Escape To Victory

Now let me tell you this, last week I spent the majority of the week away from University. It was a welcome escape which came at just the right time.

Don’t get me wrong, I love University and enjoy both my course and the social life immensely but living amongst students, in halls, is like living in an alternative universe. You spend all your time in each others pockets, not literally I must add, that would require the dexterity and skill that only the little Chinese man in Ocean’s Eleven possesses. The little things that annoy you about people are magnified, and if you are a grumpy old man like me, this sets the wheels in motion for weeks of moaning and angry rants about anything and everything.

In any normal environment, and if I was any normal person, these rants would end up ostracising the people around me. Luckily this is far from a normal environment, and I am far from a normal person. My rugged good looks and even more rugged facial hair gives my admirers the sense that the grizzly bear within could be unshackled at any time, and they have come to expect, accept and somewhat love this facet of my personality. However, I do not enjoy being grumpy and needed to get away to rediscover the happier, more charming Holden.

The week began with a visit back to the family home in Poole, Dorset to see the old, crazy parents I mentioned last week. It was nice to be back in a bedroom that had wallpapered walls instead of breeze blocks. It was nice to sleep on a double bed, with a mattress that didn’t have a plastic, waterproof coating. The trust that you won’t need a piss guard on your mattress at the age of 23 is the kind of trust you could only expect from an adoring parent. It was nice to be fed with proper food. It was nice to be able to watch television whilst lying on a sofa. And at the risk of never living this down, it was nice to have a cuddle from the people that gave the world the greatest blogger you will ever meet. I joke of course, my sister has never written a blog, and if she did it probably wouldn’t be as good as mine.

Whilst in Poole my lovely Father took me to see Ricky Gervais’ new stand up show Science. Gervais is my hero and, needless to say, I thought he was excellent. Obviously after the show I dropped Ricky an email, giving him some tips on what he could have done better. I haven’t received a reply yet but I’m sure that’s because he is so busy re-working his show to fit in my ideas. I think if he takes my advice he could go pretty far.

After popping back to Luton for a lecture I skipped merrily on to London to revisit the sight of some of my greatest triumphs. To name but a few, the demolition of a KFC Fully Loaded Meal in under 2 minutes, the creation of a make shift business card to impress a particularly attractive American barmaid, and the completion of the Hip Hop Workout 2 DVD whilst wearing a Rob Lowe vest.

Whilst in London I visited my trusty Romanian stylist Florin. He gave me the greatest haircut this side of Bucharest. The salon he works in has a list of clients that consist of some British comedy stars, such as Michael McIntyre and Reece Shearsmith (League of Gentleman). I know what you're thinking, why haven’t you included your name on the list Sam? Well as you know readers, I am too modest. The problem with the 2 examples I have given is that they both have awful hair. Let’s brush past that (see what I did with the brushing comment?).

Being back in London was fun. I caught up with some old friends. I say some because a couple were around the same age as me.

Seeing friends helped me rediscover who I really am and made me realise I have been acting quite differently at Uni because it is such a young and carefree environment. In particular my friend Mule, who strongly resembles Max Branning of Eastenders fame, helped me to restore faith in myself, and more importantly the Holden Charm.

Now, if you aren’t familiar with the Holden Charm it is either because you are a) male, b) related to me, or c) not sexually attractive.

The charm knows no bounds. It is powerful. It is dangerous. And most of all, it is effective. But strangely it has been lacking of late. I needed the words of wisdom from Max, I mean Mule, to prompt me to dust the charm off, and bring it back out.

I also got to spend some invaluable time with my little sister. When I say little I don’t mean she is younger. In fact she is 6 years older than me, she is just tiny, like Ronnie Corbett but thin and without the golf jumpers. Come to think of it she is another person who could actually live in your pocket. Not that you would want her to. She has far too much wind and needs feeding on an hourly basis.

My sister is the greatest. Fact. There isn’t much else I can say on the matter without writing a whole other post. Needless to say she helped to restore the happiness that exudes from this blog. And also she let me eat some of her crispy aromatic duck after I crudely overlooked it when ordering a Chinese meal on Friday.

To round off the near perfect weekend (I only had one KFC, hence the ‘near’) I went up to Manchester to see my team Manchester United play, with my best friend Ally Harris.

Whilst I love seeing United play, and win, at Old Trafford the trips are so fun because of the journey. Ally is a strange best friend. I say that because, apart from just generally being a little strange, we don’t seem to speak or see each other much but when we do we are guaranteed to have an awesome time, regardless of what we are doing.

It’s also quite strange that I actually do like him, or call him my best friend. This is because he is one of those annoying people that seem to be good at everything. I usually hate those people. He is about as good at sport as you can get without being professional, he is intelligent (nearly as clever as me), a good cook, a good driver, a good physique (I’m not gay), can eat more than me (now that is impressive), and if you squint a bit I suppose some people might say he is semi handsome. The one thing Ally can’t do is sing, and this brings me on to the journey.

The journey consists of 3 essential items; anticipation of the match with feverish football debates, a KFC at the service station for lunch (and in an ideal world, another KFC for dinner) and singing along to the Manchester Playlist.

The latter is the most important. The playlist consists of 11 hours worth of painstakingly selected sing along songs. These tunes can range from Boyz II Men to Bon Jovi. It is essential that there is exactly the right blend of songs to ensure we are in full voice for the whole of the journey. The only problem is, for a delicate and beautiful voice like mine (for those of you wondering if I’m classically trained, I’m not, it's just natural) it is hard to stay pitch perfect with Harris whaling next to me. Although it does make for some great looks from passers by.

So I leave you with this thought my friends. Now that I have been very complimentary about my friends and family will they actually start to READ MY BLOODY BLOG?