Thunderbozz

Normally when I sit down to write a blog it's because I'm so bored that I can't think of anything else to do. Either that, or I've an essay to finish and I need something to distract me. Well, all my essays are done now, but I feel the need to express my weekend in word form. ◊ Annoyingly, the essay for my favourite module is likely to get quite a poor mark. This is entirely my fault - it's been set for 3 weeks, but I'd still left it until the weekend before - and wasn't helped by the fact I was cripplingly ill on Sunday, too. It is, however, done, and I don't have any essays in until the first few weeks of next year. December is rapidly approaching but 2007 still feels a long way away, so I think I can afford to relax a little. ◊ You can see that the daily Ashes updates were halted fairly rapidly. England's performance was poor, and it was clear from early on that a loss was the only conceivable result. But because of Australia's arrogance (deci

This animation is designed to teach everyone the most important thing to remember when it looks as though that dream is edging out of reach: never give up . Something England desperately need to remember tomorrow. Australia reached 602-9 before declaring, then proceeded to whittle us down to just 53-3. It looks bleak, but - lest the tale of the kiwi be told in vain - there are still 3 days left of this test. We must keep battling towards a draw.

My attempts to follow as much of the cricket "live" last night were hampered by several factors. One was my inability to stay awake for so long (especially after a few beers); another, and the most important, is that we were rubbish. “...the Ashes series tend to be defined by the first over. In 2005, Harmison hit Langer on the head. This year’s opening salvo was a wide that woke up second slip. For England, it was all downhill from there...” (The Corridor) Australia's morning papers have dubbed Harmison's opening delivery as "shoddyline", and it's fair to say it wasn't the most encouraging of starts. There were some early glimmers of hope, but the wicket was excellent for batting and the Aussies took full advantage. Watching the BBC's 10-minute highlights package online reveals that – from an English perspective – that's probably about 9 minutes longer than necessary. Australia (1st innings): 346-3 England aren't dead yet, bu

They may be a race of British rejects, but you can't help but be envious of the Australians when you think of the climate in which they'll be enjoying the first test: compare Sheffield (top) with Brisbane... The first session will be crucial for the series: Australia will most likely want to bat first, although earlier reports suggesting the weather would get hotter would suggest that conditions may favour the bowling side first. Some have said that playing at home gives the Aussies the equivalent of a 2-0 advantage. I'm not sure things are that dire yet, but the first day's play will be incredibly important in the outcome of the series. Come on England.

The Ashes are almost upon us: the wallchart is on the wall, and from Thursday I'll be desperately trying to stay awake throughout the night, glued not to an essay or book, but to the cricket coverage. And so, as a warm-up, some classic examples of sledging... Glenn McGrath: "Why are you so fat?" Eddo Brandes: "Because every time I make love to your wife, she gives me a biscuit." Merv Hughes: "You can't f***ing bat, mate" Robin Smith then smashes the ball to the boundary: "Hey Merv, we make a fine pair: I can't f***ing bat, and you can't f***ing bowl." Aussie fan: "Lend me your brain, Tuffers, I'm building an idiot" Matthew Hayden to Rob Key: "What are you doing out here?" ...and some random insults: WG Grace Harold Larwood: "A cricket tour in Australia would be the most delightful period in one's life, if one was deaf." Douglas Jardine: "All Australians are an un

Err, no, it's a blimp flying outside the house. As good a time as any to write a quick blog, I suppose. My essay is going pretty well. Unlike the one I had to write last week (on the Restoration), this one has just flown by. It just shows how much better you can be at a subject that you actually enjoy and that may have some relevance to your later life. Some random Princes Park trivia. The builders wondered why it was taking BT so long to connect the phone lines for the new stadium. It turns out that a disgruntled resident (who was opposed to the ground being built so near his house) worked for BT, and deliberately kept pushing our request further and further down the waiting list. Note the use of the past tense, there. The great North vs South debate has reared its ugly head again. For some reason, everyone up here finds great merriment in my pronunciation of the word "duck", and can't understand my confusion at them calling trousers "pants". No w

The last time I watched Dartford FC play a home game in the town was in 1992. I don't remember much, except that the Watling Street ground was full of thousands of people, the atmosphere was electric and that everyone else was very tall... After 14 years, Dartford finally have a home again. Princes Park , our new stadium, played host to the first game on Saturday, when Dartford beat Horsham YMCA 4-2. It was a fantastic game, played in front of a capacity crowd, and crowned a brilliant day of celebrations. Having been involved with the football club since as long as I can remember, I was lucky enough to be invited to a sneak-preview of the stadium on Friday night. It wasn't completely finished: there were still TV's to put on the walls, door handles to affix, stickers to remove. The Health & safety certificate was awarded with 16 hours until opening! But considering that on November 14, 2005, the land was still an empty field, no-one minded. What mattered was that

24 hours until this gate is opened.

The Good Fireworks night: good fun. Fox & Duck quiz night: also enjoyable. West Ham 1-0 Arsenal: pleasant surprise. Damien Rice's new album, "9": unsurprisingly superb. The Bad Dartford 0-1 Evesham: Trophy defeat. My hairdresser: miserable as. English essay: deadline looms. Annoying people: annoying me. The Ugly 6-a-side football: losing count.

I've spent all morning clearing all most of the rubbish and weeds out of the garden in preparation for tonight's bonfire night gathering/fireworks display. This has pleased the robins no-end, as all the woodlouse and insects they eat have been piled into a buffet-style heap for them.

It's nearly reading week, and it shows. You can see people gradually winding down as the week off lectures to go home study approaches... Personally, I'm suffering from 3-day syndrome. However good my intentions, it's physically impossible for me to do any meaningful work on my essays because there are more than 72 hours before each has to be handed in. This is on top of a strange phenomenon that means the time between getting back to the house from lectures and tea/the evening somehow disappears . Where do those hours go?* ◊ I'd only moved up to Sheffield for a few days before the first person asked me for directions. On three separate occasions I was stopped in the street or called over to a car to help out. It must be my friendly face. Well today was the first time this academic year I was asked, except it was a little bit more challenging. Not because I didn't know the way - I now know the city better than ever! Because I had to do it in French . It took quit