The Last Post

Goalkeepers are Different is the name of book written by sports journalist Brian Glanville in 1971.

I read this book when I was 10 years old and I fell in love Britland. English Soccer to be more specific. This where I first learned about such fantastic team names like Chelsea, Tottenham Hotspur, and - of course - Queens Park Rangers. I was hooked on anything English soccer. It really became my dream to experience the names and places in that book. To a Kentucky boy, it seemed like a fantastic foreign land a million miles away where soccer ruled the day.

As I spend my last day here, I am reading Goalkeepers are Different again (the Geordie Lass got me a original copy - i know!) Now the names and places are familiar. I have been to most all of them. And not to sound too cheesy but that 10 year old boy would be thrilled if he new he'd get to see and do all I have done out here.

Grown up fast. Dined with Bianca Jagger. Won a competitive eating contest. Lost some hair. Played football against marines. Got fired, got depressed. Met Sandra Pay. Won at Ascot. Moved around but never left Islington. Danced all night in Berlin. Ate a chip butty in Sunderland. Went to my ancestral home in Scotland. Walked on Hadrian's Wall. Had lotion rubbed on me in Cairo. Seen TONS of soccer, and - most importantly - made new friendships and grew closer with friends thousands of miles away.

Without these people - and you know you are - there is no way I would have even made it here passed the first few months.

I am proud of myself, and very proud to have such a great bunch of people to call my friends and family.

It has been one helluva three years.

No story, no gain.

All the stories are here...146 posts worth.

Rx
August 24, 2009

One week from today...

I will likely be hungover, on the way to the airport to cross the Atlantic and get on back wheres I came from. I am ready.

I have spent the last four nights in the flat cleaning and waiting for the next day to begin. This has not been awesome, but has to be done, I reckon. I leave the flat for good tmrw morning and head to my QPR buddy's place for the last few days. It will have been 20 months in that place - I am not sad to see it go. Why you ask?

1) Fisher-Price 'My First Kitchen' Play Set - like most flats in London the flat is small, so the kitchen is small. The fridge is very small. The stove is very small. The oven is small (it took 10 hours to cook the small Thanksgiving Day turkey). It has been like having a play kitchen set.

2) NASCAR Showers - to take a bath or shower in the flat you have to trip a breaker to engage a small V8 water pump engine under the tub. This is loud, especially for the weird guy with the acid eaten face downstairs. He no likey. So I have dutifully tried to take a shower at night for the last 20 months.

3) Caledonian Road - this is the main road my street runs into. It is like set of a badly funded rip off of The Wire staring chavy Brits.


There have been a few stabbings and recently a murder. It is grim. I walked to work the last 6 months up and down it. Dog poo. Human poo (but done politely on a newspaper? wtf?!?!). Garbage. Rubbish. Used condoms. Used souls.


I once went down it very early to get Heathrow for an early flight, 6 AM and it seemed peaceful until the folks who undoubtedly were coked out their gordon up from the night before in torn tights bear foot holding their cheap heels leered at me - I was judging so, fair enough.


Perhaps my favorite shop (besides the endless corner offies, betting shops, smut centres, and cosmic book stores) is one that has been closed the entire time. It has a sign out front that says, 'WASSERMANS: SPECIALISING IN WATERMELONS'. That just fasicnates as it confuses.

Two weeks from now...

This Redneck will be in America. This is good. I like this. A lot.

Today I thought I would share one of the few things I will miss about Britland. Orange Lucozade.

Orange Lucozade is crack. It is orange flavored super caffinated sugar water. It is like carbonated Gatorade on steroids. It is the super hangover cure. It makes you feel slightly sick at first due to all the sugar, but then slightly blissful and better all around. I love it. So much. I will miss it. So much.

Just don't take it into work in the morning and sit it on your desk. It is a dead givaway...

Time to Bail on Britland...

If I were super-smart, had the time, or got paid for writing things - I like to think I would come up with something likethis article by Stryker McGuire.

I like for two reasons:

1) It was written by Stryker McGuire. Best. Name. Ever. And I met him at the Labour and Conservative Party Conferences last fall and he is a very, very nice dude. And he's American. Duh, look at that name..

2) It is fair, thoughtful, and sums up what is going here in real govt spending/budget terms (unsustainability and certain cuts to public services that no one wants to take) and pyschologically amongst the political leaders and chatterati (Denial that Britland is prob less significant in the world power scheme than France and Germany).

But, don't worry Nigel. I am writing this from my last jaunt to Egypt where when every man asks me where I am from, I say 'London' and they automatically go: 'LIVERPOOL' or 'CHELSEA' or 'MAN U' or 'ARSENAL'. Seriously, the Premier League is most underappreciated cultural export in the world. Everyone knows England. If the guys here start to go, 'BAYERN MUNICH' or 'BORDEUX' - then you gots it bad for realz...

Best or Worst Housing Estate in London?

I was surprised to see that this estate (or apartment block) was not camouflaged. Or just up on blocks. There were no Camaro's or Trans Am's to my knowledge.

I wonder if there is an Earnhardt Terrace? Maybe Skynyrd Close? Skoal Court? Somewhere in London....

Countdown is On

Y'all, I break outta Britland in less than a month. For Realz. I am working up to what will be that final post...

In other news, it has been busy as hell in Britland. Me and the Geordie Lass have been packing and I was sent up to Scotland for a about 5 days to do some work and gotta go agains soon. I basically stayed in Edinburgh. Enjoy some snaps below.

After that, we kicked it in Newcastle. The Toon abided and we caught a show - The Jayhawks. I last saw them here in 1995. Were this little band was the opening act.

Check out this Nigeltastic Story - I can't wait to follow the Department for Work and Pensions!!! HOORAY!!

London, giveth. London, taketh.

When London is on, it is on. Take the other Sunday. Me and the Geordie Lass went to Hyde Park to watch The Boss at a music festival. We took the tube nice and easy, there, had a blast, and got home painlessly. So easy and fun. London, giveth. Giveth the rock, giveth the roll, and giveth the ride home.

When London is off, it likes to get you up the backside with a cold non-lubricated latex gloved fist. When I got to Victoria Station after landing in Gatwick Airport, it was rush hour. I knew it was going to be hairy carrying my two big ass bags through the rushing rats. But, I did not expect the tube to be SHUT. SH-U-U-T.

You couldn't even get down the steps to the ticket platform. I thought, London, taketh. I decided to take my weary ass outside and get the bus stop. To say the bus stop was HEAVING with people would be understating the scene. What next? The taxi rank? Well, it was only 100 people deep with a cab coming once every two or three minutes.

I hunkered down and put a bag under my arm and set off. I walked for about 1/2 a mile through the backstreets til I found a cab. What should have been a 20 minute £2.00 tube ride was now to become a 40 minute £26 cab ride. London, taketh.

Anyhoo - here are some snaps of The Boss!