Grinning like a LSD spiked Granny

Not content with bopping around like a demented loon at the Forum in Tunbridge Wells recently when I got to see Misty's Big Adventure for the first time a few weeks ago, the opportunity arose to repeat the experience on Wednesay at the Purple Turtle in Camden. Very neat venue - go there for the cyber goth art on the walls alone if need be.

Event was part of the Glasswerks gig-fest and for £6 there was a full support bill, and I was very taken with the fantastically retro Hypo-Psycho (who are back there 10th November) - a good sort of two-tone/Green Day sound and have tremendous stage presence. And very cool two-tone shoes. I'll be back there for the 10th I reckon. Next up was a seriously whacked-out Glumrock group Second Sun whose lead singer was awesomely vocally talented and the bloke that heckled him may have wished that the song next performed hadn't included the lines "revenge - I'll have my revenge". Nice one smiler.

And then MBA. Slight soundhitches aside, another truly slick set and yay I got to see Erotic Volvo without the suit and make-up before he went on stage. He looks quite normal at that point. More leaping around ensued, truly fun time had by all and to the chap I was twirling with - sorry that I trod on you foot, hope you enjoyed your jam session with The Composers. More Mistys, I want more! Who needs drugs when you can see a bloke in a begloved suit.

Lifting a quote from Glasswerks home page to sum it up:

"MBA are a band that entertain on more than a style level, a band i dare you to see and not leave grinning like a LSD spiked Granny at a Rod Stewart stadium show"

Must away to Brighton.

The Haunted Locomotive

Working in a nominally customer services type environment means that I have a great deal of scorn for those companies that decide that individuals can't be trusted to communicate in an appropriate manner and must have a script to follow. Step forward Train Companies.

Having the opportunity to be doing the intercity type into Birmingham and fondly imagining that it wouldn't be long until I could drop the corporate baggage (physical and mental) and hit alcohol. This would be until there was a "technical issue we need to resolve" type annoucement issued forth to not-explain what was happening. Lots of silence, lots of worried pacing from the tracksman, and the frequent "we are still dealing with the technical issue we need to resolve with the train, apologies to our customers for any delay" Any delay? Why not be specific and list the exact minutes delayed - that would be of help to the passengers needing to fill out the compensation forms. But the "Train Manager" - would that be "guard" in oldspeak? delivered the prescripted "Apology and Outfomation for circumstances that we haven't come across before" very well. Very corporately in fact and therefore totally useless to us poor saps who would have either settled for "it's to do with the track" "something is up - we'll be moving soon" or even silence.

Compare and contrast with the spirit of John Peel currently resident in Train Manager 2 on the journey back from Brum. It was very HMHB with the Train Manager conveying in tone if not in actual speech that he would actually welcome the opportunity to lamp anyone trying to get on the train just as it was departing "If you try to pull the doors when the train is closing, it will just stay there and we won't be going anywhere" and that fare dodgers should be flogged "If your ticket doesn't say 1700, you are on the wrong train, your ticket is not valid and you need to buy a new one - and for those intending to "depart" at Coventry - there is a ticket barrier" but best of all was the instruction re seat occupancy "well, we've left Coventry, if you are still standing and there is a vacant seat and you've checked no-one is sitting in it, I think empty seats are to be considered fair game now" Train Manager 2 - you would win an award for real customer service and management because you talk rather than "inform" and actually make people listen to you. Plus you are a wonderfully sarky bastard!

Boots, Music and Friends

The two gigs I've recently been to were brill; Misty's Big Adventure were seriously ace and I surprised myself by lurching around with careless abandon despite almost being the oldest person there - would recommend seeing them whenever the opportunity arises - like the 28th @ Camden Buzzard fr'instance. Love the Glove.

Laura Cantrell @ Islington Academy was emotionally perfect and I was glad that it was dim lights so that I could have an unashamed blub unfettered by thinking that someone was noticing. Bees was dedicated to John Peel and the lines "searching the streets for old friends and finding only strangers" and "no voice to say goodbye, tears on my face have dried.....so I'll see you on the other side" was the ones that did it for me. My father in law loved country music and I used to politely humour him and when we went through all his stuff when it was time to clear the house finally, merrily slung all the cassettes and vinyl in the box marked "charity shop" not realising that six years later, I'd be hunting out the same Johnny Cash albums.

Music was able to really cheer me up as well when I found out that one of the singers whose track I used on a SrokaSounds podcast, Jeff Solomon (Temporary Song was the track, buy it buy it buy it) had mailed me to say I'd made his day by using it (yay) and that would it be OK to link me on his web site. Yipee! I'm there under the "news" section and if I made his day by swiping a track to use in a substandard podcast, he's made my year by writing me up. What a star - come and play the UK Jeff.

I never thought that music would cause rows in the same way religion could but a heated debate over a beer & curry evening nearly required the UN to intervene. In the red corner "stuck in the 80s - new music is crap, unknown bands are too raw", the blue corner "isn't it great the wealth of music out there to be discovered, who needs the sanitized, cling film wrapped musical equivalent of standardised tomatoes, when you can get the true ugly but full flavour version" Yet another conflict, yet another difference highlighted. I think that the subsequent purchase of the entire Now Music 1-61 knock off cd from a boot sale was a malicious act, I hope the ipod eats it - although it did give me the opportunity to add sneering comments re the artists when challenged to a name that artist session. Just because I think some of the music I grew up to is naff, it doesn't mean I've forgotten who made it.

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth but how the hell do you cope with battery operated Pumpkin Lights? Then this week when I emerged from another 3 hour marathon hairdresser session (hehehe) found a plastic bag shoved in my direction with a "these are yours." The "these" being a new pair of DMs. Sod flowers, Docs will get anyone anything (almost) in my book - although I did notice a new pair of Cat boots purchased for the grand Oz escape so this is possibly a guilt inspired offering.

And the hair? Well now that I sport a two-tone look, I have to take preventive action to stop it becoming root heaven so the wonders of Eddie at Bladerunners worked again, and I emerged stress-free after having a couple hours worth of camp chat, reading mags, having a fag and drinking coffee and feeling strangely girly to look like this - you'd not believe that hair is naturally curly!


Oh well, countdown to Brighton & Oz commences now, if I survive the fag-hag weekend, I get to wave off a plane Monday week and then am looking forward to at least a fortnights worth of unsomina - ie 8 hours solid sleep every night as opposed to the four I tend to get currently. Bet I'll be knackered though!

The Rollercoaster Day

This weekend was Thames Festival & London Open weekend, so finding myself up in town armed with time & travelcard, I decided to do some stuff "for me" and chill out after the thrills that had been a gig that was awesome on Friday night.

I've always walked by Southwark Catherdral and sort of thought that I probably ought to stick my beak in there one day but never had - well as it provided an opportunity to avoid Morris Dancers (akin to mimes & clowns in terms of things I can't "get") I decided to lumber on in and wow! Vaulted ceilings, fantastic stained glass, quirky citations and a celebration of London-ness rather than religion. The dedicated to the notable quack Lionel Lockyer made me laugh (not a good thing in church)

"Here Lockyer: lies interr'd enough: his nameSpeakes one hath few competitors in fame:A name soe Great, soe Generall't may scorneInscriptions whch doe vulgar tombs adorne.A diminution 'tis to write in verseHis eulogies whch most mens mouths rehearse.His virtues & his PILLS are soe well known..That envy can't confine them vnder stone.But they'll surviue his dust and not expireTill all things else at th'universall fire.This verse is lost, his PILL Embalmes him safeTo future times without an Epitaph"

The Pugin Tabernacle in the Harvard Chapel is great for the inner-goth and the memorial to the Hop Merchant Sir Frederick Wigan (commerating the importance of Southwark to the hop trade) was appropriate as I'd been sampling some "hop related" produce the previous night to great effect - cheers Sir John.

But the thing that got me was a fairly recent addition - Right near the entrance is a flat tablet with 51 names on it and it is to commemorate those that died 20 Aug 1989 as part of the Marchioness Riverboat disaster. Reading the names and their ages, it struck me that most of them were younger than I am now, some of them had been the same age as I was when it happened and it was all too much, what with it being Thames Festival Day as well. Still, if you are going to be sitting somewhere with tears running down your face at the pointlessness of it all, a church isn't a bad place to be.

After a wander around Borough Market and the snappy streets around there, I continued a walk along the southbank (battling with the Bridges of London Walkers), I stopped to listen to a busker - Julian Davies (name on a bit of card) and amongst other songs he did, he sang Streets of London and Perfect Day - cue another spot of blubbing.

It had started a perfect day but then the combination of mobile phone going flat, a misunderstanding re arrangements for meeting up etc etc meant that the afternoon and early evening was anything but perfect. Even the penance of going to the Forbidden Planet (comic shop) didn't make things right. Just as well I've the skin of a rhino.

I ended up in Covent Garden via Stamfords Map shop and have had my nose stuck in Tim Moore's "Do Not Pass Go" (London's history via the Monolopy quest - I've done part of the Monopoly pub crawl once) ever since. So, did it ever dawn on you just what the linking theme is between the Orange cards or which square are you most likely to end up on or what is the link between all the stations?

Bet you are fascinated now though!

Jonah!

Arghhhhhhhh!

A reason I'm signed Gothiron is that I am nominally a West Ham United Season Ticket holder which is meant to mean I go to watch games. The score so far this year 1-2 in terms of home games I've actually seen against those I could have watched. The opening match of the season was sacrificed to attending a work colleagues bbq in jolly Kempston (and the result, we won), the next home game I attend (and the result we lose) and then tonight, with sports fans buoyed up by the Ashes victory, a thumping 4-0 against The Villa and do I get to watch it - like buggery I did. Local roadworks with temporary lights that went tits up meant that for about 40ish minutes I hadn't even made it to the M25 - which ironically was clear as anything. I'd optimistically thought that I might miss the first 15mins if I got home early enough to catch the bus and then sprinted up the High Street - instead I relived every kick and tackle in the cosy environs of the car, the kitchen and then finally the digibox since listening online wasn't an option. I'm really pleased that Marlon Harewood got a hatrick - and even more chuffed that my mum wasn't squashed up for 90 minutes on the account of having a spare seat by her. Not a free seat - just spare.

I had txted my mum who I go (or rather don't go) with to footie, jokingly saying that I won't be allowed in to the ground at this rate (and that was when we were only 2-0 up) only to get the reply of "we're seriously thinking of selling your seat" This isn't a threat to be taken lightly - when I left home, she'd sold my bed within the afternoon....

So just because bloody temporary lights decided to stay red for everyone on a blind bend meaning that only intrepid Chelsea Tractors would venture out first (followed by a pack of cowardly family cars and then the rust buckets at the rear), my seat is in danger since I am that acursed thing - a football Jonah.

Still, cracking start Hammers - couldn't you just win once when I turn up? I promise, I'll miss any cup finals on principal.

Things To Rant About

Had a pretty good weekend away with a friend despite the combined efforts of London Underground & First Great Western who conspired to ensure that a) I missed my cheap ticket train (due to minor and therefore non-claimable delays on the Circle line) and I had to pay fullish single fair to get to Gloucester and b) that the train I missed was the only direct train but if I stayed on the train at Swindon and gone to Bristol and back (and ignore the helpful advice from the train staff who told me the total opposite) I would have saved myself the hours wait around at Swindon awaiting a connection to Gloucs. Swindon station is cold. End of train rant.

Oh actually no, it isn't. Kemble Station (kept open as part of some action bylaw/trust agreement and very dinky) has excellent facilities, Cafe - hilarilously called "Off The Rails", very posh waiting room with up-to-date copies of magazines and convenient loos that are located within site of the noticeboard so you wouldn't be missing the train whilst, well, on the throne. But the only problem was, everything was bloody well locked up - and that includes the ticket office. I must have some sort of bizarre "No, I don't work here, but ask me questions about anything" brand on my forehead as I dealt with queries from a beaming clutch of tourists and wrinklies - "well how do I buy a ticket then" (Don't - welcome to fare dodging if you are lucky), "Do you know somewhere where I can get a drink" (a pub? get me a carry-out whilst you are about it), "I'm desperate - what shall I do" (bushes?) I genuinely felt like a public service annoucement by the time the train came - and far from me to raise the view that Kemble must be the centre of the universe on a Sunday afternoon and they are missing a trick on revenue.

But it is one of the cleanest stations I've been to - not surprising seeing as any items that might possibly end up as litter are locked away.

And I can't be bothered to go into the angelic child who was lobbing the safety information cards over the back of the seat despite Mummy's pleas that "oooh, you nearly hit that nice lady, she won't be happy with you will she" Too flaming true.

But trains are still neat - although the temptation for a £3 return on MegaBus to Swindon and then cross country by "local bus" are attractive as well although I'm sure that there is a greater prevalence of "oooh, you've smacked the nice lady" on coach than train. The experiment awaits.

When The Machines Knew Better....

If you are a reader of the LondonbyLondon posting then the following will be met with a sage nod of the head and knowing look....if you are wondering just what the f... is she on about, then read on and learn about the day when the machines knew better.

The sweet vending machines on the London Underground (and probably others as well) have the ability to tell you whether it's going to be a good day or not....

If you are near a Cadbury's vending machine, rather than wasting dosh on overpriced chocolate to cheer you up, press 0110 instead and wait to see what the machine says...usually it's OK! No Problems.

After wowing a colleague with this knowledge and thereby explaining the reason why I manically make a bee-line for these machines at every opportunity, yesterday was the day when the machine knew better.

Attempting to travel from Euston to Victoria (what, five stops or so), I duly interrogated the machine on the platform and didn't get the binary version of thumbs up...Hmmm should have heeded the machine as the tube journey then descended in farce with the train being delayed, then destination unknown, then managing one stop and having to terminate with the revised route then being kiboshed by problems on Circle/District etc etc.....

So be warned - if the machine doesn't say it's OK - it's not!

Better than A Stuffed Bear!

Came across this on Flickr and for some reason couldn't blog it properly so have swiped it directly.

Now this is what I'd want if I could have a go on the "Make A Weird Creature" machine, although maybe would improve it by the addition of fangs...

It's an armadillo (duh!) and was found in someone's bin. All I get rifling through my bin bags is the local band of scaggy cats and the odd starling. Nothing as exotic as the "freak from space" show on the left.

Now if only I could persuade my company to adopt this weirdo as a mascot rather than a stuffed bear\monkey I'd be in heaven.