Posts Tagged ‘chavs’

A hectic week

So, Monday I was up in East Midlands Airport, back to the office about 3.30 – relatively easy day (if you disregard lugging the test rig on and off jacks).

Yesterday, or yes…up at 5 to get to Stansted for my flight to Spain (Girona). Was about 11 local time when I FINALLY got my security pass and could go do the work. I must admit though, it was lovely being on the apron in glorious sunshine, so I took my time and had a good play was very thorough in testing and inspecting the rig – similar to this one (but a lot bigger):

I had 8 hours to kill before my flight home, so I took a bus into Girona. The amusing thing is – yesterday I didn’t bother changing money here for Euros as I figured I could do that over in Spain. How wrong was I? no money change facilities at Girona airport. “No problem…” thought I, “I’ll go into a bank in Girona.”

Bloody banks (and seemingly everything else) closes at 2.30…FOR THE AFTERNOON!

So I found a bar, got myself a beer and worked out a budget/plan for the 28 Euros I had. Basically the plan consisted of buying beer from Lidls, wander to a nice sunny park, strip off (not totally – behave), and soak up some sun while getting a very pleasant buzz and people watching – worked out fine, I had enough cash left for a beer back at the airport, and STILL had 2 Euros left πŸ™‚

Oh, please note: Girona airport is a gateway to the Costa Brava, and as such, gets full of the type of Brits I tend to avoid (can you say ‘chavs’?). All of them with overly loud voices, crap kids names (I’m sure I heard one snotty nosed, earring wearing brat called ‘Chlamydia’, but I may have misheard his name…), sprawling all over the seating area thus ensuring nobody else could get near the seats (I just shoved bags onto the floor and sat in comfort amid glares from mama and papa chav et chavettes).

Honestly, I felt ashamed to be British and was actually planning on answering in French if anyone asked me anything (no-one did – must have had my ‘fuck off’ face on I guess). Playing ‘spot the Brit’ was easy though – they were all lobster red, and had shiny white trainers on.

Today I’m in the office all day – lots to do so it’ll seem a short day (although for some reason I keep thinking it’s Thursday…).

And then tomorrow…

Got to be up about 3 to get to Stansted (again) for an early flight to Reus (Spain – again) to test/inspect another rig. I’ll arrive about 9.30 and hopefully be all done by lunchtime (takes forever to get through security). Thing is though, there’s only a flight from Reus to Stansted in the morning, so I’ve got an overnight stay here.

Now, Reus is the airport I flew into on my holiday last year, so I know it’s only 10 minutes away from Salou, so I plan to get to my hotel, shower, get changed and head there for several (gallons) of beer and soak up some sun πŸ™‚

Then Friday, it’ll be back to the airport for my flight at 10, getting back to Stansted about 12, home about 1. Then spend a couple of hours sorting bills etc., have a chat with Dennis who’ll be down, then off down to Kathy’s for the weekend πŸ™‚

It’s a hard life…

Life, love and unity

It’s a wonderful thing isn’t it?

Life I mean – where we get to endure years of education (OK, I use that term loosely as nowadays it seems hordes of chavs leave school without even being able to read etc.), then are set loose on the (mostly) unsuspecting world to provide for ourselves (and myriad illegitimate kids in the case of the aforementioned chavs).

All this leads us eventually to what is probably the greatest creation on earth – yes: beer.

So we work all week, yearning for 1pm on a Friday (I work half day on Fridays) and freedom πŸ™‚

Or maybe it’s just me…

Love. Hmm, a tough one this. I think I’ve got this sussed out: Love is when you have your heart ripped out, dragged through thorny hedges, then stamped on. Then it’s given back to you – not QUITE working right, but not enough to worry too much about.

That’s love, that is.

Which brings me to unity. Meet me later and I’ll buy you a beer πŸ™‚

An example of Banksy’s work. Some call it graffiti, some call it art. Personally, I like it – I like it a lot. And it sure as hell beats looking at blank walls or the chavvy misspelt insults you normally see.

Oh well, off to Milan next weekend (18th) for a 3 day piss-up πŸ™‚

dot lidΓ©:

Get a free Giffgaff Sim Email me

May 2019
« Apr