I am house bound because of the (bloody) snow, so do excuse me if I inundate you with blogs for the next three days. I thought, since I have literally nothing better to do (except for two weeks worth of ironing and uni work, but yeah, whatever), that I would share a great little anecdote with you. I am constantly going on about how Northern Ireland (especially Lisburn) is too small, as well as complaining that every man I meet has been an extra in Game Of Thrones, and I can’t get in there because I refuse to bear all to the world.*

Remember this scene? Awkward.

Remember this scene? Awkward.

*People always seem to question my devotion to HBO because of this, but hey…my Dad watches that show.

Anyway, both these theories were further proven recently, when I was on a driving lesson. Yes, I know, I’m 23 and can’t drive yet – that’s not the point I’m making. The point is that even my driving instructor is embroiled in the Game Of Thrones web that has covered the country.

It came up in conversation perfectly normally, of course. I mentioned I like Twitter and that my blog had been re-tweeted by my favourite comic book writer. I may have been gloating about how I felt famous for all of twenty minutes. Anyway, Phil (that would be the driving instructor) asked what I blog about, and I said, “Well, Game Of Thrones, mostly”.

I was trying to reverse around a corner at the time, by the way. Do you know how hard it is to talk and do that for the first/second time? I managed it. I am a driving god. Or at least, I will be, when I pass my test.

Anyway, Phil told me a little story. In this story, he was standing outside The Cloth Ear (an apparent haunt of all peoples of Westeros), when he started talking to the chap standing beside him. Phil is a friendly bloke.

And I can’t pull of saying ‘bloke’. Conversation went on, everything was very friendly, and said chap mentioned he was in Northern Ireland shooting a pilot for a big HBO series. For some wonderful reason, phone numbers were exchanged.

About half way through Phil telling the story, I was seriously veering around the road, demanding a name.


Yep, the slut that hit on his sister. That guy.

Yep, the slut that hit on his sister. That guy.

My driving instructor has not only met, but possesses the mobile number of one of the stars of my favourite TV show. I begged, I truly did, but alas, the number has not been forthcoming. So, it is with great regret, that I tell you all – I am going to have to kill my driving instructor and steal his mobile.

At this rate, I will never pass my driving test.


p.s. If you are local, and like Game Of Thrones, you can sign up here to be an extra!

p.p.s. If you like me, you can sign up here, for my love and devotion.