I lament the lack of writing talent in this generation

So, finally, the story of the lovesac. In pictures. The story starts here...
A lovesac store in Vegas. It's the last day of my holiday, and Tom introduces me to this thing called a Lovesac. Before we go any further, I'd like to clarify, IT'S NOT A BEANBAG!
Anyway, my birthday was the following week, I was feeling splurgy and, spurred on by sales staff who assured me it was light enough to travel back with me on the plane, I bought a lovely a Lovesac (a Moviesac to be precise).

Only, once I got to the airport, it was revealed that actually the beast was too heavy for the plane. 20lb too heavy. Not a problem, I hear you say - leave it with Tom. But Tom lef thte airport as soon as he dropped me off. That's OK, call him up and ask him to comeback, you counter. Actually, it turns out I don't have Toms number - its hiding in the depths of an email some where.

So I'm stuck in the aiport with a 40kg big thing, 70 minutes before my flight takes off and nowhere to run. It transpires that the only internet terminal this side of security is out of order and the lady at lost and found wont let me 'lose' it unless it's been through security. She will, however, check my email for me, which would be fine if she had the intelligence to use my name and password correctly. I blame the airport slot machines.

After much too-ing and fro-ing, frantic attemted and unsuccessful calls to various people, I discovered that the terminal has free Wi-Fi. Simple - just find someone with a laptop and I'll be fine. Except the one time I need one seems to be the ONLY time no American is teched up. Ultimately, however, i do find one, call Tom, who screeches around the corner a full 30 minutes before the flight goes airborne.

Cue my turn to sprint through the airport 'Love Actually' style, only to find the biggest queue for security and the need to take a train to my gate. Anyway, I arrive 15 minutes before take off and make it on, in the process soaking my fellow passengers with the rivers of perspiration streaming from my pores.

This story is long enough, so I will conclude by saying that the process of getting to Scotland was long, drawn out and costly. Basically a big big hassle. I wished I'd sold it on ebay far too late. But when it arrived, Boy was I happy! I jumped in my little car and ran all the way to Glasgow to hunt down a dirty warehouse where my baby was hanging out. This truck is an example of the transport she had to suffer.

And this is her sitting in my boot.
My flat mate John helpfully offered a hand in the final leg of transport.
And then she was cut free and allowed to grow. And how she grew!

In short, my non-beanbag (who really needs a name - any suggestions) is gorgeous and THE most comfortable place to spend hours watching football and scrubs. So I extend an open invitation to everyone to come experience her warm embrace.

Oooh a new feature?

IMGP3114
Originally uploaded by Algape.

Turns out I can now post pictures to the blog from Flickr. This isn't so great as I can't see anyway to post more than one picture. If I work it out it might become more exciting. So anyway, this is me and Chris. Chris has just left to go to the middle east to work for Agape for a year and I will miss him a lot.

In other words, I need to blog about the lovesac and 'Honey Alert' (don't visit this if you're at work!), but that might have to wait until the mayhem of Freshers is over.

Lost and Found

I gotchya James, but I don't have your number. Or your new email address. So help me out here...:)

What's that coming over the hill? Is it a Panzer Tank?

Right. Since the last post. Malta, Nottingham (agaaain. Why do they never change the menu? Although the duck in orange and rosemary was a surprise and spankingly good). Edinburgh, finally. Normally I would describe myself as a person with persistently itchy feet, but this summer, despite having done more travelling than an STD in Bangkok, I have found myself persistently missing Edinburgh. This place rocks.

So before the trip with Granny to Malta, I realised that it would be my last bit of Fringe Festival action this year, and that a sensible plan would be to make the most of it. So Monday and Tuesday both involved 4am returns to bed (and involved much high jinks and the story of the woman who 'I altered' - I would relate it but it is a little egocentric and people might (possibly rightly) of being big headed) and then Wednesday involved just not bothering to go to bed at all. I had to be at the airport for 6:30am, so rather than getting an hours sleep and trying to make it there, I figured it would be more fun just to stay up (although going to bed might have meant avoiding Mr Old Man obviously lost watching a ska band who relentlessly talked to me about Elvis for half an hour). Needless to say, the rest of the day was pretty hellish, and the family saw the worst of me (apart from when they got to see my athletic prowess, running through the airport Love Actually style to get to a post box), but when we got to Valletta, it was very pretty.

In fact, most of Malta is pretty, as long as you stay near the coast. The rest of it is dry and dusty, but seeing as its a small island, a lot of it is coast. And the diving is incredible. I got to do a couple of dives with a random guy running a dive school out of an old Ice Cream kiosk, on some wrecks and through some caves. This isn't a very interesting story to anyone who doesn't dive, but I saw a few stingrays, and flying gurnards and stuff you dont get in the UK.

The other thing Malta has lots of is old stuff. The have religious temples 1000 years older than stonehenge and lots of catacombic tombs. Here's a picture (OK, there isn't cos blogspot aren't letting me, but check out Flickr instead).

The Nottingham trip doesn't have much to report on other than that I led worship for our Student Ministry staff conference we had, and my voice got likened to Chris Rea's. And the man was serious.

Oh and has anyone heard of Bic Runga? She's incredible and I got to stand right at the front for her concert last night. I know you're jealous.

Edit: In response to the comment - no the Lovesac has not yet arrived, however the saga has extended with the addition of more costs assosiated with customs. But today is the day it's supposed to land in Liverpool docks. So as long as those cheeky scousers don't nick it, we'll be alright.