This is a mish-mash but has something to do with Loughborough

Ooh how exciting, this weekend I was due to drive up to Loughborough to visit my cousin Jane and her partner, Martin (aka Sicknote). On Saturday morning, I put my bags in the boot of my car, Naughty George in his basket in the back seat, and set off on the journey 'oop north'.

Two things marked out the journey. The first was that because it was late September, the weather was quite cool. So I turned up the heating and as the car warmed up, so did Naughty George, and it soon became abundantly clear that he had recently rolled in random wildlife faeces.

"Bloody hell Naughty George, you stink," I shouted at him, as he lay in his basket, staring at me benignly with a couple of flies buzzing lazily around his ear. I wound down the window (yeh, that's how humiliatingly old my car is) and gasped for air.

It was then that I glanced into my rear view mirror and saw a beefy silver sports car following me inches from my rear bumper. One thing became immediately clear - the guy behind me obviously wasn't happy being stuck behind a sedentary jalopy being driven by a lunatic with her head stuck out the driver's window.

As I wound my way down the single track country lanes, the sports car was weaving behind me in an attempt to overtake. Alas, his attempts were futile, and it wasn't until I turned onto the motorway slip-road, that he roared past me like a cheetah on crack, casting a dirty look in my direction as he did so.

"Asshole," I muttered to myself as I saw his tail-lights disappear into the distance. I quickly forgot about the incident and immersed myself in the podcast I was listening to (This Reality Podcast - go listen to it, it's great), and after driving for about ten miles, something caught my attention. Smoke. And lots of it. As I got closer, I realised that the source was a vehicle parked on the hard shoulder, and the vehicle was..... yep, you got it, the silver sports car that had been tailgating me earlier. Ahhhhh ... it's moments like these that make me want to turn religious. The one with the orange sheets and shaved heads. I've always fancied learning to play the tambourine.

As I drove past the car and it's driver, I slowed momentarily so that he could properly see me blowing kisses and waving. My efforts were rewarded with the guy mouthing rude words and flipping me the bird, how excellent is that? I felt vindicated.

After all the excitement of the journey, I was happy to arrive at Loughborough. I knocked on the door, and Martin (a.k.a Sicknote) opened the door.

I took one look at him and gasped: "Bloody hell Martin! What have you done to your eye?" His left eye was a swollen, bloodshot, pussy mess [note to reader: I am not sure that using the terminology 'pussy mess' is allowed, but I don't know how else to describe it].

"A bit of metal flew into it whilst I was doing a spot of grinding yesterday," he replied forlornly.

"Jeez, you've made a right mess of it, it looks well manky" I said recoiling from him slightly and screwing up my nose. 

"Yeh, alright, alright...... " he said, stooping and cowering in an attempt to hide his eye and ending up looking a bit like the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Jane had heard me arriving, and appeared in the background, "Alright Cous!" she shouted cheerily, "we had to take him to hospital today, and I've got some great pictures of him in a headbrace waiting for the Opthalmologist to examine him."

"Cool, can I have them for my blog?" I asked.

"Yeh, of course," she said, before adding; "cup of tea?"

Pic.No.1. Martin screwed into a headbrace at the hospital

Pic.No.2. This is Martin. He is scared, and jeez, look at his manky eye

Jane and I sat on the sofa, slowly sipping our mugs of hot tea.

Sicknote piped up, "Can I have a cup of tea too please?"

"I'm five months pregnant, you should be making tea for me," Jane retorted indignantly.

"Yeh, but I'm injured," replied Sicknote.

"Your legs and arms aren't injured," replied Jane with blinding logic.

"You are like the witches of Eastwick, except there are only two of you," Sicknote said before adding, "I'll just do it myself then." He dropped to the floor on all fours and crawled, groaning, towards the kitchen like a man in the desert who has just spotted a morsel of food. You think I am in jest? Aha.... no flies on me..... I got it all on camera.

Pic.No.3. Martin heading to the kitchen to make a cup of tea

Pic.No.4. Martin makes it into the kitchen, exhausted after his journey

Jane looked at Martin crawling along the carpet and turned to me; "Fancy going out?" she asked.

"Damn right I do," I replied enthusiastically, adding, "what is it with blokes going all wussy when they feel a bit ill?"

"Dunno," Jane shrugged, stepping over Martin to get her car keys.

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Shortly, we arrived in Loughborough town ready to commence our big night out, and after a couple of hours, things started to get a bit hazy. I know that there was karaoke involved (Jane is a great singer), and that at some point in the night, Jane tried to convince me that I had a moustache. Why? I do not know, but it seemed highly amusing at the time.

Pic.No.5. This is Jane in the pub. And for your information - I do not have a moustache

And I'll tell you something else, Jane sure had some stamina considering she is five months pregnant. By 1am, I was ready to go home, but she was still in full flow. I finally persauded her to head for home at 1.30am by which time I was dead on my feet. Crikey, I think my age is finally catching up with me.

As we crept into the house, I whispered (so as not to wake Sicknote) to Jane; "where am I sleeping?"

"There," said Jane, pointing to the sofa.

"That's barbaric," I said, aghast at the thought.

"There's nowhere else to sleep," Jane whispered back.

"Ok, I'll have to make do," I replied wearily, climbing onto the sofa, and hissing, "good night" to Jane.

The whole while Naughty George was eyeing up the situation, and not being one to miss out on an opportunity, my erstwhile mutt had decided to jump up and sleep on the sofa with me, doing the doggy equivalent of the spoon, except higher up.

Gross.

Even worse, the two lazy flies were still circling him.

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But you will be pleased to hear that after a dubious start (i.e. waking up with Naughty George's bum next to my face), the next day panned out well. Sicknote cooked us an awesome Sunday roast lunch (with proper gravy), and Jane and I spent the afternoon setting up her new blog. YEH! Jane officially joined the blogging fraternity today with Life is so Unlike Theory. Please, go and have a look and give her a boost by following her.

So what about me? I am now back home in Oxford after a great weekend in Loughborough. I have Beethoven's Sonata No.8. Pathetique playing in the background and Naughty George is snoring and farting on the sofa. Izzy is fast asleep upstairs after trying to blag extra 'up-time' by saying she had a tummy-ache. I told her that I didn't believe her and she caved in straight away and went back to bed. I hope that she doesn't pursue a career as a lawyer.

So what have you been up to this weekend?