Click the Picture to see Al in his heyday as a 20 yr old. 

So in the oh so early days (1984), a little around 24 years ago (yes even then I had my dashing good looks, charm and body of a god, ok so a god on a very bad day), I started college on day release to become an engineer. This was back in a sleepy little town called Hemel Hempstead (famous now cos some monkey decided to smoke a ciggy at the Buncefield Depot, tossing his butt end to the ground and thinking to himself that its christmas soon and all the wonderful overtime about to come my way, how little did he know eh).

So my first day at college was awful, I had left school, hating every minute of it, never wanting to go back and knowing that I was a worker now, I would never need to go back (oh boy little did I know that I had 5 years of this crap to endure). I sat in this cold awful building with a bunch of strangers, who were from such places as BAe and Lucas Aerospace, everyone seemed to know everyone else and I just sat there wondering what on earth I was doing here.

Sat in the corner on his own was the chappy seen in the picture, he appeared fairly quiet and normal, so we started chatting, the name “Barton”, “Allan Barton”, who at the time was catching the bus from St.Albans to Hemel or sometimes cycling over. We became friends over a period of time, he even managed to get a car on his pittance of a salary (slightly better than my paltry £30 per week). I thought this guy was a bit on the cool side (well only slightly cooler than me anyway) at the time since he liked different types of music (Nina Simone, ok so someone had to like her), 50’s and 60’s stuff, he always seemed a little aloof but a good guy to be around.

The college at the time was a good bit of a laugh with the tutors Mr Budd and Mr Bott (we always suspected Mr Bott was batting for the opposition) and such interesting individuals as Nigel Palmer (who spent his time driving up and down the high street in his Escort whistling at all the girls, whilst wearing drainpipe trousers, white slip-on shoes and tight sweaters), Spencer Dyke (who rode to college on his Lambretta and then eventually upgraded to a Mini Metro) and a woman who I think we nicknamed Shergar, can’t honestly remember why?

Well college continued and we finished 3 years at Hemel in 1987 and then it was time to move to the big leagues oooh yes Watford Technical College for another 2 years. Suddenly the atmosphere changed at this place and it was not much of a laugh and fun anymore, it was serious business. Mr Barton decided part way through that first year that he didn’t want to continue with this stuff and left. Oh boy how many times did I wish I had left that place, I hated it more than school.

We stayed in contact over those years, whilst I moved through various jobs, McDonnell Douglas working in Purchasing and the ill fated Coffee Machine selling stint that I tried (with the world’s most unreliable car that you had to start by hitting the starter motor on the middle lane of the M40 motorway). Al was seeing a wonderful girl called Belinda and I had my first serious relationship, with a married woman 16 years my senior (oh what a hussy am I).

I eventually moved to the grim north of England after falling for an unmarried girl (made a change I guess), but we kept in contact ever so occasionally over an 11 year period, always sort of starting where we left off and then loosing contact for another few years. Over the last few years Mrs Fogg and I have met up many times, with Al, Bel and their beautiful daughter Hazel and now we are very good friends that stay in touch and meet up from time to time.

24 years is not a bad time to know someone, Al is my oldest friend and I welcome him to the wonderful 40’s club that I joined a few months back (although I am still more handsome, that has never been disputed).

Unfortunately we can’t get down to Hemel to help Al tip over into his 40’s, so this weekend I will raise a glass to a really good friend and wish him well on his ventures into Kidulthood (that is where we move from being a kid in the 20’s and 30’s and start the transition to be an adult around the 50’s to 60’s).

Happy Birthday you OLD GIT!!!

Just a few memories for you to ponder over (providing you can remember them of course):

• Timmy your Triumph Dolomite
• Hemel College and the computer classes for extra credits
• Driving your car without a certain legal piece of paper
• Playing games on the oh so cool Amiga 500
• My crappy Vauxhall Astra Estate (complete with starter motor spanner)
• Going to Aikido drunk!
• Westerdale and Betty Bouston
• Spending lunch hours from college walking down Hemel and Watford High Street
• The wierd physics teacher at Watford with the pinstripe suit
• Dressed as Elvis at our America BBQ
• A heavy night out followed by your head down a toilet after too many Mud Slides
• Lake Bala and Tyddyn Yr Helyg
• August 2007 BBQ
• Bartenga

Here’s to the next 24 years of friendship.

Only 157 Days until we head off to see the Little Green men at the Little Ale’inn

So the planning almost seems to be done, does it Lorna? Apparently “yes” comes the answer from the Tour Geek. Time to show the Foggies in the there Ireland, a little of the Americas:

• Las Vegas
• Grand Canyon Skyway
• Bashful Bobs
• Four Corners
• Zion National Park
• Grand Canyon
• Canyon de Chelle
• Hole in the Rock
• Monument Valley
• More Hinjun stuff
• Area 51

We are also planning to have a go on a shooting range in Vegas (watch out women with loaded guns, not a good idea), visit the Ferrengi in the Quarks’s Bar, Hike into the canyon all the way to the bottom, drive lots of miles (about 2,500), eat Buffalo Burgers and Rattlesnake sausages and get drunk occasionally.

We Cant Wait!

I had a couple of lessons on a real man’s motorcycle back in Feb and decided that I wanted to learn how to ride and get a proper bike. The only problem with this logic is that I am rubbish on a real bike, having spent my time on a twist and go scooter, the concept of the clutch and brake in different locations has almost caused me to be thrown of so many times.

The instructor was very patient informing me through my earpiece that I have just driven through a Stop sign, I am driving too slow and that I being overtaken by a disability scooter, that I have missed my turning, I need to change up from first gear when I am travelling at 40mph, the list is endless.

So we decided to put Sasha up for sale (the bright yellow scooter we have) and look at buying a proper bike for me to learn on, after 1 month of advertising, we mainly had calls from a company that “have buyers interested in buying the bike, providing we pay them first” and an eastern european chappie who wished to view the bike with his wife, but then mysteriously never appeared.

Earlier this week a girl sent a text message through with the perfect grammar of “You still had bike for sale”, she called me in a thick european accent and the conversation went a little along the lines:

Girl: I wish for to buy bike, where am you living

Me: In York

Girl: Where is please?

Me: York in Yorkshire

Girl: Is this far from London

Me: Err yes, about 200miles plus a bit

Girl: I can get train to you yes, then drive bike back, how long this take

Me: How long this take, what the train or to ride the bike back at a speed limited 62mph

Girl: I ride on motorway

Me: Well if you are legal to do so, but it would take a long time to get back

Girl: It ok I like colour so I want to buy

Me: Forgive me, but are you real or is this a joke

Girl: It real I want buy it

So after this conversation, I started to receive more texts exclaiming that she would arrive by train on Sunday with cash only to buy bike and ride back. Now I started to get a little more suspicious about this, especially since she refused to use electronic transfer or bankers drafts. Thoughts of being handed hookey money and seeing Sasha ride off into the distance, with a girl giving a false name and address, started to flood into my mind.

We decided not to sell since there was too much risk associated with this transaction, but still the texts kept coming, “I very genuine, no funny business” “I want bike, you have no risk for sale”. Sorry call me jaded or a complete cynic, but trust of fellow humans is so far down on the list that we eventually told the girl that the sale was totally off and we would not sell to her at all.

So we still have Sasha and I still need to have some more experience on a geared bike to prevent me from killing myself. In the meantime I have sat my bike theory test, what a complete waste of time and money that is and I have under 2 years to pass the bike test or I need to take it all again.

So there you go, the moral here is if you are going to buy a scooter in a city known for bikes and scooters, make sure it is a well known make that everyone will want, not one that looks like a giant canary that has been stretched and squashed.

Its Saturday morning and Spike the cat gets his own back for being left inside all week by jumping on us at some unearthly hour in the morning & wailing at some unmeasurable decibel level in our ears.  Joy! 

Well, its official, Craig has gone back to work, been there for two weeks already and in his words “has done very little yet”.  Meanwhile, I’m on a roll- the last permanent member of IT left yesterday, my contractor has just quit to pursue a career in the NHS and has kindly offered just a weeks notice,  I have several hundred applications for two permanent roles all from people outside the UK, where English appears to be their 4th or 5th language (not even second) currently residing in a country thousands of miles from the UK, without a work visa but able to start Monday courtesy of this wonderful governments open door policy, oh and some bus driver from Dagenham who has a PC at home and can drive a bendy bus.  I can see this recruitment lark taking a while! 

Anyway, away from the work stuff, we’ve been very busy, drinking, sleeping, a bit more drinking, the odd movie and then spending hours irritating the cat, all told, fun times at the Allan household!  Still, following my successful introduction to Indian food we’ve made Friday nights at the local a bit of a thing  – curry things for Craig, sweet coconut & pineapple things for me, washed down with a small tipple, a stagger back and plenty of snoring!

Next month we have decided to go visit the Folks in Ireland (takes us a month to prep the Livers before we go!), we’re off for the Bank Holiday, flying straight into Knock (no doubt Craig will sample the alcofrol on the EASY-BMI-RYAN-JET-AIR and the hospitality offfered at £5 per smile or £10 per pleasantry).  The plan is to annoy the folks with the American itinerary (yes it will be bound & neatly presented by then Stu!), finalise the trip details and then sample the local delights of that there Ireland (rain, mud, clouds and cold weather).  You never know, it might even be dry and not windy this time we visit!

We did manage to watch a wierd film the other night – Southland Tales, starring Duane “The Rock” Johnson (oh how silly must his mortgage application look, Name: The Rock, Occupation: Useless actor who has to strip in every film he stars in) and Sarah Michelle Geller.  A must see but don’t try to understand it.  The best bit – Justin Timberlake wearing a cool t-shirt and singing “I’ve got Soul but I’m not a Soldier”.  If you can’t be bothered to watch the film, check out Utube which has the clip – very good.  Been singing it all week.

Anyway – must dash, Spike needs pushing across the floor again, he’s not impressed that we’re not paying attention!