in july 2006 i was once again dumped after a 3 year relationship, the reasons being the reasons being.C* and I had decided to take a vacation together but at the last minute she decided that going on holiday with me would be as two week B&B in Beirut.
So I ended up in Arlanda, went to the local desk and asked for the cheapest seat available to Greece. Sista minuten paid off with the price of 350 kr.So I made the call to C*, bit my lip and started a journey that I never thought I'd ever make, alone.U c, I'm a nearness freak so even going to the cinema alone scares the pants off me.Whatever gave me the courage to go ahead with this I will never know.But I did, and sometimes the pathways have to be walked and experiences and fears faced.So, in the immortal words of Blackadder, I tweaked the nose of fear and sat alone in the airport with what would turn out to be the beginning of not only an interesting journey but also the beginning of an end with a relationship reality breaking up and that process coming in like a welders boots in the nether regions.
Plane landed somewhere in Crete, time stood still at 0200.I asked around and was informed that no way I could hitch a lift with the chartered buses, it was against the law, but why not ask the local taxi drivers. So I did. If felt like a virtual reality rubber stamp hit my forehead when they heard my british accent and I was swiftly on my way to Cretes answer to Ibiza..At this point I believe the driver missed my rather mature plea of :
"yeah, somewhere quiet , somewhere I can just relax, u know, read a book, write my memoirs, gin and tonic..u know.."
After about an hours drive we came to somewhere.Looked nice in the dark, if you know what I mean.He promised a long beach, "the Strip" which I didn't quite understand and of course his mate knew a mate whose second distant cousin owned a respectable joint close to the strip, very good price for you,"my friend.."..
To be fair, the guy was a decent kind of chap.He drove me up to a hotel which didn't look so bad, it was just the smell that struck me straight away, like a sewage farm.But when in greece, I mean they have to empy those wee buckets that you find next to the toilets as they have the ultimate Renova recycling known in history.What about that, its kinda weird when you cant flush the paper down the loo and
I have a theory that its a mental game.The reason I say this is basically if you end up in a country where paper flushing is acceptable then smudging becomes part of a day to day reality, the more expensive and softer the paper the higher degree of smudging..However, if you know your gonna have to by-pass the toilet, open a bin and leave the remains for possibly the most unfortunate hotel cleaners on the planet , the concept of "protein-nip off at the bud" becomes far more apparent..
Anyway, away from that toilet theory and back to my first intro to the hotel.
Just as I negogiating a room price with the young guy working there under the auspicious eye of the taxi driver , a genuine scouser (from liverpool for those not in the know) comes down the stairs, shaved head, covered in tattoos and obviously had one too many shandys and says in hardcore liverpudlian,
" ere mate, I wouldn't stay here, it smells if shiite, fookin shiite,"
At this point I haven't said a word but stand besumed at the sight of the receptionist trying to close a deal whilst being abused full frontal by this guy who reminds me of a character from "boys from the blackstuff"..
Apparently he'd paid extra for a suite (?) and the fridge didn't work, the room looked like shiite, the air conditioning didn't work and was shiite, and of course everything smelt like shiite..."
Nobody could back down and the guy was informed to tell his rep the next day.I was once again warned not to stay in the hotel as it was,,,"Shiite"..
By this time it was 0300 and despite being so late I wasn't tired, simply curious.I paid for 2 nights , headed to my room to discover large patched up holes in the door.I asked the receptionist and was informed about the biggest fight the hotel had ever had happened in the same corridor, english football fans, "they're frikken crazy",I was informed.
Well, I'd arrived and still very confused about my rational decisions the only thing I was interested in now was finding out more about "The Strip" and the 30 degrees plus awaiting me the very same day.
In the next part of The Gay Boxer you get to know about the nightmare of the strip and why "the gay boxer"..
Part 2: headin' down to the strip
Friday, February 2, 2007
Joe Hill, meet Olof Palmer
One of the first questions I was asked when I moved to Sweden was "where were you when Olof Palmer was shot?", to their surprise the usual answer was a question...Who?
Ooops..yes indeed , years of tv discussions, documentrys, the missing weapon, the conspiracy theories including an international plot which included the South African secret service and the CIA.
You have to laugh when you see interviews with retired generals from the States calling Olof "a dirty commy rat" as he wasn't interested in feeding the arms industry.
Whatever you believe though, there is a kinda "History repeats itself" here.
Joe Hill.
Now , I reckon if you asked 9 outta 10 Swedes who Joe Hill was they wouldn't know.Indeed, if you asked the question "where were you when he was shot by firing squad" you'd get an even stranger percentage as most wouldn't have been born.
Joe Hill was shot by firing squad in Utah . He was a swedish immigrant who fought in the mexican war. In classic Swedish fashion he was a union organiser who wanted to abolish the wage system of capitalism. A workingman's Robert Burns was his tag.
This guy had morals and integrity and was loved by the workers of america and despised by the industrialists and politicians, his conviction of murder was based on very poor evidence and basically just an excuse to get rid of him.The Jimmy Hoffa of the era.
There seems to be a similar thread in both with conspiracys tied up with the same countries for possibly the same reasons in different generations.I wonder how many natives of this country know of Joe Hill?
áyé
Ooops..yes indeed , years of tv discussions, documentrys, the missing weapon, the conspiracy theories including an international plot which included the South African secret service and the CIA.
You have to laugh when you see interviews with retired generals from the States calling Olof "a dirty commy rat" as he wasn't interested in feeding the arms industry.
Whatever you believe though, there is a kinda "History repeats itself" here.
Joe Hill.
Now , I reckon if you asked 9 outta 10 Swedes who Joe Hill was they wouldn't know.Indeed, if you asked the question "where were you when he was shot by firing squad" you'd get an even stranger percentage as most wouldn't have been born.
Joe Hill was shot by firing squad in Utah . He was a swedish immigrant who fought in the mexican war. In classic Swedish fashion he was a union organiser who wanted to abolish the wage system of capitalism. A workingman's Robert Burns was his tag.
This guy had morals and integrity and was loved by the workers of america and despised by the industrialists and politicians, his conviction of murder was based on very poor evidence and basically just an excuse to get rid of him.The Jimmy Hoffa of the era.
There seems to be a similar thread in both with conspiracys tied up with the same countries for possibly the same reasons in different generations.I wonder how many natives of this country know of Joe Hill?
áyé
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Road Trip!
Gotta get over this influensa by 2morrow, Road Trip is on!
Two days in Malmö to celebrate a deer and a cat in a flat with a hat.
Had to arrange some accomidation, was gonna take a room at Hotel Horn (y?) but I presume they take payment by the 30 minute mark.
Saturday is the six nations rugby kick off so Sir Tobys will be booked for a spot to hopefully watch Scotland pull off a win since a while back, deep in the bowls of London. My three tickets were passed over, still would have been good to watch Wilkenson and Farrel on the park live..
Looking at the to do list is as big a headache as the one I've carried all day.
Broken Hi-vo cam chain in my Gasgas SM 450 supermotard which I've changing the block on would have abeen a good challenge this weekend, but the winter aint over and theres parties to visit.
àyé
Two days in Malmö to celebrate a deer and a cat in a flat with a hat.
Had to arrange some accomidation, was gonna take a room at Hotel Horn (y?) but I presume they take payment by the 30 minute mark.
Saturday is the six nations rugby kick off so Sir Tobys will be booked for a spot to hopefully watch Scotland pull off a win since a while back, deep in the bowls of London. My three tickets were passed over, still would have been good to watch Wilkenson and Farrel on the park live..
Looking at the to do list is as big a headache as the one I've carried all day.
Broken Hi-vo cam chain in my Gasgas SM 450 supermotard which I've changing the block on would have abeen a good challenge this weekend, but the winter aint over and theres parties to visit.
àyé
"Fear and loathing in Göteborg" Lilla Lordag..typ
Hunter S Thompson wrote a great book which endeered pretty much everyone who read it to try and buy some illegal substance including, if memory serves me correctly, an adrenalin gland from a human to nibble on.
Tog wash I say, should finish up your old booze, mix with some old morfin based cough mixture and head downtown on a wednesday evening with a fever and a boozing date lined up.
The new hunting ground was ironically the Peacock, the only bird whose name was originally changed from peecock due to the whole embarrassement derived by Von Linne and his Supernerd book of latin names for all the flowers...only in Sweden would someone have the time and make the effort to ensure every species of foilage had a latin name..*suck* hembränt was Vons passtime!
To cut a short story long, or vice versa the conversation ended on a high note to the benefits of LSD together with music from the 70's or earlier. I mean, it just wouldn't be the same dropping a stamp to Robin Williams or Beyonce and watching Cribs on MTV.
There's something rustic and very genuine regarding the substance and texture of film from the 70's, once again Led Zepp, the Doors, the Who always producing the nostalga trip.
Talking of which, I used to work doing some panel beating work with a mate in Uppsala, we used to mix up the bonding fluids and gels and start work everyday by kicking off with "Riders on the Storm" and end on ironically , "The End". I have to admit those chemicals work well on both the panels on the car and the inside of the cranium..Days seemed to fly by without too much being done and memory loss was very common.There was only one tape and it simply got turned over again and again, one would stop the sanders and admire the lyrical text and music of Mr Morrison, believing of course the conspiracy theory about him living in the jungle, his body never recovered and the almost Da Vinci Code mention of Dr Mojo, who declared his dead and wrote his death certificate. Please add chemical A to bonding chemical B, put your head between your buttocks and kiss your arse goodbye....
Now you may think that despite the fact that I write about illegal substances and own Howard Marks "Dope Storys" Im a big fan. Well, actually not, I don't do it and I don't condone it either.However, sometimes the urge to rewind the tape back over 20 years to the "experimental era" of my lifetime can make me, as they say in Sweden, "sugen"..Dammit, Kashmir running in the background..I mean, even Sherlock Holmes liked his Opium..
Anyway, I digress.Good night..great night, up to 0500 in the morning,Carpe Diem indeed, seize something anyway, perhaps the alarm clock.Wine, wine, more wine, more zepp, good times, appreciation and the horrible feeling that soon it would be grown up thursday and back to feeling sickly with the added bonus of a hangover.
It dawned on me that the reality time of single life equation begins at 2300 and ends 0500 everyday.Thats where the difference is, where those harmonic demonics are tucked up snug as a bug, the lowest form come out to play and suck off the life line of lonelyness, like the text in a song says, "they're drinking a drink called lonleyness"..
bring it on, to qoute a T*, "today has turned out a good day"
áyé
Tog wash I say, should finish up your old booze, mix with some old morfin based cough mixture and head downtown on a wednesday evening with a fever and a boozing date lined up.
The new hunting ground was ironically the Peacock, the only bird whose name was originally changed from peecock due to the whole embarrassement derived by Von Linne and his Supernerd book of latin names for all the flowers...only in Sweden would someone have the time and make the effort to ensure every species of foilage had a latin name..*suck* hembränt was Vons passtime!
To cut a short story long, or vice versa the conversation ended on a high note to the benefits of LSD together with music from the 70's or earlier. I mean, it just wouldn't be the same dropping a stamp to Robin Williams or Beyonce and watching Cribs on MTV.
There's something rustic and very genuine regarding the substance and texture of film from the 70's, once again Led Zepp, the Doors, the Who always producing the nostalga trip.
Talking of which, I used to work doing some panel beating work with a mate in Uppsala, we used to mix up the bonding fluids and gels and start work everyday by kicking off with "Riders on the Storm" and end on ironically , "The End". I have to admit those chemicals work well on both the panels on the car and the inside of the cranium..Days seemed to fly by without too much being done and memory loss was very common.There was only one tape and it simply got turned over again and again, one would stop the sanders and admire the lyrical text and music of Mr Morrison, believing of course the conspiracy theory about him living in the jungle, his body never recovered and the almost Da Vinci Code mention of Dr Mojo, who declared his dead and wrote his death certificate. Please add chemical A to bonding chemical B, put your head between your buttocks and kiss your arse goodbye....
Now you may think that despite the fact that I write about illegal substances and own Howard Marks "Dope Storys" Im a big fan. Well, actually not, I don't do it and I don't condone it either.However, sometimes the urge to rewind the tape back over 20 years to the "experimental era" of my lifetime can make me, as they say in Sweden, "sugen"..Dammit, Kashmir running in the background..I mean, even Sherlock Holmes liked his Opium..
Anyway, I digress.Good night..great night, up to 0500 in the morning,Carpe Diem indeed, seize something anyway, perhaps the alarm clock.Wine, wine, more wine, more zepp, good times, appreciation and the horrible feeling that soon it would be grown up thursday and back to feeling sickly with the added bonus of a hangover.
It dawned on me that the reality time of single life equation begins at 2300 and ends 0500 everyday.Thats where the difference is, where those harmonic demonics are tucked up snug as a bug, the lowest form come out to play and suck off the life line of lonelyness, like the text in a song says, "they're drinking a drink called lonleyness"..
bring it on, to qoute a T*, "today has turned out a good day"
áyé
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
random thoughts-part 1
With the classic advent of swollen glands, an ear ache and headache there isn't much else to do but stick on a Led Zepp DVD and watch class whilst drinking the remains of a bottle of Masi Campofiorin from last friday.
On top of this the remains of some Cocillana-Etyfin from 2006 and start counting the spelling mistakes.
Theres a lot to do but the motivation went with the flu, so hit the booze, the rock and the perscription morfin in a bottle and hopefully an early night in store- one can hope.
This is where the random thoughts come into play: a day of Bob Dylans "another day in the life of" kinda puts you in the mood and also an incredible mail recieved from someone based 380 kms north of Oslo who promises a date with perhaps erotik intentions..Let me explain.
As of last july I once again became seperated.same reasons as before, no reason to get into that, but suffice to say the self-esteem needed a boost so I made a choice that would end the world as I knew it, I registered myself on the infamous Spray Date. I did this following the advice of a previous ex and entered the seedy world of shallowness supreme where a picture is worth more than a thousand words and where fat and hairy men can indeed pose as models and laugh at desperate men sending desperate letters..Of course I paid the extra to become a DELUXE member, this would give me the added benefit wherein I could actually see who was coming in for a look.
Now, if your one of those people who has a picture worth a thousand words your in luck, looking at the hit lists and stats one could see several thousand visits and guestbook logins.After 4 months of Spray date my guest book has 5 logs..and I know all the people who have been charitable enough to leave a "good luck u sad bastard " message.
Cutting a long story short, I did recieve a rather strange mail from a norweigen which I answered.I have now recieved an answer to my mail and in short this has to be investigated.Scarey stuff indeed! Mention of erotic stuff, no home phone, mobile in for repair, don't write in cyberspace, write a proper letter to address attached etc...
As they say, curiosity did indeed kill the cat, but it took nine attempts. So, I have a fan who admits to have written several letters but only recieved a few answers and who wants to meet up and know where I live..Its just too irresistable to leave alone, lets just hope i'm not on my ninth life! An update will follow!
Back to random thoughts, single life when approaching the 4 0 is indeed a challenge. Looking at my past I worked out I'd been together with lassies for the past 25 years and 7 months. The only break came 7 months before I met the mother of my two wonderful children.I was 28 and she was 21.I suppose the word "rebound" comes to mind.
fashion dictates self instinct and "själv känsla" in todays society. Its an interesting setup, when was the last time you watched anything about old fashioned values of being a pigeon and mating for life with one partner? Its fashion now to be "all that" and look around for the end of the rainbow. Rumour on the street is that the ladies are as bad as the men.I find this amazing, does that mean the lassies are also enjoying the tonka toys in the sandpit?
I remember around 10 years ago somebody informed me that woman didnt actually need men anymore, they could reproduce through an artificial way.I just didn't realise then they actually meant it.We may actually be here, but to them we're actually not.They're like the Japanese, they copy something, make it cheaper and despite looking cheaper make it last longer.The only difference is the price tag is on par with europe.
Keeping in mind the "Stranger in a strange land" title of the Blogg, the differences in cultural thinking and the way men and woman think in Sweden compared to Scotland is in one part refreshing and in a second part a wee bit scarey, if your raised to believe that woman have small feet so they can get closer to the stove..I live here for the first part, as I enjoy the equality and the fight.Of course, I'm also a bad loser..I have without doubt had my opinions changed and have moved closer to being a humanist, but it makes for good reading and thinking everytime you open a door for the opposite and await either a smile or a frown, or offer to pay for lunch and recieve the same treatment.
You would think it was age related, but no.I have offered my seat several times on buses and trams only to be given the frown.Its around this point you really start understanding the culture of 0046. The reason the coldness is igloo.The reason the woman take care of the books and hand out the hobby money to their men and of course the reason the men put up and shut up, for they gave up.
So of course, it was never gonna be easy.I still haven't had a shared bank account to my deficit, I mean a scotsman handing over his account number is something you may find in Dantes "Divine Comedy" on around the ninth level..
Back to random thoughts.Single life.Here is a clue to successful single life in 2007. Drop all morals and integrity , get onboard for the trip of your life and don't be old fashioned.I actually had to argue the point last night regarding this.We're not all in the same mould and to be honest the line from "love actually" summarises it all quite well, "nobody will want to sleep with a wimp"
ok..wine and morefin just took over..back to the sofa and zepp from '73, "since Ive been lovin' u", madison square.
On top of this the remains of some Cocillana-Etyfin from 2006 and start counting the spelling mistakes.
Theres a lot to do but the motivation went with the flu, so hit the booze, the rock and the perscription morfin in a bottle and hopefully an early night in store- one can hope.
This is where the random thoughts come into play: a day of Bob Dylans "another day in the life of" kinda puts you in the mood and also an incredible mail recieved from someone based 380 kms north of Oslo who promises a date with perhaps erotik intentions..Let me explain.
As of last july I once again became seperated.same reasons as before, no reason to get into that, but suffice to say the self-esteem needed a boost so I made a choice that would end the world as I knew it, I registered myself on the infamous Spray Date. I did this following the advice of a previous ex and entered the seedy world of shallowness supreme where a picture is worth more than a thousand words and where fat and hairy men can indeed pose as models and laugh at desperate men sending desperate letters..Of course I paid the extra to become a DELUXE member, this would give me the added benefit wherein I could actually see who was coming in for a look.
Now, if your one of those people who has a picture worth a thousand words your in luck, looking at the hit lists and stats one could see several thousand visits and guestbook logins.After 4 months of Spray date my guest book has 5 logs..and I know all the people who have been charitable enough to leave a "good luck u sad bastard " message.
Cutting a long story short, I did recieve a rather strange mail from a norweigen which I answered.I have now recieved an answer to my mail and in short this has to be investigated.Scarey stuff indeed! Mention of erotic stuff, no home phone, mobile in for repair, don't write in cyberspace, write a proper letter to address attached etc...
As they say, curiosity did indeed kill the cat, but it took nine attempts. So, I have a fan who admits to have written several letters but only recieved a few answers and who wants to meet up and know where I live..Its just too irresistable to leave alone, lets just hope i'm not on my ninth life! An update will follow!
Back to random thoughts, single life when approaching the 4 0 is indeed a challenge. Looking at my past I worked out I'd been together with lassies for the past 25 years and 7 months. The only break came 7 months before I met the mother of my two wonderful children.I was 28 and she was 21.I suppose the word "rebound" comes to mind.
fashion dictates self instinct and "själv känsla" in todays society. Its an interesting setup, when was the last time you watched anything about old fashioned values of being a pigeon and mating for life with one partner? Its fashion now to be "all that" and look around for the end of the rainbow. Rumour on the street is that the ladies are as bad as the men.I find this amazing, does that mean the lassies are also enjoying the tonka toys in the sandpit?
I remember around 10 years ago somebody informed me that woman didnt actually need men anymore, they could reproduce through an artificial way.I just didn't realise then they actually meant it.We may actually be here, but to them we're actually not.They're like the Japanese, they copy something, make it cheaper and despite looking cheaper make it last longer.The only difference is the price tag is on par with europe.
Keeping in mind the "Stranger in a strange land" title of the Blogg, the differences in cultural thinking and the way men and woman think in Sweden compared to Scotland is in one part refreshing and in a second part a wee bit scarey, if your raised to believe that woman have small feet so they can get closer to the stove..I live here for the first part, as I enjoy the equality and the fight.Of course, I'm also a bad loser..I have without doubt had my opinions changed and have moved closer to being a humanist, but it makes for good reading and thinking everytime you open a door for the opposite and await either a smile or a frown, or offer to pay for lunch and recieve the same treatment.
You would think it was age related, but no.I have offered my seat several times on buses and trams only to be given the frown.Its around this point you really start understanding the culture of 0046. The reason the coldness is igloo.The reason the woman take care of the books and hand out the hobby money to their men and of course the reason the men put up and shut up, for they gave up.
So of course, it was never gonna be easy.I still haven't had a shared bank account to my deficit, I mean a scotsman handing over his account number is something you may find in Dantes "Divine Comedy" on around the ninth level..
Back to random thoughts.Single life.Here is a clue to successful single life in 2007. Drop all morals and integrity , get onboard for the trip of your life and don't be old fashioned.I actually had to argue the point last night regarding this.We're not all in the same mould and to be honest the line from "love actually" summarises it all quite well, "nobody will want to sleep with a wimp"
ok..wine and morefin just took over..back to the sofa and zepp from '73, "since Ive been lovin' u", madison square.
Gbg film festival then it is..
So far I've managed to avoid the film festival, but just as I got dropped off home from work due to swollon glands and a basic feel like crap attitide the phone rang and an invitation to hang out by T* couldn't be resisted.
Funnily enough my suggestion when discussing watching a film ended with "Rocky Balboa"... This was jeered at and instead a fantastic move into the 30 years jubelium film festival shall begin, hopefully this will not start with a film made with a budget of 20 pence and using the original language of Albanian,the story line based around a sheep farmer who decides to move off the hillside to downtown trailer parksville.
But who knows, one has to experience such things before one can stand up and proudly shout "that was crap"...
Ok ok, narrow minded..I just remember channel 4's attempts in the 80's to show such films. Of course we used to watch every film that had a small red triangle in the right hand corner as it garanteed soft porn, a quick flash of beaver back then was enough to get us and the gang watching a 3 hour movie promising nothing , in a foreign language from an outer mongolian state except for something undressing in an eskimo outfit revealing something that resembled the bush that spoke to Moses..
Anyway, the red triangles have since long disappeared and all I can hope is that the eskimos wont appear this evening..
update to follow
please note: no update, blown out due to glands becoming larger than savannas**
Funnily enough my suggestion when discussing watching a film ended with "Rocky Balboa"... This was jeered at and instead a fantastic move into the 30 years jubelium film festival shall begin, hopefully this will not start with a film made with a budget of 20 pence and using the original language of Albanian,the story line based around a sheep farmer who decides to move off the hillside to downtown trailer parksville.
But who knows, one has to experience such things before one can stand up and proudly shout "that was crap"...
Ok ok, narrow minded..I just remember channel 4's attempts in the 80's to show such films. Of course we used to watch every film that had a small red triangle in the right hand corner as it garanteed soft porn, a quick flash of beaver back then was enough to get us and the gang watching a 3 hour movie promising nothing , in a foreign language from an outer mongolian state except for something undressing in an eskimo outfit revealing something that resembled the bush that spoke to Moses..
Anyway, the red triangles have since long disappeared and all I can hope is that the eskimos wont appear this evening..
update to follow
please note: no update, blown out due to glands becoming larger than savannas**
"Seasons in the abyss"
I remember always been fascinated with the concept of the painting of the "Forth rail bridge" over the Firth of Forth in Scotland. It is such a monumental effort that as soon as they've finished the job for a layer of paint they have to start all over again.
With this in mind we can now redirect this concept to rugby in Sweden.Just as soon as you feel your finished with one aspect you have to start all over again, and again and again.Of course the main difference is the fact that the painters have better teamwork by all wearing the same overalls..the classic bonding of a team argument , everybody must dress the same (c comments..)
As already mentioned my coaching abilties or lack of them have landed me the title of Förbundskapten. Some would argue this is basically down to a default as there simply wasn't anyone else at the time of Guys departure from the job. There have been many firings and hirings at National level, last count was five and all down to not really enjoying the task.Well, nobosy said painting was enjoyable.More on national level further doon the road.
With the weather being the way it is, ( and just now its debateable as to just how it is..) my 2007 season kick off started out quite well two weeks ago with some running and interval training, only to end last night with a crook left knee and a sore hammy..disappointment as I was left running in with the straglers from south africa who actually felt they were doing well.Of course, one should never compare to the worst, lets just say I wasn't last but on the otherhand my trick of doing every second sprint is being noticed...
Looks like thursdays training may be out for the count due to the knee, so I'll head off to the extension bench and see if its the medial or lateral ligament playing up..we shall see!
With this in mind we can now redirect this concept to rugby in Sweden.Just as soon as you feel your finished with one aspect you have to start all over again, and again and again.Of course the main difference is the fact that the painters have better teamwork by all wearing the same overalls..the classic bonding of a team argument , everybody must dress the same (c comments..)
As already mentioned my coaching abilties or lack of them have landed me the title of Förbundskapten. Some would argue this is basically down to a default as there simply wasn't anyone else at the time of Guys departure from the job. There have been many firings and hirings at National level, last count was five and all down to not really enjoying the task.Well, nobosy said painting was enjoyable.More on national level further doon the road.
With the weather being the way it is, ( and just now its debateable as to just how it is..) my 2007 season kick off started out quite well two weeks ago with some running and interval training, only to end last night with a crook left knee and a sore hammy..disappointment as I was left running in with the straglers from south africa who actually felt they were doing well.Of course, one should never compare to the worst, lets just say I wasn't last but on the otherhand my trick of doing every second sprint is being noticed...
Looks like thursdays training may be out for the count due to the knee, so I'll head off to the extension bench and see if its the medial or lateral ligament playing up..we shall see!
Should I mourn my decline with some thunderbird wine?
The countdown started of course upon conception, however now it's just around the corner and soon I'll enter in my 40's. Seems like everyone around me seem to be enjoying the fact that they are younger than me, as basically I couldn't care less.Not sure if thats a good or bad thing..
Will there be any changes once I hit the 4 0 ? Well of course, the porsche, the hair transplant, the dirty mack for the school yard. I was fortunate enough to have lost my hair at the 27 mark, having carried long hair for 16 years with teh firm belief that men should have long hair and that indeed for more centuries have had long as opposed to short. The fashion of short hair came around the same time the marketing people at elektrolux marketed white for kitchens and it stuck as being hygenic..That entire episode regarding white kitchens is a blogg within a blogg, not mentioning white for the Bogg!
Anyway, back to the question, should I mourn my decline with some thunderbird wine. Thought I'd start my Blogg off with some short facts to get the ball rolling, the mention of Thunderbird wine for a start hits the nostaligic button- not even sure if its still sold? Now that I have been living in Sweden for around 18 years the concept of explaining to people the Thunderbird "Pocket Rocket" goes down like cheap Bulgarian wine. I'm fairly convinced that those who perhaps read this intro will probably also lose the humourous side of the pocket rocket.
Of course, for those music lovers you'll pick up the line as being from Ian drurys "sweet Gene Vincent"..With the advent of Youtube hopefully people may actually have heard of the polio stricken genius.
Seems like nostalia seems to be the added bonus of being remnded around the clock that your an old git, those players around me actually showing surprise that I can keep up, and indeed produce performances that match Janet Jackson at Superbowl..(or was that at Stockholm 10s.the burst nipple, another freakish story..)
I heard a rather interesting description of myself from a friend just the other day, he had described me as a guy with the body of a 25 year old, the lungs of a 20 year old and the mental capacity of a 12 year old. I disagreed completely and mentioned that 12 was far too old. However, hearing this aint so bad!
Right back to the intro..
Age :39
Sex: yeah, well alright, male
job: paper shifter, trafficer of paperwork, however through genius have the title Project leader/project management assistant..commonly known as office boy..
Hobbies: Rugby Currently National side coach to the senior mens team here in Sweden.More about that later, including news from the abyss..
Lived in Sweden for around 18 years, have two great sons from a previous, have worked from cleaning hotel rooms to being a team leader for netops (network admin).
Storys I have..So I will update day to day,
Nice to be up here!
áye´
Will there be any changes once I hit the 4 0 ? Well of course, the porsche, the hair transplant, the dirty mack for the school yard. I was fortunate enough to have lost my hair at the 27 mark, having carried long hair for 16 years with teh firm belief that men should have long hair and that indeed for more centuries have had long as opposed to short. The fashion of short hair came around the same time the marketing people at elektrolux marketed white for kitchens and it stuck as being hygenic..That entire episode regarding white kitchens is a blogg within a blogg, not mentioning white for the Bogg!
Anyway, back to the question, should I mourn my decline with some thunderbird wine. Thought I'd start my Blogg off with some short facts to get the ball rolling, the mention of Thunderbird wine for a start hits the nostaligic button- not even sure if its still sold? Now that I have been living in Sweden for around 18 years the concept of explaining to people the Thunderbird "Pocket Rocket" goes down like cheap Bulgarian wine. I'm fairly convinced that those who perhaps read this intro will probably also lose the humourous side of the pocket rocket.
Of course, for those music lovers you'll pick up the line as being from Ian drurys "sweet Gene Vincent"..With the advent of Youtube hopefully people may actually have heard of the polio stricken genius.
Seems like nostalia seems to be the added bonus of being remnded around the clock that your an old git, those players around me actually showing surprise that I can keep up, and indeed produce performances that match Janet Jackson at Superbowl..(or was that at Stockholm 10s.the burst nipple, another freakish story..)
I heard a rather interesting description of myself from a friend just the other day, he had described me as a guy with the body of a 25 year old, the lungs of a 20 year old and the mental capacity of a 12 year old. I disagreed completely and mentioned that 12 was far too old. However, hearing this aint so bad!
Right back to the intro..
Age :39
Sex: yeah, well alright, male
job: paper shifter, trafficer of paperwork, however through genius have the title Project leader/project management assistant..commonly known as office boy..
Hobbies: Rugby Currently National side coach to the senior mens team here in Sweden.More about that later, including news from the abyss..
Lived in Sweden for around 18 years, have two great sons from a previous, have worked from cleaning hotel rooms to being a team leader for netops (network admin).
Storys I have..So I will update day to day,
Nice to be up here!
áye´
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