It’s been a week since my last post. Thought I should
update...so here I am. Competed in the Bristol Half Marathon on Sunday.
It went as well as expected, in that due to the amount of running I do
generally, it was a piece of piss. My time was around 1hr 28mins, which isn’t a
pb (that’s 1hr 26mins which I attained at Sturminster Newton a few months ago),
but to be honest, Bristol isn’t really the kind of ½ marathon you can
realistically expect to get a personal best time at, simply because of the massive
number of people taking part. There were about 14,000 competitors this year,
and even though I started in the first wave, the mass of people all trying to
run down relatively narrow roads lead to a lot of congestion. The crowd thins
out about halfway round the course as people begin to tire, but by then the
impact from the slow pace of the first half of the race has taken a good bite
out of your overall time. It was a good event though, and just as well run (no
pun intended) as last year, so maximum kudos to the organisers, the marshalls,
and the army cadets manning the water/energy gel stations. Not that I used them
– the last thing I wanted was water after suddenly needing a massive piss about
a quarter of the way into the race. I held it for the remainder of the course
and just made a beeline for the portable bogs after I crossed the finish line.
I think my overall placing was 417th, which when you consider that
there were over 14,000 runners taking part, isn’t a bad result.
After the race, I took a stroll around Bristol city centre
with my significant other. I do really like Bristol, actually. It’s not as big
as Manchester or Birmingham, but it still has a proper ‘big city’ atmosphere.
There are various districts with a distinct feel, there are loads of shops,
bars, impressive historical buildings...it’s just a great city to visit and I’m
a bit annoyed that I didn’t explore it more thoroughly when I lived there for a
few weeks at the beginning of this year. I say ‘a few weeks,’ but it was more
like two months, and during that time, I lived in possibly the grottiest house
share I have ever had. It was in a district called Brentry on the outskirts of
Bristol, right near the Cribbs Causeway M5 junction, so it was handy for
shopping and getting on the motorway...but pretty dire for everything else. The
house was this big old mansion type place that had been converted into flats, I
and I rented a tiny room on the ground floor. I knew it was only temporary, but
the meagre amount of time I spent there was pretty shit for two reasons – the house
itself, and the housemates.
The room, as I mentioned, was fucking tiny. There
was mold on the wall below a window that wouldn’t shut properly, so there was a
constant cold breeze blowing in to accompany the incessant noise of a dog
barking in a nearby garden. There was one toilet/bathroom that was shared by
the four of us, but it was a game of chance actually being able to get in there
seeing as one of the housemates insisted on taking hour-long baths (how fucking
inconsiderate), whilst another had her lesbian partner staying over almost
constantly. I had no problem with this, but it kind of grated when I wanted a
shower or needed to take a shit and couldn't because a person who wasn’t even paying rent was
using the toilet. indeed, I often had to use mother natures own water closet for a piss...but never dropped the kids off outside - that would've been a little too uncouth, even for a morally redundant urchin like me. On the subject of bodily functions, though, on one occasion there were drips of blood all over the
bathroom floor. I was a little confused by this...until I saw the tampon
packets in the bin and clicked. I almost gagged – and that happened on several occasions (the dripping of period blood all over the communal bathroom floor - not the gagging).
There was constant noise from the flat above (seriously, it sounded like they
were moving a safe around...every night of the week) and the kitchen was a mess
constantly, no matter how much I attempted to clean it. I even cleaned out the
disgusting fridge...only to find it filthy again a week later. So in sum, it
was a shit place to live, and the area itself was pretty crap – I had the
petrol stolen out of my newly acquired CBF 250 after about two weeks of
ownership. That isn’t to say I dislike Bristol – I fucking love the place.
Clifton in particular holds a place in my heart as it’s just a cool area...but
Brentry? No.
But back to the point – I was walking around Bristol city centre
and I spotted this red carpet with velvet barrier things around it, you know –
like what they have at film premieres and shit. I went up to the girl manning
it and she said it was a competition to win £50,000. All you had to do was
approach the safe at the end of the red carpet and put in a random 6 digit
number. Guess correct and walk away with the cash. I slowly punched in my date
of birth with baited breath...and was confronted with the message that my
combination was wrong. Dammit! On leaving the red carpet, another promoter
asked if I’d like to enter some other competition and thrust an entry card
under my nose. To be honest, I wasn’t even listening to her as I filled out the
form – I was paying more attention to my girlfriend’s attempt to open the safe
(which also ended in failure). I completed the card, and went on my way, not
even knowing what I’d just entered.
2 comments:
A blog post with a happy ending! (Literally, I mean, not you getting one yanked out of you.) Retain that optimism, please, Tom.
What a condescending twunt!
Post a Comment