15th August 2005
Hi all,
I was hoping that this week I would have the opportunity to introduce another Neil Taylor piece in this space, but as it turned out the two of us were enjoying ourselves too much for me to get him to write something here. Your loss is my gain in this case, as we had a fabulous time together for four days. Here are the highlights:
Thursday, 12pm: Neil calls from the airport to say he has arrived and has his case. I start the car from my nearby off-site parking space, pick him up and we're swiftly on our way to one of our favourite places - Riley's in Bellshill.
12.15pm: This is a first for me, eating a sub while doing about 60mph on the M8 through the centre of Glasgow. Time is at a premium, stopping to eat is a waste of time.
12.30pm: Arrive at Riley's. I'm so excited I park ridiculously badly, even by my standards. We go in and immediately take them up on their ?12 for a full day's worth of Pool, even though we're probably only going to be there for three hours. To make things even better we're given a table we've played on lots of times before, making it just like old times.
1pm: Neil is 3-0 up on me and playing well. I'm distracted by the Cricket on the nearby TV and by Neil being consistently funny. I can't play well when I'm laughing my head off, something Neil knows very well indeed. It was here nearly four years ago that Neil spent the Monday night before my wedding saying the words, "It's Mr Cadbury's Parrot!" and letting out a squawking sound every time I attempted to play a shot. It wasn't pretty for onlookers.
2pm: Phone call from Lorraine, asking us to pick her up at 3.15pm. This means we have to leave Riley's at 3pm - that's thirty minutes we've lost! Not a good development.
3pm: Neil and I leave Riley's, and I'm unimpressed by the video jukebox which doesn't seem to allow the sound to reach us. Of course I'm forgetting the most important things that Riley's provide - cheap Pool tables and cold, wet refreshments.
3.15pm: Approaching Lorraine's work it seems I'm enjoying Neil's Blur & Oasis compilation tape a bit too much, as I've started saying the word "sun-shiiiiine" repeatedly and have laughed so much I've acquired a stitch. I don't help things by over-exaggerating the effect of braking for a red light has on my body (think of crash-test dummies). Needless to say Lorraine is a little perplexed when we pick her up.
3.30pm: Lorraine takes revenge by forcing us to wait in Next in Hamilton for her. The store has roughly two-thirds shut-off with plastic sheeting. I keep waiting for Danny Glover and Mel Gibson to jump out with nail guns.
4pm: Cookie welcomes Neil into the house by lying down and then rolling onto both of Neil's feet, preventing him from moving and inducing a fuss. You've got to give it to our dog, he's not stupid.
4.35pm: No wonder Cookie didn't want Neil to move, as we're already on the way out again, this time to Edinburgh for dinner.
5.55pm: We take our seats for dinner in Edinburgh's Hard Rock Cafe. I hadn't been there for years. We have an American waiter, who promptly notices my Atlanta Braves "I live for this" t-shirt and compliments me on it. Occasions where my style gets more compliments than my wife's are few and far between, so I milk it for all it is worth.
6.15pm: Mmmm, Hard Rock's Pulled-Pork Sandwich, mmmmmm.
6.40pm: After an amazing meal we leave Hard Rock to walk it off. We end up on Princes Street, in a small marquee promoting various Fringe Festival events. We discuss going to see a show, but are scuppered by the useless booths and the official website shown on countless screens within. Fortunately an unofficial guide had been discarded where we were sitting, and this proved to be far more useful.
7.50pm: Back on George Street we consider trying to get into that evening's Fred MacAulay performance, due to start at 8.05pm. There were only a few tickets left, so there was no guarantee we would be sitting together, so we decided against it. It was only at this point that we realised how time had flown by, and that we really should start making our way home.
9.30pm: We stop at our old haunt The Newhouse for a drink with Lucy Partridge and discuss office politics and other things you would have to be there to appreciate.
Friday, 12pm: With a 30th birthday party ahead of us Lorraine, Neil and I head out to get a present. Lorraine takes the opportunity to do more shopping, leaving Neil and I to kick our heels a bit. Furthermore there is nowhere to get lunch where we are.
2pm: Does no-one work on a Friday anymore? The roads everywhere we are going are packed, and we haven't had lunch yet. Lorraine is meant to be at a friend's house for 3pm and Neil and I are losing valuable gaming time. This isn't going to plan.
2.15pm: Mmmm, six-inch tuna sub, mmmm.
3.15pm: With the house to ourselves Neil and I settle in for a hard afternoon's control-bashing. First up is NHL 2004, with me playing as "The Mighty Ducks... of Anaheim!" and Neil as the "St. Louis Bluuuues" (gotta love commentators on sports computer games).
4pm: Two closely matched games later (one win apiece) we opt for the more relaxing Pro Evolution Soccer 4, and set about some epic games, culminating in Classic England beating Classic Brazil 5-4 (I won't tell you who was who in that encounter).
6.45pm: Neil and I decide we should really start to get ready to go out in half-an-hour's time.
7.45pm: Neil and I arrive at the party fifteen minutes late (all because I had to set the DVD recorder to record the Big Brother finale for Lorraine, honest).
Saturday, 10am: Long lies seem like such a waste when you have a friend visiting, especially when you can watch the Soccer AM dvd (in the absence of the show itself - Sky Sports themselves are still in my bad books following their lack of live Palace games last season) with the aforementioned friend and introduce them to the magic that is Pearl Heenan.
12.30pm: Neil and I enjoy a few more games of Pro Evo while Lorraine is drying her hair. Cue a 4-0 win for America over Scotland and a slide-tackle fest between Manchester United and Arsenal (where I failed in my main objective of getting Gary Neville sent off).
5.30pm: Meet up with friends for dinner and drinks in Glasgow. Four of the five guys travelling into Glasgow are in my car, enjoying a sing-song (including a memorable performance of "Wild Thing") while the girls have an "informative discussion" (according to the male driver). The sing-song plays no part in my not being able to hear anyone speak by the end of the evening.
Sunday, 1pm: Sunday lunch, and all too soon Neil's visit is drawing to a close. After lunch (a group effort to which I contributed buying a cooked chicken) we get on with the essentials of every visit one of us pays to another - packing, making sure all controllers, CDs, etc., aren't left behind, as well as attempting to check-in online via British Airways' website (which wasn't working on Sunday afternoon).
I unashamedly tell Neil I'm glad he's visited because I've had a terrific four days, although I can't believe how quickly they've gone. It is strange how quickly days spent with friends pass in comparison to days spent with other people, but then you're spending all your time smiling, laughing and generally enjoying yourself. Needless to say not everyone has that effect on me.
4.15pm: After driving to the airport in the afternoon sun-shiiiiine Lorraine and I say goodbye to Neil in the terminal. The weekend has come to an end, and saying we've all enjoyed ourselves would be an understatement. Of course the next question has to be, "When are we going to do it again?" Hopefully it won't be in the too distant future.
Have a good week!
Tony
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