Rubber Rollercoaster

Blimey time flies

2009-12-24T14:18:00.001Z

As I didn't think it would over two years since I updated this. I guess the excitement of facebook and the like makes all this seem a bit old hat. Maybe we;ll go techno-retro this year and it will be come fashionable to type long paragraphs and not use textism. I can but dream.

Greatness All Around

2007-04-23T20:59:00.000Z

Living in Dagenham probably doesn't give me much reason to frequently start sentences with "Well of course Dagenham has......" although in recent weeks I have been able to complete that sentence with both "a football league team for next season" and "a really good and easy to use recyling policy".

However how about this for a corker "Well of course Dagenham has one of only 4 Great Trees of London in east london (and I know that I'm actually in Essex - let me save that rant for another day).

Don't believe me? Well The Valence Park Holm Oak is an official Great Tree of London . It has a plaque and everything (photo to follow if I can stalk my way around the Valence Moat Anglers). I quite like the idea that not only do I live near a Moat but there is a Great Tree as well. I wonder how many people who trudge through Valence Park actually notice the rather dark and somewhat massive tree in the corner by the old house and near the duck pond. Admittedly it is usually guarded by some evil Muscovy Duck so perhaps less people get to know that way-hay they are walking by A Great Tree.

It would be a good idea if the council also mentioned it somewhere on their website.....mmm, there's an idea.

Regular Maintenance

2007-04-16T21:40:00.000Z

Well, I thought I better give this a dust off seeing as it is, oh flaming pigs, nearly a year since I last wrote anything. Bugger.

So West Ham didn't win the FA Cup last year - but the final was great. This year the success belongs to Dagenham & Redbridge who got promotion to the league. Hurrah for them - I have a feeling that they won't be suffering the same plumenting of form as the Hammers. Neither will they be signing up dodgy Argentinians.....

Hey ho blog resurrected will keep it regular from now on.

Unexpected Pleasures

2006-04-24T20:16:00.000Z

As if the excitement that was a place in the FA Cup Semi Finals wasn't enough - there was more to the visit to Villa Park than just thinking that I'd have to be declared insane before trying the dogburgers on offer from the standard footie-identikit vendors scattered around.

Being a travelling footie fan meant that due to the absence of any Travel Jonahs on the way up to Villa, this happy hammer had around 4 hours to kill before turnstyles opened and the "greatest cup competition in the world" waddled into life - ahem, that flaming great that our match was on naffing Sky and not the beeb... So with the twin missions of finding something to do for a few hours and the growing need for a pee, the serendipitious find that is Aston Hall was truly welcome.

This is a free, let me repeat free, local stately home occupied by the Holte family (Holte End linkage) and also by James Watt Jnr, son of the engineer. The current Villa Ground is part of the fishponds and cesspools area from the great house and is worth a visit in it's own right. And not just because I needed a "comfort break" - although the guide had clocked that the average woman clad in team scarf and a sightly manic look in her eyes might welcome the update on facilities.

It's fantastic! Any fans wanting to kill time pre match v Villa, head up the Trinity Road and just for once, emphasise with life in a different era. The house is one of the Community Funded museums of Birmingham and is less nobby then the National Trust properties I've visited, with the trustees actually enthusiastic about what they are showing you and happy to point out small details. OK, it's not everyone's cup of tea (did I mention that coffee is 90p a cup and served in a proper mug) but for an unexpected find on a potentially grim afternoon, it's brill. Go see it, hunt out the remanents of the giant turtle, see if you can identify the bed ark and restain your companion from pinging an anicent fishbowl marked "Do Not Touch"

If you are into Jacobean architecture and lifestyle, this is a real find - and if you aren't, then the guides are used to fans wandering in with a rather fixed look in their eyes after a long coach journey.

And the football? We won. Cardiff here we come, recommendations for cultural gems welcomed.

Tree Hugging

2006-04-08T20:06:00.000Z

My brother's birthday - always a dilemma. The dilemma being that as I have very little to do with him, it's really hard to buy him anything. I had shied away from the classic fall back for blokes of socks on two grounds; it was too much of a cop out and also, well I don't know what size feet he's got. This decision was a baaad one as upon discussions with the Oracle, footcoverings had been a required article. Bugger.

The perfect gift presented itself to me in the form of a twisted willow tree. I'd be leaping around like a frog in a sock if I was given one. Who wouldn't be thrilled to the gills with a twisty tree heralding in spring? I think I found the answer to that.

Still, there are a lot of advantages to buying a tree (well grafted sapling to be precise).

You don't have to wrap it - well I guess a half hearted attempt could have been made to put a bow on it.

It's really hard to not use it - afterall all you have to do is plant it and it's not like you can just wheel out on high days and holidays in the unlikely event of a visit by the giver (in my case it would probably have turned to fossil fuel before I was likely to be dropping in)

It's a constant reminder of the kind person who gave it to you......

It can't be passed on to someone else as a cheapskate way of funding another present

There is endless fun involved in getting into a car as twisty it may be, flexible and foldable it isn't. Much hilarity can be sourced from watching someone wrestle with Nature's Gift in an attempt to get into a car that has been boxed in all sides. Although there is a slight trade off here in that much fun can be sourced by walking blithely around with said article not realising just how close you are getting to "treeing" someone.

And of the course the best bit is when someone opens the door and you can thrust a tree at them and say "it's a tree, for a present" and beam like a very contented gloworm.

Happy Birthday!

Not Everything Is Black & White

2006-03-05T19:44:00.000Z

Whether it is the advent of Spring (you know, that bit of the year that has brilliant sunshine, azure skies, vibrant bulbs and oh yes, freezing temperatures and excessive ice on the car windscreen) or something more personal, I've been seeing colour everywhere.

My mind at the best of times (and currently this isn't a best of times) tends to ramble off in it's own world, occasionally remember to return to sender but not usually before some blinding insight of a surreal nature has been uttered at a totally inappropriate time. But one thing that I ususally could count on was that it would see things mainly in grey with a flash of sepia shoudl I be feeling cheerful but never vibrant colours. Therefore I feel as though I am starring in a particularly arty film where the colours have deeper meaning and are therefore important and worthy of being noticed. I am now drawn to colours like some moth to a lava-lamp. Recently focussing in on a trio of Renault yellow articles whilst just glancing out of a window was a good example, the yellow of a car (renault), a motorbike and a jogger seizing my attention as though the key to curing the common cold could be gleaned from them if I just looked hard enough.

I'm finding it all fascinating and am convinced that I may have started to finally nail depression that has greyed out my life for years. My favourties on flickr were a bit of a clue but it's only when I saw them all together the colour swatches flew before me. For once, rose-tinted specs are a good thing.

Colour - it's great.

It's The Little Things

2006-02-17T11:03:00.000Z

It actually doesn't take much to make me laugh since I have the ability to find some small bizarre thing funny most days - it goes along with the ability to walk into large objects, trip over my own feet and generally be a bit of a loop on reality.

Yesterday's highlight was courtesy of the Central Line Train Driver - he obviously decided that corporate speak and annoucements wasn't for him and as we lurched up to Bank and awaited the standard "Mind The Gap" annoucement, things changed. "Please be aware of the space between the platform and the train - it's wide in places" Good for you mate. But it got better with the addition of "well, that's what you get if you tunnel behind the vaults of the Bank of England" Those of us not wearing earphones or engaged in banal and inane (oh and loud) conversations about the merits of boots, exchanged a brief smirk of enjoyment before disappearing beneath papers like commuting hermit crabs. Thank you Non-Conformist Train Driver - you made my Wednesday.

Today's frivolity has come in the form of work. Whilst writing down short codes for files, I had the bizarre experience of receiving a Yoda-like message based on the abbreviations I was working with. Now I know the secret of life, it's thus:

NOR NAG NOT

Insightfulness from work - whatever next.

Remembering to be Happy

2006-02-07T22:54:00.000Z

Now that the gloom appears to have drifted off, I now have that clarity that I always forget will follow a period of glumps.
I have as much or little control over my own life as a I need and although changes may be uncomfortable (a bit breaking in a new pair of boots), I'm actually finding out new things about myself as a result of having to face up to the maxim of "do what you always do, get what you always get".

I've learnt, well learning, how to have appropriate panicks/reactions to things as opposed to the "one-size fits all" type reaction I usually wheel out - which can vary from "the world is ending" to "oh well hey ho" with there not being much inbetween. I feel like I have the emotional range of a sugar thermometer - it's either nothing interesting happening or else it's a reaction worthy of "stand clear to prevent scalding" I'll be the first to admit that I do get concerned at the intensity/apathy conundrum and occasionally wish that I could just get a little bit pissed off or a little bit unconcerned as opposed to lurching between extremes. I'd also quite like to know which reaction it's going to be - I sometimes do get a bit fed up of my body springing surprises on me.

I have a real struggle with self-worth, any slight dent to my confidence (bad day at work, taking forever to park, being too timid to move out into another lane when driving and then getting stuck behind some slow, wide, swervey vehicle) and it doesn't take much for me to start the uselessness rosary. Ie that because I'm me, I'm useless. It took a mental kick to make me realise that short of causing a 20 mile tailback by refusing to overtake a Smart Care I'm actually not important enough in the grand scheme of things to matter greatly so therefore if I fail to attach a file in an email, leave the wrong date on a header or even totally forget to do a report or take 3 mins rather than 30 seconds to pass a slow-beast IT DOESN'T MATTER TO ANYONE. And I need to get over it.

See, post slump clarity - it's more mind boggling than being a sad-sack.

Just Reflecting on It All

2006-02-05T13:18:00.000Z

Sometimes all the things that I work hard on ignoring force themselves to the front of my mind and demand attention like a deranged fledging in the nest. Weird thoughts open their poisonous throats and spew forth some sort of nonsense that then lodges in my brain.

My niece's new baby for example. Thrilled that she's had it, somewhat guilty as I initially felt that she would be making a mistake having a baby at 19 and then hearing the trauma she went through in delivery (blood transfusions, plummenting blood pressure, emergency action to save her life, a chance the baby would also die) and I can't help thinking I came close to losing someone I love. My sister admits she thought she was going to see her daughter die in front of her - how the hell can that feel? Admittedly my niece is fine as is her son and hopefully they should be going home soon and will be able to settle down to life as a new family but my sister is still in shock about how close she came to losing her own child. All of this doesn't make me want to be a parent - I'll continue to fulfill the selfish career woman fantasy for people.

And then there's the parents. I've spending more time with my parents recently (thanks to prolonged dental work, who says that there isn't a silver lining to everything, shame it was the glint of a filling in this case) and each time I'm back at home, I feel more and more close to them, but this is underpinned with a horrible feeling that I'm going to lose them soon, just when I'm getting back in touch with them.

The mere act of being told to have a lie down on a bed for an hour because I felt weary from the week was immensely powerful. I don't often have the chance to feel totally relaxed, safe and unstressed at the moment so knowing that Mum & Dad were downstairs and wouldn't let me nod off for too long (or in otherwords oversleep and be late for football) was so reassuring. It's a long time since I let anyone have the opportunity to "take care of me" and it's a weird feeling as I would usually have felt out of control, weak and useless with someone else looking after me but I didn't. I just felt loved.

Fairly soon I'm going to really need their support and the manic fledging in my brain is cheeping that they won't give it, that I'm going to hurt them by what's going to happen and worse of all, that they will think badly of me. Can I request an emotional cuckoo to kick these monsters out of my mind.

Homelife is of course at the root of all of this. Due to how things have got at home, I'm in effect living downstairs, with my clothes in boxes, sleeping on a futon and being careful not to be in the same room as the other one if at all possible. The times when we are in each others space are painful to put up with and I can't stand knowing that I haven't got my freedom by the mere fact that I know someone is upstairs.

Communication is limited to usually asking about who wants the internet cable (we may have separately irons & ironing boards now but there is still only my broadband to share) and we are now at the very grown up stage of just about managing to share washing powder but nothing else. All those things that were awkward culinary differences between us (skimmed milk v full fat, own label v premium brand anything, white bread v granary etc) now are no longer problems seeing as we do our own shopping and if there is no milk for tea then it's tough. No sharing, no borrowing, no contact.

The freezer is sad study in different outlooks. There are mysterious frozen tupperware boxes of homemade veggie somethings in one shelf and then there are the "sad bastard meals-for-one" lower down. Liver and Bacon for One, Chicken & Chips, Ready Made Gravy cubes (!!!), Mini Roasts etc. I didn't realise that viewing a stash of ready meals would actually upset me but it does. What have I done to this person's life - and what am I going to continue to do. It doesn't make me feel good on one level knowing that I'm about to kick another level of support away but then that degree of support should never have been needed and had a cost to me. But the mad fledging pecks away at the strong side of me, determined to unearth the pathetic bit of me that used to be all anyone could see.

All this just swirls around my head, diluting the good things that also happened: My niece is well(ish) and has a stable relationship into which her baby is born and her mum absolutely loves her and is close to her. When I was helping Dad email me the photos of the baby to me, I showed him the photos on Flickr which he loved, even summonsing Mum to view the other bits and pieces (this is an honour indeed). Home - it will have an end, and that is in my control, this is just part of the process that I'm having to go through due to being a coward for so long. And there are a myriad of other good things that I can't even start to write about.

Bad things, Good things - it's all things.

Relative Relations

2006-02-05T12:01:00.000Z

Yippo - my great nephew has arrived. 8lbs, same length as his mum when she was born (apparently) and nameless.

The newly crowned Grandmother (ha - how old does that make my sister sound) candidly described the birth as "a cross between that scene from Alien and a Holby City Special". I'm taking it that means copious amounts of blood, drama and near-death. This was all later confirmed as correct.

The joy of the camera phone meant that I got a snap of the boglin yesterday afternoon and he looks, well, he looks pretty unwrinkled and therefore human. Result!

Welcome to the world boglin - we'll look out for you.

Special Delivery

2006-02-01T23:43:00.000Z

Greatness is about to be thrust upon me.

Unfortunately it is not the case that I'm being recognised for the sterling work I do in baleing out an under resourced job by stupidly, sorry selflessly, working unpaid OT and not taking leave but rather due to the fact that even as I type, I could be in the throes of becoming a Great Aunt.....

....at the age of 35!

My niece is merrily spawning meaning that the next generation is establishing itself. My sister is only marginally freaked out about becoming a gran - "it can learn to call me by my proper name" was her contribution to the great "grannie, gran, grana or nana" conversation. I only stopped baying like a hyena once it dawned on me that I was likely to end up as "gak" (great aunty kathy) hmmmm.

So fingers and everything else crossed, although maybe not if you're in labour - this time tomorrow I'll have another reason to feel contented by the fact that other people are admirably doing their bit for the population crisis so I don't have to.

Innocent Fun

2006-01-21T22:10:00.000Z

Pricey they may be, but I am slowly falling in love with Innocent smoothies & thickies - although I'm not exactly enthralled with the one with beetroot in it, that one is more akin to snogging some ancient mid-life crisis angst ridden sales rep because you feel sorry for him - the rest however I could cheerfully sup up.

But it's not just the taste, no the love affair with Innocent goes beyond pure refreshment - it's done to the fact that the labels make me laugh. Go on, browse at one the next time you are out and see whether you can find the mystery ingredient, like a rubber duck or uplifting message. I was almost on the point of lauching into a photo frenzy in the supermarket to flickrise the label series (this still may happen) when it occurred to me to check the website first. Oh mash me a banana and Jack Daniels smoothie this instant - they have a label museum, Happy? I'm close to tears of exaltation here.

Personal favourites: "Thou Shalt Not", "Dial 9", "Crafty Nap" and of course "free radicals".

And Innocent will lend you books as well.......Do you think that a Valentine's Smoochie Smoothie is on the cards.

Parental Responsibility

2006-01-14T19:38:00.000Z

Chronic pain had driven me back to the dentist after a spell that is well let's just say beyond the recommended interval for check ups and because I still go to the dental practice that I went to when I was a child (although the actual dentist has changed of course, the original one probably giving the pearly gates a nice scale and polish right now), this meant I had the opportunity to visit my parents.

I get on fine with my parents, I just rarely see them despite them living relatively nearby and it never seems to be the case that I'm "just popping by" and end up usually talking to them when I actually need a favour doing. And this feels wrong. Very wrong.

It was a serious time trip going back home to chat to Dad & Mum on my own on a Saturday morning, I haven't done it for yonks and it was like the years fell away and I was back to being 16 again with Dad rattling on with some highly convoluted annecdote that I'd then get replayed via my Mum half an hour later. Merrily scattering their newspaper over the table and resting my coffee mug on the property section, safe in the knowledge it wouldn't be opened, whilst scanning through the quick crossword was as relaxing now as it had been when this was part of my routine as a teenager.

For a small time on that Saturday morning, everything was all right again and I was secure in the knowledge despite all the things I'm worried about, that they'd look after me. The emotional grazed knee that others had tenderly sponged down was now well and truly bandaged up.

Whether it was that sort of dawning realisation you get with the approach of parental birthdays - Dad is 73 in a few weeks, Mum turns 70 later in the year - in that they aren't going to be around for all of my life, whereas of course they have been there for all of my life and did, I believe, have a purpose for being that existed before I did or whether it was more a reflection on the cyclone of changes that are occuring in my own life meaning that I'm questioning more and more things that I always believed to be unassailable truths about myself, well I'm not sure.

It was just an ordinary morning, no special events happening but for once I wasn't irritated by the complexity of being offered a drink:

"tea or coffee lovey"
[I hate tea, I've never drunk it at home and only tolerated it out of politeness elsewhere]

"Sugar and milk in your coffee?"
[Not had sugar in coffee regulary since I was about ten and never have milk at home]

"or would you like juice"
[Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh]

or even the Spanish Inquisition about the wellbeing of the animals:

"how's the dog - is his allergy cleared up"
"what about the birds, did they like the millett"
"have you still got the yellow catfish"

and they wonder why I don't have children.

but all this just added to the feeling of belonging, these were my somewhat odd parents, with the same idiosyncracies they've always had and they were just looking after me. God knows I've needed that over the years. I don't want to be wishing I felt it was ok to spend time with them, I want to spend time with them. Blimey, I might even hug them the next time I see them.

I think I'm being possessed by the spirit of a normal person.

*oh and the dentist? One tooth to come out and a couple of fillings. And I want to get a copy of my mouth x-ray - it is brilliant!

Back to The Floor

2005-12-25T20:46:00.000Z

Christmas is bad enough. Bad backs are bad enough. The combination of both is enough to tip me hurtling towards the edge. Luckily I don't have a stack of pressies to move around, nor am I expecting any heavyweight gifts to be bestowed upon me at Christmas Mk2, otherwise known as Boxing Day with My Parents and therefore I may well be able to festively hobble around wincing appealingly every five minutes at the pain. It still won't be enough of an acceptable excuse not to go over.

OK, it's not that bad but I have been a devotee of the hot water bottle/heat pads/deep heat all day and it is lucky that there isn't any entertaining or requirement to actually be sociable since the combination of stench of liniments and the general grumpiness caused by the embargo on no sudden movements (or actually, any movement) means that the only people likely to visit me would have been The Samaritans. I am pathetic with pain and pretty intolerant of being relatively immobile.

Lucky for me that that most of Christmas Day has been spent sat bolt upright at the pc idly browsing the web for excitement, sending emails to people I only email at Christmas and listening to the entire Festive Top 50 in one sitting (no pun intended). I even managed to photo a present and sling it on flickr - since the present is on the wall by my pc desk and the camera is within arms reach, this was less of an achievement than it sounds.

I never actually remember putting "Sciatica" on my Christmas wish-list and for those about to suggest that lying on a board would be a good idea, don't bother. The sheer slow-motion nature of the effort to took to get up from the futon this morning is enough to convince me that I should perhaps consider sleeping hanging upside down like a bat.

And the cause of this trauma - leaping around like an acid-enhanced kangaroo at the Misty's Gig up at Jug of Ale on Friday night probably had something to do with it. But all things considered, I'd have settled for a severely displaced disc if it meant having enjoyed myself as much as I did - apologies to anyone who's foot I landed on whilst bouncing around. They, and the supporting acts with a particular nod to Dog Food, were awesome and who needs mobility on Christmas Day anyway.

Pass the Ralgex please.....

Christmas is Cancelled....

2005-12-18T18:19:00.000Z

and other brilliant alt-festive tunes kindly made avaiable for free via Thee Sheffield Phonographic Corporation Christmas Download Extravaganza.............

Seeing as "Stop the Cavalary" is universally slated as a dire Christmas dirge (although happens to be my favourite!), the cover available by Ormondroyd is a good update and doesn't sound naff at all and isn't kazoo-like bouncy.

And of course Long Blondes "Christmas is Cancelled" is just the kiss-off track you want handy at this time of year when it is meant to be goodwill to all men...best line is:

"No Mum, don't worry about me, I'll just have fish & chips for tea, watch the queen and go to sleep" Brilliant.

Pete Green and "Everything's Dead Pretty When It Snows" is for all those of us who have the short straw of working when everyone else buggered off and wonder why the casual question of "so, when do you knock off then" starts a fit of twitching. If you work in insurance - this is your Christmas song. It does have bells though.

Velodrome 2000 "Christmas Sucks" this is for you jingle-bell fiends and a bit of thrash-santa chucked in. It's all about what you don't want to hear about and possibly covers every single "name an item associated with Christmas" entry you could think about.

Gyppos "Merry Christmas" is my favourite - gloomy, maudlin and depressing and sounds like a song from an updated version of Oliver Twist meets A Christmas Carol - yay have this one on and the reindeer will be presenting themselves at the slice 'n' dice venison shop. "The reaper is knocking at the front door" is a nice twist from Santa down the chimney - excellent!

They are all tuneful enough that they should be on mainplay - but I'm glad they're not - I'll be compiling my own Christmas playlist any day now to counteract Frosty the Fucking Snowman (although I'm sure that version is out there.....)

Thanks to HeyChuck for this.

Mission Completed

2005-12-11T20:48:00.000Z

Yee-bloody-hay, Christmas purchasing is almost complete bar the requirement to buy *something* for a ten & half year old that will either a) actually be appreciated or b) doesn't take loads of wrapping/thought/dosh in the event that a) isn't achieved.

I adopted the two day approach, on the assumption that I would be likely to be reduced to a sobbing heap if I had to get all this completed in one day in the local shopping pit - plus there is only so much Christmas musak I can take although I also had a strategy for that - which came slightly unstuck....

Note to readers Do Not be listening to Diggnation podcast featuring the article about the octopus and the shark (the winner wasn't the usual suspect) whilst meandering through Red Herring in Debenhams if you are prone to muttering things such as "yah go Octopus" and grinning like a nutter - not if you want serving this side of the dawning of the next millennium.

With playlist locked on to "anything not christmassy but loud" variety, I was able to ignore the "Last Christmas", "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" "Santa Baby" et al and felt suitably chilled. Chilled enough to get the ideal book for my brother "Aimed at pedants to know-it-alls, as well as those simply wishing to 'get it right', this book will appeal to the modern passion for factual accuracy" ie ideal in the sense that it made me laugh at him whilst choosing it.

Then onwards to blitz part of the list designated as "easy" ie for the ladies in my life. Lucky there is a Lush - shame I didn't realise that one of the items in a pack is "Two-Timing Tart", not sure who I can give that to without causing uproar.....it is bringing back memories of the "novelty" pasta shapes that I didn't realise were included in a mixed variety pack I bought back from Italy last year and gave to my Mum, oh god the horror of having to confess a) what "they" were and b) that I hadn't recognised them.....

That left Sunday's more daring trip to Town, combining it with a meet up with a friend, meaning that serious shopping would have to be fitted around serious binting and possibly serious coffee consumption. Tough call.

David & Goliath at Covent Garden - you are my saviours! Working on the principle that if I like stuff naturally everyone else will (flawed logic my speciality) I was blissfully completing the rest of the list and regretting that there wasn't any male relatives for whom I could get something trendy for - I have male relatives, they just don't have the perequisite sense of humour. I even managed to blag a free badge (wow a whole Â£1 worth of badge!!) by asking politely if I could have one (on account of buying loads of stuff) - so I am officially "Princess of Darkness".

Stanfords the map gods completed the rest of the list, again there are presents that are going to have to be wrested away from me with a crowbar to end up with the recipients.

Find of the day however wasn't a present for the awkwardest person in the world but rather the discovery that the cafe in Foyles is a real tranquil bolthole. It's right in the middle of the Ray's Jazz and has vegan specialities and vegan cakes as standard. Well worth knowing and I look forward to a visit in the near future as the idea of eating real food, surrounded by books and listening to jazz, well that would be a present you couldn't wrap!

and speaking of wrapping, I can't wrap stuff so it looks neat, or even completely covered. I am reknowned for use of masking type, superglue, gluegun, gaffer tape and most recently electrical tape as the adhesive medium of choice. I think it's something to do with not being able to draw - I also can't cut straight, tear straight, fold straight or even estimate the correct amount of paper needed to complete the task.

Shopping sorted meant that coffee, binting on, alcohol and catching up could all be leisurely completed and I emerged stress free and cheerful. Maybe I have stumbled upon the ultimate Christmas shopping strategy:

Listen to a weird fish-killer podcast and mutter - gives you loads of space in shops
Buy what you like for everyone else - safe in the knowledge that you can have it if they don't like it.
Ensure you buy only from shops you like - therefore you don't mind spending hours looking at um err well things you want really
Discover somewhere neat to come back to - if it includes music and food fantastic
Ensure you buy yourself something - or better still, get given it for free!
Drink

Now, what can I get that 10 year old....

Why Can't They Play This In Woolies..

2005-12-09T21:35:00.000Z

I realise that by blogging this I am truly confirming my status as festive nay-sayer but with the exception of "Stop The Calvary" I'm not that thrilled with Christmas music and it truly is the time of pity for those poor till-slaves who are forced to listen to hours of the damned stuff AND be nice to the great unwashed. Blimey, I hope you get the prozac you've been wishing for from Santa.

But there is hope - in the shape of Cherryade Records who have their very own Christmas cd available with tracks including "Have Yourself a Psychedelic Christmas" from the awesomeness that is Misty's and my personal favourite "So this is what dying is like (Christmas in Swansea) by Steveless & Syd Howells - favourite for a weird name that is. Steveless' "Seasonal Schizophrenia" could be a Mark E Smith tribute in sound and lyrics. Very warming.

The album is getting a fair bit of coverage (well the odd track played) via Sixmusic and xfm and there is some very stuff on it. In fact it will be ripped under "Shopping Playlist" on gadget as some sort of antidote to Wizzard, Slade and Cliff Richard for when I'm forced to venture away from the nice safe and sanitised world that exists via my pc and into the vile, warped and dangerous world of well, the real world. Send out back-up shoud I not return.

So altogether then "Alice The Christmas Pie....."

And just to show that I'm not a saddo who thinks that Christmas tends to bring out the worst in the credit card companies, two excellent links to bring ironic and sardonic cheer to you. First up, a cartoon advent calendar courtesy of Dave Walker , one of Jonny B's cohorts and then something that made me screech like an owl on acid is the 'tis The Season blog (also recommended by Jonny B) and if someone had taped the conversations I'd had over the years re a) Secret Santa, b) bloody naff relatives presents and c) Designated Christmas Cards - to the dog and the pups type of thing or as it's put on the site "For a fabulous aunt and her on-again off-again pity fuck" then this would be the result. 21 December 2004 is a fine vintage article.

Thank you people with a sense of humour for keeping me away from the cooking sherry!

Gig Etiquette & Spots Before My Eyes

2005-12-03T23:41:00.000Z

This could probably be an addendum to my "Gig Heaven" post but I think it is deserving of a standalone vent.

I went along to the Stylish Riots gig at The Scala, Kings Cross - primarily to see Misty's Big Adventure (of course) but was also quite interested in The Pipettes seeing as they'd got a fair bit of coverage in music blog world recently and a bit of retro 50s is fine in my book.

Firstly a minor grip - bloody hell I didn't realise that when I traded in the Football Jonah card I'd be dealt out the Travel Jonah one in return. What is it with the Circle Line - does it hate gigs, does it resent all those thousands of ipods that are aimlessly churning out mindless pop in its intestines each hour and it gets its own back with delays?

Moving into the tranquil zone that is the Scala - for those aren't familiar with it, it's a converted cinema and is an independent venue and is very art deco with some fantastic tile work, there are even the remnants of the cinema aisle seats downstairs - it is a very impressive venue and very atmospheric - but cold, damn being so organised as thinking that checking jackets would be a good thing.

First up was Absent Kid - didn't really pay an exceptional amount of notice to them as I was enjoying the beer,but they had a good light show, good contrast on vocals and enthusiasm. Now I know they are an Essex band I'll pay more attention to them next time. The audience wasn't that much fussed by them - I wonder if they go back to their mums and say "yeah, you should have seen the crowd, they were heaving, jammed in". Next up was Misty's. Yay, much jigging around was anticipated.

No signature tune performed which was odd but then the standards were run out and there were some others besides the regulars who were bopping away. But not the three "we're here for the Pipettes" polka dotted & striped clad biffas who were right in front of me, right at the front to the band and were standing there like bloody Easter Island Statues. How off putting that must be to the band, particularly one that draws on emotion like a musical vampire such as Misty's. The Biffas remained stock still and I wished I had been sufficiently bevved up just to have barged them out the way. You don't just stand there if you are at the front, for god sakes you are meant to be having fun you morons.

But all was well, EroticVolvo did his stuff, the set was accomplished but there was a bit of a weird atmosphere from the crowd, although there was the usual warming to the band that always happens.

Interestingly this feeling was picked up on the forum for the Pipettes - where Misty's were being discussed in more depth than the Pipettes. It was appropriate summed up as "less riotous, more stylish" Maybe The Wising Up Song hit home a bit too hard.

The Pipettes deserve all the plaudits they get, they are fun, talented, skinny (grrr) and have an excellent rapport with the audience, hitting it off with both the lads and the ladies. Slick lyrics and performance with a rancid underbelly to the songs that initially seem saccharine. One Night Stand in particular stood out and the current single Dirty Mind was executed perfectly. I believe the Biffas may have cracked a smile during the set. And yes, polka dots can look good on people. One of the singers was a spit for my niece in terms of gestures (eye rolling, pouting and raised eyebrows) which was a tadge disconcerting. Good performance, look forward to seeing them again if possible.

Next up was Twisted Charm, who are very much in the Sex Pistols/Buzzcocks mould but were still excellent. London Scene was excellent, another good bit of contemporary songwriting that provides a point of reference and Phoney People deserves to be a corporate anthem. It's also worth checking the video for London Scene via the website - it's very clever. They got the biggest crowd and were also doing a further set upstairs - but this being a "school night" I didn't take advantage of this. This was the first example of "thrash sax" I've experienced and as Drowned In Sound sum it up "they have a saxophonist and they're still not shit!". Indeed, Mr Georgiou, the aforementioned sax player is excellent and must have the lungs of an elephant to cope with the demands.

Afterall anyone who includes Blue Jam as part of their key influences has got to be all right.

So yet again for less than a £10, I had a fantastic gig experience and am even more empassioned about live music than before. Stick the big gigs - at this rate, my solo Depeche Mode ticket for next year will be winging it's way to ebay in favour of being about to spend the night in the Slaughtered Lamb for Acoustic Open Mic Night.

And remember the rules - if you are at the front - move around!

I Am The Passenger

2005-11-25T10:18:00.000Z

Passenger. That's a word that's rarely uttered by the cattle-crushing-carriers that currently hold the mantle of national rail companies; no, to them we are "customers" and therefore are treated as such ie given poor service and offered a token refund when something goes wrong(should the stringent criteria for reclaiming the paltry payment actually be met beyond all reasonable doubt) whereas what actually matters is getting to where you are meant to going; ie your intended passage.

So step forward and take a bow GNER. I'm not saying they run the most timely service (they don't - read on), or that they have the most reliable trains (yet more hollow laughter is starting to bubble up here) but what they do have is their corporate heads screwed on the right way since they refer to us humble travellers as passengers - and what's more when things went "slightly" tits up on my recent epic travel from London to Whitby, they knew what was important which was getting four passengers to their "final" destination. Even if not by actual train-type thing.

Late running at Northallerton meant that the connection from London to Darlington - Middlesbrough-Whitby failed at the "arrive Darlington in time to get Middlesbrough to Whitby train" - now in my experience of rail delays, the standard response is a neo-Gallic shrug and the guidance to "wait for the next". Not so GNER - annoucement on the train that passengers for intending to go to Whitby should make themselves known to station staff at Darlington. I'm sure that this wasn't just so you could be assessed for Gothness - rather more that it was to inform the huddle of would-be Whitby Wanders that usually GNER would have got us a cab to catch the train at Middlesbrough but today was rather more special. Yes, your prize is a cab from Middlesbrough to Whitby. Methinks that they have had to use this ploy a few times in the past (hence comment about not being the most timely) but seeing as I've never even had a mumbled apology from other operators when minor delays have buggered up an onward journey, I was suitable impressed. I would continue to be a passenger but in a cab.

As the cab isn't a train it has the flexibility of being able to drop people directly home - and therefore I got a free tour of the Dales as well as being taken around some of the steepest, sheep raddled tracks I've been down for a while. Ever in fact. The one business traveller in the cab was getting slightly twitchy at the added detours but even he was momentarily gobsmacked when the late sun sunk to the line of the heathers/bracken/plant like red stuff in the horizon and light my world up in a blaze of orange. My camera was in the boot.

I was rather sorry to leave the chatty cabbie - and yes, I took up his recommendations of just where to drink in Whitby - it was again energising to be in the company of someone who was clearly passionate about his local surroundings and was as good an ambassador for tourism as you'd fine - but this was no "have a nice day" glibness, this was genuine "I am proud to show you my world" enthusiasm.

In fact the whole weekend was great - even if there were delays coming back - but no need for a cab this time, just the opportunity to smoke more CICS on a platform at York - stress, what stress

So although my journey took longer, it was more enjoyable than a three change strategy and the fact that was no stressing on the part of the train company dithering about what they are meant to do helped. GNER - thank you for remembering that passengers are more important than customers when it comes to getting where you need to go - afterall, if we were true customers, we'd have a choice.

Gig Heaven

2005-11-23T19:46:00.000Z

Although I'm not doing the gigs in any magnitude compared to some I could think of (not so much Going Deaf for a Fortnight more Tinitus for Two or Three Days) I'm fast drawing up a wish list of things I'd rather not experience at gigs should the gods of gigging be smiling benevolently down on me.

Stupid People Blowing Bubbles into my (overpriced) Beer

Two very stupid (and short) girlies decided that what the crowd at the Kaiser Chiefs gig in Brixton really wanted was to have a stream of soapy bubbles blown around to create atmosphere during the change over between sets with the consequence that soapy bubbles were pinging against beer glasses. This is not a nursery, this is not an outdoor wide open space - this is the Brixton Academy and you soppy twats are blowing soap bombs right at me & my beer. A few grumbled "for fucks sake" and an exaggerated fending off of bubbles got the point across. The cheeky mares then decided that they'd try the "oooh I'm a short girlie, could you just let me squeeze through in front of you" to a couple of gullible looking blokes. It almost worked, Bloke One was all for it, but Bloke Two (shorter...) was having none of it and a distinct "fuck off and get here earlier next time" was uttered.

which leads to.....

Overpriced Beer

£3.15 for a can of warm Guinnesss poured badly into a warm plastic beaker doesn't represent value for money or even a remotely enjoyable experience. This was the offering recent at Carling Academy Islington for The Fall and only warm, flat Carling could have actually been worse. I know there is a mark-up needed but £3.15! For a can - taking the piss rather than getting so methinks. If someone jolts your arm, that's a good 50p a slop which neatly leads me to.....

Gig-Going Injuries

I smirked at the advice issued prior to V2005 re the dangers of going to gigs, or as the Daily Mail would probably have put it "Music: It Could Seriously Damage Your Health" which was along the lines of be aware that lots of drinking, hot sun and standing in one position for 8 hours may be a tadge edgy or that you may wish to consider doing a warm up prior to frotting about like a looney. Surely the biggest risk at a gig would be the risk of slightly bruised tootsies....Let me enlightened you and introduce the concept of "Gig Goers Groin".

The 20 minutes of bliss that was Misty's as part of the In The City Evening was almost spoilt when amidst a bit of aimless jigging around, I manage to slide in a slop of spilt beer (some buggers lost a £1 worth if the same price tariff was in place as for The Fall) and narrowly avoided doing the half splits - my apologies to the woman whose arm I grabbed to prevent myself executing a move I last managed at school gymnastics when I was 9. The burning agony was only partly abated by the fact that the set wasn't finished or else I'd have collapsed in a heap but the horrors of Gig Goers Groin needs exposure. Or maybe not.

Inaccurate Gig timings provided by Venues

If you are the host of a gig then bloody well know a) who is playing and b) what time they bloody well are due on when someone rings your information line. I went to see the truly excellent Mountain Goats at Bush Hall (fantastic venue - naff organisation skills) and had rung to check line up and rough on-stage times "well, there's someone on at 8 - but I don't know who it is, then 9 there is a girl and then the MGs are on at 10pm". Fantastic - beer time aplently. Wrong - they were due on at 9.30, I turned up just before 10 and luckily they had just gone on but I was consigned to the back of the room - but as the gig was so good it almost didn't matter - but it would have been good to get there a bit before the band. Information is meant to be helpful, not aspirational.

But at least the music has been good and I'm not really auditioning for a role in the new season of Grumpy Old Woman.

Well FCUKed

2005-11-13T13:11:00.000Z

The psuedo irony of the French Connection FCUK branding gets right on my tits (well not literally as I don't own any of their t-shirts but you get the drift) and I find it somewhat distasteful to see young kids with the branding on - afterall if they'd shouted out "fuck it" to their parents they'd have been lamped, but hohoho it's fine for wear a t-shirt that portrays the same sentiment.

I can actually remember when French Connection was held up as a sophisticated label, reknowned for sleek styling etc and not as some sort of "I Read the Sun" identity tag for those lacking the ackers for fake Burberry.

So it was great whoops of delight that a link was found between a band I'm quite getting to like, IST, and slating FCUK. The link being that one of the lines from a song is "Your Boyfriend is a Cnut" and the rather enterprising KingCnut clothing line kindly did a t-shirt for them to commemorate the lyrics. Well cool.

But this isn't the end of the link, KingCnut have have a long running and vitriolic clash with those Fcukers at French Connection who were claiming that he'd stolen the idea for Cnut & Wnaker brandings from them - funny I thought that your average dyslexic would have been able to come up with a similar idea for free - and of course Cnut is now the "correct" spelling for the old King Canute from old, my the teaching profession must have welcomed that decision....

It's a fascinating story since it also highlights the number of brands that FCUK have had to pull when they were threaten with legal action - particularly like the Goodyear one. As KingCnut puts it, companies that are that possessive over trademarks (and nothing wrong in that) should apply the same criteria to their competitors marks. I was particulary impressed by the fact that KingC had taken it upon himself to contact the companies whose marks were being infringed as a "public spirited act" Standing up to bullies by getting a bigger bully involved is a sound strategy. Go Dave.

And if you go to the site - hunt out the anti-FCUK poem by Claire Whitefield - it says it all. An extract to give you a flavour of the sentiment:

"So may be once it was daring
To have badly spelt swearing
Emblazoned across your chest
But lads, looking like a sex pest
Is far from the best way
To communicate with a potential date
So when you start to flirt in a t-shirt
That says Am I your fantasy FCUK?
you'll understand why the smart women just look at you and turn away
.Because what good is an illiterate suitor
Who can't spell fuck, never mind Kama Sutra

So to King Cnut, IST and the rest - don't let the fcukers get you down!

Underneath the Arches

2005-11-07T22:03:00.000Z

Sunday evenings usually have the stiffling claustrophobia of a tedious family Christmas - nothing to do, the thought of the daily grind kicking in for Monday morning and the usual drudgery which has stayed with me since I was a kid, to whit "getting my bag ready for Monday" - although nowdays I rarely have problems finding my hockey pads and history homework.

But not this Sunday, oh no because despite it being yucky weather and decidly hibernating weather at that, I decided to haul carcass to the Red Gate Gallery Camberwell to see a line up including Jason Anderson, Tiger Saw and yay Kimya Dawson (a twice-featured artist on SrokaSounds).

Just a quick divert on to the traffic front - I can highly recommend the Liverpool Street + No.35 bus combination as the ideal way to get to Red Gate Gallery since the advertised Thameslink service stops mid afternoon. Train & bus combo fantastic.

The venue is a converted railway arch workshop, with a bar area and installation space for exhibitions - be warned it is tucked right away but look for the iron-wroughters sign and the er um red gate and you'll find it. It's a great venue and I reckon there was about 100ish people there in total and it was just right. The staff were fantastic, very polite and ready to chat on and, unlike the bigger rip-off venues I've attended recently (Carling Academy), there was well chilled cans of Stella @ Â£2, spirits and mixers and even mulled wine and ported-brandy if you wanted it.

Oh, and no tall bastards standing in the way.

A scattering of deck chairs was the seating or there was the floor. No stage as such, merely a clearing, which meant that the performers trolled around with the rest of us and chilled. The night was in aid of studentsinmind and was an undaunting sort of thing to do on your own.

Emmy the Great was a surprise guest to kick off with and I'm still grinning at the line about "having a typhoon in my aorta" and it's always great to hear accompaniment by the xylophone - she's appearing at Islington Academy on Thursday so maybe I'll be grinning even more by Friday.

Next was Doubtful Guest from Bath - and it was at this point the sound went slightly loopy meaning that they sounded ringers for Murder by Death (which is good) but possibly not the desired effect. When they were sounding like them, they were pretty cool in a folk-jazz-rock (sure there is a proper word for it) type of way and I'll be looking out for the promised further London gigs as they were seriously fun and enjoyed playing to the crowd. Truly ace. The sound man was starting to look a bit more relaxed....

...which was a mistake. The exceptionally musically moody Duke Garwood was next and to be frank, the vocal sound was crocked - guitar fantastic, vocals a bit like a hamster with a kazoo. He manfully completed his set and the sound guy was trying to blend into the wall at this point. It didn't help that some arseholes in the crowd was bordering on heckling because of it. Haven't they heard of being polite? Would like to have heard the set but the guitar was good enough for me.

And then a man with presence came on. Tiger Saw, in the solo form of Dylan Metrano, was pure delight. He had worked out that the sound was a bit fragile so used the inner power of a good voice instead. He talked to the crowd, got them involved and executed a perfect set. "The Tiger & Tailor", "Postcards & Letters" and "For Molly" all were pretty slick and was enough to make me surrender the potential late night snack money for a contribution towards a cd of the entire Tiger Saw band (as there are usually more than just him). A cheer to you sir.

Jason Anderson is just the person you'd want anywhere. From ensuring the crowd were "close" to him, to a bit of bouncing around sing-along and some good old ballads with a modern twist - it was all there. oh and plus energy. The man oozes energy and fun and he was right, tonight there was no "us and them, just us and the music". Energy levels raised, humour high and lots of happy people meant a successful set. It was like having your own personal upper in the form of bloke with guitar and grin. Fantastic - it was even enough to make me shrug of the nagging thought that public transport finishes earlier on a Sunday.....

And then Kimya Dawson finished drawing up the personal t-shirts (damn, more money would have been good) and took to the stage amidst sheer adoration from the crowd. She went through a chronologically written set, included both tracks I'd used for podcasts (Viva la persistence and The Beer) and was thoroughly entertaining - even getting a fit of the giggles mid song. No lip synching here then. She is an excellent songwriter, fantastic performer and someone with a very distinct voice. And above all passion. Just what a Sunday night should be like.

Fearing the hell that would be night-bus rather than turning into a pumpkin, I was able to peg it back to Liverpool Street in time to get one of the last trains and so not have to shell out a fortune on a cab. So in all for the price of a travel card and £7 quid (plus beer money of course) I had a great time.

Big gigs - you can stick 'em. Give me a railway arch and a bunch of people who care about what they are doing and I'm blissfully happy.

Fluid Structure

2005-11-05T12:35:00.000Z

I'm beginning to get the creep of disorder raising it's scaly head. I lurch from being hyper organised and rigidly structured in every aspect of my life to some sort of chaos magnet with every increasing circles of disorder creeping in.

Examples are, and I'm aware that when I describe the "ordered me" that I'm describing characteristics that are text book "stay away from this control freak" type behaviours and would have me running a mile if I noticed them in others, tins in the food cupboard being stored alphabetically (and yes, I can hear the "hohoho how do you catalogue alphabetti spaghetti" from here), clothes being hung up in colour sequence from dark to light- less of a challenge when 75% of my clothes are black, cds filed in alphabetical order & sub divided by genre - after I've done the "mine & yours" segmentation of course, I'm not into ordering other people's lives and all book marks on the computer lumped into six or seven categories and regularly reviewed and plates, mugs etc put away in their correct place.

If you ever watch "Sleeping with the Enemy" you'll know why I'm not entirely comfortable with this side of my nature.

Contrast with the happy-slacker side of my nature that is currently prevalent (and is taking over) and I doubt that many people would recognise the organised me under it all. Clothes are now happily jumbled up with the heavy black shirts getting cosy with the bright pink jumper, the black combats establishing nodding acquaintance with the odd frilly skirt and wodge of black ankle length skirts having the time of their lives by being next to the hibernating summer wear. My wardrobe is a happy place. No more segregation of the brights and dims, it's all shoved in anyhow. Bugger ironing anything.

And the food store, well I'm taking it as a success that frozen stuff gets put in the freezer and as for plates etc, you can take pot luck as to whether there is a knife in the knife drawer since I tend just to throw all the cutlery in en masse. Let there be sporks! The presence of an empty beer bottle and two mismatching coffee mugs on the shelf is reassuring.

CDs are now in a listening stack, if you are lucky the content of the case will the be same as the title but I'd not pin my pension on it for all cases. By a process of neglect, I've identified those cds that are likely to become charity shop casualties pretty soon. Maybe neglect is the best way to be organised?

The one thing that I have to reclaim is getting my playlists, bookmarks and pc filing back in order - however much of a uncontrol freak I'm turning into, for the things that really matter (like my music and browsing time) they've got to be structured so I'm intending to spend some serious time housekeeping the virtual home - ie my pc. I've already enjoyed rereading the "Cooking for Engineers" website that I'd bookmarked - just now need to find a place to file it.

Maybe it's a sign that at long last, I'm starting to transform into a less uptight, frantic person - blimey that's going to take some getting used to.

I Wanna Be A Hippie

2005-11-02T22:56:00.000Z

I've been searching for a download of Technohead's "I Wanna Be A Hippie (and I wanna get stoned" for ages and am still unfulfilled on this - however a piece of animation to rival the JCB song is available from those fab people at Brainwashed and if pogoing sheep are your bag - then whip over there and view it. It's made my day!

The reason I want the song - it reminds me of a mad aerobics teacher I used to have (in those days when bouncing around was the preferred activity of choice before drinking & smoking) and the vindicative cow played the real fast mix to which we had to do grapevine stepping and star jumps. Bloody hell you'd need to be high to do that - in fact I'd need to be seriously blotted to even contemplate it now.

All together now "I wanna be a hippie and I wanna get stoned on mara-marijuna"

Day Tripper

2005-11-02T20:15:00.000Z

The subject of holidays came up over a goodbye lunch with a colleague - he'd recently come back from Lisbon and was rapidly turning me shades of green with describing how stunning it all was. Musuems, stunning architecture, cheap alcohol, friendly people, did I mention cheap wine. And then there was the inevitable "so are you having a holiday this year".

Mindful that it is now November and I'm not exactly built for wintersports (I'm short and have bad balance) - it isn't exactly likely. Although I am going to Whitby in a few weeks for a murder event but now that the days are drawing in, the prospect (of whitby) of cold, rain, darkness and a bloody lengthy train journey is appealing less and less.

I think I'm suffering holiday envy, first the Lisbon guy, then my friend currently living it up in Las Vegas, I'm surrounded by people and their holidays. The idea of a week off doing nothing much tends to freak me out slightly and as much as I love my own company, I think that I could even bore myself by day 3. And then there's the horror of coming back to either a mountain of work or the "guess what - I'm your new line manager" scenario - although currently at work if you are too long in the lav you run the same risk - meaning that any chilling out achieved by not being at work lasts approximately 1 minute after you hit the email and in my case, usually a day before that.

Logical conclusion to draw therefore is that taking holidays is a baaad thing. I end up feeling somewhat inadequate that I can't seem to get my life together enough to actually want to pack up my bags, head to the travel agents and demand to be put on the first plane out of here - even more irritating is the knowledge that I've got a stack of leave gathering virtual dust - pretty soon I'll have a compost of leave. What is point of being rich in leave but poor in time.

So why do I feel that the one thing I really want is to be anywhere but where I am right now?

How Not To Be Dead

2005-10-29T10:47:00.000Z

In a random browsing session trying to increase the morbidity stakes, I stumbled across the fantastic site that is Deathslang.

The whole euphemism thing is a major flame thing for me, wrapping up an unpalatable subject in sugar coating doesn't make it any more acceptable. There may be a degree of quaintness about referring to a pregnant woman as "being in a delicate condition" or "being in the family way" but it is the greeting-card sentiment that accompanies descriptions of death and dying that tend to make me flip.

If you want to see what I mean, meander over to the Carlton Cards website and see if you can easily find a bereavement card. Oh, no you need to access the "occasions" section - since when has dying been an occasion. The same is true in the shops, although you won't even find a "bereavement" section, it's "With Sympathy" - just as businessspeak is all wank with the deliberate use of obtuse phrases designed to ensure that the actual meaning of the phrase can mean whatever it is you want it to as opposed to having a definitive meaning; the card industry language is designed to ensure that whatever you do, you don't actually say anything in plainspeak. Sending a "With Sympathy" card is actually saying "Sorry He's Dead" - why apologise, you've not personally killed someone?

So this is the reason that deathslang is so cool - as the phrases used are actually worse than saying "x has died" or else they are bitingly witty and are the antidote to the standard euphemistic comfort zone.

Personal favourties are the internet-inspired terms for death:

"Transferred to WWW.HasBecome.Com/post"

"Clicked the bucket"
""

Although a few cooking related ones are neat:

"Cooking for the Kennedy's"
"Donating the Liver Pate"

I'd like to see Clinton's stock these......

London by London - always good for a laugh

2005-10-26T22:37:00.000Z

The latest briefing had this within it - oh blimey how easy it is to make me smile at times:

ROOFS AND COWS
'After the Great Fire in 1666 it was made illegal to have thatched rooves in London, so how comes the Globe on the Southbank has got a thatched roof? Also, can I still graze cows on common land like Wandsworth Common? If so, where can I buy a cow from? How much are they and how pissed of will people be with me grazing it on various sites across London?'
- Roger Persang
...
You should be able to get most of a cow from Smithfield's, but I
doubt it would do much grazing.
- Mooo
...
Alas Wandsworth Common is not common land but is owned by the council. I've heard tell that cows can be bought in a strange muddy place called "The Country" or swapped for a bag of magic beans.
- auawsha

LBL - what a find!

Sunday Bloody Sunday Drivers

2005-10-23T19:56:00.000Z

For various reasons, this weekend hasn't been the best I can remember and as a result I was looking forward to attending the West Ham v Boro match, primarily as a way to let off steam and yell loud things at people who don't care (as opposed to be being yelled at by people who don't care). There was the slight encumbrance of having my mum as associate meaning that obscenities would have to be kept to those that she would have no chance of understanding (but unfortunately the stewards might) or else muttered quietly defeating the whole purpose of venting fury.

Usually this merry trip is accomplished via bus as I have enough of driving during the week and the route to WHU is easy for me via bus whereas the route by road is hell. But the gods were not smiling on me and I was informed that it would have to be car, and me driving. Bugger. Another reason why I chose not to drive to footie recently is that I hadn't mentioned to Ma & Pa the incident a few months ago when a van clumped the side of the car and I was too shocked to chase after and get details. Having mum as a passenger meant that I had to outline what happened just when I had started to feel OK about it. Joy oh joy.

But what the hell had they put in the air today - I was cut up, nearly reversed into on the roundabout, had a parking space swiped just as I was about to reverse into it which made me temporarily forget that I had Justified & Ancient in the car and proceeded to vehemently swear and shout at the bloke - only to be faced with a raised eyebrow of disapproval and of course the need to then have to reverse parallel park into the space from Hades. Helpfully J&A decided to get out and stand on the edge of the blind spot whilst I parked - meaning that she was perfectly able to lip read me muttering "move out of the way you stupid woman" . I'm sure she realised I'm stressed.

Match was fine - we won, I'm no longer a football jonah but the joy of driving back was just as thrilling going home - people blocking roads whilst trying to do a u-turn, milliseconds from my wing, again leaving me to mutter various phrases that may have been new to my passenger - I did pride myself on self control when a car mistook my failure to move up to the bumper of the car in front as an incitement to turn and almost hit me. That the phrase "fucking moron from gitville" got altered to "flipping" was a plus. The distinct minus was when a Chelsea Tractor decided that waiting to turn left wasn't his cup of tea and that he'd swerve on the wrong side of the road as I was turning right and wriggle on through and I uttered the rarely used term of "Jesus Christ on a bike, what a bastard". "Surely in a car would be more correct" was the frosty response.

That's it - I don't care how inconvenient it is to justified & Ancient, I'm going by bus next match and may well considered alcohol & fags as an optional extra to the whole "football" experience since I've managed to breech the non-swearing rule fairly well.

Repairing Worn Out Surfaces

2005-10-19T18:49:00.000Z

If only I was a road. At the sign of seriously cracking up, attention would be lavished upon me, signs erected to keep people away from me until I was better and despite me being an integral item of daily life, there would be understanding that you can't repair a road whilst still driving on it - any more than you can change the engine of a plane whilst it is in flight.

Tough fucking luck then that I'm not a means of travel but just a mere wage slave. Today was another one of those "way-hay it's the pinball machine of emotions" type things where I seemed to lurch from moments of total clarity about what I need to do to (longer) moments of thinking "what's my name". I can't switch off thinking about how we're meant to do everything when there isn't enough time to do it all in and yet apparently the end of the world is scheduled to occur should a tick-in-the-box not be completed. At the same time an important bit of work needs full focus & attention but the full horror is only slowly dawning on those that originally thought it was a small piece of work that actually, it's fucking massive oh and hey, quite important at a higher level. There is no warm glow at being able to say "told you so" when the reality is that now highers are panicking, there is some sort of assumption that we can just magic up an extra day in the week to fit all this in. The fact that I've been working a regular 8-day working week in terms of hours over contractual hours is not comforting. And basically, I'm worn out.

Groundhog day rolls around again - I'm fed up of always fucking up because I can't handle my emotions.

I want to be a motorway!

Life's a gig(gle) - Part 2

2005-10-16T19:21:00.000Z

Still mentally buoyed up by the joyous experience that had been MBA on Thursday, I wasn't that keen to go to Friday's planned music event - which was Joan Armatrading at the Royal Albert Hall in case I'd find such a contrast a bit of a let down. The fact that work was turning into a new circle of limbo on Friday meant that in the end I was only too glad to down pc and trek up to town.

I'm really glad I went. Yes, it was a bit of a contrast: Elbow Room Islington v Royal Albert Hall; lots of lively frotting around v enthusiastic clapping whilst seated but it was still a good thing. JA has a fantastic voice, fills the stage with presence and comes across as genuinely enjoying performing. The crowd singalongs for All the Way from America and Love & Affection ( a song which is now 30 years old....) were pretty awesome and the emotional blubbing to Willow was very carthartic. The crowd was a bizarre mix of late middle age marrieds, packs of young women, lots of same sex couples and odds & ends (that'll be me then).

The RAH is a stunning place but bugger me is it difficult to find your bearings when there are so many exits, as a result I found myself trotting off in totally the wrong direction and remembering that the tube stations were the other way just as I ended up at Kensington Church Street (long walk). The upside of this was another chance to use the bus network to avoid the cost of cabbing it and actually being able to finish by journey by train as I had intended.

I had just finished the mobile music players equivalent of foreplay - ie delicately untangling the headphone wires which inexplicably decide to try to mate with either itself or any other slender item within radius (this time it was the house key ring and the odd earring wire) and looked up to see the passenger opposite doing the same with the added bonus of having lost an earplug cuff which the resulting pat-down failed to find. A wry smile of emphathy was exchanged and then a lively discussion about music commenced.

He'd been to see The Engineers at the Scala on Thursday and was thrilled that I had a) heard of them and b) could name a track (Forgiveness) and was evangelically ranting about how good they are (they are, really) until Stratford at which time the musical points changed allowing me to rave about Misty's (he'd smiled vacantly at Joan Armatrading so I'd thought not to progress that one) - I think I may have a convert. Don't be too surprised if an Engineers track features on Srokasounds soon - as recommended by the bloke on the train.

And then there was that bit of late night semi bevvied philosophy about what makes places different. His statement was regarding the difference between people in Bristol (where he'd gone to Uni) and London "it's all about trees - in Bristol they think, ah, that's been there years, better not disrupt it - London, it's all how many poxy saplings shall we order to replace the 30 year old tree we've bulldozed; it's all about how people treat trees"

And you know what, he may have a point. Be nice to trees.

Life's a gig(gle) - part 1

2005-10-15T11:22:00.000Z

It should have been 3 gigs in 3 days, but work and the dawning awareness that I'd be zombie due to lack of sleep meant that The Coral @ UEA bit the dust. They had rearranged some tour dates but unfortunately not Norwich - I never realised that east anglia had such a high level of respect from The Coral. Hope it was a good gig and that people enjoyed that extra body space caused by me not being there.

Thursday being John Peel day meant that everywhere seemed alive with music, hopefully those sessions badged as being JP specific were actually that and not just a clever, cynical wheeze by some knuckledragging promoter into thinking "aha, I have a sub standard stable of artists playing Thursday, I'll stick a John Peel flyer on it".

This certainly wasn't the case for Gig1 - the set put on by The Elbow Room, Islingon as the "headliner" was none other than Misty's Big Adventure (that's just the 3 times I've seen them then, poor compared to some I know). The support bands worked well, with The Bishops being particularly slick and The Rumble Strips well worth a listen.

Misty's were just mindblowing. To avoid entering the realms of hyperbolic descriptions, I'll maybe sling in awesome. Or the dogs, or whatever the is the right phrase to use to describe a set that made me feel that the world was OK and my own bit of personal universe couldn't be better. Started to recognise some of the faces from the Camden gig and chatted to a couple who freely admited to being Misty groupies (including having seen them at Bestival) and who summed it up as "they make me feel like I'm 14 again". I'd go along with that.

It was fascinating to see the reaction of the "misty virgins" as one referred to herself, when the band kicked off and more importantly when Erotic Volvo launched himself at the crowd. Most people were just gleefully happy and there was uncontrolled lunatic bopping happening throughout (and yes, I do mean more than just us). Even the geezers & cue-elfs playing pool decided that it would be worth having a watch and had a break from making breaks.

The cover of Rebellious Jukebox (as discussed post gig at purple turtle) was a good thing, both as a standalone track but also as a non mawkish link to John Peel. Be interesting to see MES covering Two Brains perhaps...

Grandmaster Gareth had said that he'd wanted the night to be a shambles and he was happy how it went. Shambles in this case obviously meaning "spot on performance with plenty of energy given and received between and crowd".

The fun of the evening didn't finish there - due to Misty's not being on until well after 11 and playing a full set + the required recovery time from all that frotting around - I now have to admit a grudingly admiration for the late night bus network out of London. It was quite calming to realise that staring at a lit but locked Liverpool Street station meant the fun of the night bus network and that it wouldn't cost the fortune cabbing it would have. Way to go Mayor Ken.

And Gig2 - Some weird co-incidences happened that Friday....

Weird Things In Blue

2005-10-10T21:11:00.000Z

One of the things I revel in doing is wandering around Spitalfields and Brick Lane on a Sunday - mainly because I think it's least touristy than Petticoat Lane and far more interesting, plus once I've worked out exactly how close they are, it's a happy wander between the two. Equipped with my camera and without the standard incumbent "oh god, not more weird photos" accompanying me - I was able to snap what I wanted with abandon. Then I came across this happening:

Yep, a series of random letters (well I couldn't make out a word easily) and a set of blue, hand puppet looking things (my life seems to be haunted by weird stuffed toys at the moment). There was a very serious looking photographer trying to get the damn things to look OK and then one fell over.... Maybe it was some kind of slow exposure animation in a Morph-esque fashion. Either way, it was pretty intriguing. Would love to know what it was for.

Any ideas?

What Made Me Laugh Today

2005-10-04T19:28:00.000Z

Was the following extract from the weekly London-By-London email:

Q: "RE: CONKERS 'Autumn's nearly here, where's the best place to get conkers in london then?"(Spaniel)

A: "Trees are a good place to look. Or the ground underneath trees. Although I prefer hanging around outside school gates and making small children turn out their pockets. Sometimes I just turn them upside down and shake them a bit till the conkers fall out.

You have to be careful though. I ended up covered in sherbert yesterday" (Curry Mile)

Well it made me laugh.

LBL is the highlight of my week, the ongoing rants about Oystercards, the best places in London that are weird, the mini-flame wars when an off-topic is posted which resulted in one of the best non-swear swear-words coming to light ("cock-off", closely followed by "ball-hang") plus just where you can park for "free" if you are a scooter due to arcane laws and the latest concept to really appeal to me - "take away roulette". This being where you decide upon a number, stick to it and that is your take-away dinner. Knowing my luck it would be the meat+meat special but worth a thought if you are with a large group of exceptionally indecisive people.

hmmmm, when is the next trip to Brighton?

Blissful Brighton

2005-10-03T21:54:00.000Z

Swiftly glossing over the fact that I had been sufficiently ill-organised to take advantage of a free gig by Clearlake being put on as part of the Brighton Festival and was in fact waving OH off at Heathrow just as the band would have been going on stage this evening, I have had a fantastic long weekend in Brighton with a work colleague and their friends.

I now have a fairly good mental map of the late night bars in Brighton - why am I incapable of ever managing to get to bed before 2-3am when alcohol is involved (although to be fair, one late night/early morning was due to forming an informal search party for an errant member of our merry band of reprobates); know where some of the best Thai restuarants lurk and also just how long some people take to get ready!

And of course there was the rather neat music shop (Essential Sounds - most old cds about a £5) where the till bloke had it just right - instead of just doing the "thank you, here's your card" gubbins, he had it far more spot on as the dismissal after he'd married up case and cd was the rather cool "Go man".

But the whole time wasn't totally spent getting pissed and acting like a music crazed teenager (Hmmm, maybe it was) - I did get the opportunity to look at weird stuff in the Laines and was most gratified to find one of the best bits of flyposting I'd seen for a while.

However I did do a very passable impression of a teenager by taking part in the obligatory trip along the pier. Oh what fun to get drenched by the water splash thing - and yipee it was the V2005 look all over again as wearing light jeans and sitting on a wet seat is not a good look (and thanks so much to the person with the camera who captured my posterior for posterity). I flatly refused to go on "The Turbo" - my breakfast had threated to have an encore after I went on the rollercoaster and stupidly did agree to go on the naffest Ghost Train in the world.

Obviously it wasn't billed as such but the greatest fear I had was that the flaming thing was going to groan (haha) to a halt and I was going to have to get out and push it. If there is a benchmark for what a good ghost train should have (athmosphere, dangly bats, groans, zombies, speed), Brighton Pier wouldn't even make the first notch. I don't think going on this at night would have added to the "experience" - brilliant daylight certainly didn't. If they had still had a freak show it would have probably been the local ugly baby photo contest. But that is all part of the naffness of seaside attractions. yay!

Brighton - must do it more often, but less pissed.

Grinning like a LSD spiked Granny

2005-09-29T22:10:00.000Z

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

2005-09-29T21:20:00.000Z

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

2005-09-23T21:41:00.000Z

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

2005-09-18T12:30:00.000Z

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!

2005-09-12T21:42:00.000Z

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

2005-09-11T21:02:00.000Z

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 Â£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....

2005-09-02T08:04:00.000Z

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!

2005-09-02T07:58:00.000Z

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.

When Is Weird Weird?

2005-08-29T16:40:00.000Z

Attended the very excellent Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds at Ally Pally recently - totally excellent set, pretty neat surroundings and even that hike up the slope seemed less knackering than the last time I walked it. What made my evening was going through the obligatory security check and handing over my bag for a poke and rummage only for the securityguard to recoil in shock and horror upon finding my purse.

In his words "that's weird that is, totally weird, weirdest thing I've seen tonight" Now given that Nick Cave attracts a good proportion of "alternative lifestyle" bods (and yay to that) and there was a good range on display, how frightening can a purse be?

I'm mean, it only looks like this.... he's lucky I'd left the rucksac at home

Still, it gave me something to laugh at during the night - you don't get that many laughs with Nick Cave but you do get a totally energetic performance. One of the highlights was a stage effect which I don't know was intentional or not and that was the silhouettes on the walls of the halls of the performers. Very dark - in his words "he's god - he's a gu-ru"

The things you see at Festivals

2005-08-22T06:19:00.000Z

Beside bands of course!

Spent an enjoyable Sunday at V2005 (Hylands) and thoroughly enjoyed the whole thing. 10/10 for organisation what with shuttle buses, extra trains, no restriction on bring in your own food & drink and, much to the delight of OH, the provision of walk-up urinals on the way out. The only mishap was someone knocking their beer over and me acting as an unwitting dam. For the people sitting near me - no, I hadn't wet myself with excitement.

As there was a bit of turnarouns time between acts, it gave em the opportunity for a bit of observation about "things you see at festivals"

There was the obligatory inflatable doll and inflatable sheep being hoisted aloft. Once the bearers of the said inflatables realised that this was making them the target for objects being hurled at them, the doll was passed around at a speed not seen outside a 100m relay race.

And tattoos. I quite like the odd tat and there was a fine array of bodywork on display with plenty of tribal designs, snakes, wolves and the like. And then there was "Cnut"boy.

Obviously his tattoist did spell it correctly but what on earth (other than copious amounts of alcohol) would make someone think that this particular four letter word would make an attractive tattoo when depicted in 3 inch high letters on his back. Making him a big cnut indeed.

I can just imagine it in the local inkworks "do whatever springs to mind mate, I'm hard enough" - tattoist rubs hands in glee remembering all the times the mouthy item had annoyed him and inked up with delight. And what about if it came to identiyfing the body in dodgy circumstances "distinguishing marks? ah yes, just the one" Poor love, maybe no-ones ever told him and he thinks he's just got "John" on his back.

Maybe it was cheaper than having "brainless moron" done.

And then there is the "paid all the money for the gig, got pissed and sleep" contingent. There was one rapidly turning red lobster-type sprawled out in front of me, he looked to have enjoyed all the possible enjoyments that a festival offers and had managed to roll on his rizla papers which were sticking to his sweating body like bits of tissue paper on a bad shaver. He was somnolent through most of the acts, with his partner toeing him in the ribs every 2o mins or so to check he was still breathing. He was.

And of course there were the saddoes trying to chat up girls waaay outside their level. Sorry sunshine, offering someone your last smoke doesn't mean she wants to have your babies.

Speaking of the ladies, there is a new pastime "Shark Fin Rodeo". Let me explain, girls are hoisted on to blokes shoulders, the trend for low rise jeans means that thong triangles (shark fins) are now visible signalling time for surrounding friends to tug and pull said item until one gives in. Just what you want on a hot sweaty day - someone's bumfloss.

And the bands? I Am Kloot were definitely a surprise show stealer, Joss Stone was on top notch in terms of powerful voices, Athlete & Embrace worked the crowd and raised the feeling of oneness with plenty of crowd involvement and Franz Ferdinand were a slick performance then Scissor Sisters came on and it was a real spectacular. Wow. The only dilemma you have at any multistage gigs is whether you stick with one stage and get a good view or wander around and catch the odd half hours of lots of things. That will be probably be the strategy for next year.

So what with good music, fragrant atmosphere, plenty to look at (did I mention the "people who should wear more clothes" as another category) and the excellent planning for the home journey meant my first "V" won't be the last.

Getting Ready..

2005-08-20T17:35:00.000Z

Usually weekends are that boring mix of domestic drudgery and housework, all to be completed before being able to go out and do thing "fun". This Saturday pressing deadline was to get the next thrilling installment SrokaSounds nailed done ready to be hurled onto Bonfire Radio. Trouble is, I kept on finding new tracks that I'd recently downloaded that seemed to fit in well and threw out the schedule...it didn't help that a cd I'd thought would have turned up earlier didn't and then arrive today giving me more dilemmas. I think only four tracks from the original list made it in the end - still that's podcasting for you.

The reason for the rush is that I'm off to V2005 with OH tomorrow (who needs to swot up on current bands in my opinion) it's part of his birthday present - I also need to get a card & wrapping present for the rest before Monday morning... Really excited about V - although getting back is going to the feat of organisational planning the like not seen this century. The last thing I want to be doing is kipping at Chelmsford station at 3am knowing I need to be in work in 3 hours time. Oh it's so fun! Looking forward to seeing Josh Rouse in particular as Slaveship is on my "music to cheer you up" playlist and that'll be neat to hear live.

Excellent bit campaigning animation available from the electech web to support JonnyBs campaign to keep his local post office open - noble cause, fantastic take-off of The Streets - enjoy it. Hope they keep your Post open Jonny-Boy!

OneMusic Insomina

2005-08-19T00:59:00.000Z

Actually for once I don't mind not being able to sleep (well I do since it's means something has gone tits up) as it gave me the opportunity to "listen again" to the Rob da Bank Thee More Shallows session on Radio1- which I missed going out at it's original 11 - 1am slot as I stupidly was able to sleep then. I have that problem - guaranteed if there is something I want to listen to/watch then I'll drowse off only to wake about 1.5hours later totally unable to sleep.....

It's been a while since I listened to OneMusic so it was pure chance that I was browsing a blog that was praising Thee More Shallows (and understandably so - they are the dogs) and it was flagging that they were "in session" tonight. How serendiptious is that!

I'm abandoning the futon from hell and the sofa from limbo (two seater sofas very cosy - guaranteed dead neck and loss of circulation if you try to sleep on them, that is unless you are a Staffordshire Bull Terrier in which case, it's apparently heaven) as alternative sleeping locations - maybe I'll slump over the pc instead.

The Teamwork Twins Are No More

2005-08-17T20:18:00.000Z

A Day for goodbyes - two people I worked with over the years are taking "Release" (that's voluntary redundancy in realspeak) and have to go by the end of August. One is someone who trusts me enough to invite me to the "secret leaving" bash for those who they feel have always been good confidentes and "get it" I've also been entrusted with her collection of sarky cartoons with the command to "never lose the cycnicsm" (fat chance of that). I was touched to be included in the "trusted" crowd so roll on more drinking in the city in a couple of weeks time. I'll miss her as she was someone who really appreciated the value of being organised and knew me back when I was a humble secretary and was pleased that I got on OK.

The other person is someone who I hold in such a high regard that I'd recommend sainthood (only I'd prefer her to stay alive actually) She is definitely one of the "good people" and I'm elated that she is going before the company won and sucked the vitality out of her. I admire her decisveness and positive outlook so much - she doesn't have another job to go to yet, isn't stressed by this and is looking forward to, in her own words" being able to make a difference somewhere else where it is appreciated but on her terms". She has always sought to be fair to others and challenge unfairness at every level where she encountered it despite not exactly being given the even handed treatment back.

She made me face up to the harsh choices available to me in my own life and never failed to make me laugh and was a very good rant-sponge for those days when I was being a toxic emotional slice of pity. She isn't a mood hoover and will always talk sense (at least I "get it" - we are on the same planet, I don't know about the rest of you). There aren't many people I can think of who would have done a performance of "Working 9-5" as part of a team event but she did. If there ever was a role model for being a real person, she's it!

And I've told her all these things as one of the lessons she's taught me is the importance of saying things that matter to the people that need to hear it when they need to hear it. There is nothing worse than an "if only" when it comes to friends.

"Do You Realize - that everyone you know someday will die
And instead of saying all of your goodbyes let them know
You realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun don'-go down
It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round"

We were once paired together on a bowling "fun" evening as a type of team building and didn't take it seriously, earning several black marks from the organiser for not being concerned that we were dragging the scores down - that we both didn't tell them where to poke it was testimony to an inner strength we didn't know we possessed. But what we were very good at was encouraging each other hence the caption of the exceptionally unflattering photo taken to commemorate this event "The Team Work Twins"

So to Jo - cheers you changed my life and made me a better person. Be in touch.

So this is what good feels like!

2005-08-15T19:30:00.000Z

Since becoming the Human Aeonium things seem to be looking up! I've not had a bout of insomina for ages (that'll be the booze dear) - which is irritating as I've loads of music I'd scheduled in for the the 2am - 4.30am pacing the floorboards slot but the payoff I do actually look as though I'm remotely human as opposed to something recently taken off of methodone.

There has been some pretty neat social life stuff going on - went to see Fruitstock Festival a couple of weeks ago at Regents Park - sponsored by Innocent Smoothie people, was very "right-on Islington" with the play area being ELC, kids yoga and lots of organic stuff and a van with udders! And music. Lots of it. For Free. Jerry Fish & The MugBug Club were excellent and I could have hurled myself at the stage if I hadn't remembered that I'm meant to be a grown up. Hal were the headliners and were brill. Got the cd of the festival and there is a really neat retro-type home movie type thingy on the website that gives a real flavour (that would be vanilla & honey) of the event. and it was free! London Parks in the Sun on a Sunday - it's what living was for.

And prior to that, my good friends at Lewisham's Bar Phoenix had a private bash for a select bunch on the Saturday before Fruitstock (well anyone able to negotiate the stairs) and the starturn was KandiKane. The Camel Toe song and Beaver live on in memory although won't be featuring on a podcast on the grounds of decency.....

and speaking of podcasts...

SrokaSounds is now part of Bonfire Radio. Pete Ashton - you are my hero! The original Gothiron Guide hosted mp3casts are still on the site (as are the two "official" editions of SrokaSounds) but have a gander at BonfireRadio and listen to those guys who sound like they know what they are doing. I sound like a whelk. Am chuffed that I am No.8.

Plus (and this is probably the reason for the euphoria) I've had two meetings in Town finishing early enough to take advantage of being able to go into a good old fashioned proper smokey City pub. For the best part of 16 years I used to work in London and one of the highlights used to be being able to go for a smoke and pint (or three) at lunchtime or afterwork. Then you get shipped out to an out of town work-park (no pubs worth bothering about and what's the fun of half a weak shady because you've got to drive home later). I felt like someone had rolled back 10 years when I was slurping the beer in the heart of the City surrounded by smokers and drinkers who were there to relax in the traditional manner. Bliss.

Oh it won't last but at the moment I feel like I'm human again for a while at least and you know what. It's great!

I Am A Human Aeonium

2005-08-04T17:06:00.000Z

Not one to spend either much time or money on myself (and it shows) I was pleasantly surprised by how relaxing spending just under three hours at the hairdressers can be. Also did you know that fag-ash and perm lotion are a neat way to remove dye stains....and who said smoking was bad for you...

I am thrilled that I look outrageous - the old girl in the local snips (called Bladerunners) was fascinated by what I was having done, forgetting how vibrant hair dye can look, it's not surprised, for a while I thought I was going to look like Dennis the Menance's Jumper....and overcoming my natural hatred of having photos taken - there is a batch of them on Flickr.

And of course, I am exactly the same colour as an Aeonium - hope I don't wilt in the cold!

I just want to Sleep!

2005-08-03T00:17:00.000Z

Not exactly ambigious about why I'm updating this - flaming hell why can't I sleep properly.

I thought I'd cracked this by not getting stressed at work, drinking less coffee and getting home at a decent time - well I might as well just mainline expresso, act like a demented rhino and stay until they turn the lights off. I can just pull things to worry about out of the ether and wham - bye-bye sleep. Reorgs, worries about ability to cope, worries about perception of being a talentless no-hoper who just got lucky, worries about being seen as some sort of deadwood, oh the insecurities know no bounds.

The worse thing is, I can manage to put all this into perspective for about two hours at a time (unfortunately not the hours that might mean I get to sleep OK) and then, slump, ooze away confidence, wallow in self pity commences. I don't really think that my opening gambit to a potential new manager should be "well, I'm feeling a bit weird today, can't work out why oh, and I'm useless". I do realise that thoughts that are floating around at 1.30am aren't usually the most rational and I'm trying to check all this in perspective.

But when you find yourself hating yourself more and more each day for being yourself, where do you go?

Still - there's an upside, I can catch up on podcasts I haven't been able to listen to previously, sort out the more naff bits of the blog and order OH birthday present. Oh the joys of being awake for extra hours - just how would I fit all this in otherwise . Wallowing in self pity takes a lot of time you know! Currently on the pc is Luke Temple's "Hold A Match to a Gasoline World" - heard the tracks via an another blog, and liked it enough to buy the album. Who says that the internet is killing music sales!

Oh well here's another neat picture of stuff from the garden

"I'm Luke, I'm 5 & My Dad's Bruce Lee and He Drives me Around in his JCB"

2005-07-30T18:54:00.000Z

Well obviously not about me, I'm Kathryn, I'm ancient and my Dad's Mike.

No, this is a line from the truly brilliant "JCB Song" from Nizlopi. For sure fun and enjoyment, click on over to their brill site that hosts not only this really moving father/son bonding type song but the neatest bit of animation I've seen for ages. I've watched it about four times on loop and the cow-arse makes me giggle everytime. The whole website is interactive and the best bit is using the pencil to doodle on their note book. Simple pleasures. The complex pleasures will be a) when I get the cd from them and b) should I get to see them in gig. Edinburgh fringe is looking more and more attractive.

So for all you Luke's out there - this is your song.

and once you hear this track - the chorus sticks!

Vine Breathing Dragon

2005-07-29T20:55:00.000Z

Just another super snap from the leafy delights that are Dagenham!

Despite not being around much recently due to work, work oh and work, I'd still manage to acquire a few more cds to enjoy when insomina slaps me around again.

Given the week I've had (too much drinking, late nights, early mornings, sore throat, wallows in pity), there are a couple of "soundtrack to your life" tracks that spring to mind:

From the "Damaged Goods Cheap Sampler 3" "Cyberfriends Network" (Honey Rider), "Beer & Fags" (Hard Skin) and finally "No Expectations" (Cogs)

Still, what else are Friday's for if not for slurping cider and listening to weird music.

Working Hard at Fun

2005-07-23T21:46:00.000Z

Oh joy - the 3rd fledging in the SrokaSounds nest was kicked out over the edge to fly or splat on its own. This mp3 lark is good fun but I still get the giggles at hearing how daft I sound - and where I've done sound links at different times in the day makes it interesting listening. As does the fact that I was fuelled by coffee and enthusiam in the morning and by cider and chocolate by the evening....I don't think I've slurred too much.

Really enjoyed finding the weird stuff and also trying to work out just how much swearing is ok....possibly less than I've got in there!

Oh well, where else would you get Marilyn Manson, Aberfeldy and Hello Saferide in one place...

For Pigeons

2005-07-23T14:19:00.000Z

Why do we scream at each other? This is what it sounds like when doves cry.
- Prince lives in the city.. this should be when Pigeons cry.

http://www.yetanotherdot.com/asp/80s.html

Wasting time today having a wallow in various websites dedicated to the 70s80s and the above is a comment linked to one of those "complete the lyrics" type questions - any mentions of pigeons tickles me!

One of the other sites has a 70s time line and I trying to see how many of the events I could really remember at a personal level (as opposed to seeing newsclips etc etc).

1977 Silver Jubilee of course - since we had a fantastic street party down our road and my sister was in charge of making the milkshakes using that Crusha syrup stuff.
1978 breadstrikes - my dad used to buy some extra loaves from the local bakers for a couple of the younger teachers who worked with my mum - bizarre sort of present!
1979 Air Crash in New Zealand (Mt Erebus) as my class teacher and friend of my mum, Elaine Trinder, was one of those killed. We were told as part of the school assembly and I can still remember one of the girls in the same row as me, really crying - this was long before the time when it was OK for public outpourings of grief!

Cheering up slightly, they also have a list of "Fads of the 70s80s"

I hold my hand up to remembering a) I-Spy Books, b) Power Cuts (great for someone who loved candles and matches....) c) Tiswas and d) Peanuts & Snoopy. Says a lot about me!

Can remember definitely not having a space hopper and being really envious of cousins and neighbours kids who did - when I finally got to go on one decades later, I miss judged the knack of bouncing and moving at the same time and fell off, landing very solidly on my rear and being unable to sit comfortable for a while....some things are less fun in reality than in envy.

And the top song for July 1970 (35 years ago......faints in shock) - In The Summertime (Mungo Jerry), which I have on music gadget!

Oh how naff it all was!!

Bliss!

2005-07-17T18:19:00.000Z

No, Not some sunny tropical gettaway - but "tropical" Dagenham on a Sunday. I just needed reminding what calm could look like - and this is pretty much it!

Gave the Townshow a miss and instead went to the cinema to see the forgettable Wedding Crashers and then did the ultimate Simple Pleasure - a walk around the park. Saw an escaped Grey Parrot that was chasing ducks, saw a bullying swan decide that "I hate you Butler" was the type of mood it was in and was making life hell for one Canada goose in particular, who was doing quite a good impression of trying to be nonchalant and just swim a tiny bit faster, and then gave up all pretence of calm and pegged it up the bank. Chav Swan looked for it's next victim.

A neat day after the drama of saturday, and it being Daggers, OH's cut & stitches didn't look odd.

Backlash

2005-07-16T03:14:00.000Z

I'd been discussing whether there would be any backlash by ignorant scum on both "sides" concerning the London bombings with a colleague at work and we'd both agreed it would be bound to happen. What I didn't expect was that it would be personal to me.

My other half is currently on his way back from casualty at Whipps Cross after being "bottled". He's apparently got stitches in his scalp and as he put it when he rang me at 4am "a splitting headache" oh the irony. The reason for this unexpected hospital highlight? He defended a Muslim who was being racially abused by some ignorant bitch who was loudly accusing this bloke of being "one of them bastards who bombed London". When OH made the comment that this type of talk sickened him, he was attacked by a man who was with the girl. This wasn't in some hot bed of religious oratory, it was in a takeway in Walthamstow.

OH is apparently OK, I haven't actually seen him yet. I am glad that there are people prepared to challenge the bigotry on a local level, even at a personal risk to themselves. Why? Because it proves that decency does still exist and the scum won't win at any level.

OH probably doesn't look the type of person that most people would think as being the sort to defend someone being racially abused. He is one of those wiry, skinny blokes with shaved head (due to going bald) and generally is described as being "moody looking". When we went to vote locally and he'd trudged along to the polling station clad in England rugby shirt, the BNP candidate positively beamed at the sight of him and said on the way out "Count on your vote then sir?" I'm sure the BNP would have welcomed the fact that his reply was very much fluent anglo saxon. Just goes to show how deceptive appearances can be all round. Actions are what count, not the way things look or are spun by the media.

I see the dawn is breaking - I've been up for 24hrs now without sleep - I'm going to savour the sunrise.

Emotional Leaking & A Plug

2005-07-13T22:09:00.000Z

Another of those "soundtrack of your life" type moments today. Got a new cd through (via ebay of course.....) from those good people who brought you Lido, Clearlake. This is the Cedars promo album and it's fantastic. Really moving. Get it, borrow it, purloin it, listen to it. But oh man, did it make me cry. As you may have realised, I'm at a slightly frayed point emotionally and am steadfastly ignoring all the signs that might mean I'm heading for depression again but this album has slapped me in the face with how much it reflects how I'm feeling.

Tracks entitled "Can't Feel A Thing", "I'd Like To Hurt You" "It's All Too Much" and the real killer, "Treat Yourself With Kindness" - well, it's really close to home and almost painful to a point. Some fantastic lines (for when you are ready for a bit of a wallow in self pity) including:

"So much to live up to, you've been punishing yourself far so long, I've seen you treat yourself in ways you'd never treat another"

and

"Frankly I'm amazed you find so many different ways to take away from who you are and it it reminds me of myself a little"

Actually, the next time some misguided idiot asks me "so how are you", I think I'm just going to hand them the cd and just say listen!

Every review I seem to come across relating to Clearview and Cedars in particular raves over them and I'm joining the Clearview appreciation society right now.

Clearlake - they are fantastic, even if they make me cry!

Remembering What Fun Is.....

2005-07-10T12:24:00.000Z

After the events on Thursday, fun and happiness was probably not the expected emotions I thought I'd be going though but meeting up with my friend changed all that. She was telling me about someone she had recently become involved with and that they had realised that if something had happened to them on Thursday (they were caught up in it all), nobody in their life knew about my friend to be let her know and she meant enough to them to change that. If that isn't a positive, powerful thing to have come from all this, I don't know what is. Everyone is important to someone, let them know it now.

So being able to catch up with her and her happiness whilst walking across from Embankment with the stunning views of the river, The City and London being London - well good for the soul. Add to that a fantastic lunch, a bit of wine and then a matinee performance of the Aristocrats at the National (OK - dealt with some issues that are a bit too close to home at times) and then waving goodbye after making plans to meet again (and deciding to definitely stick to it this time) - well it all seemed very dignified and decent and made me realise that it's not the quantity of your friends, but the quality that counts.

Then getting a call from a friend on Sunday to confirm plans for a bit of future fun to come in October and remembering that I'd got a gig ticket for October also sent through, well things should be looking up if I can continue to cope the dragging feeling of impending depression at bay.

I want to have more fun, I don't want to have to be responsible and grown up all the time and I don't want to carry on feeling as though it's all resting on my shoulders. I don't want it to go wrong again, I haven't the strength to get better again this time.

Currently listening to another of the brilliant podcasts hosted by as part of the BonfireRadio bit of Pete Ashton's website - being a bit of an emotional wreck at the minute meant that some of the tracks on the various casts really got to me. Go listen, go and be inspired to do your own as well.

Doing What Exactly?

2005-07-08T22:16:00.000Z

Doing what I do most Fridays after usually leaving work far too late....listen to music! Currently wowing me is the latest ebay acquisition the most excellent "Lido" by Clearlake. Blur Meets Suggs type outfit with witty lyrics and a knack of making you hear as well as listen. Brill article on them from Drownedinsound. Favourite tracks on Lido have got to be "I Want To Live In A Dream" - just because it has a such simplicity about it that leaks out honesty. Second to that "Jumble Saleing" great lyrics and the most tranquil I've felt for ages listening to this.

The other two new latest additions to the fast running out of room in the drawer cd collection is Rasmus Dead Letters and Geffen Rarities. Definitely something for the weekend there.

And just as "A Little Something To Look Forward To" cues itself up, I'm proud that I went all spontaneous today and agreed to go away for a very lively weekend with a mate to celebrate his birthday in October. Brighton here we come!

Why?

2005-07-07T20:50:00.000Z

Today should have been a joyous occasion after the jublilation of the Olympic decision, instead we are in shock at the awful events. As someone who travelled into London for 16 years, this seemed very close to home for me. As the wonders of technology gave us blanket coverage with no respite, I felt more and more distressed at the pointlessness of it all. The fact that the people hurt, killed, traumatised, maimed are people just like me, people just going to work, or going home, or having a well earned day out. Just ordinary people who will have been important to someone for some reason. How an evil a place the world can be at times, the stories of heroics will doubtlessly follow but this can't erase the evil. It just makes it more shamefull.

Thoughts out to everyone involved and also to those whose happy days (the weddings, the new births, the engagements, the new jobs, the good news stories) are now feeling muted. Celebrate what needs to be celebrated, mourn what needs to be mourned and treasure what matters.

And now one for the ladeez....

2005-07-03T19:24:00.000Z

SrokaSounds flys!

I've done something I really didn't think I'd actually do but spurred on by the excellent podcasts from the likes of NYUB & of course Bonfire Radio with it's latest trendy additions, I've actually managed to cobble together a sort of internet show. OK it's only in downloadable MP3 but for all you fans of the Rubber Rollercoaster, head over to The Gothiron Guide and check out SrokaSounds (aka DagFm - cheers for inspiration for that one). I need to do the track listing and add in some commentary (and possibly actually redo the file..) because there was loads of stuff I learnt whilst doing this. It was almost like doing homework (but fun).

I never realised how much my voice varies when I start to feel confident, plus my lisp isn't quite as bad as I was led to believe for all these years and if I'd have kept the "outtakes", then I'd have had enough effing to have replaced the famous opening lines from Four Weddings & A Funeral (which is on tonight - must watch). But this was fun but did take all day. Lucky I was abandoned today! I do sound like Jo Brand though.

Live8 was fab, Mariah Carey was a troll, Robbie Williams a true gem, I wished I looked (and sounded) like Joss Stone, Travis was ace and it made me think of what I was doing 20 years ago and what I've done to make a difference....hmmm, more for another blog methinks.

But 3rd July is SrokaSounds go live day and I'm well chuffed!

Help Just How It Should Be......

2005-07-02T08:13:00.000Z

I'm currently trying to pluck up courage to do some sort of mp3cast type gubbins - courage required since I have a voice that is a cross between a gravelly type squeak and some sort of Joyce Grenfell Public announcement system - so was recommended to have a look at acoustica MP3 audio mixer to get started. Well, even if you never intend to utter a glottalstop on the net, whip over there just to download the excellent help file that goes with mp3 audio mixer. This is how all help should be - eat your heart out Microsoft!

=========
1. Start MP3 Audio Mixer
SoundWarrior double clicks the MP3 Audio Mixer icon on his desktop. Okay, we could have left this step out.

2. Drag in some sounds.
SoundWarrior has a good sound of a cave-woman scream called arghhh1.wav. The sound is located in "c:\cavescreams\", which he finds, and then drags the sound’s icon onto the MP3 Audio Mixer window.

3. Drag in some more sounds.
SoundWarrior also drags in stampede.wav, the sound of a herd of Mastodons stampeding by his cave. Finally, he drags in an MP3 called "rockrolls.mp3", some of the latest music from "The Stoners"

4. Make a recording if you want.
SoundWarrior hits the record button and the record dialog comes up. He punches the record button on the dialog and screams into his microphone "You make fire now! I make fire yesterday!"

6. Export As an MP3 file..
He wants to put it on cavenet.com so others can be jealous of his work of art.

7. Find a Mastodon to chase? J
With all the time he saved, he can take the rest of the day off. Maybe he’ll draw some paintings or even sharpen a stick.
============

I can't promise that Sroka Sounds (for the musical magpies) will be half as entertaining but I've never laughed at a help file before!

The Reluctant Adult

2005-06-30T19:32:00.000Z

or the rediscovered teen ager, whichever you prefer. Either way, the last thing I feel at the moment is like being sensible, mature and responsible. I've had enough of all that.

Night out with Sister - fantastic; very good Vietnamese in Hackney, excellent conversation but like I blogged before, meeting up isn't all fun, fun, fun. The various personal dramas that are underfolding in both our lives were duly relayed, but with the added dose of black humour you can chuck in when you are with friends and it was lucky that the restaurant was empty so that nobody had to ask for the removal of the two banshee from the corner. Taking a long hard look at my sister was shock. We look more like each now, mainly because we are both somewhat stressed but if this is what I look like to people, then I need to do something about it.

The reorg at work would make Fawlty Towers & The Office look like a serious docu-drama. Never have I felt like such a number and not a person before. Yes I still have a job but if the "so long and thanks for all the fish" email had been entitled "Touch Luck Scum - you're on your own" it would have been more honest. I take little comfort from the fact that it's been a similarly bad experience for many others, all that means is that there are a lot of people who basically, couldn't be given a flying fuck about. Bye-bye avuncular company, hello evil step father desperate for control. It's all arse.

And relax.

Had a nagging text from a friend chiding me for not following up on plans to meet her. Great, more guilt, obviously needed some of that. Compromise agreed upon in that she's going to meet up in Town with me, as opposed to the preferred option of me spending a long and tranquil weekend in the West Country. I obviously can't even get the life balance bit right at the weekends anymore. Oh roll on October.

Update: http://www.greenpeace.org/international/campaigns/whalevision go here!

Boing Boing

2005-06-28T20:06:00.000Z

The Rubber Rollercoaster indeed - every high higher, every low lower and in between you ping between them.

The Ups: Got a whole new batch of cds from ebay today (this being the summertime splurge from last weekend when I seemed to have the music midas touch and won everything) so am having a rip-fest this evening.

The Downs: Just when am I going to actually listen to them all!

The Ups: Am going out with my fantastically witty and fun sister tomorrow. Due to same family stuff over the last few months, we've got really close and ended up finding out that we are very similar in a host of ways - I already knew we sounded the same, laughed pretty much the same but we've both got the same magpie tendency for darting after things, both seem to have the ability to make others laugh even when we are feeling like scum ourselves. And we both have the self confidence of a slug at times. But she is great.

The Downs: The reason I'm going out with her is that we're are both going through a tough time (for vastly different reasons) at the moment and we have had enough! So although it's going to fun seeing her, because we are both slightly at the froot-loop edge of reality at the moment, there is a lot of poignacy to why we spend time together. I wish that I could take some of her hurt away, she has enough stress stocked up to easily replace it.

The Ups: Got stuff done at work, loads of it, stuff that needed doing as part of the reports frenzy that is part of my job, gave me that content feeling of control.

The Downs: Arghhhh! The uncertainty at work is crippling. I am someone that naturally wants to help others, support my colleagues, be strong for them and provide clarity etc etc. Well fat chance of that at the moment. I'm lurching from feeling totally despondent due to the inability to plan anything since I haven't a clue what's going to happen to euphoric as I think of all the opportunities this is going to offer. The vile reality is somewhere in the middle - there will be a whole load of work coming our way and it will be more of the same.

More Downs: This is now contributing to insomnia meaning that not only am I truly manic, I'm shagged as well. Please don't suggest I need a break - holidays are a sore subject.

Thank You For The Music

2005-06-25T18:25:00.000Z

Went to a brilliant workshop today - Formal Abba Singing (no, I don't mean it was long frocks & DJs) courtesy of Beginners Please run by the vocally awesomey inspiring Ann Barrett. By formal I mean singing to a music score with allocated vocal range parts (yay for once I've been labeled as a soprano - now that is a girlie achievement - I don't get many of those) and singing in harmony. As opposed to my usual method of singing which is to give it plenty of welly and hope the notes catch.

I'm not a good singer - possibly too many cigs, booze and stress mean I'd be more likely to win an Alison Moyet soundalike contest than give Madonna a run for her money but I have enthusiasm. The reason I wanted to do all this is that I am very aware that I spend a good percentage of my life having to present a certain image, always be in control and my brain feels as though it is going to fry. In short I can never switch off or just concentrate on one thing at a time. It's always answer this, decide that, analyse this, respond, respond respond but to a myriad of unrelated things. There is never any time for planning or thinking things through, well having to sing in harmony sorts all that out. You have to breathe properly, have to know when to come in, what's going to happen in a few bars time, concentrate on your part and not the alto next to you and totally concentrate on the music. I haven't felt so relaxed, calm, fulfilled and happy for ages. I didn't care if I got it slightly wrong, or sang loudly or looked stupid - because we all probably did. But I felt a sense of real achievement at the end of it and am starting to realise that I can do slightly out of the ordinary things and I'm not the boring, no interests, bland and meaningless person I've been told I am. So hooray for Gothiron!

It was great, I've now managed to appreciate the complexities of Mama Mia, Super Trouper (that is a bugger to sing, hats off to the girls on that one), Money, Money, Money and a without score version of Fernando. Having to actually study the lyrics as well the music meant that, a bit like when you reread a book you had to dissect for A Levels, you are suddenly made aware of the deeper meanings of things. Next time you hear a track on the radio - listen & hear.

The venue was Steeple in Essex (near Maldon) so fairly rural and most of the singers (ladies all bar the two very brave gents who provided super bass) were fairly local (and "fritefly naice" ladies) so apparently I was quite a novelty and at least ten looked as though I'd made their day by them being able to meet a real live Dagenham person "how fantastic you've come all this way & you found Ann via the internet". But everyone was welcoming and it only occurred to me at the very end that I was the only person who had been a singleton. I think I would have been far more inhibited if I'd been with people I'd know. Anonymity is great for the confidence!

I haven't had so much fun in ages and really enjoyed the whole day. There is an event in aid of WaterAid to be held at the Museum of Power in October - and I'll get to sing in the Turbine Hall - how awesome will that be!

A £22 well spent in my book and the lunch was fantastic as the local ladies had put on a Smorgsbord style lunch with a 70s feel - OK, it included a pineapple n cheese spikey hedgehog. Kitsch enough for me!

How to make the "coolest" thing on the planet...uncool

2005-06-23T22:02:00.000Z

Absolutely cracks me up this one - anything that dents the "coolest gadget on the planet" image of the herd-pod is fine by me.

Check out Fake Sheep - Vegan Knitting website for more pictures and also take time to read Moira's blurb. I had never thought about the subject of knitting and the environment before; nor the idea that commercially produced wool still can involve animal cruelty in how the "source" (that's sheep to thee & me) may be kept.

So what started off as the opportunity to sarky about ipods has turned into a bit of thought provoker. Nice to know that I can still know how to be a human being.

+ I quite like the gloves...

Try again. Fail again. Fail better

2005-06-22T22:34:00.000Z

Is the wording on the card I have on my board at work - and is a good reminder to me that you can't improve if you are perfect to begin with. Cheers Samuel Beckett.

Had one of these ebay splurges at the weekend, obviously with the good weather, the people who usually snipe me at the last minute were out sunning themselves. I think I've managed to snaffle about £40 worth of cds - some wonderfully bizarre ones but I am going to have to do the emergency dash to the post tray at work to save my blushes over "yet another parcel for you" - usually I end up being sniped on 8 out 10 bids, it must have been my lucky day.

Thoroughly enjoying the David Byrne "Grown Backwards" cd. Glass, Concrete & Stone would certainly feature on the "ways to finish a relationship" playlist if you wanted an alternative to "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover" - although I'm convinced that there is a niche market out there for themed podcasts. Beats the dead roses bouquets for finishing a relationship. So looking at the current selection on the not-a-herdpod ("Be Creative") playlist entitled "Feel Nothing" - what could I potentially offer as a kiss-off podcast...

50 Ways to Leave Your Lover
All I Want To Know (Magnetic Fields)
Cure for Pain - Morphine (for the line - "someday there'll be a cure for pain - and I'll throw my drugs awaaaaaay"
Cry - Godley & Creme (blimey I can remember being wowed when that video was screen in the cimema
You, Who Do You Hate - Mansun
A Little Time (The Beautiful South)
I've got something to say - Reef
Bye Bye Badman - Stone Roses
I'm not in Love - 10cc
She's Too Good For Me - Warren Zevon

"I'd wait here for a thousand years if she'd come back to me
I have everything she wants but nothing that she needs
I want her to be happy - I want her to be free
I want her to be everything she couldn't be with me"

I'm The Slime

2005-06-18T10:40:00.000Z

"The world is full of people looking for spectacular happiness while they snub contentment"

For the first time in ages, I can genuinely say that this weekend has been pretty neat. No I haven't won the lottery, haven't had a life changing Road to Damascus type moment but simply have had a stress-free enjoyable weekend doing those sort of normal things that everyone does but for me have recently been a trial of Herculean efforts. Even the joy that is Asda on a Saturday was OK - probably because the rest of the work had fled to the coast living the urbanites who remained with more space - yay! But it was truly the simple things that worked well this weekend:

Finished the new P J Tracy thriller "Live Bait" - a brill follow up to "Want To Play?" and the perfect read for when you want to remained sprawled in one position for a couple of hours. Another reason for remaining in the same position was that Creative Zen FM Radio was slightly temperamental and once I had established that the ideal receiving position was if I was lying in same kind of yoga-eques "Anubis - the Jackal God" pose so I reckon I've toned the abdominals at the same time.

Idle question - just how many types of vile bacterial scum do you reckon a slug carried on it? Reason for asking is that the joy that was assuming the Anubis Pose in the garden meant that Zen was on the grass, as was vile, oozing scum with antlers - that then slimed over Zen in a very controlled manner. Yuck! Ideas for Slug themed Playlists welcomed. I guess "I'm The Slime" by Frank Zappa would have to be tops

Went to see the new Batman - Batman Begins (after about 20 minutes I was wishing for Batman Ends...- but even that picked up eventually) and before I give in to the "everything is fine with the world, I want to make an exception - a special hell be reserved for gits who take mobile calls during films that aren't of the relative-dying variety and for 12 year old boys who get hysterically excited at the sight of a pair of breasts during a trailer - for gods sake, haven't they found porn yet to still get wowed by 12a Cert tits..... But the film was good - go see.

Being Father's Day - I duly shuffled over to see The Old Man who had just returned back from his all time favourite location, no, not the pub but The Tip. Now I remember reading the Sir Trevor McDonald used to relish visits to the Dump as it gave him solitude and respite - maybe that's the same for my dad but that doesn't explain why both me & my sister still enjoy the prospect of going to the Tip (once we've done the recylcing thing of course!) - maybe because The Tip was the only place that we went with Dad alone as an outing. From memory, Mum didn't often to the Tip thing, and I don't think my brother did. Maybe this is some kind of weird dad-daughter bonding thing. And maybe that's why Stig of the Dump was such a cool book for us both.

Picked up an email from the "Kill Yourself or Get Over It" Mate as a result of mailing her to highlight this weirdness (see earlier blog) and she was now destined to spend the entire weekend getting her other half to find the cd it was on. Sorry Pete if you were planning a quiet one.

My other half is just about to set out on an evening out and he's meeting up with his mates in a goth pub in Camden - yep, hottest day of the day and he will be in close proximity to an entire black clad community radiating heat. Still he'll look very droll in the pseudo goth shirt from Cyberdog.

Getting A Grip

2005-06-17T05:23:00.000Z

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and all is born again"

Now why couldn't I have described it like that rather than ranting on like a loop....

Was listening to another Pete Ashton podcast which included a track that although I had never actually heard before, I totally knew it as someone I used to work with used to regularly quote one of the lines from it as an expression of irritation with people endlessly binting on about things. (I have a feeling I might have heard it most for a pretty good reason...) The line is "Kill yourself or get over it" and I thought I was harsh with my favourite retort being "Cope!". But now I've actually heard the track, I respect that ability to have found such an apposite view on things.

I've now remember more stuff about my mate that I'd parked away in the little visited "odd things I've done" section of my brain and it's amazing how invigouratingly vibrant they were. It was with them that I achieved a long held ambition to go into a bookies and place a bet - well there wasn't much else to do doing the lunch break on an Access course in Brum. I can even remember the horse "Hammer & Sickle" and it came in third. Shame I hadn't worked out how to do the "each way thing". ...

Now I'm convinced that putting a bet on in a grubby bookies in Brum will never feature in one of those "100 Things to Do before you die" but it's something I always wanted to do for no real reason other than it seemed pretty bizarre to be such an ordinary thing that seemed hard to do. My Mum was seriously impressed when I told her (I mean was at least 30 at the time!) as she'd always wanted to do the same! Wow - brownie points.

So is it time that I did the list thing on the grounds that if you write it down you are more likely to achieve it "I want to be fabulously witty and attractive" - nope, didn't work.

So thanks to a track that in theory should be one to guarantee immediate despondency, I'm as high as a kite because I've been able to remember a really good friend and the fun of them. So that's where all the good people have gone - to happy memory area. Cool.

I don't rent space to anyone in my head

2005-06-16T16:36:00.000Z

This one isn't going to be a bundle of laughs. I've had the odd bouts of depression most of my adult life - the longest was about three years and is what is currently troubling me. I'm starting to feel the same way now as I did then and frankly, it's making me scared. I don't want to go back onto tablets as I resent the fact that I have to be "chemically controlled". I struggle enough with the pill! I'm feeling constantly aggressive emotionally but then get hit by a really bad low. It feels like I already am chemically enhanced. How do you deal with this - I feeling as those I'm trying to hang onto my life and be in control when all I'm doing is failing to get a firm grip and fraying the line a bit more.

I feel that people must think I'm drunk as the mood swings make me dizzy, and sometimes I'm so euphoric that I scare myself - mainly because I can very clearly visualise the slump and crash that is going to follow. Not some much an eagle soaring, more the turkey falling over the edge. I just can't get my head to be still for long - it's as though I have searing flashes of total tranquility and calm when I am in control, can make rational decisions and most importantly of all, not be crying - but then these are balanced by total patheticness attacks when I feel as though I could end it right there and just walk away from my life. What is this - the start of some exciting slump into depression (hooray that will just about finish off the puzzle) or just my body trying to be contacted by my brain to say "you need a rest - do it" or am I just losing my marbles?

Answers on a fag-packet please, in fact, just sling the fags over.

A ruffled mind makes a restless pillow

2005-06-14T22:05:00.000Z

Another raging spell of insomina....at some point soon I think I'm going to apply to work night shift and actually benefit from the fact that I'm awake when most people aren't!

I feel exceptionally guilty since I know that I'm now going to be in a vile mood for work, will conjure up a magic no-contact zone around me for friends and will seek refuge in coffee to keep me awake. Which it will. Tonight. And of course, my other half will be getting a restless night as well since however quiet you try to be when you are the only one up, you still somehow manage to sound like you are undertaking the percussion section of the local orchestra.

So why can't I sleep? Pointless worry about work and family - pointless in so much as the things I am concerned about (reorganisation, letting colleagues down, missing deadlines, new tasks etc etc) are things which I have no control over and logically I should just let them go and concentrate on things that are in my own remit. Which is the nub of the matter - just at the moment I feel as though I have very little control over what is happening - I'm stressed out so haven't the energy left (after worrying) to voice my concerns rationally (I'm feeling as though I have permanent PMT & a hangover), my head feels as though it's going to explode and I would just like a few hours back to myself - hence the insomina. I am very aware that my personal life is being affected, although the agreement I seem to have come to there is that as long as I try and act like a rational, caring, considerate person to my other half for at least 12 hours over the weekend, I don't feel so bad about basically being absent both emotionally and physically during the week. I realise by writing this that its a poor deal for him but its an improvement. The guilt sponge isn't particulary choosey about what it mops up, but there is only a finite absorption capacity before more space is created.

So that's why I keep on welling up - its excess guilt oozing out, I never realised that was the function of tears.

Oh roll on 5.30am, that's when I can legitimately leave the house for work without feeling like a total basket case. So what's new on the web to listen to for the next 45mins......

Any recommendations for basically coping - let me know!

"Freedom is nothing else but a chance to be better"

2005-06-13T03:27:00.000Z

Another great day that proved sometimes, just getting on with stuff rather than binting on about really helps.

Had one of those conversations that you'd usually expect to only occur after large quantities of alcohol but not in this case. The subject of the conversation was "will people still seek knowledge and crave learning or will eventually society become so apathetic that the art of questioning, seeking and more importantly sharing knowledge become obsolete?" My view was that the more apathetic one strand of society becomes (think Rise of The Idiots - Nathan Barley) the stronger the opposing strand becomes, since it is harder to be an individual when the herd is massive and you develop stronger views. A sort of super-breed of non-conformists but does this mean that society ceases at the price of individuality (told you it was one of those conversations that usually follows the one about "what's your favourite childhood sweet\cartoon\late night film). I guess what I'm saying is that there must be hope against the endless spoonfeeding of sanitised media, neo-censored thought and general inability to reason. The decline of active and empassioned politics (not so much vanilla-leadership as totally synthetic be-what-ever-you-want-me-to-be leadership), the easy application of stereotyping (yobs, hoodies, chavs etc) makes for lazy journalism - why bother using the richness of the written word to actually try to desctibe something when a insta-quote stereotype works so well. When we are all labelled, we are all controlled - although who controls the labels?

The responsibility of free thinking societies is to ensure that change can happen, that the past is remembered and the future planned rather than controlled and we never forget that the degree of freedom we experience isn't typical for most of the worlds population. Democracy, however much maligned the government, is better than the alternatives. The fact that I can express my views (even if no one ever reads them other than me) means I have a level of autonomy and empowerment that some will never even dream off since you can't dream of what you have no knowledge of.

The thirst for knowledge should never be slackened - you should feel more parched with every new idea.

"To get back my youth I would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable"

2005-06-07T15:52:00.000Z

That fantastic event I went to? Well, the pics were made available today and like many people, I tend to avoid ever having photos taken, so it was a shock to come face to face with yourself unexpected. Put this way, if I was an actress, I'd be described as having a "face with character" Or maybe if I'm honest (and to use a friends favourite expression) "a hag with a face like a bag of smashed crabs!" Blimey when did I get so old! So thanks Oscar W for the quote..

The current grouchy spell contains and I think I've identified the cause. Guilt. Currently work is a bit uncertain (reorg looms), I can't stand not being able to have some element of control over my life and spending half my time thinking that I'm about to have to try and start over again workwise isn't helping. Luckily enough, there are a few personal stresses going on as well so when I'm not worrying about trying to find a work identity, I can worry about not knowing my home identity. The mystery of the grey hairs is suddenly clear.

Thinking about music, in particular the whole "do sad songs make you sad" thing. I had the joyous experience of suddenly welling up whilst coming home - anyone else been reduced to blubbing by "Music Box" - The Cooper Temple Clause?

I guess when you are feeling like a guilt sponge hearing the lines :

" I've had a plague of late, A niggle of doubt, Yeah I've had questions of conscience of what this is about"

seems to hit the spot hard.

Maybe this world is another planet's Hell

2005-06-06T14:47:00.000Z

Is how Sundays make me feel....So thanks to Aldous Huxley & the good folks at Elibron Quotations for pointing it out to me.

So what's caused me to turned into the grouchy gothiron again? It's Sunday, Bloody, Sunday (to song drop - if I wasn't feeling in such a mood I'd be able to a "soundtrack to my emotions - Nick Hornby type of thing" to put it into perspective). It's not the thought of work tomorrow that brings me down - I think it is actually the case of "work tomorrow" being what gets me through the weekend, it's just the whole perception of just what couples should be doing that gets to me. When I see the duets of complementary coupleness parading around, I'm torn between pitying them for not having an identity that doesn't depend on the other person and then taking that hard look at my life in which independence is worn like a badge of pride and sharing emotions is toxic. Even the simple "loved up in aisles" (yep, Sunday is food shopping) type conversations seems to get to me (I told you I was having a bad day) seeing as it's all "what shall we have for our dinner, dear" I'm a veggie, he's the closest thing to a carnivore I know so bang goes that option for "oneness". The closest I get to "shared dinner" is if I pick the ham of the Hawaiian pizza and have the left overs.

Oh well, I enjoy being different so can't really crave normality can I?

Have spent a wonderfully solo afternoon listening to yet another eclectic mix of music courtest of another brill "podcast" from Pete Ashton. No, I'm not a paid blogger for him but I just think this bloke has got "it" and is great so click over to his site and have a listen. I don't think you will find many broadcasts that combine Warren Zevron, Camera Obscura & Hank Williams...Plus he found The Sinister Ducks...

And one fantastic highlight from last week, one of our suppliers had an event at the "Gherkin" building in London and I was invited to my first ever "event money can't buy" type thing. The panoramic views of London were breathtaking and for a few hours I felt as thought someone had giftwrapped my city for me and I was really part of something that I understood. Possibly no-one I was speaking to would have understand the ramblings of the mad woman in "untrendy" brown if they had spoken to me much later in the evening but I had the best time ever!

So why in a week as good as that do I still have Sunday-itis!