Yesterday I managed to do what I always to with women: fuck it up. I went to the Sandwich Shop and got served by SSG, and she spent ages on my sandwich, slicing up olives individually (if the shop likes you, they slice up spherical accompnyments) and laying them on my sandwich. I even managed a funny compliment: “I don’t whether to eat or frame that sandwhich!”. Okay, it’s hardly hilarious, but it’s a safe way to make her laugh, can’t really launch into an aristrocrats style joke with people I don’t know, can I? Nevertheless, she giggled and began conversation.
“So you’ve been coming in here quite a lot recently, what do you do?”
“I’m a web designer.”
At this point I remembered advice that Sarah gave me: ask questions to make them like you, as then you’ll seem interested. So I did.
“So, what do you do?”
Foot. Meet mouth. She stared at me, cajun chicken covered knife in hand, and tilted her head as if to say “what a dumb thing to say.”. I giggled and left it. I changed the subject to something else, and got talking about Colwyn Bay FC, which – luckily – didn’t seem to bore her. I said I was going today, so hopefully she decides to take a chance and go to Llanelian Road today.
In other news: Big Brother finished last night, with Glyn finishing second. I’ll be honest, I watched none of it, just the first 3 or 4 episodes. Nevertheless, I liked Glyn. He seemed normal and very amicable, and has done a hell of a job promoting North Wales and Welsh, proving that we’re not all inbred hicks. It’s been quite surreal in that – footballers aside – I know very few “celebrities” from North Wales. Since Glyn entered the house, everybody has claimed to know something about him. I’ve heard “oh, I’ve played football in his back garden”, “my mate dated his sister” and the strange “oh, when I was swimming and got in trouble, he came and rescued me”. If he stays in the North Wales area, rather than go chase his fortune in London, he could be very popular, and switch on the Christmas lights everywhere. Though he seems grounded – and is going to Bangor University in September, good on him.
I don’t often say “I wish I was more like somebody”, but I wish I could speak Welsh as well as him. And to answer the most popular e-mail question I’ve had in the last few weeks: no, I sound nothing like him.
Right, it’s nearly midday, and I’m still in bed. I’m due to be at the football in an hour, to take advantage of the new clubhouse and our sponsorship by Boddingtons, which makes a change from the usual “Who?” question I ask whenever they announce who is sponsoring us this year. However, may take it a little easy today, because as well as my lucky scarf, I’ve also got my lucky hangover. I drunk quite a lot of an ale called “Fish King” last night that I was slurring my words so bad at the end of the night, I asked the barmaid for a “Fisting”.