Mars looked a marked red/orange colour, and Saturn was also obvious. I don't think I've ever looked up at the night sky and seen that many planets all at once.
We had a few beers and a bottle of spirits and lemonade. We were the same group as before (me, Roy, Kirsten, Pete, Paul) but this time Jules Nicol (Jules 1) joned us. At one point, poor Pete was sent off to get some supplies. He was gone for ages, and given how clumsy he has been over the course of the week, we suspected that he had dropped and broken a bottle, and gone back again to buy a replacement.
When he got back, he said that Stalin (Derek) had attempted to interrogate him on where people were, because they weren't in the hotel. Pete deflected the question, however when Pete made to walk off, Stalin followed him. Pete ended up having to go three sides of a square, and practically run away just to get rid of him.
I found out that later in the evening, someone found Stalin asleep on one of the sofas in the hotel bar, and had balanced a croissant on his head, taking a photograph of course. When he woke up and moved his head, the croissant fell down his face and into his lap, showering crumbs in its wake. I wish I could have seen that, it would have been so funny.
Pete did some really good improvised rapping, whilst standing on the beach wall. Considering it was wholly improvised it was very good, although stumbling off the wall wasn't his finest moment.
Paul also did a melancholy rendition of 'Donald, Where's Your Trousers?', which received thunderous applause. He seemed faintly shy after we all applauded, but it was well deserved.
After we left the beach, for some reason we decided to go up to the horrid English pub where the others were toasting the end of the course.
Roy and Paul playing pool.There were some very obnoxious people in there, made so largely by drink, but some of them were just obnoxious anyway. Paul tried in vain to persuade me to join him in karaoke, but wisely I resisted. I think we might just have been asked to stop.
I had a very nice conversation with Louise, the girl from Tipperary. She is such a charming lady, I feel a little regretful that I've barely had a chance to speak to her all week.
Warp (that tosser Rob) was also in the pub, and he was clearly bringing his work (as a security guard) home with him. For reasons that I still don't understand even in the cold light of day, he took exception to me enjoying myself, decided singlehandedly that I'd had too much to drink (I had, but what business of his was it?), and proceeded to manhandle and frogmarch me back to the hotel. I was so speechless and stunned at this that I seemed to let him, then I waited until he'd walked away, and I just went back to the pub.
My face must have been a picture, because although Warp stood up and made as if to come over to me, when he looked at me, he backed away and sat back down again. Kirsten told me today that he apparently annoyed everybody (including the bar staff in the pub), and that even the tutors had hated him.
I spent about 20 minutes or so in the pub chatting with Ian Parkinson, the tutor who had guided us through the light curves project. He is a nice chap, very clever, and has travelled quite a bit during the course of his career. He is off to Australia next week for three weeks with his wife and kids, I believe for a holiday, but as he's a geologist by trade, perhaps it is work-related as well.
He apparently sussed my sexual orientation "within about five minutes", and proudly told me that none of the other tutors had. Ian said that the other tutors were astonished when they heard. Not quite sure what they expected; a man in a dress, perhaps?
Warp did not work out that I was gay, and this came after him making a fuss that despite being straight, he had an extremely good gaydar. Well, he didn't work me out, nor did he work Alison out either. So despite failing to identify either of the gay people on our residential week, he still claims to have a good gaydar. Hmm...
I woke up this morning with a pretty bad hangover, to discover that I'd fallen asleep fully clothed on top of the bed, as opposed to under the covers. After the usual toilet, I began to pack my case. I left a few bits and pieces behind, for instance the clipboard that I've been using all week that was provided by the OU, the large heavy folder containing printed copies of the project notes (I had no idea that we were going to be given printed copies of these), and the carrier bag that Anne-Marie gave me, which I've been using in lieu of a rucksack.
Kirsten knocked on my door just after 11am, and we exchanged some stories of some people's antics from the night before.
Having packed all my bags, Kirsten and I went downstairs into the lounge adjacent to the hotel bar. We found it full of fellow students and suitcases, and people were talking about the sort of evening that they'd had. Things turned awkward when Warp walked in, and most people stopped talking. Despite me showing very clear body language that I just wanted him to fuck off, Warp said loudly, "don't worry Dave, you've already apologised for being tipsy last night" (which I did, and I was, but still wholly coherent). I still felt pretty irritated at being manhandled by him like some drunken pub brawler, so I said, "well, as long as one of us has apologised, then that's okay."
Alison burst out laughing and couldn't even attempt to hide it. Warp finally got the message, and within a few minutes later, he moved into the bar with his tiny entourage (and his tiny cock, probably).
Lots of us exchanged mobile phone numbers, although of course the majority of us will be chatting to each other on Facebook. Paul also gave me the name of the Metallica album that he'd played a track from last night, it's an album where they collaborated with a symphony orchestra. It sounded an unlikely but appealing combination, so I will give it a try.
The cover of 'S&M' by Metallica with the San Francisco Symphony OrchestraIt was nearing 12pm and nobody had seen Pete. Kirsten went up to his room and knocked, but there was no answer. As the time drew on, we were getting seriously concerned that Pete had overslept. So, I also went up to his room and knocked, again I got no answer. Downstairs at reception I explained that I was concerned about our friend oversleeping, but he said that Pete in room 216 had already checked out. Stranger and stranger.
We were waiting for the taxi that Anne-Marie had booked for us yesterday, but there was no sign of it arriving. When I asked at reception, they knew nothing about it, so we decided to get the hotel to call a taxi for us. They did not have a taxi large enough to carry five people, so we ended up in two taxis, convoy-style.
On the way to the airport, as we looked out of the windows at the spectacular scenery, Kirsten explained that last night when she left the pub, Pete was in a dreadful state, swaying, unable to walk in a straight line, and slurring badly.
Fearing he wouldn't be able to make it to his room, Kirsten walked him to the hotel. Pete grabbed Kirsten's hand, so they walked hand-in-hand looking like the most unlikely of couples. Apparently Tutor Ian saw this and looked astonished!
It also turns out that Paul managed to secure a blow job from Louise, the lovely Irish girl from Tipperary. No wonder he was looking a little on the smug side, and saying nice things about her.
Inside Palma de Mallorca airport.We reached the airport, paid the taxi fare, and the driver helped us with our bags. There was no sign of the other taxi, however the driver had gone quite fast. We decided to check-in, and although we were horribly early, we checked in without any issues. I spoke entirely in Spanish to the check-in clerk, and we even had a bit of chit-chat. Reading my first name on my passport, he called me David ("Dav-eed") pronounced the Spanish way. He then asked if I preferred "Dav-eed" or "Day-vid". I replied that when we are in a Spanish speaking country, I prefer "Dav-eed", as it sounds more Spanish. He accepted this with a nod and smile, and then we were done.
We stepped away with our boarding cards, and then saw Alison and Jules walking towards us - with Pete in tow. Piecing together what happened, it seems that when Kirsten went up to Pete's hotel room, the knocking had woken him up. Assuming that this was a knock to advise that the taxi had arrived, Pete had packed (he only took a hand luggage case), checked out and dashed out of the hotel room, making his way up to the airport alone. Never mind, the best laid plans!
As Pete only had hand luggage, he had checked in online earlier in the day, so we waited whilst Jules and Alison checked in. We then joined long queues to go through security checking. I was again asked to take my shoes off for scanning, so with all the crap that I have in my pockets, plus the laptop, keys etc, it took three trays and ten minutes to get through security successfully.
Once through security and after reassembling myself and my possessions (swearing under my breath whilst doing so), we went and got some food from a small cafe inside the airport. The prices were ruinous, however we were all pretty hungry.
Kirsten had run out of euros, so I paid for hers. I had a hot dog and chips, which was a huge disappointment. However as I had paid so much for it, I felt obliged to eat it.
In the after-meal lull, we talked about some of the nicknames we had given people. The full list is:
Roy - The Cat In The Hat (although this one fell into disuse as the week went on);
Pete - Clearup (because he seemed to spend a lot of time collecting people's used plates and cups etc, very helpful);
Derek - Stalin (wholly deserved);
Rob - Warp (because he told all the tutors and all the students that he wants to invent a faster-than-light drive. We did briefly nickname him 'Worf' but decided to discontinue it, on the grounds that at least Worf was cool);
and in the spirit of saving the best until last...
Titch - Alien Insect.
This one deserves proper explanation. Titch is on crutches, for reasons that we never actually got to the bottom of. However, perhaps because she was always carrying a rucksack, she was clumsy on the crutches, which always seemed to be stuck out in front of her at strange angles. At about 4.40am one day after we had finally finished at the Observatory, Kirsten said, "look out, here comes the alien insect." Kirsten doesn't do subtle. We all roared with laughter at a wholly inappropriate volume, and the nickname stuck.
It's probably cruel to mock the afflicted, however we had a lot of fun at Titch's expense, most of which was deserved. The main reason that I came to suspect that she has Munchhausen's was because I was told that Titch went to a doctor to speak to him about an alleged back problem, was declined any assistance, so she went to about five other doctors and a surgeon, and managed to persuade one of them to perform spinal surgery. She then complained that she was in pain, and got another surgeon to remove the metal rods that had been inserted. It was all a very strange tale. To add to that, whilst we were waiting for the taxi this morning, Titch said in the bar that the OU had been very accommodating in supplying her with spiral-bound editions of the course books. The reason these were requested? "It's for my arthritis." This girl is younger than me, but she's claiming arthritis!
Kirsten said that her step-mother suffers from arthritis, and as a consequence, both of her hands are curled up in an awkward way, however she just shuts up and gets on with her life. She also looks after people who are clearly less ill than she is, so Kirsten was not happy that Titch appeared to be trying to play the sympathy card. So whilst we were all sitting around in the cafe after lunch at the airport, I joked that you could draw up a bingo game card, but the card would contain names of symptoms or diseases, rather than numbers. I then suggested that we'd probably see her arriving at the airport on her crutches, with the crutches making that peculiar metallic impact noise as they hit the floor, randomly shouting little-known diseases to anybody who happened to be in the vicinity. Much laughter.
Someone reported that Titch has been spotted this week walking perfectly well without her crutches (worth adding at this point that I later discovered her photos on Facebook show her paddling in the sea quite happily without them). I remembered that when she did SXR103 at Sussex, she was in a wheelchair. So there is clearly somthing going on with her!
Alien Insect has also, during the course of the week, told her suicide story, her pregnancy story and a few others, which I suspect are taller than she is. Even if they were all true, why would you feel inclined to tell such personal secrets to people you barely know? Yes our gang have had some good heart-to-hearts this week but I haven't told anybody anything I wouldn't tell my closest friends at work.
A problem for me this week has been that every time some even refers to Titch as Alien Insect, I descent into fits of giggles, which only get worse if she actually puts in an appearance. Between all the nicknames, the fantastic rapport between Roy, Kirsten, Paul, Pete and me, we have all laughed incredibly hard every single day. I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard for such a long time - possibly when we did SXR103 in 2009, I guess.
After waiting for the gate number to appear on the information screens, we discovered that the gate had been written on all of our boarding cards, so we'd been sitting there like lemons for ages. With a resigned shrug of the shoulders, we walked over to the departure gate, which was already filling up. The same check-in guy who had handled us all when we arrived at the airport was there, he smiled and said hello. People are so much nicer out here.
Waiting in departures. Kirsten, Pete, Paul, Jules and me. Alison was behind the camera, Roy wasn't in this picture as he didn't catch the same return flight.Kirsten disappeared to get some bottles of water. Some of the guys sat in the sunshine, but I still had an echo of a headache. I sat with Kirsten and Alison in the shade, and on seeing an adorable little baby with one of the passengers, we found ourselves talking about babies. I admitted that I wanted children very much, but that Alan didn't share my feelings. It's true that this issue has caused me some emotional pain, however the simple fact of the matter is that both potential parents have to want children. There's no sense in adopting in the hope that the other parent's feelings change in time, that way madness lies, and above all else, it's not fair on the child. So I don't feel badly towards Alan at all, I am grateful for his honesty.
With several long queues to have our boarding cards examined, the plane was already half-full by the time we got on board. However, we were all able to sit together, which was fantastic. So on my row there was Paul, me and Jules, on the row behind were Kirsten (with an odd smirk on her face), Pete and Alison, who is very shy and barely says a word. I think we embarrass her to be honest -- although this wouldn't be difficult, we can be rather loud.
Me and Paul on the plane. Paul looks great with his hair this short.Pete looked awful, and upon asking it was clear he felt awful too. After having yet another bottle of water, he sat forward in his seat and rested his head on the back of the seat in front, my seat. As a result I felt obliged to try and sit still, so he wasn't disturbed. I felt quite tired, but I found it hard to get to sleep, so sat awake.
Paul fell asleep with his MP3 player on, Jules was reading a book, so I was left alone with my thoughts for a while.
After an uneventful flight with plenty of laughs and a few tears (at leaving Mallorca and each other's company), we landed, reclaimed our baggage, had our passports examined, and then we were out into the arrivals hall. Pete beat a very hasty exit at the baggage stage (without even saying goodbye), as he only had hand luggage, and he had a tight 20 minute turnaround to catch his train. He did later text me to apologise.
Kirsten's brother appeared, who was her lift for the evening. I told him with a serious face that it was good of him to drive all five of us such a long way home. His face dropped in shock, as he didn't realise that I was winding him up. More loud laughing from us all.
We said our goodbyes, and I felt quite a lump in my throat. Paul did not hesitate to throw his arms around me in a big bearhug. When I thanked him for a great week, he deflected it neatly and said, "no mate, thank you." It has felt so good to be completely accepted by a group of people and treated like a real person. I have felt very close to Paul this week, like a wing man, and I am going to miss his company.
The Gatwick Express.I made my way outside, caught the shuttle bus to the other terminal in the gloomy early evening light, walked out of the airport into Gatwick railway station, and caught the Gatwick Express. This is a truly marvellous invention, although the announcements in five languages get a bit wearing after a while.
London Victoria was awash with people, many of them football supporters, and I found myself on the edge of football-related brawl. Lots of uncouth shouting, and the place was crawling with Police, who quickly ran in to resolve whatever had started tempers to flare.
I had intended to get the Victoria line up to Euston. However, it quickly emerged that the Victoria line was closed. No problem I figured, I know the Underground fairly well, so I thought I'll get the Circle to Euston. Nope, this was also closed. I ended up lugging my suitcase up a dozen escalators, taking the District line to Kings Cross, changing onto the Northern line and catching my final Tube to Euston.
The Tubes were jam-packed, uncomfortably so, and I felt hot, tired and grumpy.
Finally arrived at Euston, to find that my next train was around 40 minutes away. This was far from ideal, and a quick phone call to Alan revealed that I would not get to Birmingham International until about 10pm, which sucked a bit. But there was nothing I could do about it. Alan was clearly hungry and disappointed at the delay in having our first evening meal together for a week.
So that's it.... the course is over and done with. But I still need to scan in the numerous log sheets from the observational projects (a problem for tomorrow now), and start my post-school assessment, which is going to take me a while.
I'm signing off now as my train is almost at Birmingham International. Can't wait to get Alan into my arms again.
No comments:
Post a Comment