from Ricks house as he very kindly took it home for me as I was getting too inebriated on free wine to walk home with it plus dog. It would have made life slightly more difficult.

I then realise that I hadn't thought things through very well. I mean, there it was, 1pm and I'm due to sing at 2.30pm at Regstock 4 and I have swallowed half the ocean and snorted the other half up my nose. Not in a "lets get high in a natural way" but in an "I've been battered by waves too big to be funny" kind of way. But I soldier on and get to Regs garden and do my thing while some nice hippy couple look after Ringo. Everyone was really nice and said it sounded goo (really???) but I'm still terrified and wondering if the audience would notice if I vomit up the fear and carry on regardless?

Anyway, Ringo and I stay the day and he makes loads of new friends by basically just barging up to people and demanding that they throw the ball for him and I sit there, lil billy no mates like some ugly sister who no one wants to dance with at the school disco. I reckon if he had a facebook page, he'd have way more friends than me in no time at all.

Oh, and it seems we have gone full circle too. Biker guy turned up in a silly hat (but we like silly hats) and once again I sat across the ampitheatre from him not saying anything and surreptitiously glancing  over at him when he wasn't looking and still too chicken to go and say hi. Although, if you've blown someone out, it's your job to go and say hi if you see them otherwise how do they know if they're still allowed to talk to you? If I went and said hi would he think that I was stalking him? I still like him cos I'm a twat and he seems to have been relegated to pushbike guy but that doesn't sound as good so the name stays. And he does look fit in his biking outfit.