Today I turn 30 years of age.

I thought I would accept and embrace the experience with dignity and happiness.

It turns out not. Yesterday as the seconds ticked down I was gripped with an almost deragned panic that my youth was about to be over, as the precious seconds ticked ticked ticked away.

I had to get out.

So I went down the gym, already in a bad mood.

Not good for the January Sales crowd that still linger, having decided to ignore my advice on joining a gym at the start of the new year.

I jumped on the cross trainer, eager to prove a point to myself, ready to mash it up big time, ride the burn, rip it up and show every one how its done.

Things were going well. I started the final 5 mins of my session well on course for a new personal best with my headphones on and the music rocking.

The main problem though is that after such a long time on the cross trainer I am absolutely exhausted and also incredibly angry. Its not a good idea to even look at me in such a situation, let alone try and talk to me.

Which is exactly what one of the newbies tried.

I could tell he was a newbie right away. There were at least 4 cross trainers free in the gym, but this guy chose the one right next to me.

I disliked him immediately.

I entered the final minute of the workout. Increasing the tempo to make sure I hit my target. Sweat poured, teeth grinded, legs pumped and blood boiled. I looked beautiful.

Then out the corner of my eye newbie is waving at me

I ignore him.

He then starts waving the TV remote control in my face.

I take off my headphones..

newbie: - ‘do you mind if I change the TV channel?’
me - ‘WHAT???? ( I hadn’t even noticed there was a TV) - I dont give a rats ass!!!!!’

then the bit that sent me into a rage:

newbie: ‘Australian huh?’

My rage levels, already on red alert from exhaustion and a lack of oxygen boiled over and went into overdrive. I half lunged half fell off the cross trainer and made a grab for the idiot newbie.

I was honestly ready to kill him.

My outstretched arms JUST missed him as he turned and jumped off the machine, still blissfully unaware of how close he was to death.

I hated him so much I had to wake up early this morning to fit in a bit more hate time, because there are not enough hours in the day.

So perhaps now that I`ve hit THE BIG Three (uh) oh I`ll begin to mellow a bit more.

But if I were you I wouldn’t bank on it and if you see me in the gym ripping it up big time I`d keep well clear

and most certainly dont wave any TV remote controls in my face…

but never ever ever call me Australian.

Tomorrow is the end of the world as I know it.

I turn 30.

Yes, this is the last post I will be making in my twenties.

Which means the real reason for me moving to California has become clear. If I had stayed in the UK then I would have (at current time of writing) just over 8 hours remaining before I hit the big THREE OH.

On the other hand, if I had decided to accept the job I was offered in Australia rather than the one I opted for in California, I would have turned thirty yesterday.

So by moving to California I have extended my life.

How long can I keep old age at bay?

I`m gong to get on monster.com and see if I can get me a job in Samoa.

That’ll keep me in the twenties for another three hours at least.

Yesterday morning, as suspected, my shipment from the UK arrived here in the US.

It was all very exciting. The thing is that as the packers arrived back in my flat in Edinburgh in October last year I hadn’t really given much thought about what I wanted to have shipped over here. I kind of ended up just walking about the place pointing at things more or less at random which the team them took and wrapped up and put away in cardboard boxes.

I liked it. It gave me a sense of power. I caught my inner monologue shouting ‘yes!!!!! I control packing monkey!!!!!’

Simple things please me it seems.

So I started unpacking the boxes yesterday with the same feeling of opening gifts at Christmas, although technically it was all my stuff in the first place.

There was quite a bit of stuff I had forgotten that I`d packed. My favourite ‘Incredibles’ mug, my dalek alarm clock, K9 cookie jar etc etc. The main thing I was waiting for though was my mood lighting, lava lamp and Clavinova (electric piano).

So imagine how excited I was to plug each of them into the mains…..

and find out that none of them worked.

Gutted.

Insufficient power!!!! - again.

The piano didn’t work at all. The mood lighting only works with red colours and the lava lamp is so dim that it never gets hot enough to melt the wax!!!!

GGGRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!

So I`m off today to buy a few power converters. I`m sure nothing can go wrong.

I didn’t go and buy them yesterday because I was up in Snow Summit skiing.

A great time it was too. Although we needed quite a vehicle to get 3 loads of ski equipment up the mountain in icy conditions.

The Hummer just about made it.

:)

One of the terms and conditions in my contract is that the company will ’ship out up to 230kg’ of my personal belongings to my permanent residence while living outside of the UK. There are some conditions, for example they will not ship out a car etc etc, but there is no deadline in the contract for when the shipment needs to take place.

So last October, some 18 months after leaving the UK for the OC I decided to take up the offer and had a few things collected from my place in Edinburgh.

A bean bag.
Computer monitor.
A chair
a piano

just a few bits and bobs.

The delivery team arrived, packaged everything up and took it all away ready to be shipped out to my address in California.

Then I get back to work in Paris and get a frantic phone call from my manager. Without going into too much detail and to cut a fairly long story short, my company has decided that they wont pay to have my items shipped out for me as its too far into the contract and if I wanted them so badly out in California I should have had them shipped some time ago.

I pointed out that there was no time limit on the contract, that other staff had things shipped out just weeks before me and that I had acted well above board with the entire process, going through HR and following instructions to the letter.

I was told they would not pay the 5000 pounds shipping fee, case closed.

Eventually after 2 weeks passed I was told that the company would agree to keep my items in storage for me while I was abroad. They seemed to think that I should be grateful for this too.

I left it at that. Pick and choose your battles I always say. I had bigger fish to fry.

Fast forward to yesterday afternoon. Sat at my desk here at work and I get a phone call that went smoething like this:

me - ‘Good afternoon, Edinburgh festival Grinch here’
caller - ‘ Hello Mr Grinch, just letting you know that your air shipment from the UK has arrived in Corona California and wanted to know which date you want the package to be delivered to your address in Fullerton’
me - ‘Whoooooooaaaaaaaaaa????’
caller - long pause.

So something has been shipped over from the UK for me. I`ve heard nothing from my company, so god knows whats coming over.

Its going to be fun finding out though.

The container arrives tomorrow morning.

Wednesday saw me arrive back in the OC for the first time since I left back on 2nd October last year.

Already I`m starting to get annoyed.

Which is a shame really because things started off pretty well. Sat in Heathrow terminal 5 I found a bar that served Deuchars IPA which is one of my favourite beers and impossible to find in southern Califonrnia, so I filled myself up with a few pints and jumped onto my plane headed for Los Angeles. I was in no rush to get on the plane. I had already booked my seats the day before using the BA website and I knew I already had the seats next to the emergency exit, not that I`m paranoid, its just that those seats always give you extra leg room.

I sat down and got myself ready for the 11 hour flight.

Then the baby next to me started crying.

and crying

and carried on crying.

The urge to kill started to rise.

Then the hostess came along and asked if I wouldn’t mind giving up my seat so that a family that had been separated could all sit together. I was offered a regular seat a few rows back.

I refused.

So she upgraded me to Premium Economy.

Nice.

So 11 comfortable hours later I arrived back in my cobweb covered apartment and to the joys of the local beers.

Bud Light - I found a few cans left over in the fridge and opened one. Three months away in Europe enjoying some of the best beer in the world and here I was back on the fizzy piss. Honestly, if you`ve never had bud light, its worth your while trying it, it`ll make Fosters taste like premium Belgium beer.

The urge to kill grew stronger.

So to calm down this weekend I went off to the beach. It was 28C, clear sky and lovely.

Not bad for January huh?

Then I got a cab - taxi - back to the apartment and I was chatting to the driver, who was not the sharpest tool in the box. The ‘conversation’ went like this:

him - ‘not seen you in a while’
me - ‘nope, I`ve been in Europe the past 3 months.’
him - ‘well you missed all the cold weather here’
me - ‘well it got down to about minus 9 Celsius back home’
him - ‘wow, I guess that must be below freezing point huh?’
me - ‘…………………………’

Urge to kill rising!!!

Its that time of year again when all the fat losers head on down to my gym in a pathetic and pointless dream of becoming more like myself.

Every single year its the same.

Fortunately for me though I fly back to Southern California tomorrow morning where people dont tend to go for the January sales down at their local gym - they head to their nearest plastic surgeon instead.

I prefer that, it keeps the gym clear of losers and out of my way.

This morning for instance I was down the gym ripping it up, massive style, showing everyone how it was done, beating up new members, telling them they are wasting their time and money - just my usual routine. In the 2 hours I was there they had 12 new people being shown around the gym. I would bet my bottom dollar that come March only 1 or 2 will be still actively using the gym.

All 12 will still be paying though.

Every year the same - people sign up for the 6 month contract and after 3 weeks they never see the gym again.

So this year if you`re really thinking of joining the gym just to fulfil some new years resolution, please dont bother. It`ll end up costing you an arm and a leg, you wont last the distance.

But more importantly, you`ll be getting in my way!

Picking up from my post of Last Friday and my chaotic adventure of trying to get from Glons in Belgium, to Liege then on to Paris, collect my things from my apartment, get a train to Paris CDG airport and then catch a flight to Liverpool.

Things were going badly, but after I arrived in Paris just after 4 and did not need to be on a train until about 7:30; plenty of time to get back to my place, pack up the last of my things, grab a bite to eat, call a cab and get my train to the airport. Loads of time, stress time was over, it was time for Christmas and relaxing.

That was the plan.

So imagine my surprise when I opened the front door to my apartment in Paris and found the lights already switched on, a few pairs of women’s boots in the hallway, an angry Australian guy and my suitcase waiting at the door.

Happy I was not.

It seems as though the people I book my apartments through either double booked my apartment with someone else for the last day, or expected me to be out by 7am on the last day. Considering I`d been in the apartment for about 3 months you’d like to think someone might have mentioned something about it before.

Instead of waiting for me to get back to pack up my things the apartment company had sent some cleaners around to pack up my things into my suitcase ready for me to collect. The problem with that, apart from the small fact of having complete strangers go through all my stuff, is that they were not to know what in the apartment was mine, and what was not. Furthermore the angry Australian seemed reluctant to allow me anywhere into the apartment beyond the front hall, so this meant I had to repack my suitcase with things I had brought back from Belgium right in front of him in the hallway, while all the time swearing and cursing the apartment renting company.

I couldn’t even go in for a sit down and to order a cab, so after I hastily re-arranged my backpack and suitcase I took off on the 2 mile - yes - 2 MILE walk to the train station. Calling a cab on the streets in Paris on a Friday night is not an option. Fortunately I was so angry with the rental company that it gave me the energy to lug my suitcase over the cobbled streets of Paris and to ‘The Great Canadian’ pub just before the train station. I stopped for a pint and a burger and to regroup and compose myself, and also to change my shirt which was soaking with sweat, but had already started to freeze due to the low temperatures outside.

Slightly happier after being fed and beered I headed off to get my train, and for the first time that day things were going well. The speedy train to the airport arrived within 30 seconds on being on the platform, the train was not over-crowded and we pulled away in to the Paris underground.

and stopped.

and stayed stopped.

and waited and waited.

With no announcements.

For half an hour.

Then eventually we moved into the busiest station in Paris, Gare du Nord, where the train stopped and picked up passengers that would normally have occupied 4 trains. Sardines in a can - more like particles in a black hole. Of course I was the most popular guy there with my large backpack and suitcase which was too big to get into the overhead compartments.

I held it together just about long enough to get to the airport without killing anyone, and checked into my flight on time.

Then I went through security, and had to have my bags inspected. It turns out that in my flap back in the apartment I had forgotten some of the things I had in the backpack that could not go through security, like liquids etc etc. So some things I had bought for Christmas for people back in the UK had to be left behind at Paris airport.

Not a good day.

But I got back to Liverpool on time and met my parents who brought me back home to enjoy Christmas.

Which I did spectacularly.

And had a great New Year too.

Happy New Year!!!!