Too much stuff in my head

I suppose that is why I called it Brainache. I want to write something and vent a bit but just don’t know what to say. Grrrrrrrrrrrrr! Really just want to stop thinking for a while.


I have no dedication and seem to have a fear of commitment.

Yeah, ok! So it has been nearly a month without a peep from me, you are all probably worried I fell into a cave or have been sticking knives in toasters again. Not the case! Perhaps it has been a slow month, nothing to write about? Nope! I’m just really bad at committing to things. Sorry!

I shall summarize what has been going on in my tiny little world and even tinier little brain:




went the weekend before Easter. Met some more of Neil’s friends. Saw King Tut’s stuff , the young man was keen on canes! Met up with May-z. Experienced the apocalypse on the Circle Line. Watched people watch rugby. Stayed at the most interesting hotel in the city (2 rooms for the price of 1 is still a bargain, even if the second room is hidden inside the first, was designed for PORGs and MUST remain locked at all times!). Played pool at a mafia run bar, Neil was my coach and kept giving tips in the form of math exam questions:” A train leaves Glasgow at 5pm travelling at 35mph, at the same time a bus leaves……” surprisingly I was crap. Tried to go to a pub after 11.30 but apparently that is the time the whole of London (excluding McDonald’s) shuts down. Went to the tower of London and cringed at all the American accents.Easter:

Spent Easter in at Neil’s brother’s in Devon. Climbed some rocks, did some letter-boxing (that sounds like some sort of deviant sexual act doesn’t it? I assure you it is good clean fun) and marvelled at the sun/snow. No chocolate eggs were harmed this year.Boozing:

a couple of weekends ago I somehow managed to end up drunk in The Plough with Neil, Spex, Bob, Jackie (apparently she went home early on, but somehow I did not realise), Nick………and my BOSS! I remember talking a load of pants, walking him to pick up point and then flowering a Mini. The next day I had a hangover, I felt fine physically but emotionally…..well the prettiness of the flowers outside Neil’s house was offending me, so I lounged at home. That night we had a lovely meal at Bob and Jackie’s and discovered that Spex is a bit of a fussy eater.

Ah well, lunch hour is up. Must dash!

Matthew Bellamy: A Classically Trained Pianist


Last night Jackie, Bob, Neil and I went to the Vue cinema to watch Muse’s Wembley gig from last summer (me being the only one who did not get to attend one of the real gigs, barstewards!) and I must admit I was impressed. I knew they were good but did not fully comprehend the true extent of their Rock Godliness.

There were guitars that had their own Segways, ladies dangling from balloons, loads of flash-bang-whizzes, a possible guest performance by Patrick Moore on the xylophone, a bashful bassist and performances that were stunning and exhausting to watch.

Matt Bellamy seems to have the fastest fingers in the word and can make his voice/guitar/piano do whatever he god damn pleases. He also skips and spins and knee-slides like all good Devonians do and has quite oddly angular/Elvish good looks. He is only 2’5″ and can be worn as a pendant. I have admired this man since I was 17. This has led me to wonder if one of my past relationships really only happened because the man in question looked like him, and that I was imagining him to be as Bellamy-esque in other areas. Am I that shallow?….don’t answer that!

But I have to admit that  there was something even more alluring than Mr Bellamy on that screen last night, and it was one of his guitars. It was red and sparkly with a pad at the base that made stylophone-like squeaks and bloops. Just look at it!!!


So to sum up: great night, great company, great guitars etc!

The Importance of Choosing the Correct T-Shirt.

It is a long one.

 In the beginning…. 

Last weekend started at 12.45 onFriday afternoon, due to me having convinced Bernie to let me have a half-day so that I may have an emergency kidney transplant (he said I would have to have an important reason). After a bit of pootling about, both in town and at home, I headed to Neil’s. From there we collected some bread and wandered to the Swan via our secret duck cache. The usual Swan antics occurred, the only blemishes on the night were my deteriorating short-term memory and the fact that the Jukebox stopped and would not work no matter how hard people sucked on their 50ps! An Inferno Pizza was purchased on the trip home, which led to some very grumbly stomachs.

A Chavalcade™

On Saturday I was allowed a lie in before we began our voyage to England’s second city. We knew it was going to be an eventful trip by the supreme quality of the Chavs at the station. Firstly a young lad, obviously not satisfied by wearing enough gold chains to BA Barracus envious, decided that a fistful of wooden roses would make his title as ‘The King of Bling’ official. He was quickly outshone by a pair a females, one dressed like an escapee from East17 and the other wearing jeans 2 sizes to small (causing her pants and stomach to bulge up and over like the flow from a fake tan volcano). Neil and I had the pleasure of being sat next to these examples of grace and refinement all the way to Brum. The obligatory shouting down their mobiles and swearing began in earnest. Personally my favourite part was when the Brain Harvey wannabe thought she could smell smoke “This f***ing train better not f***ing blow up, I’m tellin’ yas!” She also seemed obsessed with spraying herself with some sort of old lady scented body spray… every five minutes!!


“He flies through the air with the greatest of ease, the daring young waiter on the flying trapese…”


 On arrival we mooched about the shops for a bit and then had lunch at Bella Italia. We were served by the stealthiest and most eager to please waiter in the world, we thought that he must have employed some sort of aerial harness contraption so that he could sneak up on us without a sound. The food was lovely; Neil was especially pleased with the fancy Parmesan grater and the fact that I asked him to eat my extra onions. Just when I thought things could not get any better…. they did. In walked an old man in a full-length embroidered robe, wearing a top hat. Plastered on the front of that hat was a sign in traditional print saying “Nation of Drunks”. We were a tad confused, unsure as to whether he was the king of that nation or protesting against it. We decided that it was probably the latter, and that he had been summoned to that restaurant after the waiter tried to force Neil to have a beer.

After a bit more mooching we ended up in the Bull Ring where many discoveries were made. One of these was that I do not like crowds, especially if they are made up of smelly people who are not spatially aware. We also discovered that I am fussy about trainers (and a bit of a scrooge when it comes to how much I am willing to spend on them). Not to be outdone, Neil made a discovery of his own in the sweet department of Selfridges’. He managed to find the worlds most disgusting mint chocolate, which he kindly shared with me. It was very much like eating chocolaty toothpaste, but much much worse! Drink alone could not clear it, so Oreos were required. They worked but did not resolve the mint burps, that hours later caught you by surprise.

By now we had wandered to the Carling Academy, where we would be seeing Band of Horses play in about an hour. We decided to spend that spare hour in a pub and preceded to what turned out to be a rather intimidating Rock/Goth bar. After about 10 mins of cowering in the corner, looking “very normal” I felt I had to point out Neil’s poor choice of t-shirt for that day. He was wearing a black t with the slogan “cheer up goth!” printed on it, apparently he had not realised and we left very soon afterwards.

The Beardyguard

As soon as we got in the Academy Neil had to look at the merchandise table. He quickly spotted that there were 2 different types of Band of Horses (BoH) t-shirts on offer, a lovely red number and an understated beige affair. The choice was a bit too much for him, but he knew he must have one. The only thing holding him back was the stigma of being the first to buy (which apparently makes you a nerd). So we sat and watched the table, which soon attracted a group of American men with beards (who later turned out to be the support act, which was clearly noted by the inferior size of their facial fuzz) who oohhed and ahhed over the BoH stuff.


Soon another beard was released from the backstage area; and this one was an exquisite example of chin shrubbery. We assumed that the man attached to it was from the BoH. He too inspected the goods before disappearing into the forbidden zone. I call it the forbidden zone but honestly security (aka an unimpressed teenage girl slumped by the curtain) seemed a bit lax. We hatched a plan to try and get backstage, I would exaggerate my accent claiming to be PR and that Neil would be a journo with The Fly (the only piece of press we had with us at the time).


As we were refining the details of our plan the man with the amazing beard reappeared. He was ushered through the crowd by a smaller hirsute man, who was obviously there to ensure the safety of his beard and is therefore The Beardyguard.

It is at this point that I must comment on the comitment of young groupies theses days. There were 2 pairs of teenage girls hanging around the merch table at this time and both completely missed the fact that one of the people they had spent their parents hard earnt money on coming to see was having a bit of  a wander about. The first pair were to engrossed in taking pictures of their own faces, and the second were thieving flyers. It seems that some people are so obsessed by having some sort of proof that they have done something that they actually miss out on the bits that make it great.


Anyhoo, he took the stage and began performing some of his own songs, at first this made us doubt whether he was one of the BoH but the feel of the songs made it quite clear he was. His name is Taylor Ramsey and he did a song that I recognised the name of but not sure from where. Next on were  the support act, I thought they were good but any band that has the drummer play a washboard and the lead singer a mouth keyboard (melodica) has my vote.

By this point our usual idiot magnet was working and tall and irritating oafs surrounded us. So when BoH appeared and the lead singer sat down to perform their first song I was not a happy camper. That all soon changed as he stood up for the rest of the set and sang his heart out. You’ve got to love a man whose wisdom teeth you can see when he sings. It was superb, they were very tight and you would be hard pushed to tell the difference between their live work and a studio track. I didn’t even mind the guy behind me hitting me on the head, or the guy in front of me slowly blocking my view.


Neil really enjoyed it, which after all is the most important thing as it was one of his Xmaspresents. On the way out he purchased the red t-shirt, and I bought myself a BoH tote bag. From a distance it just looks like a bag of beards. We then made our way to the station, picking up some food along the way. It had been a long day, some of us were starting to get a bit grumpy, but was a great night.



Weekend, Wobble-Boards and Woes.

Hello again, surprised to see me? Well you should be!

Friday I tried posting but it disappeared into the ether. Somewhere out in the universe is a huge pile of odd socks, gloves and umbrellas with my post sitting on top. That or the “cringe-worthy” police hauled it in for being too smug and sickly, after all it was all about V day and how it was (eventually) the first nice one I have had. So I will just gloss over that.

By the way you are looking lovely today!

So to the weekend, which once again officially commenced on Friday night at the Swan. I managed to meet up with Neil and Shane after the lodging negotiations had taken place and before the prank calls began. By the time we left we were both a bit squiffy so the journey home was guaranteed to be exciting.

First off Neil demanded we get food from Caspian Pizza, where he said hello to some girl he recognised who clearly had no idea who he was and spent the rest of her time avoiding eye-contact. I then stopped off at the petrol station so that  I could get a drink, leaving Neil stood outside holding a huge pizza. After I had paid for my goods (and prank called the Bad Phone again) I was in time to rejoin him mid Chav baiting.

Apparently a few sportswear-clad youths accused him of stealing the pizza. It all resulted in Neil telling them to have respect, me demanding some respect in a Jamaican accent and then telling him that they are so cute at that age. They responded but it was incoherent and sounded more than a bit like a wobble-board. Obviously the conversation on the way home lead to the conclusion that all Chavs are actually Rolfaroos (but not all Rolfaroos are Chavs).

The rest of the weekend was very laid back, appart  from my occasional mood swings and the fact that my house was as cold as a penguin’s naughty bits. Neil is slowly becoming an accomplished Italian chef. Meaning he made a great Italian Shepherd’s Pie, not that he’s bought a Vespa and is saying ciao all the time.

Now on to the woes, the main one right now is that my work appraisal is at 3pm today. I’ve been honest and do feel that overall I am doing a good job and that they’ll recognise this, but the fear is always there and I have some issues I want to raise. I don’t know what I am going to say or if I’ll say anything at all, worry that it is all in my head and my issues with the person involved are just due to me disliking them. I am also feeling a bit trapped, overlooked and taken for granted. But hey ho!

Wish me luck!

Welcome to my mind, please excuse the mess…..

Oooh, this is all very interesting!

My name is Kathryn, Kat, Texas, Patto Banton, KC or KP (depending on who I am with/where I am). I am rapidly approaching 26 and American-ish. I have lived in the UK for about 15 years in all, which would make me a Brank or a Yit.

Actually I am feeling a tad self-conscious at the mo, this whole blogging thing may take a bit more dedication than I can muster. I also know that my spelling and grammar will be being scrutinised by a certain person. Nevertheless, I will give it a go. Hopefully it is something that can keep me occupied during my lunch break but the IT Nazis will not block.