I know, I'm rubbish...

I really should have made the effort to update this blog before now, apologies to all. The cricket has just finished though and the only other things on my to-do list today are the laundrette and CT8 revision, all of which has led me here.

Went out last night to a Pays Basques-style evening with a girl from work and some of her friends. Food was fab as usual; thought I'd get my recommended weekly allowance of meat all in one go (no innuendo please) so I had a massive plate of various cured meats to start, then steak with fried foie gras and gratin dauphinois potatoes, followed by tropical fruit salad. Two words: Y UM... Loads of songs being sung/shouted the whole time (we were in a big hall eating at long tables), the kind oft heard at rugby club socials and the like, except in French of course. I was the only person in the whole place who didn't know the words! Then some boys at one end of the room stood on the tables and got naked. Then we went into a basement area and listened to a band playing Basquais ska punk. Then I had to endure 2 hours of French retro-pop shite at the 'discotheque' which followed the band. All a bit random as you can imagine... Finally got home about 4am and am now feeling guilty for not having done any work with less than 3 weeks til the exams.

God I've really got the fear now, writing that last sentence has somehow made it all very real... This could be exactly the kick-start I need for a productive day's work. Am still going to help things along with a can of the French equivalent of Red Bull - inexplicably called Dark Dog. I say inexplicably because the dog on the can is yellow! Maybe they're referring to his soul...

PS In other news, the French for fold-down seat (like you get in the metro) is strapontin. I thought that was quite funny...(bloody French)

Slippery slope this blog malarkey

STOP! This is the Empire of Death!

Not my blog, of course, no, ha ha ahem. That's what's written above the entrance to the catacombs in Paris, a huge underground cave system which filled with the bones of 6 millions Parisians (thought I'd start with a bit of culture before the inevitable descent into general lowbrow ramblings). They had to put all the bones in the caves after the largest communal cemetary in the city burst in 1725. Literally - into people's cellars, dead bodies everywhere. I put a lovely picture of some bones up there to really demonstrate the French sense of humour in action - arranging the skulls in hilarious patterns. Not at all disrespectful to the dead.

Well this is my first post, hello to all who find themselves here. Following the usual infallible model this blog will probably consist mainly of culture-shock rants, silly photos and links to random websites that I come across during my travels. Hopefully the novelty of this whole thing will last long enough for me to dig out some funny pictures of Gartside to add to the ever-growing collection.

The name of the blog comes from my favourite street in Paris by the way, Road of the Fishing Cat. My second favourite road in Paris is in the gay district - Bad Boys Road. This city is cool.

PS Quite an odd picture to put on my first post I know - I'll try and find something a bit less freaky for the next one! (So guess the Gartside pics will have to wait a bit...)