RDA - Alcohol.
In mind of the recommended weekly alcohol intake we are advised to adhere to, I thought I'd document the number of drinks I have each day this week. Hopefully the excercise might make clear to me whether I'm drinking more than what most people would deem normal or not. I suspect "most people" drink a shitload and hopefully somebody will reply telling me I'm well within the norm. I won't make any efforts to drink more or less than usual, so this should represent a typical, organic week's worth of boozing.
Anyway, Monday was as follows:
A pint of Stella, a couple of bottles of Corona, a double Tia Maria and coke, and a shot of Corky's.
Tuesday:
Five pints of Guinness and two bottles of red wine.
I'll update this tommorrow, safe to say I haven't had anything this early though.
..............................
Well, five double Jack Daniels and coke's and a pint of Guinness went down pretty quickly when I was working last night. I just read a pint is equivalent to two units, I'd thought it was one.
..............................
Not sure how many drinks went down on Thursday really. I'd estimate between 12 and 14 pints of Guinness, which is not something I do regularly. Might have tipped the scales the wrong way when I tally up the week's units though. Woke up to find six hardback Catherine Cookson novels on the floor near the living room. No idea where they came from.
..............................
If I remember rightly...
Friday: three Jack Daniels and coke's and a pint of Guinness.
Saturday: one pint of Stella, two bottles of Polish lager, seven pints of Strongbow and a strawberry Daiquiri.
Sunday: one and a half pints of Guinness, a half of Fosters, bottle of Stella and single Jamesons.
Err...
Went and calculated the amount of units consumed in the last week, and it came out at 94. Seeing as the limit is supposed to be 21 I guess I have the answer to my question. That's a pretty sobering thought. Will abstain from drinking for at least a week while I contemplate these results.
Monarch passengers.
Understandably, there has been considerable outcry at the treatment of the two young Asian men attempting to get a flight home to Manchester. However, in an interview on BBC breakfast this morning, the two concerned displayed a more rational approach than many others who have chosen to comment. While it is deeply unfortunate that this incident happened in the first place, it will do no good to label the actions of the nervous, non-Asian passengers as "disgraceful" and "racist".
Many people, myself included, do not feel entirely at ease with flying in the first place. My return flight from Spain in July was a pretty horrible experience, as I was sure something was wrong with the plane. Looking out of the window terrified me, even though on the flight at the beginning of the holiday I had been fine, and enjoyed looking down on the sea below. It's inexplicable. But that's what comes with boarding a plane.
In these times of heightened fear, when the public is constantly warned to be vigilant, and told they are always facing the imminent threat of Islamic terror attack, we can hardly be surprised people are scared of anything even remotely like what they imagine to be the face of the threat.
You wouldn't expect anyone to get onto a plane with their family if even the slightest possibility of danger had been hinted at.
Misguided, yes. Irrational, certainly. But these were not the actions of racists, merely of people unsure of whether they are safe or not. The reality is none of us know.
Pub grub aint all bad.
Lucy Mangan
writes in today's Guardian how pleased she is that Gordon Ramsay has come to save pub grub. I never knew it needed saving. Undoubtedly, there's some rubbish out there. If you have ever eaten a meal in a Wetherspoons pub you'll know that.
I actually worked in a Hogshead kitchen once and will admit the food did not represent the height of culinary possibilty. On the other hand, it wasn't anything like the atrocious stuff they serve up in Wetherspoons. Still, neither of these franchise's can be seen as real pubs, anyway.
I can't help thinking Mangan just doesn't know what signs to look out for before she eats in a pub. Firstly, word of mouth. If a pub serves up really good food, you'll hear about it. If you've just stopped for a quick pint in an unknown place and fancy a bite to eat, just see if others are eating, and snatch a glimpse of their food before you order. I love eating out, it's one of my favourite ways to spend an evening, and obviously a pub is not generally the place that springs to mind when thinking of where to go. Having said that, my all-time favourite place to eat is a traditional English pub called the Cricketers, which also houses a Thai family who take care of the food side of things. The food is the nicest you'll ever taste, so good I'd move into the place if I could, even though it's in the middle of boring, generic Kingston Upon Thames.
And what about pubs that do a carvery? I know one that does the nicest roast dinner you're likely to find for miles, including in any restaurant.
I'm not suggesting all pub food is good, but it's a bit unfair to write it all off as shit.
Not that I'd object to accompanying my Guiness with a lunch cooked up by Gordon Ramsay, of course. Even if he is a bit sad with his little "campaigns" (get women cooking again; cook more English food; whatever) in a desperate attempt to attract publicity and keep up with Jamie Oliver's school dinners and cooking in Italy bit.
Tuition fees.
What a surprise, the formerly tumescent university application levels have gone down this year. Ministers dismiss it as a "blip", but the figures speak for themselves. As a student, I had to pay £1,100 annually in tuition fees, an amount which has trebled for today's aspiring learners. Contrary to the BBC report this morning, three years of shelling out three grand will not result in nine thousand pound debts. The reality is people will owe a substantially larger amount than this.
And for what?
Personally I am satisfied with the fruits of my labour. A university education helped cultivate my adult perspective and, I trust, will result in a higher earning potential than the industrial estates of my teen years offered me. Yet still I find it difficult to reassure others who left university in despair, seeing nothing but sales jobs, and low paid work open to school leavers, ahead of them. The truth is there is no guaranteed route to financial success. This is particularly true now when courses like physics are shunned in favour of media studies and film studies. Of those who did not go on to higher education, some will find wealth, some not. The same is true of those who got their 2:1.
It might sound absurd in this day and age, but I think the prerequisite for satisfaction at the end of a degree course is actually a hunger for knowledge, rather than a mapped out economic future. The question: how much are you willing to pay to appease that hunger?
Creationism.
The growth in popularity of "Creationism" perplexes me. Sure, I know that the majority of religious people refuse to view evolution as the 'how it was done' that doesn't disqualify the 'why it was done'. But I remain baffled when it comes to people actually learning this stuff in favour of evidence based teaching in our schools and universities. Supporters argue there is no reason to doubt Creationism. Well, aside from the abundance of reasons they appear to ignore, they're actually doing a pretty good job of dismantling their own case here. No reason to doubt, in this context, is eclipsed by no reason to believe.
What responsible adult would encourage younger generations to become people who abandon rational thought and consideration of evidence? I don't think we really want to take our society back down it's own path to maturity, to times when logic was the slave of the pious. In yesterday's Guardian, a young law student argued against the plausibility of evolution, citing the Qu'ran as evidence. A LAW student! We can only imagine what indictments she might one day draw up as prosecuting attorney, or ludicrous scraps of "evidence" she might cling on to in court.
I mean no disrespect to any religious types. But if it comes down to a choice between a secular, rational society and a deeply religious one immersed in unsubstantiated belief, I know which I'd choose.
The inclusion of Creationism into the syllabi of some institutions has further been defended as healthy, in that it encourages students to question. After all, why should we swallow without scrutiny the Darwinist history of man, the argument goes. Young minds should apply an inquisitive approach even to such established schools of thought as this. True, indisputably. So why then should those students not also ask the same questions of their own religious-based beliefs? If they did, they'd find that Creationism runs out of answers a lot faster than evolution does.
Job Hunting.
Who would have thought job hunting could take up so much time?
I used to be able to take a walk around in an afternoon and land myself a job in time to sink a couple of pints in the pub before dinner. Of course, they were always factory, warehouse, labouring, or pub jobs. Now I'm trying to get something a little more rewarding it's much more of a challenge. Which is alright, obviously. I love a challenge, according to my CV.
A friend who works in telecommunications assures me there's a good chance he could land me a job with his company, which would pay quite well. Considerably better than everything else I've looked at anyway. Thing is, telecommunications is not exactly what I had imagined myself going in for. I was always stuck between wanting to be a journalist and wanting to work for a public body, serving society in some way. God knows if I'd be any good with telecommunications, although my mate insists I wouldn't have any problem.
Is the better money worth changing direction for?
Random book advice.
Thank God for the second hand book shop on Streatham Hill. For two quid a book you find some real gems in there. Recently I've picked up about twenty titles I'd previosuly sought after for a fraction of the price I would have paid. Compared with Bookends up on Tottenham Court Road, the shop in Streatham is a book lover's paradise.
He's new to me but if you ever see a Niall Griffiths book it will be worth picking up.
Sheepshagger is what brought him to my attention and it's powerful blend of coarse, expletive-ridden dialogue and intensely colourful, almost poetic narrative affords the book a rare quality that sets it apart from much of what I have read recently.
Wreckage is also looking pretty enticing although I have not started to read it properly yet.
So the moral of the story is this: go and buy a book by Niall Griffiths.
The Break Up.
Sat down with my good lady last night and watched The Break Up. Perhaps a risky move when all I wanted to do was relax and enjoy the only night off I've got this week. See, watching somebody on screen point out all the little things that happen in relationships can easily lead to your other half being reminded of a selection of your past crimes.
Still, the gambled paid off. Needless argument-archaeology was kept to a minimum and overall the film was reasonable. Entertaining enough, anyway. The only snag was the realisation that we'd just committed ourselves to a couple of hours of watching people argue. Let's face it, it's no fun sitting with a couple whose seething (temporary or otherwise) contempt for each other has stubbed out any regard for the comfort of those around them. I almost felt envious of Gary and Brooke's friends who only had to endure the rows for the length of the scenes they were involved in.
The film does feel a little bit like missed opportunity. Despite some well observed insights into the murky world of petty grudges and volcanic disagreements into which many relationships descend, there was no real reason to care about what happens. Aniston and Vaughn are nice enough, but a tad bland and unbelievable. The comic figures thrown in to inject some humour into the 105 minute argument were almost irritatingly perfunctory, although Gary's best friend's obsession with murder and violent revenge made me chuckle.
Brooke's ridiculous gay, musically incapable, martial artist of a brother was basically Ned Flanders with a black belt and in the final analysis just another notch on the bedpost of Hollywood's affair with the good-for-laughs homo.
Did I start this post by saying the film was ok?
Well, if you're expecting some kind of thought provoking analysis of the modern day relationship you'll probably be disappointed. But I wasn't. It was just something to switch on so that I could switch off, really, and in that task it fared pretty well.
I feel it's a bit odd ignoring the world of current affairs in my recent posts, particularly in the light of what's happening in the ME. But right now time is short for me as I work long days and spend the other hours looking for better employment. As things are, I don't really want to blurt out some ultimately ill-thought out remarks about matters of such gravity in the ten or twenty minutes I get to focus on RIP in the mornings. Which is not to say I fancy moving into the world of film critique, so Johnathon Ross can relax a while yet.
Grumpy Londoners.
Stood in the bakers a minute ago, I felt a nudge in my back. It felt like the kind of nudge a friend might give as they crept up behind you to say hello, so I thought I was about to find a familiar face.
Nope.
Instead, a sullen stare meets my investigation. Offering no explanation, the nudger left it to me to speak first. "What?" He pointed towards the counter: "You're being served." It's not that he barked this response at me, but the tone was defiantly grumpy. Even though I know the girl behind the counter is waiting for the lady in front to pay, I turn around and make sure she's not waiting to serve me. Wish I hadn't, because I knew she wasn't, and it would have been better to tell him he was wrong without even looking round. Anyway, I turn back towards him and tell him look, she's not ready to serve me, and what does he do? He just maintains his stony disposition and looks away from me. Am I being pedantic or overly sensitive or something, or am I right in thinking a little apology or just some form of speech would have been an appropriate response from him?
I honestly do not understand why people walk around with such a bad attitude all the time. I don't know about other cities, but London is absolutely full of these unpleasant individuals seemingly intent on turning everybody else's day sour. The example I just gave is fairly minor, admittedly, although it did irk me nonetheless. But much worse awaits the visitor to this city who has the bad luck of running into one of these miserable gits.
Oops, look at the time. I'd love to carry on moaning about the moaners, but I've got to get to work.
