After the initial team selection there was a pub crawl arranged to help celebrate the early stage of the trip being put in place. This is fantastically British. We are going to play cricket on a mountain to raise money for charity so naturally we all have to go and get hideously inebriated. I reckon even if we were raising money for 'AA', we would kick things off with a massive bender (apologies for the double meaning- if your visualising a huge bloke in a tight t-shirt waving a rainbow coloured hankie, you're very immature).
For the pub crawl we were all kitted out in cricket whites because we are an extremely professional outfit. There at one point was the suggestion that we took sport relief buckets out with us to cajole the general public into donating. I, however, think that a bloke with yak covered cricket whites, asking strangers for money in aid of a good cause might well be pushing the boundaries of public generosity towards charitable causes. You would be especially sceptical is you handed some sheckles to a man who one minute later starts downing a jug of lager whilst other men shout, 'down it you tool!'.
Obviously it was a great afternoon and no money was raised but it was a good way to meet other older team members who seemed to be on exactly the same wave length as me despite being a bit older. All the 6 year age gap between me and others meant is that there are some references to early 90s TV that they might not get. All of us, for example, appreciate how great a programme 'Saved by the Bell' was although none of them really have an opinion on the more recent 'City Guys', which as any 22 year old with access to the channel 'Trouble' as a youngster knows was a poor alternative to the Californian set children's sitcom.
Shabadoo joined later as he had been watching Wasps win the Premier League again and in doing so securing him a massive payout of £750 from some ridiculous accumulator bet he had done. He is genuinely the luckiest man in the world, I think he must have been blessed as a young bear. True fact about Joe: he has never dropped a piece of toast butter side down, I read it on Wikipedia so it must be factually accurate. By the time he arrive I was MC Hammered, groping some poor girl with the words 'I just love Penis' (it said a naughty version of this but i've been censored) written on my back and a drawing of a climactic penis next to it. Give a man a black pen, a white canvass and a few beers and there is one inevitable result- a doodled penis. By 11 I was so cut that me and Joe had to leave for the Casino. I didn't want to gamble; for some reason in my drunken mentality I decided that 'Golden Nugget Casino' was the most obviously place nearby to get some chicken wings.
We nearly didn't get in. Here is the conversation that occurred with the Golden Nugg staff.
"You're not allowed in wearing a track suit"
"technically mate, these are cricket whites"
"so?"
"they are much smarter than a track suit"
"OK...go in"
second guy behind the till leans in a makes the very valid point:
"some people might not appreciate whats written on your back"
"fair enough, I'll turn in inside out."
Somehow turning the penis ridden shirt inside out was enough to quell their concern and so I managed to get my chicken wings and be in bed by midnight.
Tuesday 25 November 2008
Thursday 20 November 2008
Back to the beginning again...almost
I remember getting the call from Joe/Jewy/Jewbacker/Jewnipper berry/Jewson/Jewseph/ Shabadoo saying that me and him were selected for the expedition and BJ and Charlie were on the reserve list. There was a feeling of excitement, which was unfortunately tainted by the fact that two out of four of us were not initially part of the trip. The team members were chosen on an anonymous basis so there were no big favours for people; so apparently BJ's proximity to Claire Balding was not quite enough to get him in the initial party. I was, however, quietly confident that BJ and Charlie would get in because they were first 2 on the reserve list and the probability of 2 people dropping out of such a time consuming expedition was pretty high.
Despite the slight downside I was fucking over the moon that I would be a record breaker and at the very least be joined by my pal the Jewish Bear. I should probably explain who this mystical Hasidic character is. Joe is one of my best pals. I met him in 2005 in New Zealand when me and Charlie were following the British Lions team get anally shattered by the All Blacks. He liked rugby, he was funny, and he was studying English at Newcastle University later that year, which I was also doing therefore the rest is history.
One quick anecdote about Joe Williams (he does have a real name!) so you can get an idea about him. He is a very primitive human being he likes sport, eating and sleeping. I think his Great Great Great Great Grandad was in fact half man, half Grizzly Bear. Everyday for 2 years at university he made his dinner like this. Step 1: cook some chicken fillets and put them on a plate. Step 2: Open a can of sweetcorn and add it to plate. Step 3: Put some mayo on the plate. Done!
He is obsessed by my overweight swearing father. So much so that at my 21st birthday party at my house whilst my Dad was asleep he and my friend Anish got completely naked and hugged him: photos can be found on my facebook. This story doesn't illustrate much but it makes me laugh thinking about it. And in a way is poster for religious harmony. A middle class pompous white man being embraced by a Jew and an Indian- Unicef eat your heart out!
So now me and Joe waited to see if BJ and Charlie would get onto the expedition. Watch this space if you want to find out....most of you reading this are on the trip so the suspense for you will be slim to none.
Despite the slight downside I was fucking over the moon that I would be a record breaker and at the very least be joined by my pal the Jewish Bear. I should probably explain who this mystical Hasidic character is. Joe is one of my best pals. I met him in 2005 in New Zealand when me and Charlie were following the British Lions team get anally shattered by the All Blacks. He liked rugby, he was funny, and he was studying English at Newcastle University later that year, which I was also doing therefore the rest is history.
One quick anecdote about Joe Williams (he does have a real name!) so you can get an idea about him. He is a very primitive human being he likes sport, eating and sleeping. I think his Great Great Great Great Grandad was in fact half man, half Grizzly Bear. Everyday for 2 years at university he made his dinner like this. Step 1: cook some chicken fillets and put them on a plate. Step 2: Open a can of sweetcorn and add it to plate. Step 3: Put some mayo on the plate. Done!
He is obsessed by my overweight swearing father. So much so that at my 21st birthday party at my house whilst my Dad was asleep he and my friend Anish got completely naked and hugged him: photos can be found on my facebook. This story doesn't illustrate much but it makes me laugh thinking about it. And in a way is poster for religious harmony. A middle class pompous white man being embraced by a Jew and an Indian- Unicef eat your heart out!
So now me and Joe waited to see if BJ and Charlie would get onto the expedition. Watch this space if you want to find out....most of you reading this are on the trip so the suspense for you will be slim to none.
Sunday 16 November 2008
Fitness and Cricket on course...sort of
I decided to join in on a bleep test at the school where I work, with the 4th form (13-14 yr olds). I've no idea why posh boys' school's don't just call them by the correct national school year names? Even upper 6th and lower 6th are called upper and lower '8th'- it's just plain annoying when you meet people who went to different schools. For example, if someone tells me they did something when they were in year 8, I never know how old they were, in my head I guess that they were...eight: which is confusing and disturbing if they are referring to when they last their V plates.
Anyway, so I did it and was comfortably chugging along determined to beat level 12.2, which I had achieved in July. Around level 11 it was me and one kid left, he looked extremely comfortable but I was confident he would drop off. At level 12 I was not comfortable whilst he looked like he could have been jogging and simultaneously composing a sonnet while being fed grapes. To sum up, he was comfortable. I started to realise I was not going to beat him and dropped out at 12.6, which although was an improvement was gutting because I'd been beaten by a child. Turns out I had in fact chosen to run in the class that contained the national pentathlete champion for that age group. Shit! I guess there shouldn't have been any shame in that but since I hate losing, shame on me. Pentathlete champ or no Pent. Champ- It's not like he's a real athlete because if he was he would have done the Decathlon, which is twice as manly- Daley Thompson can back me up on that.
Played cricket today at indoor nets and was the first time I'd played properly in 10 years. I was not proper rubbish but I was by no means what one might describe as OK. I was RU-OK. Thanks to some pointers from the very talented Kiwi (I think he's from NZ- it's a sophisticated nickname), he actually showed me how I should stand etc when batting and bowling. It's mentally tiring, you actually have to concentrate all the time, which may sound ridiculous but I only just worked this out and have decided cricket players are no as rotund and lazy as I first thought. Just keeping your head in line with the ball is tricky!
We also did nets after another bleep test followed by 5-aside football. It was a good session and gives some insight into how tired we might be at Base Camp, when we have to bat and bowl at ludicrously high altitude.
Right I have to go as I'm pooped. Don't want to lose to another small child any time soon.
Anyway, so I did it and was comfortably chugging along determined to beat level 12.2, which I had achieved in July. Around level 11 it was me and one kid left, he looked extremely comfortable but I was confident he would drop off. At level 12 I was not comfortable whilst he looked like he could have been jogging and simultaneously composing a sonnet while being fed grapes. To sum up, he was comfortable. I started to realise I was not going to beat him and dropped out at 12.6, which although was an improvement was gutting because I'd been beaten by a child. Turns out I had in fact chosen to run in the class that contained the national pentathlete champion for that age group. Shit! I guess there shouldn't have been any shame in that but since I hate losing, shame on me. Pentathlete champ or no Pent. Champ- It's not like he's a real athlete because if he was he would have done the Decathlon, which is twice as manly- Daley Thompson can back me up on that.
Played cricket today at indoor nets and was the first time I'd played properly in 10 years. I was not proper rubbish but I was by no means what one might describe as OK. I was RU-OK. Thanks to some pointers from the very talented Kiwi (I think he's from NZ- it's a sophisticated nickname), he actually showed me how I should stand etc when batting and bowling. It's mentally tiring, you actually have to concentrate all the time, which may sound ridiculous but I only just worked this out and have decided cricket players are no as rotund and lazy as I first thought. Just keeping your head in line with the ball is tricky!
We also did nets after another bleep test followed by 5-aside football. It was a good session and gives some insight into how tired we might be at Base Camp, when we have to bat and bowl at ludicrously high altitude.
Right I have to go as I'm pooped. Don't want to lose to another small child any time soon.
Monday 10 November 2008
Over Competitive Men
This is not strictly linked to the Everest expedition, however, it is related to men competing in a sporting environment, which is close enough so that I can vent my rage through the medium of online lyrics.
On Saturday, I took my 3rd XV rugby team to play away at a school called Abingdon. The hospitality was atrocious: we were given no food, which is ludicrous baring in mind we left at 11am to get there and did not return till 6pm. This may seem a little bit like a middle class whinge because...it is. I'm pretty sure even in war- torn famine hit countries the village sports team still would have eaten in this time frame, if they had also travelled to a posh boys school which on appearance doesn't suffer from a CHUFFING FOOD SHORTAGES.
Now this is what really got my breasts in a bunch. The opposition coach (who was incidentally the referee for the game), rocked up 5 mins before K.O. and shot off straight after it. Common courtesy would suggest he at least meets me before hand for a token cuppa. There are just too many rude individuals in this day and age (I feel like an old man saying this especially because he was about 50 and I'm 22).
This is why I genuinely have nothing but contempt for this cretin, who was Welsh and looked a lot like Ieuan Evans, however, the latter was one of the best wingers of all time and I believe has a job with the BBC (I will get BJ to check with Claire Balding-see post below), so I don't think it was him.
Not only did this vapid dregg of human being give zero penalties to my team in a game of rugby, which is statistically impossible in this kind of sport, but he also was rude to my captain and me: he asked how long I had been teaching for after I politely enquired about one minor aspect of the refereeing, which is irrelevant.
His team unsurprisingly won by 6 points, I still shook his hand but I had firmly wedged it up my crack first.
It just shows that some men have a chip on their shoulder or something to prove even when coaching a group of boys who just want a fun afternoon of sport. I hope he gets his just puddings in some brilliantly ironic way i.e. he cheats horribly in a game and his team win a trophy, which he collects- the trophy he is holding in fact has some substance on the surface that he is highly allergic to and therefore he croaks it. This may seem harsh but in my defence he was a proper you know what.
In conclusion, I hope on Everest the match is played in the right spirit and whether we lose or win, there is no hint of match fixing.
p.s. BJ rung me today and said that after reading the below post, he got on the Piccadilly line from Hammersmith thinking it would stop at Turnham Green, it went straight past it to Acton town. Really cheered me up that.
On Saturday, I took my 3rd XV rugby team to play away at a school called Abingdon. The hospitality was atrocious: we were given no food, which is ludicrous baring in mind we left at 11am to get there and did not return till 6pm. This may seem a little bit like a middle class whinge because...it is. I'm pretty sure even in war- torn famine hit countries the village sports team still would have eaten in this time frame, if they had also travelled to a posh boys school which on appearance doesn't suffer from a CHUFFING FOOD SHORTAGES.
Now this is what really got my breasts in a bunch. The opposition coach (who was incidentally the referee for the game), rocked up 5 mins before K.O. and shot off straight after it. Common courtesy would suggest he at least meets me before hand for a token cuppa. There are just too many rude individuals in this day and age (I feel like an old man saying this especially because he was about 50 and I'm 22).
This is why I genuinely have nothing but contempt for this cretin, who was Welsh and looked a lot like Ieuan Evans, however, the latter was one of the best wingers of all time and I believe has a job with the BBC (I will get BJ to check with Claire Balding-see post below), so I don't think it was him.
Not only did this vapid dregg of human being give zero penalties to my team in a game of rugby, which is statistically impossible in this kind of sport, but he also was rude to my captain and me: he asked how long I had been teaching for after I politely enquired about one minor aspect of the refereeing, which is irrelevant.
His team unsurprisingly won by 6 points, I still shook his hand but I had firmly wedged it up my crack first.
It just shows that some men have a chip on their shoulder or something to prove even when coaching a group of boys who just want a fun afternoon of sport. I hope he gets his just puddings in some brilliantly ironic way i.e. he cheats horribly in a game and his team win a trophy, which he collects- the trophy he is holding in fact has some substance on the surface that he is highly allergic to and therefore he croaks it. This may seem harsh but in my defence he was a proper you know what.
In conclusion, I hope on Everest the match is played in the right spirit and whether we lose or win, there is no hint of match fixing.
p.s. BJ rung me today and said that after reading the below post, he got on the Piccadilly line from Hammersmith thinking it would stop at Turnham Green, it went straight past it to Acton town. Really cheered me up that.
Sunday 9 November 2008
Thursday 6 November 2008
I've decided to write a book about Everest Cricket- all of you are extremely lucky
This is not a nonsense idea that I have thought of after 10 pints, which I will never back up, I genuinely want to do this.
One of my colleagues asked if I was writing a book on the trip and I said, 'I'm too busy'. Which does seem reasonable as I have a day job and gig around the country in the evenings including Northampton- lucky me! (seriously never go there, it smells of regret). I, however, realised that I do in fact spend on average 1-2 hours a day checking and re-checking my emails, going on facebook, tidying out my balls, tidying out my balls over people on facebook and finally- drinking tea (my drug of choice, after the drug of LIFE!, which I'm already high on, only joking: only wankers say that). Therefore, If I minimise doing the above for 2 hours or even combine some of them whilst writing this blog I reckon I can be well on my way...obviously drinking tea and writing is far easier than playing with yourself whilst trying to punctuate correctly.
So the plan is to write a little something everyday in this blog by going back to the very beginnings of signing up to this trip, whilst sprinkling in bits of what's currently going on re: fundraising, fitness, anecdotes about Everest test. There will be a 6 month time shift for the first few weeks of this but as I only just thought writing a book was a good idea today, November 7Th, it will be a bit hap-hazard. I want to reiterate that I never decided to do this expedition just to write a book. The reasons I want to do this trip are these, in no particular order:
1. Raise lots of money for international and domestic causes, which need it
2. Break a world record and so make Kris Akabusi finally proud of me
3. Test myself, on a physical and mental level
4. Something to talk about at dinner parties and a great device to snaffle beatches (can I say that?!)
These blog entries will form the basis of the book and help me write a final copy before I forget everything. So now all of you (sing./plural) know whats going on relax your flaps and enjoy the ride. It's OK to laugh at the phrase 'relax your flaps', I will not tell anyone, If anyone hears you laughing and says 'what you laughing about?', just say 'exquisite political satire', however we both know it's the phrase 'relax your flaps'- If you don't appreciate the immaturity of it, I hope you appreciate how resonant the assonance of the wording is.
long story short, buckle up!
any feedback duly appreciated.
One of my colleagues asked if I was writing a book on the trip and I said, 'I'm too busy'. Which does seem reasonable as I have a day job and gig around the country in the evenings including Northampton- lucky me! (seriously never go there, it smells of regret). I, however, realised that I do in fact spend on average 1-2 hours a day checking and re-checking my emails, going on facebook, tidying out my balls, tidying out my balls over people on facebook and finally- drinking tea (my drug of choice, after the drug of LIFE!, which I'm already high on, only joking: only wankers say that). Therefore, If I minimise doing the above for 2 hours or even combine some of them whilst writing this blog I reckon I can be well on my way...obviously drinking tea and writing is far easier than playing with yourself whilst trying to punctuate correctly.
So the plan is to write a little something everyday in this blog by going back to the very beginnings of signing up to this trip, whilst sprinkling in bits of what's currently going on re: fundraising, fitness, anecdotes about Everest test. There will be a 6 month time shift for the first few weeks of this but as I only just thought writing a book was a good idea today, November 7Th, it will be a bit hap-hazard. I want to reiterate that I never decided to do this expedition just to write a book. The reasons I want to do this trip are these, in no particular order:
1. Raise lots of money for international and domestic causes, which need it
2. Break a world record and so make Kris Akabusi finally proud of me
3. Test myself, on a physical and mental level
4. Something to talk about at dinner parties and a great device to snaffle beatches (can I say that?!)
These blog entries will form the basis of the book and help me write a final copy before I forget everything. So now all of you (sing./plural) know whats going on relax your flaps and enjoy the ride. It's OK to laugh at the phrase 'relax your flaps', I will not tell anyone, If anyone hears you laughing and says 'what you laughing about?', just say 'exquisite political satire', however we both know it's the phrase 'relax your flaps'- If you don't appreciate the immaturity of it, I hope you appreciate how resonant the assonance of the wording is.
long story short, buckle up!
any feedback duly appreciated.
Monday 3 November 2008
Touching each other for Charity
Any new readers out their put on some protective goggles because otherwise you might get some of the gold dust below in your peepers.
Me and BJ's touch rugby tournament has just finished. The slightly self indulgently titled Jarman-Martin Invitational.
The day seemed to go really well. Everyone seemed to have a smashing day out and me and BJ's 100 odd sandwiches ranging from marmite, ham, cheese and ham&cheese seemed to be much appreciated.
In terms of results the teacher's team beat by old friend mat and nick's team in the final after a questionable decision by the referee (me). I have a new found respect for refs as it is really hard especially when your adjudicating your friends. I was respected about as much as a Russell Brand giving a speech on phone etiquette (topical? not funny. but topical). I did receive a volley of verbal abuse so when I played in a couple of matches I thought that I would not question any of the ref's decisions, however, I still complained the most showing what a hypocritical Henry I really am.
Also something I always knew about men which got reaffirmed in my mind that no matter what the occasion if there is a trophy to be won they will always be over-competitive and take everything too seriously. It's in a our nature. I genuinely think you could have a £5 trophy up for grabs at funeral for the most upset person and men would rub onions into their retinas, stab themselves in the chops, burn money just so they can win.
anyway me and BJ should have raised about 200 snakes each (you can say almost any word and it means money) e.g. droplets, pies, sheets, boys, badboys, snickers, twigs, knuckles etc
special mention to The Sherpas (Kirt, Tom, Neil, JC, Jules, Blinky). Also to Jules for helping by kindly giving us such wonderful prizes. Steely and Gemma for representing the females in the tournament. Is that patronising and sexist? probably
Me and BJ's touch rugby tournament has just finished. The slightly self indulgently titled Jarman-Martin Invitational.
The day seemed to go really well. Everyone seemed to have a smashing day out and me and BJ's 100 odd sandwiches ranging from marmite, ham, cheese and ham&cheese seemed to be much appreciated.
In terms of results the teacher's team beat by old friend mat and nick's team in the final after a questionable decision by the referee (me). I have a new found respect for refs as it is really hard especially when your adjudicating your friends. I was respected about as much as a Russell Brand giving a speech on phone etiquette (topical? not funny. but topical). I did receive a volley of verbal abuse so when I played in a couple of matches I thought that I would not question any of the ref's decisions, however, I still complained the most showing what a hypocritical Henry I really am.
Also something I always knew about men which got reaffirmed in my mind that no matter what the occasion if there is a trophy to be won they will always be over-competitive and take everything too seriously. It's in a our nature. I genuinely think you could have a £5 trophy up for grabs at funeral for the most upset person and men would rub onions into their retinas, stab themselves in the chops, burn money just so they can win.
anyway me and BJ should have raised about 200 snakes each (you can say almost any word and it means money) e.g. droplets, pies, sheets, boys, badboys, snickers, twigs, knuckles etc
special mention to The Sherpas (Kirt, Tom, Neil, JC, Jules, Blinky). Also to Jules for helping by kindly giving us such wonderful prizes. Steely and Gemma for representing the females in the tournament. Is that patronising and sexist? probably
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