Travelling tittle-tattle, tall tales and shameless name-dropping by Jon ‘Don’t Call Me’ Norman

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Wednesday 12 March 2008

Return of the Mark

In the build up to my trip there were so many different things I was looking forward to. The opening madness in Sydney, meeting Fe’s huge family, discovering and exploring a new country in New Zealand, watching England lose in the cricket and reacquainting myself with a suntan again were all top of the agenda as was meeting up with old cricketing buddies from my last winter tour.

Sadly not everyone could make the journey over to NZ. Danny had his career to think of. No wonder as his last trip abroad took in four continents and 9 months. So he had some payback to attend to. The Pro was missing in action. We haven’t been able to locate him since Oz. And Chris opted for watching England get battered by Sri Lanka rather than the Kiwis.

So that left able deputies in Nathan and Mark. And it was with great expectation that I boarded the coach from Auckland to Hamilton where we were to share backpacker quarters just like the good old days.

As I sat in the coach I started daydreaming about some of the highlights of our Aussie trip. Me and Mark sharing a dorm in Brisbane for a week with a faulty air con that started working immediately the minute two Swedes moved in and plugged it in. Nathan and I, plucking up the courage to go on the ‘Neighbours Tour’ and then watching ‘The Dame Edna Experience’ in Melbourne. Experiencing the extreme highs and lows in Adelaide. They were good times and I was looking forward to more of the same.

Nathan picked me up at the bus depot and together with Mark and his friend Jane we spent the evening reminiscing together over a couple of beers and watching India beat Australia in a pub packed with Brits and Kiwis. The highlight was a resounding Indian victory although this came close to trumping it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kTWOk6slU_Y

An enjoyable evening indeed. However it didn’t take long to remember stuff that I had managed to conveniently forget about one of my buddies. Namely, that when he wants to be Mark is a complete numpty at times……In the best possible way of course.

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The alarm bells should have been ringing whilst watching the cricket as he kept referring to Harbajan Singh as Azerbaijan Singh. And when we sat down to eat on the second night. Upon perusing the menu he asked us what ‘salsa’ was?

By the time he ordered a roast lamb and potato pizza I was back in the world of Mark. I of course remembered his strange eating habits. He happily orders pizzas without cheese or tomato.

And then there’s the luncheon meat. Mark moved to Germany four years ago. Land of the Bavarian sausage. Yet he happily eats food that you buy in the same section as the dog food. It reminds me of my Uni days when I used to live with Manky Jon and his ‘loaf of meat.’ A sliced loaf of mechanically recovered meat that he’d bought to see him through a particularly hard week towards the end of term. Nice.

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And then there are the conversational and behavioural gems. It will come as no surprise that not Mark snores. But it’s his inability to breath through one of his nostrils that leads to some of the more unusual sounding noises emanating throughout the darkness.

On the second night I was awoken by what sounded like Jane falling out of bed. But was in fact the sound of her foot as it repeatedly crashed against the bottom of Mark’s bed at about four in the morning. Of course after waking up to her swearing loudly in a thick Mancunian accent I couldn’t nod off again because the noises from Mark’s side of the room increased. It appeared the deep sleep pounding he was experiencing from Jane’s boot had metamorposised into anxiety snores. Which make a right din I can tell you.

But let us not forget that Mark is one of the most caring blokes you could hope to meet. And as he was so concerned that he was keeping us awake he moved bunks with Jane so that he could sleep on the bottom and her on the top. This was so he wouldn’t wake her up as he clambered out of bed on his thrice nightly trips to the lavatory. And on the third day was keen to find out if it had made any difference.

Mark: Did you guys sleep okay last night?
Us: Yeah, pretty well.
Nathan: What about you?
Mark: I didn’t sleep well at all.
Nathan: Why not?
Mark: Because I spent most of my time trying not to fall asleep.
Us: ????????

Not only was that bizarre but he’d spent a good five minutes the night before ‘practicing’ how to get out of his bed without making too much noise. I really should have videoed that one.

Another gem he came out with was on the subject of England’s slow batting in the first Test.

Mark: Ian Botham must be turning in his grave at this
Nathan: Mark, Ian Botham isn’t dead
Mark: Oh yeah.

And he’s also trying his hand at slapstick comedy. Whilst walking into town one evening he was trailing his hand across a nearby picket fence. In much the same manner schoolkids do with stick in hand outside the school railings. Note to Mark: even children have worked out that you shouldn’t use your own body parts. But Mark was using his finger and naturally managed to get it trapped in one of the gaps. I’m not sure what was funnier. The sight of him jumping around whilst wincing in pain or the way he tried to style it out and pretend it nothing had happened.

And I’m sure there’ll be plenty more to come. We’re just one Test in so I’m looking forward to some more gaffes before Napier.

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