Wedding Crashing and Weather Forecasting

27 Mar
It seems like a very long time since I’ve bin down Bristle. A flying visit at Christmas was the last time, I guess. So I finally ventured to the homeland this weekend with Dave and Alistair to go to the wedding of two people I have never met in my life. I think that’s a first for me.
It was a nice but slightly odd weekend. Firstly, I realised how used to sanitised, tiny Oxford I’ve become. I’m quite happy to hang out on the streets here at 1am talking to druggies and not expecting to come to any harm. Whereas back in the real big city, one of the first things that happened to us was witnessing a crime in broad daylight just around the corner from my parents’ house. As we watched the cute little 13 year-old hoodie gang run off with their stolen goods, I remembered that I used not to bat an eyelid at this sort of thing. That’s just Horfield. And it’s home. But Dave seemed rather taken aback.
Later on, we had the fun of pushing a wheelchair back through central Bristol to the dodgy NCP carpark. Except it wasn’t so fun as it usually is – this time even I was a bit unnerved by the level of lariness all around us on a Saturday night. Hideous drunkenness from 16 year-old girls whose stupid shoes had them sprawling over down the Pithay while the policemen just looked on. Threats being yelled across the street. And about 10 times as many people as you’d see out in Oxford. Maybe I have forgotten what city life was like, and started to think like those deluded people who think that Oxford is a "city".
Strangely though, despite a longing for the countryside, there is still something inside of me that likes coming home to Bristol and being submerged in the city again. There’s a little twinge of something like urban pride that I can watch hoodie gangs out of my bedroom window. I think it’s belonging somewhere like that and not being afraid. It might be horrible at times, but it’s MY city, and I loves it my babber I does.
Maybe that’s one reason I go looking for the worst bits of Oxford. They’re the REAL bits.
More whimsically, the wedding involved a reception in a nice Chinese restaurant which proceeded to feed us at least 15 courses (I kid you not) between the hours of 6 and 11:30pm. It almost topped Schools Dinner in terms of leaving you with the feeling that you never want to eat anything ever again (no lobster though). Despite not knowing anybody at all except Mr Newell, a good time was had – Table E developed some comeraderie over the marathon eating ordeal, and I also discovered that I had been shaing a car with the one-time 86th-ranked tiddlywinks player in the world. WOW. An indepth lesson on the rules of tiddlywinks followed, and I am now familiar with the term "squapping" and what to do if you have a "nurdled wink". An educational night indeed. And I can’t believe Alistair doesn’t put that on his CV.
As for the weather forecasting, today my knee hurts a bit and my colleague Mary suggests this is due to the cold/foggy weather. In fact, just before that big storm last week, I did get a twinge. The delightful thought occurs to me that I might become one of those old ladies who can predict the weather by going "thar’s a storm a-brewin’, I can feel it in me gammy leg". Awesome!

5 Responses to “Wedding Crashing and Weather Forecasting”

  1. David 27/03/2007 at 10:23 pm #

    I know spelling is important to you my dear, so its AlAstair not AlIstair.  In fact its actually Alastair but I decided to emphasise the change in letter by capitalizing/capitalising (both are probably wrong but I thought I would at least try).

    By the way Oxford isn’t a city its a very scary metropolis.  You also forgot to mention the John Lennon Memorial shot.  Still can’t believe you lock your door.

  2. mel 27/03/2007 at 10:23 pm #

    Ah of course, but we never did learn what the John Lennon Memorial shot actually is, since even world-ranked Alastair didn’t know. It remains tiddywinks’ enigmatic mystery…

  3. David 27/03/2007 at 10:23 pm #

    taken from ‘The Lexicon of Tiddlywinks’

    John Lennon memorial shot (UK) = boondock and squop.

    boondock and squop · n A shot which produces two results: a wink is boondocked, and the shooting wink comes to rest on another wink, squopping it.

    1boondock · n a shot in which a squopped wink is freed and comes to rest far from the center of action in a game, or is sent off the mat. Also vt. [circa 1971, US]

    1977 Verbatim Dec. Philip Michael Cohen. Page 4. boondock–to shoot (a wink) far from the scene of action or off the mat. Incidentally, winkers who graduate & move away from the centers of activity are said to be ‘boondocked.’
    2boondock · n a perversion in which the goal is to pot all of a color’s winks, and when a wink is squopped, it is returned to its baseline. See Alleghany Airlines Book Club Presents for the rules.
    squop · vt to play a wink so that it comes to rest vertically above some or all parts of another wink. n a wink that is squopped
    Interestingly though and of high relevance
    squop, bristol, John Lennon memorial shot · British drinking game

  4. Simon 27/03/2007 at 10:23 pm #

    Guess what – I’m with Dave on this one! Oxford is too big… places bigger than Oxford are terrifying. I have never witnessed any sort of mugging/robbery etc – though someone did steal a tractor from the farm by us.p.s. AA Milne once said "people are always telling me I should write about Real Life – preferably in a brothel or public house, where Life is notoriously more Real than elsewhere"I am being very clever and using the writer of Winnie the Pooh as my support.

  5. mel 28/03/2007 at 10:23 pm #

    So how come I’ve never, in the midst of a crazy party, been handed a glass of vodka and been asked to play "Squop, Bristol, John Lennon Memorial Shot?" It’s not particularly catchy, is it? Is this a drinking game only played by those crrrrrazy tiddywinks afficionados? hehee

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