Feeling Invinci-ball

I just got my SAS Invinci-Ball tickets in the post, not gunna lie I am a little excited. Myself and A Blake (nice bloke big features generally) are going so it should be a action packed weekend with hopefully not to many cringe worthy scenarios but you just never know as he can be a bit of a loose cannon at times, well a lot of the time to be completely honest and I’m pretty easily led, some may say.
I just hope it goes better than the last time I went way back in 2004, which only saw me at the ball for approximately 30 minutes, got a little over excited you see and when that happens the outcomes can go either way. It was an odd one though from the start, as to how I even got hold of the dam tickets in the first place. A week before the ball I just so happened to be wrestling at a house party in Croyde, it was one of those wrestles which almost got out of control, like they start off all playful but quickly get a bit serious. The problem was it wasn’t one of my mates this tom foolery was happening with; it was a grown woman that I barely knew. The next day I was already giving myself guilty death threats when the phone rang and it was Nick from Redwood surf shop, he seemed to be reviling in his own sobriety from the previous night which is enough to tip anyone over the edge but when he dropped the bombshell that my said wrestling partner had dropped an envelope in for me my heart sank, what the hell could it be? Thoughts of the worst case possible outcome obviously go through your brain and that situation arises where you need to know what’s in that envelope before you can do or think about anything else.
Just so happened that in the envelope was a pair of VIP tickets for the SAS ball with a little note about what a good wrestler I was! Bonus. I thought I was gunna get sued or possibly a restraining order but instead I get given a pair of VIP SAS ball tickets, I couldn’t quite work it out but suddenly life felt good again and Nicks sobriety not so much fun after all!
As I said my VIP ball experience was short lived and went a little like this; I’d given the 2^nd ticket to life companion, housemate and interesting drunk Horley, neither of us knew what to expect and got there a little early, actually really early so the first 20 minutes were spent doing dance floor skids, like the really goods one you used to do at discos when you were at primary school, everyone just stood round the edges not really knowing what to do until someone steps up and breaks the ice by doing a running dance floor knee skid, well that was how we spent the first 20 minutes minus anyone really watching, just a few comments like ‘twats’ and ‘grow up your not in primary school anymore you dicks’. After that the next 5 minutes we spent hunting out the VIP area where the idea was to harass strangers. VIP areas are great for this because everyone’s so bloody cool and these people make perfect targets. Our plan was floored though as the VIP area was pretty much empty, everyone knows cool people are always late. So this moves me on to my final 5 minutes and I have to say this possibly wasn’t the finest 5 minutes of my life.
Some band had started playing and now there are a few more people milling around, I stood at the back of the marquee drinking a beer when something in my brain just clicked and I took off into an auto pilot situation, running across the dance floor, side stepping a couple of people and diving over the barrier in front of the stage, I didn’t want to get on stage or anything, or although no doubt If given half a chance. But I think I’d just seen that sort of thing on TV when watching these festivals with the big crowds and bands playing, crowd surfing, people fainting and getting pulled over the barriers to safety etc I wanted to do that and somehow saw this as my only opportunity in life that I would ever get. Looking back I don’t think it’s that kind of place. The bouncer just grabbed me and asked me to come with him; he quickly cut my VIP wrist band off then bundled me out the Marquee. I spent the rest of the night in the car park thinking thank fuck I didn’t have to pay for that ticket but I’m pretty sure Horley enjoyed himself.   

Malloy me not

What on earth was I thinking when I left the house this morning to go for a surf, maybe along the lines I thought  I’d actually woken up somehow as a Malloy brother or I was a distant relation to Rasta or Donavon. But it wasn’t till I set my sights on the waves, that the realisation I had only put a wooden belly board in my van to surf with and I was still Me hit hard. It took the old surf craft selection scenario to the another level, as I’m sure any surfer has had that dilemma of what board to ride no matter how big or small their quiver and what the surf conditions.
I’m no stranger to the wooden belly board, as in fact I was ranked No2 in the world back in 2004 and it was a close call between myself and first place who also just happened to be my good mate Skelly, the thing was he loves surfing weird or slightly odd surf craft all the time but for me the reality is when the surfs good I could think of better ways to be ridding waves, like the good old trusty short board, that’s why they call it progression, isn’t it?
Skelly and Myself (Worlds No1 and 2 Wooden Belly Boarders 2004) often travelled together in the past yet every time we plan a trip he’d always do the same thing. My golden rule is never go on a surf trip without a bog standard short board, it’s your bread and butter board and always gets the most use, but skellys odd outlook or maybe ‘broader perspective’ on surfing is somewhat different yet he never seems to learn. Two examples of this; On a 3 month trip to West Aus when packing he decided, out of the 5 boards he was going to take none of them were going to be a standard short board. I warned him he’d regret it  and after 3 weeks of surfing super fun 3-4ft waves on a 6’8 semi gun he crumbled and begged to borrow mine ‘Please Cotton, just one surf’ ‘you could ride your 6’3, you haven’t ridden that much’ he said. ‘Not a chance, I told you’ was my reply although I do seem to remember caving in on a couple of occasions and letting him have a bash.
So as most people learn from their mistakes I went to Scotland with him a couple years ago. His quiver choice was an impressive array of surf craft with consisted of a blow up surf matt, wooden belly board, 6’10, 90’s Maurice Cole piny which had mental channels in, A twinny that looked like it had been found in a garage 30 years ago and probably should of been left there and a 6’8” gulfstream pin tail which was only slightly normal board he had. He was stoked with his selection and on the 14 hours drive up there explained in every detail imaginable what conditions he’d surf every board and why he’s brought it along. Three days into the trip the 14 hours Scottish board selection justification and lecture had been long forgotten, as I waxed up my short board and he was starring at either the blow up matt or the twinny that looked like it had been found in a garage 30 years ago and probably should of been left there. ‘I do like all my boards but I’d have to admit something more normal to surf does seem quite appealing right now.’    
  

Job Title

‘Cool hair mate’ is what people generally say, well apart from that woman the other week who said I looked ‘gay’ but I only spoke to her for 30 seconds and she said a couple of things which made me think she was slightly socially inapt, so I suppose she doesn’t even count.
The other thing which I’ve noticed people say is ‘So what do you do now?’ This always puts me in an awkward position as I never really know how to answer them. I could answer them in a number of replies, ‘I get by’ ‘lifeguard’ ‘shop worker’ ‘unemployed’ ‘plumber’ ‘pro surfer’ or ‘Labrador breeder’ but I don’t as I know People really only ever ask this if (a) there really stuck for conversation (b) being nosey or (c) they want to follow up by telling you how fucking brilliant there life is.
As soon as I get asked this question I instantly panic and usually answer by saying ‘um not much really’ then this opens up the follow up question ‘Oh what do you do now then?’ which is what they really wanted to tell me in the first place. So they can launch into their life, how great they are and how well their doing. Don’t get me wrong here I like to hear how well people are doing in life; it’s just the labelling thing or job description that gets my goat.  I couldn’t care less what you call or label yourself, it’s just a title which usually is made up, or blown out of proportions anyway. It honestly doesn’t bother me whether you’re title or job description in life is a Bin Collector or the Richest Man in Britain, I try and take people at face value but some people have massive hang ups on this shit.
A few months ago I found out all this out in a real life situation when I jested by calling this guy a ‘Painter and Decorator’ the fact was I couldn’t give a shit what he did or does as it just doesn’t matter, it was just instant a reply to ridicules email that this ‘Person’ sent me in the first place.

 "Your reply to that e-mail was full of personal malice directed at belittling me and all other painters and decorators! You wrote from a seemingly aloof perspective, when in fact as a plumber your remarks say more about yourself."

Was his reply, then he launched into a rant about how rich he was and what he actually did, putting digets on his wealth and estate that he owns which I won’t quote as its just embarrassing yet at the same time very, very funny. To think that anyone would actually put that on paper in a reply to just a simple joke about a job which they don’t even do! Humans are just so strange sometimes.
Analog and Gravis just sent me some new business cards, check out my job title.

Emotional times

I’m an emotional little fella, you probably wouldn’t know really as it’s something that I try and keep hidden and a side I only let a few close people see. Its freaking odd the things that make me emotional though, one of which is when I watch films, I think this is why I don’t really watch many anymore, its happened in the past where when watching a film I pretty much have to switch off and ignore the plot just in case I get to involved and the water works start. My usual film watching time now is where I have no real choice on a flight and it can get quite embarrassing. Before I know it and failing to do that switch off thing my brain sort of gets emotionally attached to the characters, then for no reason the smallest scenario within the film will set me off and I just lose it and break down in tears, sometimes I just can’t stop myself. Other things that set me off are some real life documentary’s which I think most will admit can be pretty gut wrenching at times and randomly enough Deal or no deal. Yep you heard it right, I get so into that game show so much it’s actually bought me to tears, almost like I feel and pain and joy of the contestants and feel what they’re going through as I sit there sipping my tea from the comfort of my living room. I got so into this show I ended up applying, after one of the longest and most annoying application forms I’d ever taken the time to fill out, which for me is an achievement in itself I didn’t hear anything back for months. It got to the point where I pretty much forgot all about it then out of the blue I had a phone call, I got interviewed over the phone then asked to attend another audition in Bristol which if I was successful would see me hanging out with Noel in Bristol for 2 weeks while filming the shows and a pop at winning £250.000. I was so stoked and couldn’t quite believe my luck. ‘Should probably take the time to fill out more application forms more often’ I thought ‘probably starting with some job ones!’
Anyway, went to the audition and had a shocker. It involved sitting in a big semi circle with 30 other grown adults and playing a mock version of the game, no real emotion was involved no matter how the rest of the applicants tried to fake it as they over enthusiastically played and I just felt like a complete plumb as everyone else got into the pointless and embarrassing game. I didn’t break down or cry during this I felt like a bit of a twat and was sort of gutted I was wasting my time. I didn’t pass this audition which was no surprise but it did make me feel slightly more normal oddly enough.
All this as usual has nothing to do with the vid at the beginning of the post. But just take the time to watch it, don’t just watch it once take the time to watch and listen to it 2 or 3 times. It gets me going and hits hard for some reason, not just the places it’s filmed which feel quite familiar to me it’s the words that are spoken and the sincerity from Mickey. Truly amazing and emotional stuff.

you look..........

It’s amazing what a new hair cut, skinny jeans, baggy v neck T and some deck shoes can do. I went through a stage where I cut my own hair, just in front of the mirror with the kitchen scissors. The first few times went well and to be honest I don’t think anyone could tell but as time went on and at about the 18 month, 2 year mark my hair got so far away from an actual style I started to look a little bit ridiculous and people didn’t want to be seen in public with me, especially my ex girlfriend and it was her who persuaded me to go to a professional high street hairdresser and get a real hairstyle. It cost me freaking £25 which I couldn’t quite believe and had to ask twice, I quickly worked out that in the 2 years of my DIY haircuts I’d saved myself well over £150 which I was quite happy about it and eased the pain of the £25 mugging I’d just had while sitting still for 20 minutes being asked loads of annoying personal questions which I didn’t want or feel the need to answer.
So the last 3 or so weeks I’ve been on a bit of a tour, this has involved a lot trying to get some colour on the ginger skin, a bit of training mixed with some late nights and generally having a blast. I’ve managed to increase my alcohol tolerance levels to 5 pints, at which point I start going blind in one eye, getting a nervous involuntary twitch and speaking in tongues, it’s quite impressive for me but hopefully that will lower again as it is getting quite expensive. The thing is when I cut my own hair no one ever commented on it, but over the last few weeks and my late nights out I’ve had some random comments which has had me slightly concerned. The first was in Santander, I was quietly ripping up the dance floor when this complete stranger came up to me and shouts ‘David Guetta’ in my face, obviously I was like what the fuck. Then in really broken English ‘you look like David Guetta’ then just turned around and walked off. The second was, I saw these 2 girls getting out a taxi one night and the only reason it caught my eye was one of them had a skirt on which could of been worn as a belt, as she walked towards me she looked me right in the eye and laughed pointing ‘ha look, it’s that guy off pineapple dance studio.’ The next one was when I was chatting to a friend when some really horrible drunk girl decided to butt in, she was so drunk her face was all distorted and she looked like one of those girls you see on the programmes about booze Britain and how shit we all are at binge drinking ‘it’s JJ off big brother’ but she didn’t just say it once and fuck off she just kept saying it like she was stuck on repeat. The final one was in the cold light of day and actually left me a little speechless. When chatting at a trade show last week, this woman says to me ‘I know I don’t know you and we’ve never met before, but you look so gay’.
It’s all given me a bit of a complex really; think I might start cutting my own hair again.    

Chinese whispers

This is Dave, he’s alright really no matter what any photo says about him, although after what I’ve heard about what the fecker has been up to in the last few years you might have a different opinion.
We go way back you see, as like any small village and community everyone knows everyone, their girlfriends, ex girlfriends, where they’ve lived, who with and what went down in each seedy dwelling over the summer months and winter suicide watch, how often they go down the pub, who they talk to and what about when their down there, actually hang on this sounds a bit like facebook! Anyway, me and Dave have known each other for some time; we even worked together many moons ago in at gulfstream surfboards. Eventually Dave managed to leave the bubble for pastures greener, yet I didn’t see or hear from him for some time the old stories always filtered back, slightly exaggerated or misinterpreted but they still came back. That’s why when I got told he’d bought a ski lodge in the Swiss alps I was thinking ‘yeah right that old chest nut’ then 6 months later I also hear he’s bought or partially bought a surf camp in the Mentawai’s. I was thinking it’s all been taking too far this time, these Chinese whispers just can’t be correct and have to stop just for Dave’s sake if no one else’s. Its gunna be more like he was cleaning for some lodge in the Swiss alps then cooking in some shitty surf camp in the Mentawai’s - living the dream briefly for a couple of years before he has to come back home to sunny Devon where nothing’s changed apart from the price of a pint in Billy buds.
Oh how I was wrong, I heard it all from the horse’s mouth just today, so maybe the photo is right! Check out Dave’s endless fun time sun time and mutter ‘cunt’ under your breath!

http://www.mentawai-surfcamp.com/

http://www.snowmotions.com/

Szczepan comes to Croyde for the first AG coffee morning.

This is Szczepan, he’s from Poland and has been travelling round the UK for a year and 7 months, nice bloke and I’m guessing that when he said travelling he means sleeping rough and boozing shit loads as he doesn’t look like he’s been working much over the past year and when I met him at 7am on Saturday morning he was surrounded by empty cider bottles, although I could be wrong about the work comment as I didn’t actually ask him that. He speaks perfect English and couldn’t really understand what the hell I was doing down the beach on a rainy, windy Saturday morning so early, armed with piping hot coffee and fresh donuts which I’d just picked up from the bakers in Barnstaple, but he was pretty stoked to see me.
Just started doing these Analog coffee mornings you see, the idea is to just rock up down the beach put up a gazebo and just give out free coffee and donuts to whoever passes by and have a little chin wag and hang out. Unfortunately on Saturday the weather was horrific with wind and rain and Szczepan was the only bloke down there for the first 30 mins but it did pick up and by 8am the word had spread and everyone was digging the free refreshments courtesy of AG. Luckily for me I persuaded my mate A Blake to come down and help so I wasn’t too suicidal when I was struggling with the gazebo in the rain, nice bloke, big features generally.
I’m hoping Szczepan will be down there when we do the next one as we got on so well, I said I'd let him know so he can make another appearance but he's a pretty hard guy to keep in contact with as he's not on facebook yet.

life swap

I couldn’t think of anything more de motivating than having to surf a comp in 1-2ft, yet spirits where high and the whole Devon team bonded well and worked as a unit which got results in all areas, fair play actually as most of them were punching well above their weight in the age groups they had been entered in.
Apart from the surfing what impressed me most was the other afternoon I was walking back from the shop I passed a group of girls, I looked down at my feet as I passed because these sort of groups of girls can be somewhat intimidating for a grown man like myself but out of the corner of my eye I noticed one of them wearing a Devon team hoody. What the fuck, I thought one of the little shits must have lost it or left it behind somewhere already and the girls must have found it. I got back to the beach and everyone was hanging by the gazebo ‘ok, who has lost a hoody’ I said, everyone was silent and no one came forward ‘well I’ve just seen a group of chicks and one of them was wearing a Devon team hoody’ ‘ah’ one of them pipes up ‘well that was mine you see’ ‘we met those chicks after lunch last night while waiting for the bus, we invited them down the beach to check us out in the comp today.’ ‘When they left I swapped my hoody for a bracelet and a kiss.’
 I’ve heard it all now I thought, I didn’t say anything but I was pretty impressed, I’d been out 3 times and not even spoke to anyone slightly female, in fact I spent most of my time speaking to Greg Robinson about Devon surf spots, long boarding and why some people are so annoying let alone get a chance to invite some hot chicks down the beach to check out my rig and watch me surf, then swap my hoody for a kiss. I really need to step things up.  

Tits

It’s been testing but I’m bearing up under the strain, pressure and responsibility, there was a small scenario with losing my phone and a gazebo but you’ll all be glad to hear I haven’t lost anything or anyone else and i did recover the gazebo but unfortunately i still have no phone.
Actually I’m loving it as the last few days have been an amazing roller coaster ride of highs and lows and a whole heap of laughs. It just cracks me up some of the things the groms have come out with and how they see things. The first day one of the little fellas came out with some priceless quotes, he looked so excited sitting there on the beach with the biggest grin on his face which had me a little worried as he couldn’t of been stoked about the surf as it was shit ‘what you up to?’ I nervously asked ‘this is so good’ he excitedly replied ‘I’ve never been to a beach where the girls get their tits out before’ ‘they don’t do it at Croyde’. Needless to say they were all well behaved that day as they sat there taking it all in, we had a few surfs ran about a lot then headed back to the accommodation at last light. But he did say an absolute clinker on the coach home which had me crying with laughter. With a straight face and deadly serious ‘I’ve seen about 50 pairs of tits today’ there was a bit of silence and before I even had a chance to reply ‘that’s 100 nipples’ he then said with the biggest grin i've ever seen.

who steals used flip flops?

You should see their little faces; I think I’ve found my vocation in life as some sort of motivational speaker and team leader.
 Any way enough of them check out my new Gravis flip flops which I got just in time for my adult/guardian/mentor role in Spain. I finally received them after about 3 months and about 30 emails. Just for your information there’s about 6 pairs of these flops somewhere in Europe in little parcels all with my name and address on missing, or that’s what Charlie from gravis has had me believe, I have no reason not too as he’s a pretty straight up kind of guy. It’s no surprise really as I said to him the other day ‘me and flip flops are jinxed’ I just can’t seem to keep a pair for more than a couple of weeks, which really fecks me off as it always takes at least a week to break any worthy flip flop in and make them feel like they’ve really become a part of you. Who the fuck steals flip flops anyway?
I’ll give you a example of this so if you can’t be arsed to read on I’ll understand as this could be a pretty boring post but then again some people might be genuinely interested in my flip flop tails of wow and a insight to the kind of person who actually steals a pair of second hand flip flops.
This pair was my first pair which I’d managed to keep hold of for a record amount of weeks and I believe was my best pair to date. I wasn’t oblivious though as I knew people had their eyes on them, the odd comment here and there like ‘nice flops cott they look super comfy’ then out the corner of my eye I would see them quietly trying them on for size.
Whilst in Hawaii last year my little African friend Mikey said these sorts of things a lot and I knew I could never trust him,  I’d been warned about saffa’s in the past and also experienced them first hand, Devon’s full of them! but I’m not one to stereotype and would give anyone the benefit of the doubt and to be fair we were getting along nicely and formed a good little partnership in the surf and on the social side too, pushing ourselves above and beyond on more than a few occasions.
Lesson learned right there as one morning I woke up to find my flip flops missing, foggy headed I searched franticly, re traced my tracks and even missed my morning surf due to my concerns. How could I surf? All I could think about was my flops. I went a step further and started asking complete strangers if they’d seen them and filled out a ‘MISSING’ advert and posted it in Foodland, but all this was to no avail, Vanished into thin air suspiciously along with my friend Mikey too.
3 months later I get a call from my old boss at the RNLI saying they had a package for me which had just turned up addressed very oddly; Att: Andrew Cotton,  RNLI lifeguard, Croyde beach, Croyde, Devon.
I couldn’t even believe that this had ever reached me and to my surprise when I opened the package it was my flip flops. Barely recognisable, pretty much worn through and with the right one carrying a broken thong, my heart sank and a tear came to my eye, at least they found their way home and I could lay them to rest.
Turned out Mikey did have a conscience, although he returned them used, abused and unusable he did return them.
If anyone comes across the other 6 pairs that i never received from gravis but were addressed correctly please let me know. Wonder how long these bad boys will last?