Oariá raiô, Oba, Oba, Oba.

More, as they say, than nothing.

The weekend rolls around again, and through the virtue of the government and traditions of our feisty little nation, it is a Bank Holiday weekend.

Which means the weather is a little out of synch with the calendar, because the flash flooding and freak rain levels were earlier this week.
Odd.

My plans stand thusly:

Friday Afternoon

1. Leave for Southampton
2. Arrive at Southampton Airport Parkway
3. Weigh up, seeing as it is payday and I have my passport on me, the possibility of hopping on a flight to Amsterdam, there to pick up the comparatively cheap Netherlands-US express
4. Stop it and cross over to the other platform, there to meet a hamster of a green tint, who will by this time be looking across the tracks at me strangely for standing and staring at a collection of airport buildings for ten minutes
5. Do stuff
6. Sleep

Saturday

1. Awaken halfway to Doncaster, borne aloft on my mattress by greenhamster's resident ant population, being taken back to the subterranean lair of the Ant Queen as the centrepiece for her world famous Human Sacrifice Masquerade Ball, which is always held on the first Saturday night of May
2. Wake up
3. Do morningy stuff, go to the ferries, cross to the Isle of Wight
4. Greet parentals
5. Do caulkhead stuff; shop, play snooker, potentially meet Sharon, chat.
6. Catch the night bus back to Ventnor, where a black cat with no bell will sneak into the house in the darkness and silently and invisibly accompany me to my bedroom and only make itself known when I wake up in the morning with it's arse in my face. This is not the plan, this is just what happened last time

Sunday

1. More Caulkhead activities. Breakfast of Kings (stuff the champions)
2. Attempt to get the parrot to recognise and accept me after my continued absence from the family home. This is to impress Krissa with my jungle-man animal taming skills when she comes to stay later this month, and to avoid the resultant time-consuming trip to Casualty that is almost certainly on the cards if he doesn't accept and recognise me and I try to turn him upside-down to show off to Krissa
3. Go to chemists to buy antiseptic and plasters
4. Trim nails/claws/talons of parrot
5. Go For A Walk With The Family
6. Sleep

Monday

1. More Breakfast of Kings
2. Mong about
3. Half-heartedly repack
4. Catch ferry/red jet/fastcat to The Mainland
5. Pursue any means necessary on the national public transport system to return to Hatfield; this may include buses, trains, planes, roller blades, submarines and/or walking.

Take the above and sprinkle liberally with telephone calls to the United States, my Dad thinking up even more embarrassing nicknames for me, pointed discussion and devising traps for multitudinous insect life, and you have a reasonable idea of the weekend.

So, wherever you are, and whatever or whosoever you are doing, enjoy the weekend, and steer clear of Doncaster on Saturday.