Hello, my name is Lars
Isn't it funny how I only just started feeling Christmassy whilst listening to this album? Why is that? It's not like any of the lyrical themes relate directly to the holiday season. I didn't feel at all festive whilst in Leeds, and I've only felt a slight pang of Christmas cheer since I've been home, but as soon as I put on a bit of Arcade Fire I feel a sudden urge to wear a silly hat, consume vast quantities of mince pies and mulled wine until I'm sick and/or pass out in front of the TV in true Christmas day style.
I'll tell you what though - Winter Pimm's is as good, if not better than mulled wine! I kid you not, it's incredible.
Anyway. HELLOOO! Indeed, I am home now, and have been since Saturday. Ben, Joe and I had the most hilarious, death-defying car journey to Joe's house on Friday. The majority of our problems were caused by dodgy windscreen wipers, which are the last things you want when it's dark and cold, it's raining like a bitch and you've taken long enough to get out of Leeds as it is. Consequently, our journey home (well, to Joe's house in Bromley) took about 10 hours. How? I'll explain.
We were almost killed by two non-consecutive windscreen wiper related events. The first occurred when the wiper on Joe's side went mental and decided it would be a good idea to remove itself from the windscreen, and instead start flapping about by the right-hand side of the car. This happened whilst we were driving on the M1 in particularly treacherous weather conditions. As Joe was trying to sort this out he was looking everywhere but the road, and we almost went into the back of the car in front that happened to be decelerating. Thankfully, a domino-like pile-up was avoided thanks to Ben shouting "AAAAHJOESTOPTHERE'SACARINFRONTOFUS!" and Joe's quick reactions*.
After pulling into the hard shoulder and putting the windscreen wiper back in its proper place, we decided we should try to sort it out more permanently at the next rest stop. Unfortunately, tightening the base of the offending wiper made the other one loose, leaving it flinching at the bottom of the windscreen. However, as we thought we'd fixed the original wiper, and as it was undoubtedly more important, we thought it best to just keep going.
This proved to be very stupid. Barely a minute after we'd got back onto the motorway, the right-hand side wiper was swept off the windscreen again, and it very quickly became impossible to see anything. We barely managed to pull into the hard shoulder, at the annoyance of the lorry driver behind us who almost took out the entire right-hand side of the car (well, at least the mirror) as he went past blasting his horn. Joe called the AA, but as we sat in the car, a truck pulled up behind us, inhabited by what seemed to be some sort of motorway patrol. They told us it was safest to get out of the car and stand away from it (in case something crashed into it, I presume), and they gave us those emergency blankets you see athletes in at the end of a marathon, and on people in, well, emergencies. Subsequently, we spent two hours in the freezing cold, looking like robots, albeit wet, miserable and windswept ones. Personally, I think I would have had to cut off my foot if the AA man had been any later.
To cut a long story short, we were towed off the motorway by said AA man (who incidentally was one of the least conversational people I have ever met), where he fixed the windscreen wipers and charged the battery, as leaving the hazard lights on for two hours had almost drained it. Thankfully, upon arriving at Joe's house at about 1am, there was quite possibly the best feast I have ever had there waiting for us. Joe's family are awesome!
I can't wait for our road trip back up to Leeds in January.
In other news, I haven't been up to that much since getting back home. Met a few peeps in Twickers for some drinks and merriment on Saturday night (I never realised how much of a lightweight Ashley is, but I suppose he can be excused for eating nothing but soup that day). Aside from that, I've realised I need to stop being so damn lazy - today I merely contemplated shaving and going out to do Christmas shopping (and get a duffel coat, because they're awesome). So far I have done neither. I really do need to shave as well, as in my current state I could be mistaken for a fisherman called Lars, an inhabitant of a small Swedish fishing village called Smögen.
I think I might have a shave then...
* Incidentally, as this event unfolded I was in the back, half paying attention whilst grooving out to Michael Jackson's seminal 1979 album, Off The Wall, which was a little too bass-heavy for my liking where I was sitting, as there's a massive sub-woofer in Joe's boot.
I'll tell you what though - Winter Pimm's is as good, if not better than mulled wine! I kid you not, it's incredible.
Anyway. HELLOOO! Indeed, I am home now, and have been since Saturday. Ben, Joe and I had the most hilarious, death-defying car journey to Joe's house on Friday. The majority of our problems were caused by dodgy windscreen wipers, which are the last things you want when it's dark and cold, it's raining like a bitch and you've taken long enough to get out of Leeds as it is. Consequently, our journey home (well, to Joe's house in Bromley) took about 10 hours. How? I'll explain.
We were almost killed by two non-consecutive windscreen wiper related events. The first occurred when the wiper on Joe's side went mental and decided it would be a good idea to remove itself from the windscreen, and instead start flapping about by the right-hand side of the car. This happened whilst we were driving on the M1 in particularly treacherous weather conditions. As Joe was trying to sort this out he was looking everywhere but the road, and we almost went into the back of the car in front that happened to be decelerating. Thankfully, a domino-like pile-up was avoided thanks to Ben shouting "AAAAHJOESTOPTHERE'SACARINFRONTOFUS!" and Joe's quick reactions*.
After pulling into the hard shoulder and putting the windscreen wiper back in its proper place, we decided we should try to sort it out more permanently at the next rest stop. Unfortunately, tightening the base of the offending wiper made the other one loose, leaving it flinching at the bottom of the windscreen. However, as we thought we'd fixed the original wiper, and as it was undoubtedly more important, we thought it best to just keep going.
This proved to be very stupid. Barely a minute after we'd got back onto the motorway, the right-hand side wiper was swept off the windscreen again, and it very quickly became impossible to see anything. We barely managed to pull into the hard shoulder, at the annoyance of the lorry driver behind us who almost took out the entire right-hand side of the car (well, at least the mirror) as he went past blasting his horn. Joe called the AA, but as we sat in the car, a truck pulled up behind us, inhabited by what seemed to be some sort of motorway patrol. They told us it was safest to get out of the car and stand away from it (in case something crashed into it, I presume), and they gave us those emergency blankets you see athletes in at the end of a marathon, and on people in, well, emergencies. Subsequently, we spent two hours in the freezing cold, looking like robots, albeit wet, miserable and windswept ones. Personally, I think I would have had to cut off my foot if the AA man had been any later.
To cut a long story short, we were towed off the motorway by said AA man (who incidentally was one of the least conversational people I have ever met), where he fixed the windscreen wipers and charged the battery, as leaving the hazard lights on for two hours had almost drained it. Thankfully, upon arriving at Joe's house at about 1am, there was quite possibly the best feast I have ever had there waiting for us. Joe's family are awesome!
I can't wait for our road trip back up to Leeds in January.
In other news, I haven't been up to that much since getting back home. Met a few peeps in Twickers for some drinks and merriment on Saturday night (I never realised how much of a lightweight Ashley is, but I suppose he can be excused for eating nothing but soup that day). Aside from that, I've realised I need to stop being so damn lazy - today I merely contemplated shaving and going out to do Christmas shopping (and get a duffel coat, because they're awesome). So far I have done neither. I really do need to shave as well, as in my current state I could be mistaken for a fisherman called Lars, an inhabitant of a small Swedish fishing village called Smögen.
I think I might have a shave then...
* Incidentally, as this event unfolded I was in the back, half paying attention whilst grooving out to Michael Jackson's seminal 1979 album, Off The Wall, which was a little too bass-heavy for my liking where I was sitting, as there's a massive sub-woofer in Joe's boot.