Me and My Big Mouth

This is just a brief post to confirm that I really should think before I speak (or type). I recently, about 20mins ago, insulted on of my friends' friends over Facebook. The person in question is undertaking the challenge of living for five days on £5. Needless to say I took exception to this. Largely because she had spent her entire budget on food and left no money left to pay for the gas (and equipment) to cook it. Not to mention the complete lack of water she had procured. Unless she was to stick a straw (not purchased) in a puddle I felt she may struggle to survive the week.

Upon reading that I was upset at the corrupt nature of this project my friend, Amy, challenged me to do it properly.

Uncharacteristically I accepted.

So I will give myself the head start of a tent in the garden, but other than that I shall endeavour to survive on just £5 for 5 days. Not exact date has been set due to a couple visa issues (not for the UK) which may require me to travel, but late May seems likely.

Here is a list of things I will go without in no particular order, suggestions welcomed:

• No technology (except if I have to do a bit of work for my dad, but there shall be no deviation from the task). No mobile, no TV, no PC. Nothing.
• No transport. I will walk everywhere.
• No washing of clothes. I will pray for rain.
• No books, unless I find one.
• No indoors.
• One set of clothes only.
• No food storage.

I am not doing this for charity. If this somehow moves you, give to charity of your own volition.

Competition results!

This was a fantastic competition with literally 14 people (it was 15 but this anonymous 'poster' was so disgusted with his choice he chose to kill his own comment) voting!

A big thank you to all those that entered.

In joint 4th place, with 0 points, winning a special place in my heart are:

• Alan Dowman
• James Willingham
• Tom Hazell
• Richy Barrett
• Andrew Turnbull
• Simon Booth
• Simon Byford
• Lawrence King
• James Bunn
• Chris Wilson
• Chris Johnston
• Lay Dee (alias)
• Matt Stott
• AJ Cullen
• Jo Day
• Peter Mullett
• Chris Bright
• Loretta Lyons
• Elisa Conterio

In joint (well not really) 3rd place, with 1 point(s), winning a fruit pastel:

• Thomas David Coleman

In joint 2nd place, with 2 points, each winning a high pitched yelp:

• Patrick Donohoe
• Mustaqil Ali
• Josh 'Hotdog Josh' Bavington-Barber
• David Michael Lennon

And the (not) joint winner, with a whopping 5 points, winning some Edinburgh market place tourist shite:

• Chris Warren!

Thank you to everyone who was involved. An new (probably better) contest up soon. The stakes only get higher!

Gallery

It has been absolutely ages since I have 'Gone an' Dunn a blog', but recent events have compelled me to release myself from the shackles (figurative) of Chinese language studies so that I can share something special with you all.

Recently (as I mentioned before) for no good reason whatsoever I came into possession of a collection rather shoddy portraits. As a thank you to everyone who contributed to the salute to my own vanity, I will display them each here. On the internet (Blogs are the closest thing the internet has to fridges).

Also as a special super prize, yes that's right a special super prize, I will be giving a prize to the best picture (or food sculpture). To vote for your favourite (and in the name of sportsmanship lets not vote for ourselves shall we?) just leave a comment in the space provided below including the number to the left of the picture (and maybe even why you picked it). On Monday the 23rd of April 2012 (St. Georges day) I will announce the winner (although it should be pretty obvious to anyone who can count (sorry Pat, you'll have to wait)). In the event of a tie I will use the random number generator that is my mother (pictured below) to select a winner.

The prize will be one of the following:

• A holiday in the Maldives
• 52" plasma screen TV
• Gold bullion 
• A collection of semi-precious stones
• £500 (Cash!)
• Or some cheap tourist tat I picked up from a market stall in Edinburgh

So if you want that (perhaps) holiday in the Maldives, get your friends to log on and do what I said to do before (see paragraph 3, above my mother)!

Without any further ado, here are the entries!

1.

Artist: Al Dowman

Age: 23

From: Ipswich

Special Skill: The ability to pour a pint and wear ridiculous facial hair simultaneously.

2.

Artist: Wilma 'Wilma' Wilma

Age: 25?

From: Ipswich (near that big pub, the one on the left. yeah, that's the one)

Special Skill: I ability to decide which one of the staving children featured on 'That' charity advert didn't make it.

3.

Artist: Tom Hazell

Age: 19

From: London

Special Skill: Can lick up to forty stamps a minute.

4.

Artist: Richy Barrett

Age: 24

From: Lincoln

Special Skill: Incensing Daily Mail readers.

5.

Artist: Andrew 'Flange' Turnbull

Age: 23 (a guess)

From: Kesgrave (I have been writing Ipswich too much, it sounds exotic, you should be pleased.)

Special Skill: Can almost fit into the overhead storage on most budget flights, thus almost giving people a little bit of a shock.

6.

Artist: Simon Booth

Age: Unknown

From:  Parts Unknown

Special Skill: Elusive

7.

Artist: Simon Byford

Age:22

From: Most Places

Special Skill: Not being able to tell the difference between a joke invite for a chilli and a real one.

8.

Artist: Chris Warren

Age: 22

From: Ipswich

Special Skill: Downing a whole bottle of milk really quickly, even when it's dead cold.

9.

Artist: Lawrence King

Age: 23 (just)

From: Kingston, Jamaica (why not?)

Special Skill: An unnerving ability to come up with fish related words to fit into lyrics by The Smiths (House Martins pending)

10.

Artist: James Bunn

Age: 23

From: (He likes to thing he's from) Italy

Special Skill: Sneaking into school photos with 'Korn' style dreads.

11.

Artist: Chris Wilson

Age: 35

From: Ipswich

Special Skill: Making the transfer from an image to a brooch near painless.

12.

Artist: Christ Johnston

Age: (I should know this) 14

From: Ipswich

Special Skill: Sitting in air planes and not fiddling with anything, even if he really wants to.

13.

Artist: Lay Dee (get it? Clever right?)

Age: I don't want to guess

From: Canada

Special Skill: Canada

14.

Artist: Thomas Coleman

Age: 20's

From: Epping Forest

Special Skill: Not paying any attention to what the subject actually looks like.

15.

Artist: Matt Stott

Age: 23

From: Twickenham

Special Skill: Designing a 'Big mac' in 2004

16.

Artist: Pat Donohoe

Age: 23

From: The Mind of Anthony Worrall-Thompson

Special Skill: An unerring accuracy when it comes to nipple cripples (and golden showers).

17.

Artist: AJ Cullen

(Mental) Age: 4

From: Hill-Billy County, USA

Special Skill: The ability to get lost in her own hat.

18.

Artist: Jo Day

Age: 26?

From: Newcastle

Special Skill: Paying back people for me (cash, not sex-favours).

19.

Artist: Peter Mullet

Age: 23

From: Ipswich

Special Skill: Hulking out when people do not sufficiently acknowledge is 'bangin' tunes'.

20.

Artist: Chris Bright

Age: 23

From: Ipswich

Special Skill: Pissing everyone in the room off while playing FIFA.

21.

Artist: Mustaqil Ali

Age:23

From: London

Special Skill: Keeping this competition ethnically diverse.

22.

Artist: Loretta Lyons

Age: 20

From: Lima, Peru

Special Skill: Being able to start camp fires using only a lighter, a drum of kerosene and a whole load of help.

23.

Artist: Hotdog Josh

Age:23

From: Ipswich

Special Skill: Home owner (Lvl. 1)

24.

Artist: David Michael Lennon

Age:23

From: Cymru

Special Skill: Can tell the difference between 'easy listing' and 'cool jazz'.

25.

Name: Elisa Conterio

Age: 25

From: Italy

Special Skill: can eat a whole (adult sized) bicycle.

Well that's everyone.

Vote now.

It's (Still) Competition Time

OK, nobody even tried to win the beard prize offered in my last blog, so I am going to simplify it.

Who makes the 17th comment on this page wins and can choose the style of my facial hair for a week. You can enter as many times as you like, there are no rules. Just make sure you have the 17th comment.

Good luck.

It's Competition Time

OK, so here's the skinny:

• I promised Simon Byford that I would not shave until we meet again
• My mother wants me clean shaven for my graduation
• I will shave

But do not fear, this just adds to the fun. I am running a competition to decide what style I should sport for a week when I return to Ipswich on Sunday night.

"But, Owen, how do I enter?"

Whoever can get the oldest person to sponsor me for any amount, before I return home, will have the power to mold my face fuzz any way that they see fit. Lets get creative.

Sponsor me at:

http://www.justgiving.com/Owen-Johnstons-big-walk

Just message me to let me know how old my new sponsor is.

Good luck!

Photo shoot

Tomorrow at about 10am I will be having my photo taken for the local paper in order to get some more exposure for my walk.

With this in mind I would like to ask you, my adoring public, what I should wear?

I will do my best to wear the best suggestion.

A New Challenge

So by now you guys pretty much know the drill:

• I have time that needs passing
• A challenge is dreamt up or suggested
• I do said challenge

Past challenges include wearing a shirt for a month solid, eating really hot soup right from the middle of the bowl and writing and performing in a music video.

Current challenges on the go are my beard and my walk. When I get back from my walk on the 21st of July I shall have quite a bit of free time, given that the beard challenge is a largely passive one.

So I have had a quick think and in the month of August I hope to do three new challenges:

1.       I have (and have always had) a massive aversion to bananas. So much so, I have never even got close to eating one. My parents tell me that even as a tiny baby I would over power them in order to escape its sickly smell. So this in mind I am for a week going to eat two bananas a day for a week (that is 14 bananas, just to reiterate, this takes my total bananas consumed to 14).

Disgusting.

2.       I am going to attempt to live of £5 for a week. This one will be hard. I am going to make it is close to actually living on a fiver as I can by not living in the house (I will camp in the garden), I will not consumer electricity (not lights, no TV, no microwaves) and washing my clothes, by hand in cold water. I will even go as far a taking books out from the library so that I am not making use of things that I have already paid for.

Sustenance (not literally) for a week.

3.       This last one has been greeted with some trepidation by some of those I have talked to. I (in all seriousness) will attempt to contact the dead with aid of a Ouija board. Who knows what will happen? Could be great, could be harrowing.

Dangerous?

I will go into more detail on all of these projects in the near future, for now I would like to know what you think. I am always looking for new ways to pass the time so suggestions will always be welcomed.

I'm so sorry Simon

Recently my good friend Simon Byford left the UK for a year to go gallivanting in the US and a couple of other places. At his leaving drinks I realised that presents were expected. I did not bring a present. I am so sorry Simon.

By way of penance I offered to not shave or trim my facial hair until we next meet, an offer which Simon drunkenly accepted.

I shall endeavor to keep my beard a'growin' for as long as possible, although there is a very real possibility that when Simon returns to the UK in about a years time I will have just left for a 6 or 7 month jaunt to China. This potentially means that Simon and I will not see each other around Ipswich for about 18 months.

So wish me luck, pray Simon forgives me and I'll keep you updated.

Tales From The Old Flat No.1

Yesterday's blog was a popular one, with plenty of positive feedback. With this in mind, here is another reminiscence.

Between the end of my first year at university and the beginning of my second we experienced something called 'summer holidays'. This was a very different summer to the ones I had previously. Firstly there was no actual holiday element, unless you count 4 days at Reading festival (I don't). Secondly my girlfriend and I were busy moving into our new flat. The place we inherited was a state and required a serious clean up. Thirdly, I had an incredible working week so I was not around to often to actually help with this process.

We were not living in a student flat, or anything close. It was all cash in hand. We had to trust that the landlord would not just turn us out and he had to trust that we would not just trash the place. It was a system that worked well. In exchange for decorating the flat for our landlord, we were able to choose how it was decorated.

Every night I would get home from work to see Hannah (my then girlfriend), Claudia (AKA Roo) and our two temporary lodgers Anna (Brazilian) and Rich (Chesterfield) covered from head to toe in paint. I had gotten off lightly, as my job was to sit in a booth all day. Often I wouldn't get a single customer so I just read.

One night I came home and was taken aback by the progress.

"Wow, you guys have done so much. You should take it easy tomorrow as a reward."

"No Owen, we can't. We need this finished by the end of the week." Informed Hannah.

"?"

"Your brothers are coming to stay, remember?!"

I hadn't.

"Oh yeah, of course. Chop, chop then. I'll stick the kettle on, who wants some tea?" I said in an attempt to dig myself out of this hole.

It didn't work, not only did nobody drink tea. We didn't even have any tea in the house. Or a kettle.

Anyway the end of the week came, as did my younger brothers. They were aged not a teen and small and just about a teen and still small. We settled into a nice routine now that the decorating was complete. Hannah would keep them entertained during the day while I worked, I would make them dinner when I got back from work (as Hannah had to work for a few hours in the evenings). Then when we were all back home in the evening we would watch a film. My brothers would have some cola and sweets and Hannah and I would share a bottle of wine.

On one occasion I had more than my fair share of the wine, far more. I can't remember why (probably because I had so much wine), but this is how it panned out. Well film over (no idea what we watched), Hannah decided it was best we all go clean our teeth and head to bed.

I will take a break in the story at this point to explain one of the anomalies of our flat in Cambridge. It was a very old two story flat above a fantastic specialist wine shop called 'Bacchanalia'. Despite it being a first floor flat our kitchen was infested. Yes, when the sun went down our kitchen would become a very unpleasant place indeed.

Thats my old flat!

Slugs.

Dozens of them, slurping out of the walls and all over the floor. Very much in the style that all those snakes appear in Indiana Jones. I am not good with small/large hairy/slimy/flying things so I did not particularly enjoy this, but at least they were restricted to the kitchen.

OK, on with the story, my younger brothers successfully reached for their toothbrushes and applied toothpaste to them. I just about managed to do the same and drunkenly began re-whiten my pearlies.

At this point I noticed that Hannah was not following suit.

Hannah was laughing.

Hannah was pointing.

Hannah was pointing and laughing.

Hannah was pointing and laughing at me.

Panic stricken I looked all around me for the source of her amusement.

Nothing.

I looked all over me for the source of her amusement.

Nothing.

I gave up. I looked at Hannah, imploring her with my eyes to let me in on the joke.

As I looked at her I could see something in my peripheral vision that was not usually there.

It was a black dot.

It was a large black smudge.

It was a moving large black cylinder.

It was a huge squirming black slug on the end of my toothbrush!

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!" I calmly noted as I alighted the toothbrush from my person and placed it, at speed, out into the hallway and down the stairs.

Shaken I sat down on the side of the bath, while I waited for the colour to return to my face. Hannah calmed my brothers and sent them to bed. She came and sat next to me and said:

"Go get a glass of water and I see you upstairs."

I nodded, this was a good idea, so I rose and made my way to the kitchen...

A Date At The Movies

When I was 15 there was a girl I really fancied, she was gorgeous and her dad owned a chemist in the town centre, which was great if I wanted a lolly pop but didn't want to pay for it. Anyway, things with this girl were always a bit strained, so for the sake of ease I decided to forget about her and instead ask her friend to the cinema. Her friend, of course, said yes. We arranged to meet at 7pm on Saturday evening at the Cineworld in the town*.

7pm is prime cinema time. Saturday is prime cinema time. Being a foolish teen-child I did not realise this. We met outside and wandered into the foyer, at least we attempted to wander in. It was less of a wander, more of a high speed people slalom. We darted from gap to gap in the constantly the moving labyrinth. Eventually we made it into the queue. While we waited I tried my hand at some teenage small talk, which was not really anything more than a list of bands that I had heard of.

Imagine this as a cinema and full of people.

We had done it, we had made it to the front of the queue! Unfortunately whatever diabolical semi-pubescent nonsense we were planning on seeing had been sold out. As had everything else, apart from one film I hadn't heard of. I was bold, I decided to chance my arm and buy the tickets to this last remaining film. If my date was impressed with my decisiveness she certainly managed to cover it well, as she ambled out of the queue to look at some ice cream (she didn't buy any), leaving me to pay for her ticket.

"Screen 8, 'Cold Mountain'!" I said with conviction.

"...Yep."  Came a less enthused reply at the till.

The screen was packed, absolutely packed. My date and I had to sandwich ourselves in between two sets of slightly overweight elderly couples (anything over 22years seemed elderly to me then). As they munched loudly and inaccurately on their popcorn I tried to keep the stray fellows from entering my mouth, to little avail.

The lights went down the film started rolling. This film was good, I mean it was really good. I was enthralled. About an hour into the film I let out a loud and less than manly yelp, much to the amusement of those around me. What was the cause of this less than expected excitement? The girl next to me had squeezed my leg! I had completely forgotten about her, she could have choked to death on some vagrant popcorn and I would not have noticed. Now aware of my lack of attentiveness toward this representative of the female gender I sprung into action. An idea came to the front of my mind, it was a classic, the ol' 'Arm Over The Shoulder'. This was perfect, I could make her feel wanted without having to take my eyes of the screen, perfect.

I lent back.

Eyes fixed on the screen.

Stretched my left arm into the air.

It was going great, I could feel the men sat behind me nodding with sage approval. This was the right thing to do.

Eyes fixed on the screen.

As I lowered my arm I felt it moving quickly!

I couldn't slow it down!

CRACK!

I had just elbowed my date on the top of her head in front of a cinema full of people and I had done it very loudly. She said nothing, no complaint, no whimper in pain (which would have been entirely justified). Nothing. As her hand slid away from my lap and moved to literally anywhere but my lap, I felt defeated and rightly so. After the film she hastily made her goodbyes and left (probably to A&E to get herself checked for concussion).

I walked home on my own, buoyed by the knowledge that this evening had become an anecdote.


*I always took my dates to the cinema because I had an unlimited card so didn't have to pay for my ticket and inevitably I would end up paying for whichever cheap tart I had escorting me.


Important Notice:

When I started this blog it was with the intention of actually reviewing things. This theme soon petered out and I haven't come close to doing anything of the sort for quite some time.

With this in mind I think that I need a new name. Please leave your ideas in the usual places; comment box, facebook, owenjohnston88@msn.com. I look forward to reading them.

The Beard

Recently I have been asked a lot about my beard and why it is that I have one (Well, in actuality I haven't, I am making use of artistic licence). People say (well not really), "Owen, it is not too hot for a beard?!", "Don't you get food in it?" and "If you were to kiss another man with a beard would you get stuck together? You know, like velcro".

Here I am with my beard. You can also make out my bet under my tee.

The answers to these questions are: yes, sometimes and I am not sure.

But the is a reason for this facial follicle madness. I have recently blogged about helping the band Arabella film the first part of their music video. The second part of that video involves me. "Great!" I hear you say collectively, "Where can I view this wonderful band's video? I do so love to gaze upon your lovely, albeit hairy, face". Well, unfortunately we haven't filmed my portion yet, but I will let you know (roughly) what we are planning to do.

Some Arabella albums and a tee

http://arabellamusic.bigcartel.com/product/arabella-bundle-tee-and-2-cds

The basic premise is that I walk around twice. But wait, there's more!

The first time I walk around I will do my best to look disheveled and unappealing (this has been a lot of hard work), by having an unkempt beard, wandering about in my "trainspotting" jumper and just generally looking disorientated.

The second time I walk about (I will walk exactly the same route, so we can cut between the two) I will be suited and booted, head held high and most importantly, clean shaven (I may give myself a bit of a hair cut too).

So next time you see me wandering aimlessly along the street please do not stop to help me or offer me temporary accommodation. This is art and for art I must suffer/have a beard.

Zulus, Thousands Of 'Em

It's half term. I did not realise. Today I went to town.

Lets break that last line down:

Half Term:

For those of you not in the know, half term is a short holiday for school in the middle of term time. The current half term is also known as Easter break. 

I Did Not Realise This:

I am a full time student. I have no work. I have no lessons or lectures at the moment. Ergo, I have no concept of time. This has the potential to be quite awkward, as a student I hate blue collar workers and all students are hated by blue collar workers. If I go out in to town of an evening I do my best to avoid Fridays and Saturdays. These days do not belong to students, they belong to the 'live for the weekend', mouth-breathing ultra-proles*. This should be no problem and it isn't if you have even the faintest grasp of time beyond;

Blue collar workers in their natural enviornment

 Day = Light and Night = Dark

Unfortunately I don't and every few weeks I get quite a nasty shock.

Today I Went To Town:

Usually Lincoln town centre is full of students, people on lunch breaks and the sub-working class**. Today, this was not the case. I suffered not only from the usual (Big Issue vendors and AA salesmen) but also from the constant stream of small children trying to trip me up and the large children forcing me to slam through the town centre with all the grace of an aged amputee, with a ear infection.

I eventually got some lunch and have successfully stocked up on enough food so that I need leave my house again.

*It may sound like I am having a go at the working class, but I am not they are a valuable part of our society and, as a non-working member of out society, they are more valuable than me. Also, they won't get offended because their reading material doesn't extend beyond the racist column inches of the Daily Mail.

** You know who you are!

Arabella

Yesterday I was meant to help a friend out recording a music video for his friends band. I couldn't be arsed. I could, however, be convinced to come to the pub for some Old Rosie.

The band, Arabella, I had met once before. We went to see them in Coventry a few months ago and we had a fantastically drunken time, because of how fantastically drunk we were I can't really remember the band too well (despite sleeping at theirs and sitting up half the night discussing things which should never be repeated).

In the band we have James (tambourine hands), Tom (racist), Matt (Ipswich fan) and Adam (great dancer). As I arrived in the pub things were pretty quiet, but very pleasant. The drinks began to flow (I had not been drinking, in preparation for Day of Mann, but I relented). We chatted about Day of Mann, when we last saw each other, my shirt and the lads (its was a laddish kind of night) took the piss out of my charity walk!

We then moved on to my all time (thyme?) favourite watering hole, The Tap and Spile, the spiritual home of Old Rosie. We had some more drinks. James tried and failed to keep up with Katha in a beer mat flipping contest (Katha managed 35!) and we played the 'Hand game', which Matt turned out to be exceptionally good at (Tom was awful!).

The Hand Game

Firstly, if you can think of a better name, please let me know. As it stand the name does the game no justice.

The rules are simple, sit in a circle and place your left hand over the right hand of the person next to you. You should form a unbroken chain. to start an elected person simply pats one of their hands on the table, moving clockwise the person next to them will follow suit. Easy.

There are, however, more rules. If someone double taps it changes the direction of the the game. If you move your hand at the wrong time or hesitate you loose one of your hands (just in the game!) and you have to have a drink. The last two people in the game have won.

After realising that the rest of the pub had been plunged into darkness and that we were the very last people there (bar staff included) we thought it may be time to go home.

When I say home I don't mean mine, but that of my friends Fraser and Paul (not a couple). I played a little (very drunken) Fifa with Adam, while little James had a nap (not sure where everyone else was) I went to sleep, fully clothed on the floor.

I awoke in the morning on the sofa bed next to James, Adam relegated to the floor (not sure how this happened, but it was a nice surprise). We made some tea, bought some food at Tesco's and then headed for the studio.

I hadn't been at the studio the day before so it was a shock to see how professional everything looked. I served little to no purpose for the day other than going on a beer run and trying to distract the band as recording continued.

Adam (left), James (centre), Matt (right) and Tom (out of shot, thank God!)

Around 5.30pm, with the band packed up and the recording (or this segment) completed the boys left for Coventry (not a euphemism) and we went home. The next portion of the video I will be starring in, so I am sure you will be hearing lots about it in the coming weeks.

Despite having to listen to the song around 70 times I like it, so I implore you to give these guys a listen. 

Arabella Info:

http://arabellamusic.co.uk 

http://soundcloud.com/arabella 

http://twitter.com/arabellamusicuk 

http://open.spotify.com/album/4Z3pMNUr4AWwgJeoVoFmf8

It's OK, It Is For A Good Cause

Beggars, love them or hate them (not entirely sure that anyone loves them), they'll always be there. Their job? Hassling strangers for money to be spent on lord knows what.

This is where I come in. Bugging people for money is never acceptable... Unless it is for charity, in which case it is just a nuisance. An acceptable nuisance. I intend to become the person that you will cross the road to avoid in order to achieve my own ridiculously high target.

There is no way of stopping this anti-social behavior but you speed it along by donating and by getting others to donate. Yes, I know, this is far from fair, but I am not going to get incredibly tired and smelly over the summer (when I could be talking to girls!) for a paltry sum (of cash). I am in for the big bucks!

So have one less Bacardi Breezer, walk to work one day this week to save on petrol/bus fair or start cutting your own hair (just for a few weeks). There is no donation too small (although I would really prefer the big ones).

How to shave ones hair (upward strokes... Apparently)

If I could reach my target before I leave (on the 4th of July 2011) it would really help motivate me and I would not consider you all massive bastards.

So go forth and piss people off in order to shut me up.

Donations can (and will!) be made at:

 http://www.justgiving.com/Owen-Johnstons-big-walk

Cheers

The Hike - Planning

I have decided that rather than fussing over dates and such I should just pick a date and stick with it. So Here we go, on Monday the 4th of July 2011 I shall embark on my 3 week (roughly) walk along the coast of England.  I figure that this gives me plenty of time to start raising funds and preparing myself physically for the rigors that such a trip is bound to entail. Hopefully it will also afford me the time to select, purchase and break in some walking boots.

I have been on the Cancer Research UK website today and I have registered my 'Challenge' (their word not mine), so I guess I have to follow through with it now. Tomorrow I intend to setup a donations page through Cancer Research UK and obviously once the very first penny falls into that account I am pretty much committed.

My word, this is becoming very real.

Help Me Do A Charity

Hands up who has organised a charitable thing? (I don't even know what to call them?!) I am in over my head. I have picked a  project. I am going to walk the length of the south coast of England. I have picked a charity, Cancer Research UK. I just have to work out how the hell I am going to do it and what dates to do it on.

Can anybody help me? What is a good sum to raise? Should I do it alone? Can I raise any local media attention in order to raise more cash/awareness? (Cash is more important... Obviously (Also I have said 'raise' a lot, sorry))

Sorry that todays blog has been super brief and super shite, but hopefully this should lead to something bigger and better.

I Owe You Big Time

My good friend Sarah has been a pillar of strength this year. Helping me cope with the withdrawal of that which I held closest to my heart. As many of you know I moved to Lincoln after breaking up with my girlfriend and well, it wasn't easy. I used to idle the hours away in Cambridge, in a way that is not possible here in Lincoln... Because here in Lincoln I can't watch films! (as often).

Oh why? Oh why? Why does Lincoln not have a Cineworld?!

For years I spent almost every day (or evening if I had to go to Uni during the day) at the cinema. How could I afford it I hear you ask? Well I was lucky enough to have a Cineworld cinema unlimited card (Hey, Cineworld if you are reading this, feel free to send me some pop corn or something for this fantastic, buzz generating plug). With this card I was able to see as many films as I liked whenever I liked (provided of course that they were not running simultaneously, which to be honest, is fair enough). Those truly were great days.

Then I moved to Lincoln, this region of the globe is obviously not a fan of film. There is one cinema here in Lincoln, a rather passable, but expensive Odeon. I have fond memories of Odeon, it being the principle cinema in the town I grew up in until it was gazumped (delighted that, after years of toil, I have had an opportunity to use this word!) by the all conquering Cineworld. It was also housed in one of the best building I have ever seen, what do you think?

The Odeon, Ipswich

So with this, coupled with my unemployedness, my visits to 'Das Kino' (the cinema) have been far less frequent and far more infrequent.

Do not fear, I have a saviour. A saint who asks for nothing in return (apart from a story!). Yes every Wednesday when the cinema prices relent Sarah is on hand to give me her Orange Code (Actually, Orange you can give me some free stuff too!). "Callooh!" I open with, "Callay!" often follows. Without the discounted tickets that Sarah's generosity affords me I would not have seen such classics as; The Social Network, Paul and whatever Harry Potter film it was that I saw around Christmas!

Unfortunately for Sarah, I promised her something that I could not deliver. I promised Sarah that I would write her a story by way of thanks. I know, I know. I am a great writer, one of the best, a beacon to others. Alas, I find it dammed near impossible to write a story. Stories are hard. You have to think of all sorts of things:

• Characters
• Setting
• Plot
• More characters
• Dialogues
• Monologues
• Narratives
• And much, much more

So maybe one day, if inspiration should hit I will be able to write Sarah a story, but not any day soon.

So thank you Sarah, Maybe one day I will be able to repay the massive kindness that you have shown me by giving me something that you get for free and seldom use anyway. If only there were more like you...

Sarah Emily Lungley (1989- 2015)

P.s. I know I have written two blogs today. Much time + No money x Zero interest in actual work = Many blogs.

Update: It has been brought to my attention that Sarah does often use the Orange code, but is far more concerned with my wellbeing than her own. Three cheers forr Sarah!