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Published: July 13th 2006
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Leaving Langdale
A street we put on the map How time has flown. It feels like only yesterday that I boarded a plane bound for the UnKnown. A big step for me considering I was detaching myself from a lifestyle I liked; removing myself from career comfort and sporting devotion; and above all, parting company with loved ones, and likewise ones I had loved.
Of late, living in the UK has made me realise just how much I appreciate seeing the English fail at sport. Perhaps a tad harsh given the sheer amount of failure their allegiance of fans have had to stomach over the years; and perhaps even more amiss given I’m working over here as a PE teacher. But, I came to this conclusion last Saturday at Millennium Square when I was privy to an almighty English defeat at the hands of Portugal. The much fancied Poms were pathetic, as they’d been for majority of the World Cup. However, it wasn’t until the Penalty shootout when Ronaldo silenced the chants of thousands of English fans, and put an end to the obsession this country has with their team and this game. The blissful smile I wore that evening could simply not be beat.
I’ve also become
Atmospheric
Packed Beer Gardens a big believer of grinding salt into an English fan’s wound. So on Monday morning I chose to wear a discarded St.George Hat to work, ensuring all the students at Airdale knew exactly where my lack of loyalty lay. The subsequent effect it had on students was priceless. One student completely lost it - storming out of my class. Another was almost reduced to tears. Another was reduced to tears. Some took it as fair revenge for the grief I copped when Australia lost. Many pathetically said, “At least we made it further than Australia.” To which I brilliantly replied: “Yeah. But, Australia gained respect all over the world, England lost it.” Ahh, The perfect comeback. Nice one Alexander, you sure showed those 14 year olds.
Living with an ever-changing household meant there was always an excuse to go out for a mid-week drink. Be it a welcoming drink, a catch up drink, a farewell night out, or possibly even an anniversary of time spent in the house. Even more conveniently, was living amidst an abundance of university students- which meant, amongst other things, the nightlife in Headingley would thrive whenever and wherever you wanted it to.
In
our 7 month stint at Langdale Gardens it was fair to say we had seen it all (and I’m not talking about the anatomy of the female body.) From experiencing sporting triumph, to seeing spectator’s grief; From being invited to neighbours house parties, to arriving unannounced at these same parties; From catching criminals red handed, to trying to fix the drunken damage we’d inflicted on our own; From engaging in snow fights, to occasionally enjoying the randomness of English weather; From living with healthy boyish competition, to inflicting penalties on anything deemed inappropriate; and most significantly, traveling as much as humanly possible, and each time partying the night away - night and night again.
Sadly, at the end of this month, much of this was coming to an end.
We would soon farewell Jonesy. His Visa had expired and his Passport had taken one tumble dry too many. He found himself in the unusual situation of no longer being able to work in the country, yet he could not leave it. So in order to pass the time away he had begun writing a book - a journal that takes the absolute piss out of the World Cup.
Once upon a World Cup
Jonesy's book is literary genius This, I believe, will eventually get published. Watch this space (Seriously!)
Both of the Groves Brothers had loved us and left us, much like many of the felines that had bravely ventured into our respective boudoirs. Paul had gone home to play footy and was working towards developing another bout of Osteotis Pubis. And the younger sibling, Tys, was busy staining different parts of Europe.
And Pete, the seasoned traveler, planned on trekking through his 35th country - this time Turkey, on his way home to Beaumauris. And whilst the love of his life remained in London, he would, as a predictably Pete-like fairytale ending would have it, be back here living with her in 2007.
Azz and I were another story. Our respective teaching positions were coming to an end; and our 7 month tenancy was almost up; but it was far from time to head home. Travel had merely flirted with our desire to do more; besides, a beautiful thing called “summer break” loomed.
Our itinerary was sketchy at best, possibly because Azz was in charge of it. But we did have flights to three very different countries booked and paid for. And then,
Show of Support
... for any team up against Italy when September came round we would live out the remainder of the year in a city everyone should experience living in at some stage of their life: London.
Louisa, a university student I was dating in Leeds, had recently purchased her own apartment in Fulham and the invite to live with her was far too appealing to think twice about. So as one chapter closes, another one opens. And like everything else that has happened thus far, it promised to be awesome.
Stay Tuned,
DJA
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Mike
non-member comment
If you dont like it
If you dont like England and its people why dont you just leave, too many australians here are giving everyone the impression that we are all arrogant idiots.