Tales of daily life from a 20-something Student from London.

Friday, 7 September 2012

Irish Smirish

Admitedly, I should have guessed when I walked in that this wasnt the pub I was searching for. Looking for an oneills to watch Ireland kick off their world cup campaign, I consulted google maps, only to be given a crude image that showed me to be far away, then close, then far away again. 

I spotted an irish pub and decided to risk it. Now, as I walked in, the fact they were playing 'let me lick you up and down...' says a lot, but the 5 people in here were giving me evil looks, so this young upstart from the city decided to balls up.

I immediately realised, after asking for a pint of smithwicks and hearing the barmans accent, this was Irish in name only. 

"you lads playing the ireland game?"

"no, why?"

"sorry, i just gathered by the sign"

"oh...no, sorry" 

It took me roughly 5 minutes to see i'd walked through the wrong door into the pub next door, a student bar called varsity. I realised why the barman was staring. Great. 

I finished my carslberg and left. 

Sunday, 2 September 2012

I've been riding on my bike...

I'm not entirely sure why, but I find the topics of most of my more recent posts have been a bit serious. I mean, I know most people who read this either click the link because they've scrolled through their newsfeeds a hundred times and see nothing more than a selection of baby photos (well, not a selection. There's nothing selective about them, they just throw every picture their 2gb SD card can hold on every social media network they can find), some photos of guys and dolls dressed up to the nines holding up a sign in a club advertising the club (seriously, what is that about?), and a tonne of 'funny' photos from a page you liked back in college and can never be bothered to unlike, or have a mild interest in some of my awkward misfortunes, but I do feel the need to vent a few serious bits and pieces on here occasionally. So, to anyone who genuinely does read this every week, I apologise. And get a job, y' deadbeats.

So, I still don't have a job. But, I have applied for plenty of staff-writer jobs. In theory, staff-writer is a relatively simple job. I know writers who have worse grammar than sign writers for a Chinese supermarket, and structure an article like the way 500 Days of Summer plays out. I've applied for writing jobs at all sorts of publications. I applied for a particular job at a monthly motorcycle magazine.

The editor of said magazine should probably be "surprised she hasn't seen me on the Isle of Man before" as I've been "going to the TT since I was as tall as a motorbikes kickstand". I mean, if I get the job, I'll brush up on my motorbike knowledge. I'll learn the difference between a Yamaha and a Suzuki, a gas guzzler and a penny pleaser, and, primarily, how to actually start a motorbike. But then again, she also shouldn't be surprised if I "turn up on some sort of bike" as "cars have the restraint that a motorcycle just doesn't give you, allowing you to really enjoy the road".

It's not because I haven't passed my test. I promise. And I wont be turning up on a Boris Bike....not that that'd matter, as I said bike.