Tag: the great girlfriend hunt

Shannon, Shirly, our Berber guide, and the rest of our camel caravan

Mounting a camel is exciting. Dismounting a camel is dangerous. Riding a camel… well, riding a camel is like riding a roller coaster that has had its safety harness removed and its uncomfortable comfortable seats ripped out in favor of a hulking, strangely muscular, smelly beast that is less comfortable to sit on than Weird Uncle Jim’s knee. I don’t know if it was because I was tall, or because my camel (which Shannon had named Douglas) had eight extra…

Our Berber guide stares at some very small camels, in the Sahara desert

For the last 12 months, I have been doing almost everything with a girl called Shannon. By “everything” I do mean everything. It started off with chatting, and then a few weeks later flirting, and then, as is the natural progression of such things, eloping. We followed that up with eating, travelling around Europe, drinking lots of alcohol, exercising, watching awful TV, and being caught by the police for a crime that we (arguably) didn’t commit. Then, of course, to…

Shannon in full flight, on the Isle of Skye, chasing some sheep

Girls. I wonder if I’ll ever understand them fully. Just when you think you know what’s going on — when you think, after days and weeks of hard graft, that you’re nearing some kind of blissful breakthrough, it all goes to shit and you’re unceremoniously dumped at square one. Sometimes, if you’ve really fucked up, you’ll get shunted back even further, leaving you yearning for square one rather than square -628. After such an experience, while still dazed and confused…

Gosh, it’s been a while. Just over three months! In my defence, it’s been a very busy three months, full of travel, and love, and food, and work, and weddings. When we last spoke, I had just been to Bristol, and was thinking about going to Bruges. I also had four chickens. I now only have two chickens. We’re not entirely sure what happened to Florence (the ginger one), but we think she probably keeled over in a bush somewhere…

My first egg (held by my sister)

So, I’ve finally done two things that I’ve been endeavouring to do for the last five years: Visit Ireland, and get some egg-laying chickens. Let’s start with the chickens. My dad and I have always joked about getting farmyard-type animals. First it was a goat, to ‘mow’ the lawn (you tether it in one location for a few days, it eats all the grass, and then you move the tether). Then it was a pig — a Vietnamese potbellied pig…

[Due to some RSS feed issues, you are probably seeing this post a bit late... I wrote it last week!] I feel a bit of an arse: 2010 was probably my favourite year to date, yet I’ve written almost nothing about it. Not only will this monumentally suck in a few years, when I pore through my blog archives, and find almost nothing from 2010 — but it must also royally blow for anyone that stops by to read this…