Sophisticated? Oh really?
I have never liked clubs. I don't like the overpriced, watered down drinks, the stupidly loud repetitive music and the unbelievable crush. I could, mind you, live with all this if I was able to pull once in a while. Nope. On the contrary, of the several times I've gone on to clubs with girls from somewhere else, they've ended up wrapped around another bloke within five minutes. If you've seen the episode of the inbetweeners where they go clubbing, my experiences of it are generally like that.

Notwithstanding all of the above, I was dragged out to a club in Edinburgh last year with some friends of mine. True to form, it was boiling, too loud and unbearably crowded. I was on a sofa at the far end of the room, out of money and half cut, when it suddenly dawned on me, and I imagined I could hear a David Attenborough voiceover describing the elaborate mating rituals of the Edinburgh student. I realised that for all the dressing up and hours of preparation that some people put into clubbing, it is not sophisticated. It goes right back down to the most basic instincts shared by everything in the animal kingdom.

I started laughing. I laughed all the way down the room, all the time I was getting my coat, and right up the steps into the street. I was still chuckling as I wandered into a nearby fish and chip shop. "Cheeseburger please mate" I said. "Here you go" he replied. "I'm just closing up, so you can have it for a quid".

Now THAT's a beautiful moment.
( MatJ LOOK, Tue 10 Aug 2010, 12:45, 5 replies)

Honeymoon
For our honeymoon the wife and I decided to go on a once in a lifetime safari to Kenya. We've always been interested in nature, and this seemed the ultimate nature experience, so we booked it, packed it, fucked off.

The flight was an overnight to Nairobi. Ten hours or so and I can't sleep on planes. Got to Nairobi and instead of being a brilliant arrival to a new continent I was just tired and grumpy. The transfer to our hotel was scary as hell and the city tour was dull (apart from the driving, which is always scary as hell in Kenya). The evening was spent at a place called 'The Safari Park Hotel' and if you ever have the pleasure of a stay in Nairobi I can't recommend it enough. However, too many wines and whiskeys meant a late night and little sleep before our early start the next day.

Got up early and jumped into the vans for the bumpiest, rattliest most dusty drive I've ever been on. It lasted virtually all day. When we finally reached Samburu reserve we had a short game drive through the reserve and got to the lodge covered in dust and dirt, bruised and battered and knackered.

We had dinner and went to bed.

I slept the sleep of the dead and despite it being an ungodly early start the next day for the first time on the holiday I felt good and reasonably rested. I was excited about the safari drives and was begining to enjoy being in africa on a holiday I never thought I'd ever actually be lucky enough to go on. I had the glow of anticipation.

I got up and dressed quickly and left my wife getting ready and went looking for coffee. The lodge was set on the banks of a river and it was still dark outside. The sky was getting lighter all the time and sunrise was nearly upon us. I walked through the beautifully wooded grounds to where the coffee was served on an onservation deck over the river. No-one else was up yet and the hotel staff had left the coffee machine on so I helped myself and settled down on a comfy seat overlooking the river.

The air was cool and still. The coffe was the best I've ever tasted. The sounds of the african bush waking up surrounded me. The river gently gurgled past and a small family of elephants was grazing on the far banks. Superb starlings chattered and squabbled around me as the sun broke over the horizon, shafts of golden light spearing through the trees.

And that was it. I was all alone in my own wonderful, beautiful, perfect moment. When I stopped and thought about it, about where I was, about the place and how beautiful everything was and how incredibly lucky I was to be there I nearly wept. It's the happiest I've ever been.

If you have an interest in the natural world, and like a holiday with a bit of adventure to it rather than just sitting on a beach getting bored then go to africa. It's utterly awesome.
(robbersdog, Tue 10 Aug 2010, 11:58, 3 replies)

Lowbrow
I'm lucky enough to have a girlfriend who, despite having lived in the UK for a few years, didn't quite get au fait with some of the more peculiar British customs. One such custom (I hope that I'm not coming across as a frightful weirdo here- please feel free to correct me if this isn't a custom at all) is feeling faintly triumphant after breaking wind particularly lavishly.

When we moved in together there came the awful realization that we would have to be in the proximity of each other even when at our least soigné. As the days went by I grew tired of running to the loo every time I needed to fart, and had to figure out the best way of broaching this delicate subject.

Eventually, I decided to bite the bullet. While we were gazing into each other's eyes on the sofa one day, I asked her, in my most debonair manner, to pull my finger. She complied, and what followed was my beautiful moment.

I let fly an absolute rip-snorter; one of those guffs which go down in legend and song. It started off with a basso-profundo growl, and then climbed in pitch, with occasional bird-like trills providing the soprano. Her eyes grew wide with wonder, then crinkled with glee as she realized the momentous event which was unfolding in front of her. Her beautiful face gasped with amazement and wonder as I loudly voided my bowels of foetid air.

It is probably the most enduring image I will have of her; the memory even trumps (ahaha) even her expression when I proposed to her on top of a wind-swept hill. In fact, I'm welling up even thinking about it.
(I grew it myself, Tue 10 Aug 2010, 11:37, 16 replies)

The other night
I was kneeling on the bed next to the missus whilst in receipt of a furious handjob. It wasn't long before I shot my load, seemingly in one long spurt and with the vigorous action of her hand, it landed on her chest in a crude 'Z' shape. This was an opportunity I couldn't miss, so I cried out
"Zorro strikes again, Olé!" and with a flourish, snatched up my shirt and wrapped it across my face like a cape, leapt off the bed and ran out the room.

I came back in a few seconds later with a handtowel. I'm a proper gentleman, me.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Tue 10 Aug 2010, 11:36, 4 replies)

Driving
I was minding my own business, doing the legal limit (officer) when I looked up into my rear view mirror to see a cunt, flashing his lights at me and gesticulating that I enjoyed self love. This gent wanted to pass, but as this road was two lanes only, and there was oncoming traffic, he wanted me to pull over to let him pass..

So I slowed down by 5 kph, because I don't like tailgaters (SL 100, me doing 98)

This wound up said cunt, who was by this point so far up my arse he was hitting sweetcorn

So I applied the brakes, enough to get the lights on, but not to slow down.

Distance between us increases, and he is now spitting fire, but unfortunately all good things end, as my turn off approaches.

I indicate, he roars alongside me in his Holden Penis Extension, turns to me and stars air wanking at full force....and hits the stationary truck waiting at the lights. (Napier-Hastings 'expressway', by the Pakowhai turn off, if anyone is interested)

Hahahahahahaha..

Made more funny because I x-rayed his neck later that morning, where he assailed me with his story of how he was lured into an accident by a 'fat poof in a Fiesta', not recognizing me (thank fuck)

Another time, doing 70 on the M5 outside Port Talbot, I am passed by a Caterham 7. I look to admire said car, and am surprised to see a woman, shaking her head in a 'tut tut' kind of way.

'Odd' thinks I

5 mins later I, still doing 70, pass the 7, which was slowed to about 65 (in a 70)

5 mins later, 7 roars passed doing 90, woman shaking head in a 'sad wanker' way.

5 mins later I, still doing 70, pass the 7, which was slowed to about 65 (in a 70)

She roars past me again, shaking head. I am frankly amazed, my speed has not altered, but this mad cow seemed to think I was in some kind of race with her. Odd.

But I had a good laugh when I passed her later on, pulled over with plod having a chat with her.

Seems 70 is the speed limit, even for blonds in Caterhams.
(micmac is happy as a pig in shite, Tue 10 Aug 2010, 11:26, 10 replies)

Once whilst on holiday....
blah blah blah *Insert Wanky Picture* blah blah blah, it totally changed my perspective on life blah blah KILL YOURSELVES.
( SteveFrench Cardio is for homo's. do you even lift bro?, Tue 10 Aug 2010, 11:05, 20 replies)

Stars
Since moving from Norfolk to London, I've missed seeing the stars, but they look all the better when I go back to the homeland.

However, the most beautiful starlit sky I've seen so far (and will probably ever see), was in the Amazon Jungle last year. I was in Ecuador, and on the equator, so could see all the constellations on the Northern and Southern Hempishere. The stars were so huge and bright against a pitch black background- and kind of imposing it was so vast! I'm terrible at describing things, so I'll just say that seeing those stars, and listening to the jungle noises, was awesomely beautiful, humbling and gave me flutterbies :-)
( awayfromthenumbers, Tue 10 Aug 2010, 10:15, 3 replies)

Fans will remember that my stepmother is an utter bitch.
Fresh from blacking my dad's eyes, and making him sleep in the shed for a few days for ... god knows what ... she decided that his first daughter's wedding was off-limits, as my stepmother had insisted that she was more important to him.

Like any abusive relationship, it was incredibly difficult to watch as he allowed her to get her way time and time and time and time again. He'd been with her for several years, and has managed to father a son by her too, meaning she had him literally by the balls.

The day of the wedding came, and there was significant sadness. My uncle had been lined up to give my sister away, and all the other plans were laid for a typical, lower-middle class white wedding.

My mother, sister and I were at the reception venue that morning putting up the decorations and so forth. We were outside having a break, when who did we see striding across the field towards us?

My dad.

He's only looked back to contact my half-brother, and now he's of age, he doesn't need to go via her any more.


Previous stepmother-related fun:

1 2 3
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 10 Aug 2010, 10:13, 6 replies)

miserable old sod...
My dad could be miserable for England and my mum could moan for scotland....

Not much makes them happy, especially as my mum is now disabled due to her arthritis and other health problems....

Anyway my mum wanted to go on a cruise, she's actually wanted to go on a cruise since she was little, however my dad cant swim and doesnt like boats...

hmmm not much chance of a cruise then?

well last christmas it finally dawned on the old man just how ill my mum is so went ahead and booked a cruise....

they were nervous, they are not ones for all this fancy black tie stuff and posh stuff but they went ahead with it anyway....

well bugger me they had the time of their lives!

they had photos taken of them together and for the first time since the day before they got married we have a photo of them together smiling :D

she aint got long left but the old man has made her happy at last!

however they didnt think the 'boat would be that big' so they were 99% happy which is 99% more than usual!
(Lip Up Fatty Fatty Reggae still loves BBQ food on, Tue 10 Aug 2010, 10:04, 2 replies)

After thirty years of practice...
...finally being able to do this.


(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Tue 10 Aug 2010, 9:19, 18 replies)

A beautiful moment..
One ocurred quite recently when I decided to re-patriate to England after being abroad since 2006.

I was there looking at my ticket booking confirmation and was happy for the first time in a long while..

I presently live in the antipodes and have been here due to circumstances for some time..

Just re-realising that nothing is permanent has a certain beauty in itself.
(wuckfit Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori., Tue 10 Aug 2010, 9:07, 1 reply)

Realising a childhood ambition.
This happened less than a year ago so is recent in a geological sense.

This is an Alfa Romeo SZ;


I have wanted one since I was eleven years old. Those of a certain age and a certain computer ancestry might recognise it as the protagonist of Supercars II on the Amiga which certainly did it no harm in my eyes.

In September, after a mere nineteen years of looking at them, from time to time sitting in one and owning a model of one, I drove my all time favorite car. Could something I've waited for that long possibly meet expectations?

Oh bloody hell yes.

I was doing some presentation work in Switzerland. The venue was the marvellously bizarre Speedy garages in Lausanne. Whilst there was horsepower aplenty from Maserati's Ferrari's and Spyker's, you could also find a factory fresh Delorian for sale as well as Switzerland's oldest Citroen 2CV. As a venue it was certainly better than a conference centre.

Nestled close to our little exhibition stand was an SZ. Once I had set the gear up, I wondered over for a little silent worship. I had imagined this would be the end of it but a bloke sidles up and strikes up conversation with me. Turns out his name is Gerard and he is a co-owner of the establishment. He asks why I'm looking at the SZ when within twenty metres are a Ferrari 365, 430, Spyker C8 and a pair of Weissmanns. I explain that I've wanted an SZ since they were released in '91.

He smiles and asks if I fancied driving it.

After establishing that he isn't joking and thatI have thirty minutes before I am expected to put my presentation hat back on, I all but snap his hand off.The Alfa is released from its display bay and sits warming up. To be honest, I'm worried. This is a seventeen year old car based on an Alfa 75. It is stock and it is possible to buy hot hatches with more power than an SZ. My dream is actually going to be an old, asthmatic rep saloon wearing a catwalk suit.

Except it isn't.

You very much sit in rather than on an SZ. The glass area seems even smaller when hunkered down behind the massive dashboard with its many tiny dials thrown seemingly at random across it. The doorline is high as well, giving the impression of being in a well upholstered post box. Interestingly, the driving position is better than any other Italian car I have driven- is it purely a rebellion against making right hand drive cars that makes UK ones dreadful? The controls are where you expect and although the gearshift has a hilariously long throw by the standards of any hot modern car, it engages with a precise mechanical feel. Indeed the whole car feels mechanical. There is no sense that anything is interfering with the function of the car but you. Feedback has not been engineered in by a panel, it is present from the innate simplicity of the car.

We potter out of Lausanne on a 50km/h road. The de-restricted signs appear and Gerard leans across and simply says "third gear, full throttle." I don't argue.All of sudden, the bloody thing is alive. The noise is organic- a full on mechanical howl from the front backed up by the SZ's essentially straight through exhaust system. A deliberate, slow but precise change to 4th at 5,500rpm, a little more gas and- well that is a little more than the Swiss national limit anyway. There follows a series of climbing turns which allow me to play a little with the box to keep the engine singing. The handling is positive and very entertaining. The SZ is compartively softly sprung- it leans as turning forces increase and Gerard assured me that the point it starts to slide is indicated by everything short of a TV advertising campaign. This isn't my car to park backwards in a field though so I am well short of that point. We make a left turn, I got one last real, chance to open the taps and there is the garage again. I apologise to any would be purchaser, the sold with 32 more Km's on the odo than the advert says it had.

That my automotive hero didn't dissapoint in any way is both good and bad. I am in awe at how well sorted a car built largely from stock parts and designed nearly two decades ago can be and thrilled that it will, thanks largely to it being made of GRP, go rather quicker than 210bhp suggests it might. It is bad because I now know I must own an SZ before I die. Hell, even if car ownership is banned, I shall register it as a sculpture- although after driving it I know that would be a terrible waste.

I realised a dream and it rocked.
(Leonard Hatred briefly did some work on, Tue 10 Aug 2010, 7:36, 10 replies)

Last Christmas
Apart from the well known heart giving incident, was the first Christmas with our two newest cats Yoda and Obi. So we decided, when out doing the Christmas shopping, to treat the new family members with the felines' drug of choice, catnip.

We hadn't done this before so weren't quite sure what effect this kitty dope would have on their tiny kitteh minds, so put a bit in a sock and gave it to them to play with. They didn't seem too impressed, they gave the tied up sock a cursory glance and patted it a bit, then went back to their little kitteh activities i.e. bringing us little dead gifts and unexpectedly showing us their anuses.

We went out, to do boring human stuff that hardly involved any kittens so I won't go into them here, and we didn't give the cats and their drug habits a second thought. However when we got back we found Obi had found her way to the source and had ripped open the bag of remaining cat nip and was lying on my sisters bed surrounded by the stuff, rolling on her back like a scene from the hallmark card version of Scarface, purring happily to herself and as high as a giraffe tied to a kite being flown from the international space station.

Truly was a lovely moment seeing a tiny kitten fucked off her face, I can't think back to that day without smiling.
(Charlietron Still can't think of anything witty to put here, Mon 9 Aug 2010, 23:35, 1 reply)

London Eye and London in general.
I've always liked going to London on days out. London Zoo, London Aquarium and Madam Tussauds. Only the other night i was London i took this pic;



Stands out because it's a moment in London (Despite the bad bits) which actually made me stop and stare.
(Looneytwuns, Mon 9 Aug 2010, 22:48, 4 replies)

Booze is my friend again
Over the last few years I began to drink more & more,I'm not talking about going over the recomended units a week - everyone I know does that. While I was far from being a total alco, I was drinking at least six days a week, I was spending more time drinking than working. I would go to a different shop to buy booze each night as I was getting strange looks with the amount I was buying in my local. Somehow I hid it from my friends, family & workmates (I guess my boss knew but she kept quiet)

Until my beautiful moment, one evening while sitting down to my five hours of drinking I looked at my bag of booze and had no desire to drink it. That was months ago and I'm still the same, if I'm out with friends I can drink but when I'm alone I have no interest in drinking.

Thats the most beautiful thing that has happened to me recently and its great that I'm getting a big piece of my life back.
(cname, Mon 9 Aug 2010, 22:42, 8 replies)

8 years ago
I got in line for a cashier at the local Sainsbury's. Infront of me was a small blond haired boy, filled with the joys of a carefree life, and a lifetime of discovery and adventure ahead of him. On the slidy rubber mat was his only selection: two funsized packets for haribo starmix; in his hand was his precious pocket money.

He turned to look at me, a jaded tall blond student with a fraction of his student loan in his pocket. On the rubber slidy mat was my only selection: two massive packets of haribo star mix.

It made me smile at the time. A bit like this --> :)

This is also a beautiful moment: Embrace Life
( grey matter, Mon 9 Aug 2010, 22:27, 2 replies)

Emily
Some of you know the backstory to this, Emily is my G/F's daughter.
One night, some time ago now, when watching TV she asked "Does it bother you when people think you're my dad?"
I replied "Not at all munchkin, I'd be proud to have you as my daughter".

She thought for a bit.

"Sometimes people ask if you ARE my dad, I don't like telling them you're not, 'cos I really wish you were."

Doesn't get any better than that.
(Captain Placid 24/7 ball gags, brownie mix and clown porn, Mon 9 Aug 2010, 22:09, 7 replies)

Who knew I was sharing a forum with a load of fecking poofs.
No insult was intended against the actual homosexual community.
( girlinthehole, Mon 9 Aug 2010, 21:00, 7 replies)

A recent beautiful moment.
My daughter is nearly 13, hair dyed black, funky clothes (mostly black) and even funkier earrings, and describes herself as “more punk than goth”, which makes me giggle a little every time I hear it. She’s a big Twilight fan (I suppose I can’t make fun. At that age I was a bit obsessed with Ann Rice and Interview With a Vampire. The poor child has no idea how close she came to being named Claudia.) and is firmly in the team Edward camp. When I walk into her bedroom and see her reading manga and listening to Daft Punk, I can’t help but feel a bit proud. Bless the child, she’s just like her mom. My little geek.

The kids and I were at my parent’s house one weekend, visiting and talking, while my father and I drank too much wine, talked way too much, and showed each other progressively funnier clips on the internet. Dad found the Twilight remixed clip, with Edward vs. Buffy, and we thought my daughter would get a kick out of it. Here it is for the curious: www.youtube.com/watch?v=RZwM3GvaTRM

We called her into the computer room and started the clip. When she came into the room she was smiling, but as the clip went on, the smile slowly slid away until her face was completely emotionless. As it finished, she turned to the two of us, we chuckling, she blank faced, and she slowly said “That’s. Not. Funny.”, and she walked away. Dad and I just looked at each other and cracked up.

So, laughing with my dad until we were both gasping for breath because we’d inadvertently insulted a twelve year old Twilight fan. Priceless.
(ladydyani, Mon 9 Aug 2010, 20:33, 5 replies)

My parents.
Mum's been disabled for years. Dad's just been given his appointment to remove the cancerous bits. They seem so old now. I went out for the day with them yesterday. Dad cut up mum's jacket potato as she is too weak to do it herself now. My eyes started leaking.
(jvz, Mon 9 Aug 2010, 19:58, 1 reply)

When my young son
comes to stay with me one of his treats is sleeping in my bed with me, I tell him stories into the night and we eventually doze off exhausted. Because he is next to me I sleep very lightly, any sound or movement wakes me up. About 3 months ago I was woken by him just saying 'Daddy'.

"What son?"

He is quiet for a moment..

"You're my best friend"

Then he turns round and goes straight back to sleep. Its like he woke me up just to tell me that.

I am filling up right now thinking about it.
(mooghead, Mon 9 Aug 2010, 19:48, 6 replies)

Saturday
In old London town itself to do a bit of shopping and see an exhibition that turned out to be very well done, but was far too small for the amount of people that wanted to see it.

Coming out and headed for Charing Cross road a few friends clearly spread across two rickshaws came speeding past. One of them suddnely puts a fist in the air and challenges his driver to be the best. Cue other rickshaw then going off in favour of their guy. Then, a few people in the street joining in too. That was enough for a grin..

I took a shortcut while they went the long way round the lights onto Charing Cross road where they suddenly had both drivers (riders?) flat out trying to win, with even more of the street joining in by then.

I don't know who won, but you could hear the shouts of encouragement for some time.
( DeadEyeDick, Mon 9 Aug 2010, 19:45, 1 reply)

On two seperate occasions wild birds have voluntarily perched on my finger
One was a blue tit who was probably just interested in the crunchy nut cornflakes in my hand.

The other, however, was a sparrow who was flapping about in the bookshop I worked. I tried to get her to fly towards the doors, it worked for a while but then she landed on a bookshelf. I put my hand beside her to get her to fly, but she just got on my finger and let my carry her outside like that.

Annoyingly, noone saw this but me, but it was so very magical to have a creature like that trust me :D
( Citizen Cavy Admires your passion for conformity, Mon 9 Aug 2010, 19:29, 14 replies)

London Bridge
A fair few years ago I used to work in a building in London with pipes on the outside of it.
Around the corner are several places to buy very good sandwiches/rolls etc... for lunch at surprisingly reasonable prices. One day I had eyes bigger than my overinflated belly and bought about a fivers worth of grub - anything up to 6 quid was covered by expenses.
I went back to the office and ate what I could, but the ham, salad baguette got the better of me. I put it in my bag with the intention of either eating it for dinner or perhaps lunch the next day.
In the summer months I used to stroll across London Bridge to catch my train home.
On this particular day there was a homeless man begging on the bridge. He looked me in the eye and said (as I'm sure we've all witnessed) "Got any change mate?"

I actually didn't, else I would quite probably have given it to him, I said that I didn't have any change and went to continue walking. I got about 30 feet across the bridge, realised I still had an untouched baguette in my bag. I walked back, said "I still haven't got any change, but is this any good to you?"

His face lit up, and to this day I have never seen more *real* gratitude in anyone's eyes as I did then.

He took it, said thank you, tore about a quarter of it off, gave it to his dog, then devoured the rest like it was his last ever meal.

I had a quiet sob on the train on the way home.

The next day, I purposely bought an extra ham roll at lunch in the hope of seeing him again, but sadly he wasn't there, and wasn't there ever again, or at least for the next nine months that I continued working there.





(in other news, I can't stand the fact that in a supposedly rich country, people are still having to live on the streets - on another night a few months earlier I had to stay in London for a fortnight and was put up in a hotel (The Strand Palace if anyone knows it). Opposite was a bloke sleeping in a doorway. I quietly snuck a fiver - it was all I had left, otherwise, in the slightly inebriated state I was in, I probably would have just left my bank card there instead with a note with the PIN on it) under his head to make sure that no-one else would take it)
(dchurch bah, Mon 9 Aug 2010, 19:18, 3 replies)

This is a larp story, but don't go away
Two big groups of warriors line up against one another - humans, orcs, beastmen. Testosterone pumping, growling at the opposition and waving (admittedly foam) swords, maces and hammers in the air. A menacing atmosphere pervades all

Just then a mummy goose and her baby cygnets waddle by and both sides collapse into "awwwwwwww" sounds

Seconds later, they are back to fighting. Beautiful.
( Citizen Cavy Admires your passion for conformity, Mon 9 Aug 2010, 19:06, Reply)

I live very near where the Red Arrows come from...
so I frequently see them practising in the air above my house.
Despite being a nearly forty-year-old child of the RAF it never gets old.
(Oh and the last ever in the whole world Vulcan bomber flew over my house not that many months ago.. that was pretty special)
( Sallyrsm, Mon 9 Aug 2010, 18:57, Reply)

beautiful? not sure about that
during the recent flooding in my little part of liverpool's suburbs, a very drunken woman decided to have a bath in the street. she was filling her shoe with the floodwaters, a large part of which was contaminated by sewage, then pouring the water over her head. she even drank some of it. she tried to swim up the street, too. now, i know what some of you will be thinking, but i know this woman personally and she's fine and healthy, having suffered no more ill effects than a mild stomach ache after her impromptu mermaid act.
i wouldn't call it beautiful, but she certainly cheered up a great many people on a day where many of them had suffered serious damage to their homes and posessions.
Doris, you lunatic, i salute you!

EDIT: youtube link now in replies, thanks to Herb Alpert's Taxi Driver
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Mon 9 Aug 2010, 18:15, 1 reply)

Midsummer's day, 2008, 4400 mile round trip in nine days: we made it deep into the Arctic Circle to witness the Midnight Sun. I'll let the photos do the talking...











That last one was taken after 12am - the fabled, beautiful, life-changing Midnight Sun.

That was one of the most beautiful moments of my life. We'd made it, after the hardest slog of my life, after getting stuck up a mountain between a glacier and frozen lake, after having to warm my fingers on an exhaust pipe to get them to move again, hoping that the engine wouldn't stall, after, three days later, the wettest, coldest conditions imaginable, breaking through the cloud cover and the sheer delerious joy of getting two days of 30-degrees and non-stop sun, after nine days of lonliness and discomfort, of meeting a bike rally who invited us to share their came, food, fires and friendship.

But, the most beautiful sight in the entire universe? When we'd finally pitched our tents some 150 miles north of the Arctic Circle, they brought us some beers.

Heaven.
(Miraclefish How appropriate, you fight like a cow, Mon 9 Aug 2010, 16:37, 21 replies)

On the last 'bus home out of town in Somerset one Saturday night
A group of lads at the back were being drunken, loud, but friendly - absolutely no malice at all.

Every single female that got on got a HUGE cheer from these lads.

A little old lady in her 70s got on - cue the HUGE cheers.

She paid for her ticket, turned to them with a wink and a smile, and pulled her skirt up a little exposing her knee, and pouted.

Cue HUGE cheers, wolf whistles, "Cor!" etc, but nothing filthy or dirty. Just good, clean fun.

Ace.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Mon 9 Aug 2010, 16:22, 1 reply)