Eight men on a platform

Well despite my fantastic time in Cork and the fact that I wanted to run away to Sherkin Island (West Cork) to run and maintain an abondoned Friary I am back and wishing that the weather wasn't so blooming miserable!

I think I am definately one of those react to weather types that can only be happy in the sunshine either that or the last two weeks events have taken their toll on my body - hence the lack of postings.

First of all I was exposed to the frights of Thorpe Park last Sunday (with a hangover) and it took me hours to recover from the sick feeling and secondly I have spent the last two weeks in a morose state trying to get through a heart wrenchingly beautiful book which gave me the belief that true love did exist, only to face up to the fact that the main character WASN'T in love with me and that I was living in a fantasy world.

Thirdly ladies and gentleman I have joined a gym. To be frankly honest I was totally fed up with the bumbling idiot who has persisted in calling me for the last two weeks to see if I was interested in joining up with them after my free one day trial. Told him the first time that I was going to have a think about it and lo and behold he started pestering me again. He bumbles and he stutters and he drives me insane and when I actually turned up to join he looked like he was going to wet himslef with fright....am I really that scary?

Now some of you (not many, in fact only one) have complained about my choice of portuguese phrases and the fact that they have thus far been pretty bloody useless when it comes to ordering a drink or finding the station....

So here goes a cracker 'Eu vou para a cama, queres vir comigo?'. Which translated means 'I am going to bed, fancy joining me?' Well it is Friday night after all and these type of phrases might come in useful on your friday and saturday nights boys and girls or even on holiday to Portugal, Brazil, Angola, Mozambique, East Timor, Goa, Macau, Azores, Madeira or the Cape Verde Islands.....

Better than 'Are you feeling horny baby, do you fancy coming back to mine?' which is what I was treated to last week by some complete and utter jerk on my Saturday night out. Luckily for me I wasn't eh? ;-)

Before I forget the title for my blog is inspired by the amusement/panic that I felt whilst standing in St Albans Railway Station on Wednesday during the day and witnessed eight policeman in their bright yellow jackets try to walk nonchalantly down the platform edge. It was mighty suspicious and cracked me up that they were trying to blend in as best they could on an empty platform!

Yours, Bridget 'LaScania' Fonda xxx

Kiss the blarney

Apparently in order to kiss the blarney stone in Cork you have to climb to the top and bend over the edge backwards whilst two assistants hold your legs to make sure you don't fall off the edge.

I am off to Cork tomorrow and was looking at the top 10 things to do in Cork and that is number 1!!! Well as per usual the packing is going nowhere and instead i am using fabulous delaying tactics in order to put off the enevitable!!

Apparently kissing the blarney ensures that you get the 'gift of the gab', not sure that this is necessary in my case but hey it sounds like something fun to do!!

Well it seems like the country has been gripped by Cricket fever and I will give the boys their due, they worked bloody hard to get their hands on that tiny but very significant prize.....like all virginal cricket supporters I was wondering what poor sod's ashes were being fought over by the English and Australian cricket teams over all these years....but fact lovers fear not it is not some dead soul's ashes that are being fought over but the ashes of the burnt bails of the game between England and Australia in 1882, put into a little urn!! Phew! Thank goodness for that eh?!

I shall be back on Sunday and will fill you in on my adventures in the Capital of Culture 2005, Cork.

Viva Inglaterra! Does that need a translation?!!

Tania Scania xxx

Cold Blues

It is wednesday night and instead of being out in the Pub with my best friend and her Australian cousin who I have not seen since we were thirteen (the cousin that is, and not my best friend) I am sitting at home feeling sorry for myself.

Why?

Because I have another poxy cold! I have not even begun to recover from the cold in Edinburgh three weeks ago when I started getting the first symptoms this morning of a new cold. I have sneezed at least 50 times today and the worst part is that I have no idea where I got it from!!

At least with the cold in Edinburgh I could blame Marty (for having the first symptoms of a cold) and Kate (for suggesting the ice cube game when we were drunk, some, yes me, were more drunk than others I hasten to add) for the reason why I got it. But now I have NO reason. I hasten to add that blaming those two for the cold thing is meant in the most affectionate way!!

On a better note I did try Salsa dancing last night with the girls and once I got over my initial nervousness it was really good fun. What amused me the most was how different every 'partner' was. All the girls moved around a circle whilst the guys stay in the same spot. Each 'male' (some were girls doubled up) had his own little quirk in the way he/she moved. One guy trod on the big toe on my left foot the first time around and the second time around the circle on the big toe of my right foot. He was very apologetic though!!

I am writing this particular blog from the comfort of my bed. As I was writing the above sentence a medium size spider was making its way down my arm....god knows how it got there but I just wacked my hand against my arm and am fairly sure it is dazed...if not dead. Can't help feeling that if it is only dazed then I will be sharing my bed with a fairly pissed off spider....as I am currenly unable to find it!

Help! Unlike my lovely friend Steve D though (see Naomi's blog for more info) I will not be spending the night chasing after it...me and spiders get along just fine.

Time for that portuguese lesson folks. 'Eu matei a porcaria da aranha'. Translation: 'I killed the sodding spider'.

Ciao for now, la Scania xx

The Boys are back in town

I have decided to name this entry in honour of the man on Hastings green who was singing the above summer classic really badly out of tune and at the top of his voice.

I got the impression that he just seems to stand there most days singing very loudly and shuffling from one foot to another providing entertainment for the passers by.

It was a bautifully hot day today and I had the feeling that this signalled the end of the British Summer 2005. Hastings is such a beautiful place and if you ever get the chance to visit it and the surrounding area then you must. It seems to me that the only reason it has stayed relatively unexpanded is because it has a pebbly beach instead of sand. This means that the sunbathing potential is somewhat reduced, although this did not deter many harcore sunbathers such as myself.

I find British seaside towns odly depressing, there is something melancholy about the arcades and the funfairs and all I have to imagine is them in the depths of winter and I get a chill down my spine.Thankfully the weather was too bloody hot to dwell on such depressing thoughts and instead I behaved like a proper tourist, I ate welks from a little van, caught the lift to the top for a gorgeous view over Hastings and ate fish and chips with mushy peas and swilled that down with a proper cup of tea....ahhhhh!

So I guess I should explain the reference to 'Lisboeta' in my blog title? Well the term "Lisboeta' denotes someone from Lisbon, ok, ok, so I was born in Winchester, which incidentally would make me a 'Wintonian'. But I have only lived there for about three years. I lived in Lisbon for eight years so can I call myself a 'Lisboeta' or should I call myself an 'Albanian' because I have lived in St Albans for thirteen years? You know what it really doesn't matter, this all getting too complicated for my liking, call me what you like - but be nice!!

Second Portuguese lesson - 'Eu estou queimada'. Translation 'I am burnt'. For that is what I am.

Yours, La Scania xx

Mind the Gap

Well this is my first ever attempt at something like this and i kind of figure that i will post stuff as and when i feel that something significant has happened and that i would like to share or record for me or others to see.

Last night I went to see Moeker at the Buffalo Bar and it was a great opportunity to meet up with the whole Act 2 gang again. Marty and the band ROCKED!

I think it was a welcome chance for everyone to meet up after the intensity of the Edinburgh week.

The band was fab and after hearing so much of an introduction to one of their songs it was great to hear it all the way through for the very first time!!

I have also learned today that the cute litlle cymbols on Marty's drum kit are called 'Toms' and Stevie B - kindly supplied me with the meaning of Moeker after we mused about where the name came from on the train on the way down to see them yesterday. Moeker are 'named after a fictional 17th century pornographer and diarist'!!

My first blog entry is named after the amusing drunk grandad who on yesterday's train blew his whistle shouted 'mind the gap' (not sure which gap the one betwenn his teeth or the platform edge!!) and needed escorting off the train by his drunk mate and a 6ft5 ginger bloke who was with us!!

My resolution for today; join a kite surfing club.

I have decided that this will be a semi-educational blog and that i will sign off with a lesson on Portuguese. First phrase: 'Eu quero ir para casa'. Translation: ' I want to go home' (well it is friday afternoon after all!!)

ta ta for now, la scania