"......Nevermore." The Personal Blog of Raven Garcia, East-London based philosopher and connoisseur of fine beers.

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

I pushed a boy in the canal

Wednesday, 25 April 2007

This is the second part of my birthday blog. I took my nan’s pension round to her and was given my first new 20 pound note as a birthday present!! I quite like the design. Although I think they should stop putting the queen on them and instead have someone better looking. Jessica Alba would be a good choice. Anyway, my uncle did ring me in the end and ask me to go to the office for a couple of hours. I went from my nans cos it’s not far, (I also found a fiver on the way – wahey!!) did a couple of hour’s work and then walked home along the canal. As I got to just outside the palm tree there were two pikey cunts about 14 years old causing trouble. They were throwing stones at cyclists - (note that there are quite a few cyclists who deserve a stone or two lobbed at them, but doesn’t make it right.) – Then they started on an asian couple who were walking past them minding their own business and when the guy shouted at them they started to racially abuse them. I carried on walking past them and I felt something hit me on the back. I turned round and confronted them and the one who I’m sure threw the stone started mouthing off “Get your hair cut you dickhead” etc. then squared up to me. “And what? And what?” he said, and started shoving me. Now this put me in an awkward position. He was a bit too young to hit – he must have been 14 at the most. But where do you draw the line? There should be some law made on that or something. Anyway as he was squaring up to me I noticed the other one backed off a bit. I stepped back and turned around, making out I was going to walk off, and actually walked a few steps. I heard “Pussyhole” shouted out from behind me. So I waited until he turned his back, then I run up from behind him and pushed him into the canal, to a couple of cheers from people sitting outside the pub. I didn’t hang around to watch his predicament but I was laughing to myself most of the way home. An aussie guy sitting outside the pub with his girlfriend just a few yards away from where this happened said “Nice one, mate” as I walked past. Apparently they had tried to steal his and his girlfriend’s bikes a few minutes before. On reflection I think I feel a minor speck of guilt – I should have thrown the other one in as well. He needed a wash anyway.

Birthday Blues. And Browns. And Reds. And Charcoals.

Congratulations, it is my birthday. I have decided to keep a blog again. I was inspired by reading the blog of my good friend and drinking partner Dean Saliba, internet wrestling journalist and all-round pleasant chap. I did keep a brief blog before, but it sort of fizzled out, much like a morrison’s home brand alka-seltzer. The main reason for this was that I would simply lose interest from day to day. But hopefully this will not happen this time around. I’ve come up with a few ideas to spice it up a bit. And I aint talking about chilli flakes.

1. Raven’s Echo. Every fortnight, I will take a look at some recent events that have been in the news, and provide my own unique outlook on them.
2. Characters. I know that there is a feature on this site that allows you to fill out a personal profile. However, since most of you will be unfamiliar with the people in my life, I will try to provide similar details for them and see if I can link it to a separate site or something. Just a little thing that makes the whole experience less monotonous.
3. Oh, there isn’t a 3. Sorry.

But most of all, everything contained in this blog is 100% true, I aim to speak my mind here and if that means offending a few people in the process, then so be it. I couldn’t care less.

So, where should I start? Oh, yes. Today is my birthday. I am 22. I don’t have any plans (or money) to do anything tonight, but my folks are taking me out for a curry tomorrow night (Because the Chelsea match is on tonight and that seems to be more important than their own son’s birthday. I hope Chelsea get battered.) So, that should be good. I phoned my uncle this morning to ask if he needed my help in the office today. My aunt answered and told me he would phone me back. That was at 9.35. It is now half past 12. I am going to Littlehampton at the weekend to help my other uncle with some painting and decorating, so on the whole it should be a pretty boring weekend, but at least it looks like I will save a few bob.

My mother bought me a book on weight loss for my birthday. Somewhere in there is a hint…but for the life of me I can’t find it. It seems quite good though – it is a Haynes manual. You know, those people that publish manuals for cars? Well they have released a range of books on other subjects such as a babies manual, and even a sex manual. I had a brief read this morning, it does seem like it will be of some use, but more so for the recipe section and exercise tips (I discovered I was not warming up properly when playing football). My mum has also said she will buy me a new pair of trainers, which I desperately need. My best trainers right now are a kind of brown-colour, the kind of colour of a partly decomposed stoat. They were creamy white at one time, but have been scuffed to the point of near-extinction. So a new pair will definitely be welcome. I’ve had my eye on this pair of charcoal and red Golas for ages.

Anyway, I’ll sign off for now, I thought I’d just make it a nice, easy post for the first time round. I’ve noticed I have not sworn once so far in this whole blog post. I'm currently debating whether to include a swear-word just for the sake of it, as swearing is my fourth favourite pastime, and I am the inventor of some genius profanities such as “bullmugs”, etc. If anything exciting should happen tonight, I will post it on tomorrow’s blog. Anyway, I’m off now to take my nan’s pension round to her and be shown more photographs of relatives who died in the 1950’s that even my mum does not recognise. Like the one last week of an aging woman, taken outside an infirmary in the 50’s. (in her 50’s). My nan said: “That’s your auntie Joan, she died shortly after that was taken.” (I always think, have you ever thought it could have been the flash that did it?)

On that bombshell…