I just made myself a curry. It came out looking like tar. I honestly don't know where I went wrong.
Mercifully I put enough chilli in for it not to taste like tar. Or, in fact, anything at all.
Was gonna post a photo but I think it probably would have made you throw up.
Monday, 19 October 2009
Thursday, 1 October 2009
Home, 1st October
08.30
Feel dreadful.
09.00
Worry not though, a good old reliable Premier Inn repast sorts me right out.
10.00
Wander round York. All buildings seem to be let by companies in London who refuse to answer the phone. I suppose it’s too far away for them to actually care.
10.30
Starving again. I don't usually eat anything in the mornings as I'm never up in time, so by about 11 o'clock I'm so hungry I feel sick. I would expect that a massive six course everything buffet breakfast would keep me going longer than usual, but it just doesn't bloody work. At least I know never to waste time and money on breakfasts again.
12.00
Find an amazing site, but it is literally three times the rent of anywhere we’ve seen that size. You could literally buy a house of exactly the same size every year you paid rent on it. Probably two if you were in a rough part of town.
15.00
Give up and go home. The north is tiring and I feel terrible. Will probably ask the people at York Minster if they'll let us build a club in their cathedral - it seems fairly nice. If they don't we'll probably just forget about it.
Feel dreadful.
09.00
Worry not though, a good old reliable Premier Inn repast sorts me right out.
10.00
Wander round York. All buildings seem to be let by companies in London who refuse to answer the phone. I suppose it’s too far away for them to actually care.
10.30
Starving again. I don't usually eat anything in the mornings as I'm never up in time, so by about 11 o'clock I'm so hungry I feel sick. I would expect that a massive six course everything buffet breakfast would keep me going longer than usual, but it just doesn't bloody work. At least I know never to waste time and money on breakfasts again.
12.00
Find an amazing site, but it is literally three times the rent of anywhere we’ve seen that size. You could literally buy a house of exactly the same size every year you paid rent on it. Probably two if you were in a rough part of town.
15.00
Give up and go home. The north is tiring and I feel terrible. Will probably ask the people at York Minster if they'll let us build a club in their cathedral - it seems fairly nice. If they don't we'll probably just forget about it.
York, 30th Sept
08.30
Another delicious Premier Inn breakfast.
09.20
Head into Hull, we make appointments for the two best buildings we have found, and ask if burtons would be willing to give up another. I look for Wifi, but can’t find it anywhere, not even in cocking Starbucks, who supposedly have it (for free). End up having to go into a hotel that is still situated in the 1950s.
12.50
Look around shop on Whitefriargate in centre of town. Perfect. If it wasn’t surrounded by scummy pubs and boozers.
13.45
Go for lunch in Prezzo. Have to leave due to gas leak.
15.50
Head to York.
16.30
Enjoy one of the fruit teas I stole from the breakfast bar this morning in our fresh Premier Inn room.
16.34
Fresh Premier Inn wears thin. I leave the tea and head into town. Bump into Sam and Stuart as I am hanging around outside Sam's place of work*. After a bit of faff we go for drinks and dinner and plenty of drinks and some drinks. York seems to be based on the concept of two for one cocktails. Or 2-4-1 as it’s correctly written. There are plenty of really actually nice bars in York. A genuine treat after fucking Hull. Or “Dull” as I have hilariously called it.
*I do actually know these people, it should be pointed out – I don’t (regularly) make a habit of hanging ‘round with people I meet arbitrarily on the streets.
11.50
I leave Stuart and wander round for a bit. Find a couple of flat roofed premises next to drinking areas, and so celebrate by accidentally stumbling-into-a-bar-and-ordering-the-most-expensive-drink-I-have-ever-ordered-in-the-shape-of-a-£9-martini. IS A MARTINI NOT JUST A MIXTURE OF GIN AND VERMOUTH?!!! Surely that means each shot of alcohol is over £4 in value. Unless they put premium olives in. Premium-three-pound-each-olives. Imported directly from Tuscany.
01.30
Stumble out and try to find way home. Find couple of late night clubs, a little bit out of the way. Somehow muster the wherewithal not to go in and see. York seems to just be a Northeners version of Norwich. The hotel we are staying in is obviously the Magdalen Street side of town. I get chatting to the bouncers outside what transpires is the only gentlemen’s club in town. Stumble home and battle with the three door swipes I have to get through
Another delicious Premier Inn breakfast.
09.20
Head into Hull, we make appointments for the two best buildings we have found, and ask if burtons would be willing to give up another. I look for Wifi, but can’t find it anywhere, not even in cocking Starbucks, who supposedly have it (for free). End up having to go into a hotel that is still situated in the 1950s.
12.50
Look around shop on Whitefriargate in centre of town. Perfect. If it wasn’t surrounded by scummy pubs and boozers.
13.45
Go for lunch in Prezzo. Have to leave due to gas leak.
15.50
Head to York.
16.30
Enjoy one of the fruit teas I stole from the breakfast bar this morning in our fresh Premier Inn room.
16.34
Fresh Premier Inn wears thin. I leave the tea and head into town. Bump into Sam and Stuart as I am hanging around outside Sam's place of work*. After a bit of faff we go for drinks and dinner and plenty of drinks and some drinks. York seems to be based on the concept of two for one cocktails. Or 2-4-1 as it’s correctly written. There are plenty of really actually nice bars in York. A genuine treat after fucking Hull. Or “Dull” as I have hilariously called it.
*I do actually know these people, it should be pointed out – I don’t (regularly) make a habit of hanging ‘round with people I meet arbitrarily on the streets.
11.50
I leave Stuart and wander round for a bit. Find a couple of flat roofed premises next to drinking areas, and so celebrate by accidentally stumbling-into-a-bar-and-ordering-the-most-expensive-drink-I-have-ever-ordered-in-the-shape-of-a-£9-martini. IS A MARTINI NOT JUST A MIXTURE OF GIN AND VERMOUTH?!!! Surely that means each shot of alcohol is over £4 in value. Unless they put premium olives in. Premium-three-pound-each-olives. Imported directly from Tuscany.
01.30
Stumble out and try to find way home. Find couple of late night clubs, a little bit out of the way. Somehow muster the wherewithal not to go in and see. York seems to just be a Northeners version of Norwich. The hotel we are staying in is obviously the Magdalen Street side of town. I get chatting to the bouncers outside what transpires is the only gentlemen’s club in town. Stumble home and battle with the three door swipes I have to get through
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