Train time again. I'm sat waiting to depart on the 0925 to Stansted Airport. I never realised how busy Liverpool Street Station is, having passed it daily to and from Front.
I've just been to Fedlix's to have a last minute smoke. Not wanting to be caught as a drugs trafficker, I left the two spliffs worth behind. As a token of my appreciation for him having me stay, if not quite to plan.
Felix and Nick (whom I saw on Stepney Green) are going to be moving out in the next month, so they say. Whatever the plans for Christmas and New Year may be, it'll be cool to catch up with them on more peaceful surroundings.
Time to rest before the fun of checking-in and security. Looks like the poker is as close as it has been for a long time. And they've been going a lot longer than me.
Friday, October 03, 2008
Time to upsticks once more. I've been at the Empire for all of two hours, and not a lot has happened. This is hardly surprising. The announcer just before 0700 made a statement about this being the most hands at a final table (#384 is in play). God knows how long they've been heads up for. A lot longer than I could ever manage.
Alekhin seems to be dominating pot after pot at the minute. Which ever way Juanda moves, Alekhin has an answer, be it a reraise, check raise or a check raise bluff showing five high. With practically a 2:1 chip lead, it looks like this is going the Russian's way. And fair play to him. I'd have a moan about being young and poor, in the company of high rollers here at the Empire, but this guy is a year younger than me and is going to make some big money at some point this evening. He's even got the sweet Full Tilt hoody (send me one please)
.
I've necked a comped cup of brown water, and now it's time to ride out to Whtechapel and get my shit from Fedlix's place. Given time for a brew and a smoke at his, I should be getting my ass to Stansted. I'm in Eastern Europe for lunch.
Alekhin seems to be dominating pot after pot at the minute. Which ever way Juanda moves, Alekhin has an answer, be it a reraise, check raise or a check raise bluff showing five high. With practically a 2:1 chip lead, it looks like this is going the Russian's way. And fair play to him. I'd have a moan about being young and poor, in the company of high rollers here at the Empire, but this guy is a year younger than me and is going to make some big money at some point this evening. He's even got the sweet Full Tilt hoody (send me one please)
.I've necked a comped cup of brown water, and now it's time to ride out to Whtechapel and get my shit from Fedlix's place. Given time for a brew and a smoke at his, I should be getting my ass to Stansted. I'm in Eastern Europe for lunch.
I left Newquay just after 20.25 last night. About an hour after I found myself waiting in the cold in Par, about an hour later in the company of a self confessed 'BNP Nut' in a smoky waiting room in Plymouth.
Just over an hour ago, I awoke to find that my legs did not work. No ordinary pins and needles, my friend, we're talking full on paralysis. Not the best way to start your day. After minutes of hitting and shaking, I summoned enough blood to my bones to manage going to the toilet.
Rolling into Paddington just before 06.00, I found an open coffee stand and manage to bag a grilled croissant and coffee for less than three quid. On its own the croissant would've been 2.84, so I guess I can't bitch about the state of the brown water, having paid a mere .15 English pounds for it. Still, shit coffee is shit coffee. I'm looking forward to better caffeine experiences overseas.
Having wolfed down the French breakfast, I turned the laptop on to see if the WSOPE Main Event was still going on. Kicking myself (I tried to get hold of my friend Chris to wager a prop bet on whether I'd make it in time for the conclusion of play), it appeared that the game was going healthily, heads up between Stanislav Alekhin and Full Tilt's John Juanda.
And that's where I find myself now, just shy of 07.00, watching the action over the balcony in the hub of Leicester Square's Empire Casino. It's a bit smaller than I expected, but hey, I come from the rich background of playing in college cafeterias. For before 07.00 on a Friday morning there's quite a few people milling about (as you'd expect at a major final. Come on, this is my first one), but the number of people watching outside of the cordoned off area numbers all but a dozen.
I'm assuming the lucky folk who avoid sitting with me in the nosebleeds are friends and family of Alekhin and Juanda. But going by the smell coming from my pocket, it's probably best that I sit here out of the action. I don't recognise any other folk down in the middle, not a single person from Dennis and (even more concerning) no pros to spot and/or bother. I guess (if I'm looking at the right people with laptops) I can see gsqwared and change100 from PokerNews.com. They're famous, I know their work.
Just over an hour ago, I awoke to find that my legs did not work. No ordinary pins and needles, my friend, we're talking full on paralysis. Not the best way to start your day. After minutes of hitting and shaking, I summoned enough blood to my bones to manage going to the toilet.
Rolling into Paddington just before 06.00, I found an open coffee stand and manage to bag a grilled croissant and coffee for less than three quid. On its own the croissant would've been 2.84, so I guess I can't bitch about the state of the brown water, having paid a mere .15 English pounds for it. Still, shit coffee is shit coffee. I'm looking forward to better caffeine experiences overseas.
Having wolfed down the French breakfast, I turned the laptop on to see if the WSOPE Main Event was still going on. Kicking myself (I tried to get hold of my friend Chris to wager a prop bet on whether I'd make it in time for the conclusion of play), it appeared that the game was going healthily, heads up between Stanislav Alekhin and Full Tilt's John Juanda.
And that's where I find myself now, just shy of 07.00, watching the action over the balcony in the hub of Leicester Square's Empire Casino. It's a bit smaller than I expected, but hey, I come from the rich background of playing in college cafeterias. For before 07.00 on a Friday morning there's quite a few people milling about (as you'd expect at a major final. Come on, this is my first one), but the number of people watching outside of the cordoned off area numbers all but a dozen.
I'm assuming the lucky folk who avoid sitting with me in the nosebleeds are friends and family of Alekhin and Juanda. But going by the smell coming from my pocket, it's probably best that I sit here out of the action. I don't recognise any other folk down in the middle, not a single person from Dennis and (even more concerning) no pros to spot and/or bother. I guess (if I'm looking at the right people with laptops) I can see gsqwared and change100 from PokerNews.com. They're famous, I know their work.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Well that was a stoned calamity of Google map HTMLing. Although I'm quite impressed by the subtle irony of Barcelona appearing (quite a few times).
About three weeks ago my friends Duncan and Harrie decided, after a heavy night of drinking, not to drive around Cornwall on a surf trip, but to hitchhike to Morocco for a trip. This is their Facebook group. They've made it to Barcelona at this point in time. Quite handily.
If Dunc's previous camera work (Shooting The Breeze) can keep up to its high standards in the face of days on the road, with thieves and bird shit to be put up with, then this is going to make a hell of a film. As I'm sure the guys are having one hell of a good time doing it. If any two guys are going to make it to Morocco with fuck all cash or planning, it's going to be these two.
About three weeks ago my friends Duncan and Harrie decided, after a heavy night of drinking, not to drive around Cornwall on a surf trip, but to hitchhike to Morocco for a trip. This is their Facebook group. They've made it to Barcelona at this point in time. Quite handily.
If Dunc's previous camera work (Shooting The Breeze) can keep up to its high standards in the face of days on the road, with thieves and bird shit to be put up with, then this is going to make a hell of a film. As I'm sure the guys are having one hell of a good time doing it. If any two guys are going to make it to Morocco with fuck all cash or planning, it's going to be these two.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
I'm still down in Falmouth
View Larger Map, wondering whether this Google map thing has worked or not not. Anyway, it's time to eat, no scratch that; time to write.
The day has been spent lazing about, smoking and watching TV and waiting on a delivery. Which has since arrived has led me to get off my abstract arse and write something. This trip to Falmouth has been a welcome one from my unwanted return home. Only three more nights in the county, four in the country. Getting baked with mates, it's a welcome situation.
Right, time to eat. And maybe study in a bit. But probably smoke some more.
View Larger Map, wondering whether this Google map thing has worked or not not. Anyway, it's time to eat, no scratch that; time to write.
The day has been spent lazing about, smoking and watching TV and waiting on a delivery. Which has since arrived has led me to get off my abstract arse and write something. This trip to Falmouth has been a welcome one from my unwanted return home. Only three more nights in the county, four in the country. Getting baked with mates, it's a welcome situation.
Right, time to eat. And maybe study in a bit. But probably smoke some more.
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