Smack the donkey

When I was a lad back when gay meant happy and the Internet was in black and white, birthdays consisted of pass the parcel and freezing your position when the music stopped. Today, that's changed a little, as well as kids getting tons of presents like another Christmas, they also get the chance to wack a papier-mâché animal until it breaks and reveals sweets, toys and whatever else you care to put in there. It's quite funny to see the young un's blind folded trying to hit a donkey with a rolling pin while blind-folded. It's only matter of time before adults incorporate this into their party nights in the same way they insist on trampolining after a few beers breaking their necks or their kids in order to show how high they can jump while holding a can of Stella. So, maybe in the adult version of piñata you could stuff your paper donkey with condoms, stella, greggs pasties, rubik's cubes and those little plastic party hats with elastic string that cuts through your chin. You never see them anymore - where are they?

How many times can you write the word piccalilli?

A bit of food, a bit of wine and a bit of music. What more do you want? For me, that's a good night out, especially when the food is good and it wasn't bad at The Exchange Bistro. A ham and parsley terrine with piccalilli was better than it sounds. It was moist (love that word) and a nice sharp taste from the piccalilli. Couldn't resist having a rib-eye steak for mains with mushrooms and home made chips, it's a perfect Friday night tea isn't it? I was further impressed with the beautiful lady opposite me tucking into red snapper with mango salsa followed by lamb. She didn't dribble once. The pudding (to share of course) was poor so I'm not going to even mention it, but the maltesers in it would've been better put back in the box and eaten on their own.
With a pretty full stomach it was off to the Magnesia Bank to see a below average band who murdered a Stevie Wonder song, wish I'd saved some piccalilli to throw at them. The saxophonist was really good though so it slightly made up for it.
So, are you hungry after reading this? I am. I'm off to make piccalilli, can't believe the main ingredient is cauliflower - urrrrgh, bad tasting evil brain looking food.

Twas on the 9th June...

I've tried for a few years to do the famous Geordie 10K Blaydon Race and this year I was successful and managed to run it on Tuesday night just short of the winner, Ian Hudspith from Morpeth Harriers (27m 44s - woooh, must've needed the toilet). A good atmosphere and I was surprised to see there were lots of people supporting it all the way with bands and singers right til the finish. You could say all the lads and lasses there all had smiling faces (apart from those who couldn't cross the road to get to the Boyzone concert, probably for the best). I didn't join in with the famous song of course as I was out of breath and it looks embarrassing when you don't know ALL the words and I didn't have enough energy to COUGH at the point where I didn't know the words. Despite this I finished in 54m 30s and collected a t-shirt, a bottle of brooooon ale, a ham and pease pudding stottie and a congratulations kiss from my special girl: all consumed in that order, the order of importance!

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Get those jockeys off

It's not easy trying to win some money on the horses. I learnt that when I went to Gosforth Races at the weekend. Not one winner though, must be the jockey's fault. There was a weirdo standing next to me with his mates who insisted on telling me I had "sh*t on my shoe". Think he wanted me to cock my leg so he could make fun of my stance, didn't fall for it. My mate won on the last race so we made him pay for the taxi seen as we couldn't go on a horse. That reminds me, a few years ago I had a Xmas party at the racecourse. Like a cheeky drunk geordie I told this girl to meet me outside and we would go and steal a horse. I learnt some time later that she'd stood there most of the night waiting.....funny.