» Crap meals out

Cayenne
To celebrate the boyfriend's Mum's 60th a group of us go to Cayenne in Belfast - supposedly one of Belfast's best restaurants and owned by Paul Rankin.

We have a drink in the bar while they prepare our table. I'm enjoying my Shiraz and take it to our table to continue drinking.

The service is appalling, but I'm quite happy as I have a nice glass of wine. Until I finish it that is. There staring back at me is a huge spider, filling the entire bottom of the glass, legs coming up the side of the glas.

Unfortunately, our waiter was one of these people who thought himself superior to everyone else (despite the fact that we are paying him to wait on us). His response was a shrug of the shoulders and to get me a new wine glass.

I was going to write to Paul Rankin to complain, but instead I just posted it on here.
(Thu 27th Apr 2006, 16:07, More)

» Crazy Relatives

Apple Pie
Picture the scene:

It's some time in 1996/97, Saturday afternoon, about half past 3.

Man Utd are losing 1-0 (I think it might have been Blackburn, but that's irrelevant). My mum is listening to the match on the radio, dressed pretty much head to toe in red, including her 'lucky' Man Utd shirt.

I'm probaby pretending to do some homework or something similar. My mum pokes her head round the door. "I'm just going to make an Andy Cole apple pie"

Andy Cole scores twice to win the match.... Saturdays have never been the same since.

More recently, she is convinced that Cabrera won the US Open because I had phoned her on the Friday morning and said that my money was on Cabrera .

Maybe I should jack in my lucrative job and earn my living gambling (My mum's "Rooney roulades" are pretty tasty!)
(Fri 6th Jul 2007, 20:37, More)

» I'm your biggest Fan

Jailbait
Some background: I've always been tall for my age and as a result have often been mistaken to be older than I am, including getting into pubs from the age of 14.

Some time around 95/96, age 16, myself and a couple of mates went to see The Prodigy at Glasgow Barrowlands. We loved at the time and I had a particular soft spot for both Liam and Leroy. However, we were but poor school children in Edinburgh and as a result, had taken the cheapest option of getting through to Glasgow - the concert coach.

There we were, dancing away like loons on the front row, when Maxim pulled me out the crowd to dance on stage. After flailing about like a idiot for a few minutes (with only one shoe on as the other had come off when I was pulled out the crowd), Leroy wandered over and asked whether I wanted to come to the after party.

I would love to now tell you that we went along and had a night of drunken debauchery. Unfortunately, what in hindsight may not be my coolest moment, I informed him that "I need to get my coach back to Edinburgh. I've got school in the morning". He promptly ran to the other side of the stage and I was bundled back into the audience. I often wonder what could have happened that night!

When I met them again at Glastonbury, he didn't remember me or give me a second chance at a night of debauchery.

On a separate note, about the same time, I met the president of Croatia and ended up on his private jet (long story). As I wasn't expected, there wasn't a seat for me and I had to sit in the toilet for take off and landing. I had a good rifle through the drawers, but there was nothing of interest.
(Wed 22nd Apr 2009, 16:54, More)

» Encounters with Royalty

Not quite royal
I met the (late) president of Croatia. I gatecrashed a party on his private island, Brijuni, having been flown there in his private helicopter (it's a long, uninteresting story). He was very nice, but didn't speak much English. We mostly talked about Man. Utd

We were then flown back to Zagreb in his private jet - only I had to sit in the toilet during take off and landing as there was no seat for me. There was nothing of interest in any of the drawers.
(Thu 3rd Aug 2006, 15:26, More)

» Your Weirdest Teacher

lesbian housemistress
the geography teacher, mrs peckham. she was horrible - greasy hair, bad breath. we were all convinced that she was having a lesbian affair with the french teacher. unfortunately, she was also the housemistress (at an all girls' school). she used to walk into your room without knocking, usually roundabout the time you were getting ready for bed and so were only partially dressed. would she alert you to her presence? no, she'd stand and watch until you noticed her. we all mastered the art of getting changed without revealing any flesh whatsoever. her nickname was skek and we wrote some disgusting mills and boon-esque sordid tale about her - imaginatively entitled "skek, lies and videotape". i wish i still had a copy. she eventually left the boarding house and we still don't know whether this was due to the rapidly diminishing number of boarders or our cruel jokes.

mr fairhurst the chemistry teacher also had an unhealthy attraction towards me. he'd make up things to talk to me about (and usually try and get me on my own). i would ensure that at least one of my friends was always present (safety in numbers), but he'd never even acknowledge their presence.
(Wed 9th Nov 2005, 15:45, More)