Saturday, 8 September 2007
Of course I may call it a fortress of solitude but my new flat, when eventually it is up and running, will only partially fit that description. The more I look at places the more I can see the wisdom of taking my large budget that I had, until recently, been looking to spend in Chelsea on a small place, and spending it on a much larger place near all the other medics, have the most pimpingest flat. Reminds me of Eton days when everyone would come to my room because of all there was to do there, though obviously i recognise the difference in convincing people they want to walk two doors down the hall to my room and doing the same when i live a few streets away. People are lazy, and I'm one of the worst :P
And I have indeed got the best flatmate. She was originally the first choice of course until that fell apart. Indeed since then there have been numerous suitors, many of whom (understandably) were reluctant to pay the high prices I had been looking for, but really I can't think of many other people I can see myself living with comfortably as with her. We're similar people and typically we get along great. I hope that nothing else comes between us again.
She does however request that I leave anything personal about her off this site. Actually I didn't know she ever looked at this thing, good thing I havent been slagging her off or anything :P. I of course will oblige but lets be clear that i pretty much only feel the need to write about things that interest me or piss me off, and the state of her hair generally does neither of those things ;)
Meanwhile it's been a crazy busy week, I need a good rest. I've spent pretty much every waking hour down in south london looking at flats, and in my infinite wisdom decided to see friends while I was down there, leading to complete exhaustion and falling asleep last night at an insanely early hour (11). It has been informative though. I know the area extremely well now, and quite frankly the best way to hunt for flats is to see as much as possible, and now I have seen some excellent properties, ranging from ultra modern portered buildings next to fulham broadway with underground parking, to old victorian mansions with tennis courts (surprisngly the cheapest). The latter is looking promising, though I must admit i worry about the lack of anything interesting in that area as far as restaurants and shops go.
Quite entertainingly one of my real estate agents clearly fancies me lol. Surely just her way of getting a sale but she is expressing a worrying amount of interest, going so far as to calling me today for no particular real estate-based conversation, more of a general chat about personal life. Tis funny, and nice, a shame i wont be following up on her properties, wonder how she'll react when i tell her.
So what else is there... I'm missing someone a lot right now, and her name begins with an 's'. It's not what youd expect, i really just hope we can go back to being good friends like before. I'll do anything I can to earn her trust back. I feel awful still because I trusted the wrong person and let her push me and 'S' apart. A lot of things I wish i could take back that i did last year, that one takes the biscuit. Her best friend doesnt like me very much either for some reason :S. Shocking considering the kind of lying riff raff she associates with. I still continue to have faith that people like these get their comeuppance in the end. To me it seems like they do usually. So I just hope. Those who take the time to get to know me realise what Im really like, so thats very heart warming, especially when it goes so far as to have carol's friends apologising to me for things theyve said/done because of her. You are all forgiven :) Carol is forgiven too, so long as she can just leave me alone now.
I feel somewhat unsettled at the moment, possibly because its been a really long and busy summer designed to cause settling of a world that was fast getting out of hand. That being said things are still on the up every day, and I think people now are seeing me return to my former peppiness and easy goingness that was taken from me last year. I am sorry about this because it feels to me like i let a lot of my usual personality traits slip last year with the stress certain people piled on me, I think the worry that this may have done too much damage is what is leading to my unsettled feel. Im sure all will be fine with a little time though.
I have mentioned to a few that I will be having some form of champagne based housewarming, so stay tuned for that!
Let's get something straight; England, as a footballing nation, have not been amongst the best for a long time. Indeed we haven't officially been the best since one fine day in June 1966. Forgetting all the whining about a goal that perhaps shouldnt have been, when we won by two anyway, it was one of the finest moments in English history. It pains all of us to see the team in a state as it is now. We were good at Euro 2004, we were good at World cup 2002. People who were so quick to blame sven for all our problems clearly did not take notice of this fact. They complain we only reached the quarter finals of these competitions... well to be honest that's sounding pretty good right now, its not easy to get that far and considering how overrated english players are (alan smith, kieran richardson, carrick, none of them are worth the attention they get. If they were german they'd be struggling) Perhaps a quarter final is something to be pleased with. It also doesnt help when time and time again the better players are overlooked until theyre the last possible resort (joe cole, hargreaves and shaun wright-phillips in particular).
To compound this nightmare of affairs we have a smiley, creepy manager who looks like hed be sticky to touch. He is useless, that a man who lost 7-0 in his last season before becomign england manager can be appointed to such a post is a travesty, especially in the presence of so many more talented competitors. But can we blame this man completely? I would direct attention to world cup 2006, where a sven who, for all his faults, did produce a team that looked strong, looked in control at each of his previous two finals, ended up with a lazy, completely gormless bunch of louts, joe cole, john terry and hargreaves aside. Noting this it really is fair to point out that we haven't gotten worse with maclaren, so let's hold the blame for a second.
So what is the problem? well there are so many. These players are overconfident and jaded. The FA is useless. The media and public thrusts insane pressure and expectation on these far from exceptional players. Players are trained very differently to other European countries, more emphasis on stamina than skill or technique. Crucially, the clubs coerce the players into prioritising them above the national team, which is absolutely absurd, but you can see where theyre coming from. Frankly any player who agrees with this should not be allowed to play in the team. It is an honor to be selected and should not be approached as 'just another game' it is a fight for your country, all your friends, your family. It is a BIG deal... and yes, the manager is pretty pathetic too.
This is an extract from something i wrote a year ago that i never really did anything with. It did however gain mention at the gardner cup at eton. This is the intro:
I think it scared me, watching the world pass by. But that's exactly what happened, sitting there in the square. Time had been left to do its work on this secluded town unchecked, and nowhere was this more evident than here, the absolute centre of life for the denizens of Castellina in Chianti.
A church stood tall, the dominant feature of the town, looking down on the other buildings. A large Oak door provided the entrance, its surface chipped and worn, its colour faded, a large rusted handle no longer swinging proudly, now stiffened into its resting position. Of all the stone statues that used to guard this house of prayer with their cold eyes, only one remained intact.
However, in stark contrast to the crumbling square, a town flourished with life. On this New Year's Eve, I sat in that square taking in all the features surrounding me. Music resounded through the streets, a local band playing old favourites to the dancing crowds.
It was a warm Tuscan night, with barely a light breeze passing over us. Our tipple, a 1997 bottle of Chianti Classico Reserva, was fast coming to a finish. I poured the small remainder into two glasses and toasted to another wonderful year with you by my side. Your hand clasps mine, and my mouth stumbles, with words I need to say, words that must be heard. But you know them, you kiss me, you softly say, "Just watch the fireworks."
short i know, ill post more another time.