Space

Those NASA guys are pretty good with their cameras, but they should be with an annual budget of £17.9bn.

Truly remarkable pictures. A shame that the two released images (thus far) neglected to include GREAT Britain. I take that as a direct snub from out Atlantic cousins.

On the subject of space, the word reminded me of my second year bedroom at University. Think of the smallest possible room imaginable and stick up a party wall dividing it into two bedrooms. You could swing a cat in it, but you would have to be prepared for a swift visit to the local veterinary surgery, a hefty bill and a sad goodbye to the faithful moggy. There was enough room for a cupboard, a single bed and a minute desk.

There was literally a square metre of floorspace which invariably got covered with a small pile of dirty linen and some discarded beer cans. There was no room for more than two people in the bedroom at one time and you needed to bend like a professional ballerina to exit the room in one piece and any false move would recreate a scene from the Nutcracker, if you didn't keep a keen eye on the door-handle.

I made a fatal mistake of demanding the big bedroom to house my rather archaic PC, whereas the others were talking about needing a double bed for the occasional 'visitor'. Why did I pipe up first?

One plus was that it literally took less than 5 seconds to hoover the floor - not that I ever did. My good friend Ross had the other half of my room and suffered from a year long snorefest - not my conversation (I hope), but the noise and vibration penetrating the tracing paper like dividing wall.

However poor my bedroom was, I did like that house. It was extremely well placed and we had access to multiple pubs within spitting distance, a bakery round the corner, a kebab shop within sniffing distance and Blockbuster videos. What more could a student want?

In actual fact, we were the closest property to Blockbusters and I believe we were the house that collected the most fines. Sadly, I lost the paper-scissor-stone and the account was linked to my credit card, leaving me to face the brunt of the vicious capitalistic system. There was one particular film called 'The Wonder Boys' that racked up an obscene £104 worth of fines before a final charge of £20 to replace the errant DVD. No-one claimed responsibility, so I was left with the charge.


Years later, I was offered the chance to buy a DVD for £2 as I had spent over £20 on petrol - Brilliant, I thought! Only to cast my eye on the selection and the only disc available was...you guessed it. Out of principle I declined the offer. I was not going to put another penny towards that blasted film, seeing as I personally funded a sequel.

My next bedroom was a step in the right direction. It wasn't the smallest for a change! Unfortunately, I was on the ground floor and facing the road. Divinity Road was a bit of a mecca for students and invariably there would always be someone you knew that would pass the house. I generally always sleep with my window slightly open to allow a circulation of air (I shall not tell you my current address) and more often than not, I got someone clambering in my window at silly o'clock, if they had forgotten their keys or fancied visiting one of the residents.

The worst of that was when my good friend Adam decided to pay us a 3 am visit, the morning of an important exam. Most of the students had finished by then and drunk themselves silly in Fuzzy Duck's. I was awoken by a silhouette of a beer swilling gentleman trying to gain access to the house. I think he was stuck and after an exchange of some blue language he managed to free himself and scurried upstairs. I think I passed the exam in the end, but...

I had a rather delightful abode in Southsea. My friend Nick and I managed to snag a place on the seafront, halfway between his work place to the west and my work place to the east. Wood flooring through out, high ceilings and a delightful decking out the back to sun ourselves whilst we watched Euro 2000 (a TV rigged up outdoors). It made living in Southsea and Portsmouth almost bearable.

Nick found the house, so he bagged the big bedroom with a built in wardrobe. The built in wardrobe was then turned into a laboratory to cultivate, pick and smoke homegrown marijuana. Foil covered plaster board was shipped in, halogen lamps were purchased, various lotions and potions were collected and the seeds were sown. It was quite an impressive sight and the plants began to grow.

I was charged with looking after them for a week, after Nick upped sticks and went to join his father for a holiday in Spain. I was gifted a rather complicated list of things to do, including cutting back dead plants, ensuring there was enough light and checking the pH of the water.


One fine day, I headed towards my local shop for some supplies and had to carefully dodge a chap sprinting along with 48 cans of Carling in his arms. Only when I saw the police searching the shop later that day did it occur to me that he had just lifted them. I thought he was just thirsty and in a rush. I made myself known to the police and they thanked me and asked for my address so that they could come round and take a statement... Oh f*ck!

Chances are they would not have carried out a search of my premises, but there were various smoking devices, loose rizzla papers, actual marijuana floating about and a prolonged odour of hashish lingering in the air. I stuttered and stumbled, claiming that I had forgotten my address as I had only just moved here and gave them my email address. Thankfully, they bought it (not the weed, I should hasten to add).

That is all for now...


Word of the Day: Runcation - the act of weeding.


Quote of the Day: "Space isn't remote at all. It's only half an hours drive away if your car could go straight upwards." - Anon.