Victors in Alderley Edge

Estoril, Portugal.

Work road trip with one of my mates.

Grafted all morning. Did a sales demo at 8.30am with a coffee on 4g next to the dock in Setubal.

Got a ferry to a meeting in Troia (a lovely way to get to work).

Took 4 wrong turns to get here like idiots. Laughed all the way.

Hoping to be wined and dined at the casino later.

Smashing stuff.

Beats driving to Chadderton from Eccles.

Just setting off to Mansfield of all places for an overnight stay ahead of a family wedding tomorrow.
Back home Saturday,no doubt with the mother of all hangovers.

Doing the same, but in a different direction. Setting off at 4.30pm to go to Durham for a family wedding. First time I would have worn a tie in about six years.

Jeez... In a Days Inn right next to the A1 in Durham, and I mean right next to the A1 - (I can hear Vauxhall Vectras whizzing by), surrounded by the 85% Scottish contingent of the 'Scottish' wedding I am 'attending' tomorrow.

They've been at the pub all day since arrival at noon ("Ooh, the lasagne was nice, but it was red-hot") - that'll be the microwaved Brake's Brothers oligopoly babe!. Mother of the groom doesn't want anybody to drink until tomorrow, but their offspring (and her husband who did a 42 Commando manoeuvre to rid himself of the KFC and Maccies stench/farts from the M5/M6 slog from Olney) slunk off to a security light dappled sit-off/stand-off in the trucker's car park, replenished by the WH Smith portfolio of cans and cocktails (no straws,/no ice). I thought I was in some Prague porn channel and nearly pulled my zip down. New arrival followed- Father of the groom's brother is here, resplendent in Umbro, and he's really pissing me off with his 'banter'. They are from Callendar, but pure dead East End (Wee Mans bar - all facts and figures, whilst all the while looking, and sounding like McSkeletor).

Talks turned to 'WHERE ARE YOU FROM' and football. Words like 'Huns' and that 'Celtic could handle the Premier League' (based on their crowd numbers?), and "I know Irvine Welsh" abound, whilst pissing down the side of a (at a push 2-star hostelry,) 20 minutes from the splendour of Durham's cultured walls, have punctuated my tender ears tonight. God knows what tomorrow and the main event will bring. Less Mark Hollis, more Reg Hollis's new squeeze's menkal family, that he met via punternet. Put it this way, I won't be asking their advice on hybrid bikes for £400 lads.

I am going to be on the road to divorce by this time tomorrow, guaranteed. The nearby A1 is thrumming louder than my wife's menopausal fan ("You'll zone out of it", she says), and she's right on one with her ascendent weegie tones, discussing the merits of schemes and who came from where. AC/DC have been mentioned, as has Jim Kerr and his massive schlong.

I might pop my headphones in and listen to some Erik Satie for some relief. or I might have stealth wank to the Scottish whopper's wife, as payback.

Pray for me, it's going to be a long time until I'm home to see my dogs on Saturday. I've even brought a Breton top to change in for tomorrow night ("Blue stripes eh? You Hun c*nt"). There's talk of going to McDonald's for breakfast, or the Greggs next to the Amazon fulfilment centre.

Fuck my life (sometimes). I'll be drinking whiskey and dancing to 'Dignity' by 2.00pm guaranteed...

    Daddy-long-legs in the house!

    Flaneur
    Ha ha.
    Our digs are top drawer to be fair although somewhat remote.
    Nearby to a farm in a little village outside Mansfield.
    Drove towards the town centre last night looking for somewhere to eat and pulled in to one of those Brewers Fayre type of pubs that serve plastic steak with rubber chips.
    Filled a gap I suppose but you can tell it’s the school holidays with the amount of kids running riot on a hot summers evening whilst mum and dad get bladdered on Carlsberg.
    Glad to get back to the serenity of the digs and sit outside on the patio sharing a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc with Mrs Raposa watching the last of the ramblers arrive back all hot and bothered.
    Just off for a pre breakfast walk ourselves then tuck in at 9 before getting suited and booted.
    Wedding venue is 8 miles away so taxis ordered.
    Long day ahead although it seems the Scottish version of the Addams Family are attending another gig up in Durham somewhere.

    *Pray for Flaneur *

        Flaneur mcnastys for you. Have had a lifetime of it. Just say you support morton or prefer the LSD. They say fuck all then.

          Raposa its not too bad around there R. Not in the young vanish at glapwell?

              Birmingham hall green Premier Inn. At the toaster and some cunt and his bird necking at breakfast. Over the toaster I might add. And their dad is a comedian (in his own head).

              Flaneur Try to treat the day as a real-life flyonthewall documentary, and simply embrace the entertainment.

                Newcastle-under-Lyme , about to visit a door manufacturing factory. Think I'd rather be at a Scottish wedding.