Bear blog

Saturday was another quiet day for me. Alan buggered off into town and then sodded off home straight after the show so I didn't do any proper passing all day. Rob helped me out with seven club ultimates. "Floorty like." He gave me a couple of things to think about, but I still hate it. It's a horrible pattern and I'll never ever like it. Ever.

After the show I did a bit of passing with Roger and Rod and realised the extent to which I've improved over the past week. Which is quite a nice feeling. Oh, and remember those Beard clubs of mine? Broke another one. That's four in four days and quite frankly enough. I ordered myself a set of Henry Classics to pick up at BUC next week. Problem solved. So now I've just got to work out how I'm going to unload myself of six pretty knackered Beard clubs. Hmmm.

Dave, Pete, Tom and I discovered the fabulous game of high-speed crash mat tumbling. Highlights included watching Dave's legs waggle furiously from the innards of a big crash mat sandwich and then seeing him racing towards the mats on the unicycle and getting his lace caught in the pedal about a metre away from the mats, but just close enough that his belly-flop face-plant was well enough cushioned. It could have been nasty but the ten minutes it took him to extricate himself from the unicycle was hilarious.

I had a bit of a power nap on top of the crash mats and then Dave, Phil and Camille joined me for chips and blue slush for lunch. Nyum nyums. Then Camille and I sat and watched Dietz being ridiculously good. I think his powers lie in his sensible German shoes. Or it could be the combination of sensible shoes, luminous yellow short-shorts and superman t-shirt. Bless him. Whatever sympathy you might feel for him for being an autistic looking German evaporates instantly when he starts doing five club backcross sprints up and down the hall. Bastard.

We collected a big group of people together for tea on Saturday and invaded Frankie and Benny's. It was yummy-nice but I'm not sure they were quite prepared for eleven of us at just that moment. Darren ate the biggest, most offensive pizza in the world and had to invade everyone's personal space to do it.

This was my first full week BJC and I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. I talked to people and people talked back to me which was nice. I don't usually do that because you're all big and scary but it turns out the vast majority of people are alright. And if they're not you can always wander off. I got lots of hugs. Miark groped my bum. I found myself a couple of wives. I discovered that at a BJC it's socially acceptable to talk about poo to just about anyone. Which I did. Alan and I got recognised as good jugglers by a couple of randoms who, admittedly, didn't know what they were talking about, but it was nice to be stopped and asked questions and have people nod appreciably at you as they walk past. Volunteering didn't anger me. We signed up for a slot, turned up, got told to do something, and went and did it. Simple. Makes you wonder what makes it so difficult for other peple to get right. It would have been interesting to see how the badge privilege system worked for getting into shows had there been more people interested in going to the shows. As it is, I think BYJOTY and the Britishish were both weirdly under-attended. Which is strange when so many people came back from Cornwall last year saying BYJOTI was the best thing they'd seen all week.

I'm excited about picking up my new clubs on Friday. I'm going to do my best to muller them in an effort to appreciate the higher quality.