The Chinese, man love and 'the cage'

Can't believe it's been more than a week now since I moved up to the city of constant rain. Already im starting to use words like 'mega' and 'champion', although not to describe the weather, which at best can only be described as shitty.

Monday was my first day in the great city's great University. My timing was perfect, as always, and I arrived 45 minutes early. Turns out my time buffer zone for the metro was entirely unnecessary, although a cattle prod would be a sound investment in order to keep the masses who are crammed into each train from standing on my feet and generally being annoying. I decided to celebrate my earliness with a visit to the departments little boys room to make 'use' of the facilities. Something which winningly used up some spare time also.

Upon walking into the induction room we were scheduled to meet at at 9.00am, I walked through some sort of travel portal and found myself in China. Now im not being racist, and by starting my sentence with this you will immediately assume that I am and hopefully go elsewhere for your 5 minute literary fix, but I would say the majority, and by majority I mean about 97%, are international students. Baffled by the hubbub of languages of which I had no clue (I struggle with English) I found myself wondering what I had let myself into. After a while a guy walks through the door and looking just as scared and baffled as me asks me, in English, if this was the right place for our induction. I immediately assured him it was and refused to let him out of my sight, latching onto him like a leech. Turns out he was on the same course as me. We had a brief man love moment. You could say our eyes caught each other across the room and that was it but that would be a lie. And a little gay.

The week has been spent indulging in induction activites, mostly involving field trips to various places of the northern water persuasion in beautiful sunshine with temperatures of tropical proportions. Didn't rain at all and I didn't come home each night looking like a drowned rat and smelling like a damp tea towel. I certainly didn't get grumpy at any time or make disparaging remarks about what we were doing.

All said and done though it was actually a great week. Got to know the guys and girls on our course. There are some guys from Italy and Austria, some girls from the US, Namibia, China, Ireland and Essex, and the rest I haven't bothered to ask as they are either male or very obviously English. A good interesting bunch, on what is promising to be an amazing course.

Friday night was to be my first night out in Newcastle, guidance and drinking companionship provided, free of charge, by the guy off my course and his housemates. A Newcastle graduate from undergrad he knew the sights and places to be. We went to 'Sinners'. Well actually, we went to this heavenly place after indulging in a sophisticated and well mannered gentleman's game known as 'Ring of Fire'. Almost as sophisticated as my new nickname, Cardiff Boy. After a bottle of wine and numerous concoctions courtesy of over eager tipping into the central pint glass, I discovered the main delight of Sinners. Cheap Trebles. £2.50 for a treble. A treble being three shots for those without a drinking problem. Treble gin and lemonades went down, well, like lemonade and I soon discovered the lure of the actual main delight of Sinners (I lied before). The Cage.

The Cage - In the right hand corner.


Now people dance in this thing. If you imagine sexy hot girls grinding away in an endless display of lavish sexual prowess then more fool you. Admittedly as the night goes on the girls that do venture in there begin to look like this but I feel this may be due more to the increasing number of trebles being consumed than some magical increase in sexual attraction and dancing ability. We decided we were going to jump on in and show the crowds how it is done. In we went. Or at least they did, I got partially in before realising I hadn't used the correct entrance where the bars are wider to allow for bodies of such ample proportions as mine to gain admittance. So there I was, half in, half out, hanging there like a manhandled chiwawa.

What a manhandled Chiwawa looks like.


I eventually got myself out, my stomach cramping like a camel on it's period but like the man that I am I continued to shake my stuff like nothing had happened. A damn good night. I slept on Alex's sofa enjoying that lovely water bed motion that being slightly inebriated likes to grace you with when you finally call it a night.

So a week has gone, I am officially a Newcastle resident and already i am settling into a routine. The course is as intense as meeting the inlaws, but it's worth it (a fact often not the case with the inlaws). Certain plans have had to be cancelled due to workload and exams, Kayaking:Pyrenees/Skiing...we'll say no more on that subject.

In other news, in a quick roundup of the weeks slightly less interesting happenings, I have been cycling lots, getting lost lots, seen insane amounts of wolf poop and have watched 4 films so far in one day in what has been one of my most epic hangover days to date. Until next time.

One man, a carload of junk and a wolf

So the big day finally arrived. The epic task of cramming my life into one small VW Polo began and was over before I knew it, and with my car resembling a vehicle which would not have been out of place in the daily Indian commute I set off.

The journey was long, broken up by a quick spot of lunch with the dad pretty much half way near Derby. I had grand intentions of sticking behind lorries in their slipstream at a mediocre 50 miles an hour to save fuel. I was successful in maintaining this for approximately 23 minutes, before releasing a series of expletives too rude for this prewatershed record of events and deciding to follow faster vehicles, mostly Mercedes Sprinters at a more satisfactory 65 - 75 mph.

I arrived in Newcastle pretty shattered but in a good mood. Total journey time: roughly 7 Hours.

Now the house. Last time I visited Newcastle I returned to Cardiff in what can only be described as controlled despair. Admittedly I had conducted my housing search based on 'cheapest rent criteria' not 'nicest areas', and felt throughout most of my search for housing as if I was going to be relieved of my possessions in a bloody but friendly manner ( I had been assured that even if mugging you, Geordies are a friendly and pleasant bunch). This time, whilst in Cardiff and the housing search going from bad to worse, I had been contacted by a guy, around my age, who was looking for someone to rent a room in his house with just him and his resident wolf. The rent was a little steeper but the standard of living would, I hoped, be worth it.

Arriving at the house before he had finished work, I had to wait around a little before he arrived. Of course being the prudent and wise man that I am I decided to use this opportunity to take a nap, in my car, with Radio 2 blaring out. So this was the image he was presented with when he returned home from work. A bum in a battered old car, overladen with crap, snoring like a gutted pig. Lucky for me my phone decided, just prior to him knocking on the window, to notify me of yet another worthwhile facebook notifcation, so I was just about awake to see a very well dressed guy smiling down at me. Jumping out in my long-journey-induced-sweaty shorts, tshirt and flipflop combo ( I am known for being a bit of a fashion connoisseur ) we shook hands and the introduction and house tour began.

Luckily he wasn't too put off by first impressions to bar my way into the house, and we got on pretty much from word go. A genuinely nice guy, with an awesome house and an even more incredible wolf, which he assures me is a dog. He is a Car Sales Manager - hence the well dressed appearance!

The evening was spent unloading the car into the garage and lounge area before he chucked some pizzas in the oven, cracked a few beers and we crashed in front of the TV. Well he tells me it is a TV, im sure it should be classed as a cinema screen - it's bigger than my car windscreen for starters. Incredible. After a discussion of decent films and actors he was atounded I hadn't seen 'Man on Fire' - so on it went. Cracking film, although the ending is a bit blurry as I was beginning to go in and out of a sleep coma by the end. Denzel Washington at his best.

Off to bed, first night in Newcastle, out like a light, slept like a baby. Awoke to the smell of muffins, on with the coffee and a good breakfast of eggs and muffins gave me the start I needed to tackle the slow job of unpacking my wordly possessions. My bedroom is not the largest but I also have a separate study room so before long I had cracked the back of the work and even had a few posters and pictures of the better looking minority of my friends on the wall. Late afternoon Darren, the guy im living with, said his goodbyes as he headed off to London for a Triathlon. The house to myself, and with an awesome kitchen, I had grand plans of cooking up a feast fit for a King. A short Pasta and Pesto with added bacon later I was crashed on the sofa with a beer watching the training programme of the Sky Pro Cycling Team with a bit of Grand Designs thrown in for good measure. A flick through the channels late at night gave me Jason Statham in the form of Crank, a high adrenaline, well acted, shakespeare worthy piece of rubbish which was thoroughly enjoyed. Then bed.

So here we are, my second morning in Newcastle, a good start to the day with a bacon, cranberry and brie sandwich for nostalgia's sake and a plan of action for the day.

Masters starts Monday, so some pre registration work needs doing, general everyday stuff needs doing, and im going to explore this city and area the way I know best. Bruising my backside on the old bike working off all that bacon and cheese.

To say I was a tad nervous and apprehensive before I set off up North may be an admission of unmanlyness, and I wouldn't want to undermine my aggressive hard man image, but it would be the truth. Ok im yet to start the course, or meet the guys in the kayaking and cycling clubs but from first impressions, the house, Darren, the wolf and the surrounding area, it's going to be a good year.


Some more pictures of the house:

The fridge/freezer...mahoosive

The Kitchen

The Study Room...slowly coming together.

My Bathroom

The night before, goodbyes and a pint of goblin

So this is it. The night before the big day, where I bravely venture into the dark realms of the North. All packed. I say all packed, that is in fact a dirty lie. I am packed in the sense that I have a large pile of semi organised crap/possessions piled on my bed waiting to be packed into the car in the morning. A bit daft really seeing as I now have to move all said crap to the floor so I have somewhere to sleep. I have also splashed out on two budget 'Halfords-own' bike carriers for my roof rack that seem, judging by my dry test run earlier today, to have as much vertical stability as an old age pensioner on roller skates. It is going to be an interesting journey.

Two bikes, Two boats, boating gear, biking gear, one guitar and a ridiculous amount of clothes. Considering I have spent the last few months surviving with what I had packed in one bag to move to my sisters, I had forgotten just how many torn and tatty clothes I actually owned. Of course it is all coming with me.

There have been doubters voicing very hurtful comments that my little blue tardis wont fit it all in. They are wrong. They have to be.

As some may know the housing situation up North changed yet again, for reasons too complicated and boring for me to bother writing, but the new house looks promising. Rather than waste a few valuable seconds of my life describing it now I will wait until tomorrow, when I can actually describe what I am seeing/feeling/smelling...

Manly tearless goodbyes have been said/grunted, tire pressures have been altered, and petrol tanks filled. The opportunity to sample one last free beer courtesy of my sisters fridge presents itself in the form of a large bottle of 'Goblin'....this is the last little update from Wales. Newcastle here I come.