Monday 14 December
2009
The late can of Relentless that I drank last
night painfully kicks into my brief night’s sleep as I find myself restless
and fidgety all through the night (well, early hours) and when I eventually
pull myself out of bed at 8.15AM it is with some resentment and a lot of
nausea.
Slowly I murmur, dress
myself and manage to stagger out into the chalet like a functioning human being
only to arrive at the sudden realisation that despite bringing along a week’s
worth of clothes to the weekend I have remained in the same trousers and v-neck
for the whole
festival. Really this is
inexcusable.
Briefly I consider
beginning to tidy the chalet up but everywhere is smoking paraphernalia and it
just makes me feel queasy. I truly find
anyone that smokes roll up cigarettes horribly vile and disgusting. Surely there are better methods with which
to display to the world that you are poor and carefree.
Fortunately not long
after I stir Racton emerges and eventually most of the others follow and thus
begins a full on tidy and a Supermarket Sweep
type food grab occurs. Usually being
the driver I tend to do very well out of this.
Once again for a third festival running we have a crate of beer
remaining that has sat untouched. We’re
are losing, are we not men?
After going over the
chalet surprisingly quickly it is made to look habitable once more and with the
Manchester bound people moving slowly and suffering in the process us
Southerners are soon heading home leaving the complex around 9.50AM to the
winsome strains of Chris
Moyles on the radio. Have we not
suffered enough this weekend already?
Before leaving Minehead I stop off at the Tesco to get
petrol because I really don’t wish to be caught paying motorway petrol prices
later on. As I pay at the pump Matthew seems
surprisingly impressed by my ability to do so.
This isn’t really a new development, you should have been here ten years
ago.
Despite any early
wrong turning ultimately the drive home turns out to be a winning record
breaker, perhaps my fastest drive out of Minehead yet. As the journey unwinds Racton and I get
begin to get philosophical about things and with a new decade dawning it seems
as if we are both on the cusp on major developments. Or so our words would suggest at this time.
Almost immediately
behind us Matthew falls asleep and I swear over the course of the journey he
sings mellow indie hits in his sleep.
We don’t need a radio.
Today I take the
motorways to school, taking up the mantel of King Of The Road (as in the
episode of Pete And
Pete). As London beckons ever closer I don’t
even bother to make a toilet break, something Racton almost begs for just as we
hit the M25. In a sincere manner I promise that we will
stop at the next services but before I know it the four (sometimes five) lane
M25 full of signs to places I recognise, know and love now displays a distinct
lack of services and a distinct lack of sympathy.
In the end we actually
arrive back at Caterham before
we come across somewhere to take a piss break.
The time of arrival is 1.30PM which suggests a shocking display motoring
prowess.
With the usual sadness
attached to ending the ATP
weekend I bid my co-conspirators’ farewell and good luck for the rest of their
lives. Whether I see either of these
guys before Christmas
now is in the balance and as a result it comes somewhat emotional.
Turning around and
returning to the M25 now it looked like a clear solo drive back to Essex for me
now. Thankfully the weather was being
kind and with it the skies shone blue with viewing to complimenting my
mind. After a lengthy bout of racing
with the M25 eventually I found myself at the Dartford toll and
flying through the tunnel emerging on the other side to a road sign displayed
in gold to me: Essex.
Eventually I arrive at
the A12 and today
it takes care of me as the home straight proves an exciting obstacle as the
prospect from the joy of getting home begins to overwhelm me.
An hour after dropping
my friends off at Caterham I arrive back to Bohemian Grove in Colchester. The time of arrival is around 2.30PM and it
is to the sight of several packages planted at my door. Christmas was suddenly quite literally
arriving.
As I lug my bags out
of my car I notice the mess that the walls of our communal area and landing are
in. It’s the fucking new girl next door
banging her bike against them as she parks it upstairs against the rails. You can tell she is a renter as opposed to a
homeowner.
Not long after getting
back there is a knock at my door and it is the postman with a recorded letter
for me in addition to a number of other packages. I sign for the letter as he comments about the post that I have
got. Against what I was suspecting he
does in fact not hate me for making him carry so much of my post.
The letter looks
ominous. For some reason I have a
distinct inkling that the letter is bad news and indeed it is as it turns out
to be from a solicitor regarding the Balkerne
Heights website that I set up in the summer. On first view it is a pretty heavy letter but at this time I
can’t fully take it in, there is too much going on and I’m going to have to
sleep on it. It reads:
“Dear Sir
Re:balkerneheights.co.uk(“the
Domain Name”)
Balkerneheightscolchester.blogspot.com
We act for Balkerne
Heights Residents Company Ltd. As you know, our client is the owner of the
leasehold of the Balkerne Heights development near Colchester.
Our client has rights
including common law rights in the name “Balkerne Heights”.
It has come to our
client’s attention that you have registered the Domain Name and that the Domain
Name and balkerneheightscolchester.blogspot.com are both being used for
websites (the Websites) which appear to be official websites of our client. The
purpose of such behaviour can only have been to deceive web users searching for
our client and/or to cause harm to our client and its officers. Your activities
in this regard constitute passing off and, in addition, the Domain is an
abusive registration. Further, the Websites contain private contact information
(including name, address, telephone number, email address) of a number of
officers of our client. Those officers have not consented to your posting this
information on the Websites and as a result they are receiving many
communications. This activity constitutes unlawful processing of personal date
under the Data Protection Act 1998.
We require that you
immediately (1) transfer the Domain Name to our client; (2) delete the url
balkerneheightscolchester.blogspot.com; (3) permanently remove the Websites and
(4) confirm that you do not own, and will not in future register, any other
domain names which contain the words “Balkerne Heights” (or any similar
variation) or otherwise misuse such name or engage in similar conduct to that
outlined above.
Should we fail to
receive confirmation of compliance with the above within seven days from
today’s date, our client will have no alternative but to institute legal
proceedings against you for, inter alia, passing off and breach of the Data
Protection Act 1998. This will include
an application for an injunction as well as a claim for payment of damages and
legal costs. In addition, our client will file a complaint under Nominet’s
Dispute Resolution Service seeking transfer to it of the Domain Name and lodge
a complaint with the Information Commissioner.
Yours faithfully
*SIGNATURE*
(no name)”
For the record the
letter comes from Adlex Solicitors.
To say this is hard to
take in is to say the least. Where on
earth has this suddenly come from? What
has suddenly rattled this cage?
Instead of worrying
about it at this time I put on the Danny Baker BBC London show
and eventually nod off in the process, catching up on some of the sleep that
was lacking from the weekend.
In the early evening I
attempt some writing
but I am just too tired to muster anything up and off the back of the letter I
find myself feeling somewhat disillusioned.
Writing always seems to get me into trouble.
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