Friday, 28th July.
Farewell II

Bonnie and Mark had their second farewell bash tonight. It was essentially a monumental pissup. I left in time to catch the last train home. When I got in I was still wide awake, so I spent some time on the internet, updating this very website. (it's all so self referential)

When I had finished, there were four messages on our answering service. The first one was from a drunk Jules. The second one was timed a few minutes later, and Jules was still drunk and getting a bit tetchy. The third was not long after that and Jules was downright annoyed that he couldn't get through. The fourth and final message was just a stream of abuse. Intrigued, I rang him back, only to get his voicemail. So I left a vague message, and Jules rang back a minute or so later.

Jules was in a right state. We had a conversation, but it was essentially Jules giving me a running commentary on what he was seeing as he was walking along.

Oops! Nearly ran into that car...nope, no-one saw that! Just keep walking. Cross the road, crossing, avoiding the car, hey mate I can't go any faster, made it. Hmm, there's some people up ahead, wonder if there's any fit? I don't think I'll impress them leaning to one side like this, I'll straighten up...walking straight, it's a real effort...let's get a bit of leaning back action happening...ok, oh they're all going inside, there was some fit there too...mate, I came out of the club and everyone was laughing at me, now that's just not on...I'm in Fulham Road, now I'm going down Radical Road...that's not its real name, that's what Si and I call it...people ask us where are you going? and we say this is a shortcut, we call it Radical Road...look mate I'll be home soon, I know where I'm going...

True to his word, Jules was home soon enough. I heard him stumble through the door, and clomp up the stairs. "Lads...lads," he called out, "don't be angry with me...I'm trying to have a piss." From the sound of it he hit the target. Jules staggered into the living room, making full use of the door jam to steady himself as he struggled with his fly. It was like watching an old man try to dress himself. He collapsed on the couch and tried to pick at the cold chips left on the table. He had the shakes real bad. After a few minutes' rest Jules declared: "Well I need to make some pasta."

I could hear water being spilled across the floor from the tap to the stove. (They call a stovetop a "hob" here...I have tried to ascertain why, but have yet to find a satisfactory answer!) Jules found his way back into the living room. Soon I heard crackling noises from the kitchen. "Is your water supposed to be making that noise?" I asked.

Jules left the room, and re-entered holding what was left of the Bunder Bowl. Now the Bunder Bowl has (sorry, had) a special place here at the Dawes Road Palace. It was a large bowl, ideal for massive serves of pasta. It was called the Bunder Bowl because Jules supposedly puked in it after a big night. Well now it was broken into pieces, and judging by the burn marks on the bottom I could guess what had happened. Some drunken fool had filled the Bunder Bowl with water and put it on the hob!

I wandered into the kitchen to find Jules soaking up water from the hob with paper towel. I then realised that the bowl would've cracked, and all the water spilled into the stove. Nice. After we soaked up all the water, we couldn't fire up the gas, so to speak. I got the gas flowing (not out of character) and then the starter spark thingy got stuck. It just kept clicking away. I decided that this was not a good thing. Jules called for Mox. In these kinds of situations we call on Mox.

Mox came downstairs and didn't look too happy about it, and who could blame him. Eventually we resolved to take out the fuse to stop the interminable clicking of the starter spark thingy. We (ie Mox) worked out which fuse to take out and did just that. Jules was rabbiting on about the warranty, and Mox told him to shut up.

Panic over, I retired to bed. I begged Jules not to break anything else. Then I discovered that my bedroom is on the same circuit as the stove...looks like I'll have to operate in darkness until we get the bloody stove fixed!