You`d have thought that Easter would be a public holiday over here in the US. Most TV stations blurt out religious programmes night and day, all week long.

But no, today and last Friday I am stuck here at work.

Although I`m not doing much. We`ve had network problems all day today which means all I`ve been able to do it just sit here on project GP (Getting paid).

So I think we might split early today and head off to the bar and get drunk.

In the name of Jesus of course

Most nights during the week and most afternoons at the weekends I spend relaxing in my apartment hot tub. Its not bad really. Sitting there under the clear night sky with the sound of the Disneyland fireworks going off just a couple of miles down the road. Things could be a lot worse.

But my happy place last week turned into something terrible, it became the Pool of Death.

It started when my Scottish colleague Dave and I decided to meet up there for a beer and a chat just to round off the day. I showed up first and noticed that the water was a bit on the murky side. No matter, I`m sure its all fine. So I turned on the jets and jumped in.

Nice.

Then a little while after Dave turns up and we start chatting away and start to work on the beers.

All is going well.

Then Dave’s face turned all worried and sour. He starts splashing water up to his nose and sniffing.

“Something smells funny here”

more sniffing.

“This water smells like rotted flesh”

more sniffs.

Then in a voice you would expect from Fraser from Dad’s Army he said:

“Thats the smell of DEATH".

HOLY SH********T!!!!.

I dont think I`ve ever looked so scared. I swear if this had been a scene from a Hollywood movie then a skeleton’s hand would have risen up from the water and pulled me under.

I was not taking any chances.

I leapt out of the tub like a scalded cat.

Later, our investigations found no sign of a dead animal in the water, so we just left it at that and went back to our apartments.

I`m told by another colleague of mine though that he was speaking to the pool cleaner the very next day and mentioned that he was heading down to the hot tub, to which the cleaner replied:

“Oh god, no, dont go in there. We`ve just had to fill it up with cholorene to clean it out. I wouldn’t go in there if I were you”

I think I might find something else to do of an evening for the next week or month, year decade etc etc etc

Its my own fault really.

I should never have had it done at a place where the employees dont speak English.

All I wanted to have done were the tips of my hair, not all over, just some, in a combination of caramel and light blonde to complement my natural hair colour.

I knew things were wrong right from the off, the moment she came at me with a paint brush doused in brown goo.

But by the time I realised what was going on it was too late:

I forgot about it and totally freaked myself out the morning after when I saw myself in the mirror.

I hope it grows out in time for my visa interview in London on 7th April. I need to have a new photo taken for it before then too

Next time I`ll go somewhere they speak English.

Earlier today my last and final student loan repayment came out of my bank account.

My loan from 4 years studying for my undergraduate degree has for the last 5 years been taking 93 pounds per month out of my bank account.

But no more.

The final link connecting me to my student days is gone

So I`m going to Six Flags again on Saturday to celebrate with my new found wealth!

:)

For my birthday Fi bought me, amongst other things a Gorillapod.

Its a tripod for use on cameras but it has bendy legs so you can make it level on any surface or attach it to a tree, or railing or child’s bike … anyway….

Its also really useful to use to take pictures with a long exposure at low light conditions since you just put the camera down on the gorillapod and its perfectly still, unlike if you were to hold it in your hand. We even used it last weekend as a kind of handle to film ourselves going down the slopes on my last ski trip - more on that in a few days.

So here are a few pictures I took with the gorillapod during my last trip to Paris:

Before you ask, no I`m not getting commission, but perhaps I should be…

I`ve been back in SoCal now for a week and its been fun. I`ve already been skiing again last Monday, I dont think I was supposed to be at work, and I`ve arranged to go skiing again next weekend already.

I`ve deliberately been waiting a while before I posted anything about my last weekend in Paris.

For legal reasons.

It all started on the Wednesday afternoon when I got a phone call from a friend of mine who I used to work with about 10 years ago. We`ve always kept in touch and meet up once every couple of years or so. Kev, as he is known, is known for his legendary rash decisions. So it was not much of a surprise that he told me he was planning on coming to visit me in Paris…

the next day.

on his motorbike.

from Liverpool.

for one night only.

And turn up he did - with another of my ex-colleagues, Chris. They turned up on a motorcycle at about 9pm on the Thursday in what looked like a scene straight out of dumb and dumber. The 2 of them had driven through freezing fog all the way from Calais at 100mph and both were frozen solid to the bike. I could just about make out Chris’s words to me through his frozen jaw:

“I cant tell you how happy I am to be here".

Indeed.

After that he slid off hte back of hte bike and onto his back with his legs still locked in the sitting position. He stayed there for about a minute.

The rest of the night went well, showed them around Paris, had some food, a good chat and a few beers. Then the morning came it was time for them to head off back to Blighty. All that way for just one night. Cheers guys, that was good.

But there is more and my story gets better:

Later that day saw the arrival of 2 other friends from the UK, Col, who I worked with about 4 or 5 years ago and someone who I have remained good friends with since, and Chris, my best friend who I have known since I was 4, a top top man and the best friend anyone could wish for.

Heavy drinkers the pair of ‘em.

So it was not much of a surprise that we had our first beer at 2pm on the Saturday and had our last at around 5am on the Sunday with many in-between separated by only the odd jagerbomb. The only soft drink to pass my lips in that time was toothpaste.

As always I dont remember too much of the evenings events and am entirely reliant on my camera. But what my camera showed on the Sunday afternoon was not fun:

It seems that I made my way home on a child’s bike.

The only vague and poorly lit memory I have of this is that there was a squeaky horn on the handlebar which my knee connected with every time I peddled. The faster I got the more squeaks came from thr horn. Not the greatest get away vehicle I dont think.

Which is why I wanted to make sure I was in a different continent before I posted about my last few nights in Paris.