The View from the no. 42*

Weeks of my life have been consumed with buses. When I wasn't on a bus, I was waiting for a bus, running for a bus or changing buses.

The journey to work was generally fine, although my main bus seems prone to breakdowns - in the space of a week, I was on a bus that broke down, then I was the bus following a bus that broke down that had to pick up the stray passengers.

The bus journey can be rather pleasant on a morning. Apparently it takes you right past Tommy Steele's house, except I'm not entirely sure which one it is. There are some beautiful properties along the route, although their appeal is somewhat marred when you think about how many people must gawp into their gardens each day from the top deck of the bus.

The return journey however is a more stressful affair as no bus seems to travel without a handful of teenagers discussing how much alcohol they've recently drank. The young people of my new worktown are an interesting breed - the girls are like a race of superbeings, none of them over a size 6 or under 5ft10, all with waist-length toussled hair. None of the adults look like this so presumably they all either leave the town at 20 or decline dramatically (perhaps as a result of all that vodka drinking).

Anyway I was tired of the traffic and teenagers, so I've made a change to avoid the bus. I've not moved house or quit the job (although both thoughts have occurred to me). No, I've taken the rather less radical step of being a travelcard that allows me to take the train home (or more accurately two trains and a bus, as opposed to the two buses). My quality of life has improved although I'm sticking with the morning buses.


*the number of the bus has been changed to protect the innocent

Harvest

I'm still someway off "The Good Life" style self-sufficiency (and being Felicity Kendall, much to the OH's disappointment), but I've had some success in the garden this year.

I planted some radish seeds and so far I've harvested 6 of them, but there are more still growing. I'm rather proud of this achievement.

Although I'm not that keen on radishes and there isn't much you can actually do with them, besides put them in a salad. If anyone has any radish recipes, please do let me know...

The next door neighbours apple tree continues to shed its fruit into our garden, most of them falling and rotting before we can do anything with them. But at the weekend, I plucked some from the tree and made an apple cake. It has turned out well but obviously we can't eat a cake every week, so again if anyone has any healthy recipes for cooking apples, please do post.

Changes

Whereas before I took a train then a tube to work, now I take the bus. Two buses in fact.

This is just one of the changes involved in the change of jobs.

Where I was in the arts before, I'm now in the Voluntary & Community Sector.
Where I worked in central London before, I'm now on the outskirts
Where my job had a UK-wide remit before, I'm now working at a local level in one borough
Where I worked 10 to 6, I now work 9 to 5

Its a lot of change. I'm still exhausted by it all. I'm still not sure what to make of it.

On the plus side, I have a new health club and whilst I am missing my outdoor swimming, this place is clean and quiet.

A Proper Grown-Up Job

I start the new job tomorrow and to say I'm nervous would be an understatement. This is a Proper Grown-Up Job. A job with a 50 page business plan with "outcomes" and "deliverables" for the next 3 years with my job title next to them. I have targets I'm expected to achieve and I'm trying not to freak out about something I have to do in 2011.

Its a whole new sector, in a new location and in an office where I'm don't know where the kettle is located. In fact, I don't even know if they have a kettle.

But there may not be time for tea with all those deliverables to be delivered.

I'm not a technophobe but...

Mobile phones are a necessary evil of the modern world, but frankly they bore me. And nothing marks someone out as inane so much as endless obsessing and talking about new phones.

Now I've realised why this is.

Changing mobile phones is time-consuming. Doing it regularly probably doesn't leave you with much time for outside interests.

My old phone had become increasingly random, which was bad since it was always temperamental. So I took the free upgrade. Its a good thing I have a week off work as there is no way I could fit this around a full time job.

Waiting in all day for the phone to be delivered.
The endless switching, removing and inserting of Sim cards
The hours of charging
Phoning to register the phone.
Not completing the call because it turns out I need to do something else with the Sim card first.
More struggling with the Sim and the battery

I'm surrounded by pieces of phone, old and new, packaging, accessories and instructions that don't quite explain things fully enough.

And that is before I've even attempted to use the new phone, which has more functions than my computer. All I want from it are the basic phone calls and texts, for them to work overseas and for the battery not to need charging constantly.

Exit Stage Left

I no longer work in the theatre industry. I imagined telling the company where they could stick their job, making a speech to set the record straight and dancing gleefully out of the office. But of course I didn't do any of that. I worked my notice as diligently as ever, mumbled my thanks at my leaving do and left quietly, still with some feelings of doubt and regret.

I'll miss a handful of people in the office and several more across the industry, plus a few other things that made the days bearable.

I'll miss the outdoor swimming, and despite the rocky start, I'll miss the "Bums, Tums and Thighs" class (I had farewell more teary with the instructor than with any of my colleagues).

I'll miss the smiling man who hands me the London Paper every night and the woman who sells the Big Issue.

I'll miss lunches from Food for Thought. I'll miss the shops, although my savings plan won't. I'll miss the journey to work that I can do without even thinking.

But I won't miss the job and I won't miss the department. And perhaps I will be able to re-enter somewhere down the line.

Overheard Conversations No. 7

On the train, a Canadian mother is talking to her young daughter, aged around 4, who is swirming about in her seat.

Mother: Sally, protect your underwear! That's the responsiblity you take on when you choose to wear a dress.

Sound advice there, that many young celebrities would do well to observe.

The Replacements

The advert has been placed to find my replacement and the applications are rolling in. Its not looking good. I don't think I'm irreplaceable. Far from it, I think my job could be done by a trained monkey, so long as that monkey was trained in databases, web editing and desktop publishing. Its just the quality of applications so far has been poor.


Shrewdly, my manager has asked for applications the old fashioned way, a CV and letter by post and the majority of applicants have fallen at this first hurdle by emailing their application, thus proving they are unable to follow simple instructions.


And it seems that the young generation can't write covering letters anymore. "Here is my CV" alone on a page is not a covering letter. At the other end of the spectrum, a rambling three page missive about what you did at university with no reference to the job offered, isn't the way to write a letter either. You don't start a business letter "Hello". And a letter starting "You must be sick of reading these letters by now" may make yours stand out from the crowd, but in the wrong way.


Then there are those who don't actually want the job, but are unemployed and have to prove they are looking for work. So we receive a CV that has been photocopied badly folded twenty times to fit in a miniscule envelope , accompanied by an unreadable handwritten letter - all of which reaks of smoke. Anyone familiar with Trainspotting will recognise this as the Spud school of job applications.


Some have written acceptable letters, but they've talked up their experience - when you read the CV "extensive" turns out to mean three months in one job. And where has this trend for quoting a colleague or former employer at the top of the CV come from? This has passed me by but I don't like it. One quoted a former colleague saying she was "a problem-solver" but on further investigation the company is something she started herself after college so the "colleague" was more than likely her best friend. Another gave pride of place to a quotation from a publisher saying she "was very naughty for leaving" that company.


There was also one from a recent graduate who admitted they didn't have the experience we are looking for, but was willing to work for £4k less than the starting salary "subject to a review after 3 months". I'm sure they would be willing to work for that - for someone with no experience of anything, that would be a pretty good starting salary in most industries and very well paid in the arts.


My favourite so far has been the one that began "I am ideal for this position. I am currently manager of a massage parlour" and then lists their duties in the parlour, starting with "operating the massage machines". I've been in this job nearly five years and have so far haven't seen the connection with massage.

Shortlisting will be difficult. Not because of the usual spiel about receiving over 100 applications it was a tough decision. It will be hard to find six decent candidates to pick from.

You don't see that every day

A woman in her 70s, wearing blue nail varnish on her toenails.

It matched her raincoat.

Life and Death in the Media Age

I experienced something new last night - sitting in a pub watching a televised funeral. I didn't set out to watch it in the pub - the trains home had all been cancelled due to the storms so we decided to wait it out in a nearby pub. The pub, where we've frequently watched football and cricket, was showing the memorial.

It was bizarre, but then the whole thing has been bizarre.


The memorial was, I suppose, a fitting tribute. The music was good, the rest I'm not so sure about. A celebration of his talent would have been good without the coffin being on stage.

It felt disrespectful somehow to be ordering a round of drinks while Brooke Shields was talking, although I did it anyway. In a hushed sombre tone.

Paul Gambaccini was commentating on the show and he made the most memorable comment on the star's death. Asked if in years to come, his legacy would be the music or the controversy, he replied that it would be the music "because anyone can own a llama". Having a pet llama wasn't the scandal that first comes to my mind, that is still in acceptable levels of eccentricity as far as I'm concerned.

Micro-Climate

I live in a modest abode, not a vast estate. So it was rather strange on Saturday to find that it was raining in the back garden, but not in the front.

Boss Time

It was hard to ignore Michael Jackson at the weekend, whether it was the OH's obsessive news watching and "Earth Song" singing and the sound of his greatest hits coming from every car stereo. But despite this, the soundtrack to my weekend was not Michael Jackson, but Bruce Springsteen.

We were at a party on Saturday, which as a sign of our age began with watching Andy Murray at Wimbledon and ended with watching Bruce Springsteen at Glastonbury. Some wine was drunk in between.

Bruce was great. I've always liked him and used to make my mother play his albums constantly on any car journeys when I was a teenager. But with the Glastonbury performance, he convinced even people who had never been interested in him. He has some great songs, and he (and the band) put in so much effort to their performances still. Tom Jones should take note - he put so little effort into his Glastonbury show that he was still unruffled without a hair or touch of makeup out of place at the end.

He clearly loves performing, realises he has the greatest job in the world and enjoys it. Something many stars could learn from...

Tough & Corny

Putting my worries aside for an evening, I went to the cinema to see Rudo y Cursi, the new film starring Gael Garcia Bernal and Diego Luna. Y Tu Mama Tambien is one of my all time favourite films, and this film was pretty much a "Who's who" of Mexican cinema.

The film was fantastic, soothing my worry that I'd gone off cinema. It was sort of about football, but you didn't have to be a football fan to enjoy it as you only saw the games through people's reactions to it.

The screening was a special event with the stars, director and producer in attendence. I'll admit that was one reason for me wanting to go - I do find Gael Garcia Bernal very attractive (despite his shortness). The discussion after the film was the usual thing - the panel were great, but were let down by the audience's contribution - mainly inane comments or nitpicking criticism that missed the point. But the stars made it a special event. They were witty and engaging, with way more charisma then you usually see on today's stars. Of course, there is no reason why they shouldn't be - young, good-looking, and talented. And perhaps that is the nub of it, most stars today aren't that talented and even less of them could be described as talented.

Carnival!

I stepped out of my door, with the intention of taking the bus to the library, when I became aware of the sound of a marching band. There was no traffic in the direction I was going and then I noticed that people were standing in their gardens, on their doorsteps and on the curb.

A sign of the times, I wondered whether it might be a parade by an extremist group, but it turned out to be the local carnival. I had no idea it was happening but clearly it was a very big deal for other locals. Besides the crowds lining the street, which increased as I walked down the road, some shops had even closed for the day, with signs in their windows saying "See you at the Carnival".

So I slowed down and lingered a while to see the parade. As parades go, it wasn't really that impressive, but the fact that I saw some semblance of community for the first time seemed more important.

Having seen the entire parade pass by (a marching band, a beauty queen, one small float, a group with decorated umbrellas, some army cadets and their tank and some drummers), I decided to continue my journey to the library but as the traffic was being held someway back, I thought it best to walk. This meant that for a good ten minutes, until our routes diverged, I looked as if I was joining with the parade!

All in all, it was a cheery little event, but without the more colourful elements of the parade around it, the sight of the minature army and tank going down the high street might have been a bit troubling.

Escape from The Rut

I've been in The Rut for a long time. I've been bored and unchallenged, my mind was rotting. I filled up my time with "projects" to distract me, so I wouldn't dwell on The Rut too much. I'd made The Rut quite comfortable, made the best of it.

Then this week, I seem to have found a way out of The Rut. A new opportunity. A proper step in the right direction. Something challenging but perfectly possible.

I'm going to do it. I'm going to leave The Rut behind. But why don't I feel happier about it? Its the little things that make The Rut bearable that I'm worried about leaving behind. And that,strangely enough, I worked so hard to get into The Rut in the first place, that it feels like quitting to leave it behind.

Still it is all "subject to references" which is quite a bit thing when one of the problems with The Rut other people taking credit for things you've done. So I may not quite be out of The Rut yet.

Film Recommendations Wanted

So we've got the Love Film service and we received DVDs through the post. But the problem recently is that I haven't been enjoying many of them.

Here is a quick sample of recent picks:

Hannah Takes the Stairs - an American indie film in the little known genre called "Mumblecore". The sound is poorly mixed and the characters witter on about their nothing lives. I turned it off.

Somers Town - I've enjoyed Shane Meadows other films, but didn't warm to this one, perhaps because I knew it had started life as an advert for the Eurostar.

Blame It on Fidel - A French child suffers when her parents become revolutionaries. I found it hard to care.

The Baader Meinhof Complex - The Baader Meinhof gang are a minor obsession of mine, but this made a very interesting period incredibly dull.

Righous Kill - It should have been a warning sign that it was a film starring De Niro and Pacino that I'd never even heard of. Less than the sum of its parts.


There have been two that I have enjoyed

Mad Detective - very interesting film from Hong Kong about an ex-detective with mental powers that are great for detection but not for his own sanity. Like nothing else I've ever seen.

Six Shooter - a short film by Martin McDonaugh. Very funny in an odd, disturbing way.


So I'm looking for some recommendations. What have you seen that you've loved? I will watch pretty much anything, except chick flicks. It doesn't have to be new even.

Overheard Conversations No. 6

On the train, a group of men in their late twenties get on at the stop after mine and sit by me. From their conversation, I gather that they are all members of a swimming club that meets at my local pool, which isn't the one I use and I'm rather relieve now I don't.

Man 1: You should get John to join
Man 2: He doesn't like swimming. I don't know why. Actually I do know why. He told me why.
Man 1: Why?
Man 2: He finds it boring, just swimmig up and down.
Man 1; But its not boring. It is like flying, soaring in the air. Its a beautiful feeling
Man 2: And you can see up people's crotches

The system

Why does travelling by the London transport system always feel like such a battle? Surely a transport system is supposed to ease your passage through the city, making things easier. But not in London. Every day it feels like the system has to be outwitted, and it becomes a battle of wills, you versus the system. You feel a sense of achievement if you manage to get somewhere without too much of a problem. But if you beat the system on your outbound journey, it will punish you on your return.

And this is when "a good service is operating on all London underground lines". And for this they want a payrise, they feel they deserve more than the £50K most tube drivers earn?

I managed to navigate my way to and from work yesterday, only adding three hours onto my day. Today, I fear the system will take its revenge.

Back in Black

Having made a real effort in recent years to not give in to my natural inclination to always wear black, I now find myself with a job that actually requires it.

I have a new job. Sort of.

I still have the old job, but I now have a new voluntary job as well (plus the bits of freelance stuff too - I'm not very good at doing nothing). As of the weekend, I have joined the 500 volunteer stewards at Shakespeare's Globe. It involves showing people to their seats, herding the crowds in the event of a fire and selling programmes, cushions, blankets and rain ponchos. And it requires me to wear black, which I now find that I have a lot less of in my wardrobe than I thought.

So far (after just two shifts), I really like it and am looking forward to going back next weekend. The thing with voluntary work is it is always much better than actual work, apart from the bit about not being paid.

That passed the time

VLADIMIR: That passed the time.
ESTRAGON: It would have passed in any case.
VLADIMIR: Yes, but not so rapidly.

A busy week with three nights out in a row, culminating in seeing “Waiting for Godot” at the theatre.

When I booked the tickets I was under the impression that I loved “Waiting for Godot”. What is actually true is that my 17 year old self loved “Waiting for Godot”, but experience has taught me that my 17 year old self can’t be trusted. My 17 year old self also loved “On the Road”, The Doors and someone called Dave who worked in a shoe shop.

The acting was great and I’m glad I’ve seen Sir Ian McKellen and Patrick Stuart on stage, but I was tired and wanted to go home. The glasses of wine I’d had at an event prior to the going to the theatre probably didn’t help (“You can’t go to see “Waiting for Godot” drunk, I’d explained to a colleague early in the week, winning the award for possibly the most pretentious thing uttered this week). But I think I enjoyed it more than the Australian I overheard on the way out saying “I would have just hung myself”.

On the way home I was thinking about great pairings who could play the lead roles and suddenly the best possible cast occured to me: Statler and Wardolf from the Muppets. I'm surprised it hasn't already been done, although a quick search did show up that Sesame Street did its own version called "Waiting for Elmo".

Mad about Mad Men

Sadly it was the last episode of the second series of Mad Men. Slowly, without me at first realising it, I have fallen in love with this programme.

Not much happens, things just simmer and bubble beneath the beautiful surface. Although actually more did happen in the second series, nothing at all happened in the first.

I was always going to watch a programme set in the 1960s, and the period detail here didn't disappoint. It wasn't a cheap nostalgia, played for laughs like the Seventies details in Life on Mars. The sets are gorgeous. Pete Campbell may be an undiagnosed sociopath, but I want his apartment!

And the fashions. It is set in the early 60s, before it had really become "The Sixties" as we know think of them, so the clothes are more fifties style with full skirts and figure skimming knee length dresses. This is a time before the mini and before casual. Nobody wear jeans. Everyone is dressed up all of the time. Even to having a breakdown, Betty Draper looks wonderful.

Then there is Joan. The OH nearly falls of sofa every time she comes on the screen. Even I feel compelled to say "Wow" at her curves. Magazine articles are proclaiming the comeback of curves because of her. One article rather pettily pointed out that the actress Christina Hendricks just looked like any other big girl in her jeans and t-shirt in real-life. I find this hard to believe but what does it matter - why on earth would you wear jeans if you look this good in a dress? I'd do the gardening in a dress if I looked like that.

I've noticed some Mad Men Secretary style dresses appearing the shops too, and as I need something smarter than my usual attire for some upcoming work events, I tried some on. Having spent the last few years not being thin enough when waif-like or adrogenous figures were required, I now find that when curves are in, I'm not curvy enough.

Nobody panic, Everybody panic

A week ago we were all going about our business, minding our own business, worrying about the economy. Nobody had heard of swine flu. Then suddenly we are expected to worry about it.

I was sceptical, put it down to another round of scaremongering that would amount to nothing much. Frankly I was too busy to be worried. I had other things on my mind (getting some shoes reheeled, finding a savings account with a decent rate of interest, that sort of thing).

Then tonight I read the story in the free newspapers that experts are warning to be prepared for 94,000 people in London to die. That is large number, but more than that it is a precise number. How do they know it will be 94,000, not 93,000 or 95,000? And apparently my borough will be the worst affected. Again, how do they know? Do they already have the names and addresses of the unfortunate ones? What makes this borough more susceptible to it? Should I consider moving?

Best case scenario, the best we can hope for is 7000 deaths. 7000 deaths doesn't seem like something you would hope for.

Is it time to panic?

You Look Just Like...

A conversation with my mother revealed that in her youth, someone said she looked like Gina Lollobrigida. Which set me thinking about how I have been told I look like.

I have been compared to the following people:

The Corrs (exact Corr not specified)

Happy with that so long as its not the male one.

Danni Minogue (circa Home and Away)

Didn't mind this. (It is very hard to find a photo of her pre-whatever it is she has had done to herself in recent years)

Katie Corkhill from Brookside

Less pleased with this one.

Sophie Ellis Bextor

Confused by this one.

A Gelfling from The Dark Crystal

This was meant as an insult I think.

Dec from Ant and Dec

The smaller one if you don't know - there are no photos of him on his own! Perhaps not as insulted by this as I should be. My friend who fancied him and had a photo of him next to her bed was more disturbed by it than me.

Rodney Bewes from The Likely Lads

This is the worst. I wouldn't have minded so much if they had said James Bolam, at least he was the cool one.

Suffice to say I don't think I look like any of them.

Who have you been told you look like?

The St George's Day Question

Part of me thinks it is a shame that we can't celebrate our national saint's day and that patriotism is associated with racism. But then I see people actually celebrating being English, I think that St George's Day is probably best ignored.



Once more the pub next door to work was flying the flag of Englishness. The bunting was being hung when I arrived this morning, and predictably at lunchtime, the band followed, subjecting us to an afternoon of songs that haven't been popular since the 1940s. A quaint, and mostly harmless notion of Englishness, although I got the impression that they were mourning the loss of the colonies and still celebrating defeating the Germans.

But this was better than what followed.

Late afternoon, the Enger-Land crowds turned up, with the Vera Lynn songs replaced by inane chants of "Enger-Land" and "I'm England til I die". In my five minute walk from the office, I was three times accosted by men drapped in St George's Crosses, starting with the innocous "Allo Treacle", progressing to the offer of "would you like to be wrapped in this flag with me, darling".

If this is what it means to be English, next time I'm accused of being Norwegian, Irish or Polish (all of which have happened), I won't contradict it.

I then passed a woman, clearly English from her accent, who looking at all of the people in flags, said to her friend, "There must be a football match on", obviously unaware that it was an important national day. There is lies the problem. There needs to be a way of celebrating St George's day for the rest of us majority who fall outside of the nostalgic and moronic.

BT&T

Once more I am attempting to broaden my exercise regime. Once more I'm remembering why I usually just swim.


Yesterday was the turn of "Bums, Tums & Thighs". I expected the class to be full of ladies with huge behinds, beer bellies and thunderous thighs, but it wasn’t. The rest of the class were all of dancer-like build, probably having glided over from the Royal Opera House. But I suppose that shows that regular attendance might produce results.

The class was a harsh reminder of how inflexible and uncoordinated I am. At no point was it fun.

I began to take personally the teacher’s comments about keeping a distance between our chins and chests (I am paranoid about my weak chin). Uncharitable thoughts about “proper academic subjects” crossed my mind when she mentioned her university for physical education.

When the time was nearly up and she asked the class if we wanted to do the relaxation stretches or one more exercise, the rest of the class responded that they wanted to do TWO more exercises. If I hadn’t been about to collapse with exhaustion at this point, I might have fainted in surprise.

Today I ache everywhere, but particularly in those three mentioned areas.

City of Angels (and Roads)

It made a change to go somewhere that we didn't fall in love with and want to live. Most of the other places we've been in recent years (Cornwall, west coast of Scotland, New Forest, San Francisco, even Madeira) have looked like great places to live and we've started to look at property prices and job opportunities with vague ideas of how plausible it would be to move there. That didn't happen with Los Angeles.

I was glad I went and I enjoyed my time there, but for once I didn't wish I lived there rather than London.

My abiding impression of LA is of roads, lots of big roads. As a non-driver a place that is so reliant having a car was always going to have its work cut out to win me over, but I thought it would have something more to it. There didn't seem to be a real heart to the place, rather lots of districts with their own character, connected by big roads.

Hollywood Boulevard reached surreal levels of tackiness, but there wasn't really much there unless you wanted your photograph taken with a Marilyn look-abit-alike or one of the three spidermen.

Sunset Strip with its infamous bars was a bit grittier (lots of hair and tattoos), but it didn't live up to its mythical status. Any last thoughts about River Phoenix's death being a rock n roll way to go were dispelled by the reality of the Viper Rooms being a dive at the side of a big road (if the drugs hadn't finished him off then the traffic probably would have).

I attempted to recreate "In Search of a Midnight Kiss" by walking around the downtown area looking at the disused and unloved theatres. The older parts of downtown had some beautiful buildings, but they were disgracefully neglected and now home to assorted shops selling assorted tat. The newer parts were impressive, I quite liked the Blade Runner skyline and the Walt Disney Concert Hall is stunning. But there wasn't really much there (plenty of roads though).

I still want to move to San Francisco though.

Some thoughts on Flying

I actually quite like flying. I find the take-off and landing exciting. It is the in-between parts that I find difficult.

People will go to sleep in airports with an abandon that you don't see anywhere else. They will lie down on the floor, in the middle of the day, fully clothed, with their belongings left unattended and sleep. It doesn't happen anywhere else.

Airline food is invariably awful, but I love the ritual of it. The little trays, with the plastic cutlery, the antipation of opening up the dishes. It is a feast in miniature with more courses than I'd normally have (the main, the salad, the dessert, the cheese) - although in small and often inedible. The worst I had was a risotto served with side order of rice salad and on the outward flight the woman next to me had a pasta dish accompanied by a pasta salad.

Air hostesses are nowhere near as glamorous as they were in the Sixties.

Out of Office message

I will be away now until after Easter. Off to California.

The heat and superficiality of LA.
The fog and crippling hills of San Francisco.

I can't wait.

A slight problem

I think I've gone off theatre.

I've been three times in the last three weeks to see plays and haven't enjoyed any of them.

The second one I disliked the least but the best I could say about that was it left me indifferent. It wasn't bad, but it lacked oomph, like scrambled egg without black pepper (or insert your own under-seasoned food analogy here).

The other two inspired a range of emotions including near hysteria (not in a good way), surprise, confusion and boredom.

The first contained too many words said quickly and loudly over and over again.

The third didn't contain enough words, being mainly physical theatre. I know a bit about physical theatre (I'm no stranger to Stanislavski , understand why it developed in the Catalan region etc) but I don't like it. Words are important to me; I like books, I like languages. I don't like mime or clowning, and for the same reason I struggle with dance.

But I was apparently in the minority, the applause was rapturous. Everyone else thought it was "simply marvellous, darling".

All about my Mother

On Mothers Day, some random thoughts about my mother.

My life is completely different from hers. By my age, my mother was married with three children. Her glory days as Miss Trimcraft, Miss Siemens Plessey and eventually Miss South Tyneside were far behind her.

Things I've inherited from my mother: a strong work ethic, an inate sense of fairness and justice, "the Sanddancer bum", and a love of Bruce Springsteen.

Some things I wish I'd inherited: her looks, her practical nature, her ability with mental arithmetic, her cooking skills.

My mother mispronounces the name "Malcolm" and the word "balcony", pronouncing them "Mollcom" and "Bolcony" respectively. Asked why she does this, she claimed that pronouncing them with an "A" sounds common.

She has an inexplicable mental block about the black suits in playing cards and has always referred to them as "shovels" and "cauliflowers".

Christmas is always tinged with subterfuge, as she disguises presents in different sized boxes or tells people they are getting something completely different, to add an element of surprise to the proceedings.

Overheard Conversations No. 5

In the sports centre changing rooms:

Girl 1: I changed gyms because I wanted to use the pool
Girl 2. I like swimming, but (slight pause) I always drown.

Five minutes later outside of the changing rooms, I see them departing.

Girl 1: So are you are coming again tomorrow? To the gym or the pool?
Girl 2: (emphatically) Gym.


Good decision there to avoid drowning.

Pschedelic Psaturday

Left to my own devices tonight, I'm having a retro evening.





Music courtesy of Beyond the Beat Generation - streaming "the undiscovered area of 60s underground". Their archive contains 27 versions of the song Gloria and 8 versions of Louie Louie.





The psychedelic film Wonderwall will be screening later and I have books by Richard Brautigan and Tom Wolf on hand. I may even put on a suitable dress from my collection.





If only I still had that lava lamp...

The cost of free theatre tickets

• A pair of tickets to see a show at a local theatre – free
• Drinks before the show- £10
• Meal for two in theatre bar that left me feeling sick - £20
• Replacing cardigan that I left on my seat but was gone when I went back two minutes later - £25+ (if I can actually find another plain black cardigan that is exactly right)
• The 80 minutes of our lives that we aren’t getting back that were spent watching the dreadful show – priceless

Not the best night out ever. But getting back in the saddle quickly with another show on Monday. Hopefully that will be better.

Night Swimming

I think I have now been outdoor swimming in all conditions, having added windy winter evening to the set of sunshine, snow and rain.

The twilight added a romantic glow to the pool, but unfortunately the strong wind made it a more difficult experience. Swimming through the squall was hard work and in one direction involved being hit in the face with a constant spray of water.

My usual routine using a float was complicated by not being able to keep the float safely on the edge of the pool. Swimming along I was alarmed to see my float hurtling down the length of the pool, unaccompanied, at a speed much faster than I can achieve. It reminded me of when horses finish races without their riders. I felt responsible for this, but thankfully it didn't hit anyone as it skimmed down the pool, and we were later reunited although not where we'd parted company.

Still I'm considering going back again tonight.

Is it wrong...

that we have an important event at work, that has been causing untold amounts of stress and hassle, but I'm secretly looking forward to it because the conference centre provides excellent Danish pastries?

Stripe Update

My quest for the perfect striped dress has advanced.

Firstly, I found a dark grey and black striped t-shirt dress by a Scandinivian label, Resterods. So I was ideally looking for white and black, but I thought I'd at least get a lot of wear out of this one (ignore the wet hair and creases in the dress!)

Then on Friday, in H&M, I found this jumper dress, which is much more striking and closer to the ideal. I wasn't 100% convinced by it (although I do quite like this picture) but the OH's reaction meant I'm keeping it. He said I looked like a dancer from "Ready Steady Go". I don't know if that was compliment or insult, but that was certainly close to the desired effect.

So for now, I think my desire for stripes is sated.

Good Work, Mr President

No, not the multi-billion dolldar stimulus package for economy. Time will tell on that one.

I'm referring to his family's decision on their dog. They've apparently decided on a Portuguse Water Dog.

Their temperament is described thus:

Portuguese Water dogs make excellent companions. They are loving, independent, and intelligent and are easily trained in obedience and agility skills. Once introduced, they are generally friendly to strangers, and actively enjoy being petted, which, due to their soft, fluffy coats, is a favour that human beings willingly grant them.

The Project: 1950s Hollywood

Many years ago I read Peter Biskind’s book “Easy Riders, Raging Bulls” which was a fantastic warts and all account of film-making in Hollywood in the Sixties and Seventies. I enjoyed it so much I rushed out to buy another book of his “Seeing is Believing: How Hollywood taught us to stop worrying and love the fifties” (not the most snappy of titles).

I expected it to be similar to his previous book, but on an earlier period, but that wasn’t the case. It is an analysis of over 30 films and how they relate to ideology of the 1950s. Unfortunately of this 30+ films, I’d only seen one and the book has been languishing on my shelves unread.

This year, I’m determined to read it, but in order to appreciate it I obviously need to watch the films discussed. So my project (for I’m quite fond of such things) is to watch the films and read the accompanying chapters.

So far I’ve watched:

• Twelve Angry Men – my favourite so far. Perhaps a little too neatly tied up for modern tastes but very well done.
• The Day the Earth Stood Still – classic Sci-Fi. Surprisingly intelligent.
• Attack – decent war film and not a world away from Generation Kill which I’m also currently watching.
• From Here to Eternity – star-studded war and romance. Quite enjoyable considering I don’t really like war or romance films.
• My Darling Clementine – the disc started to skip, so I didn’t finish it. I struggle with Westerns, which doesn't bode well for one section.
  

Tonight, I’m back to the Sci-Fi with “It Came From Outer Space”.

That New Car Smell

Next week I turned 34.

Invariably when I mention my age, people will be surprised and comment that I look a lot younger. I accept that I probably do look younger than 34, but I have lost that youthful glow. The gloss has gone.

I was finding it hard to describe this, but then last week I saw John Stewart interviewing the 21 year old star of Slumdog Millionaire. Stuart was comparing himself with the young actor, and saying how fresh the actor was. The way he described it was that he (at 46) might not look too bad, but he had lost "that new car smell".

This perfectly describes how I feel.

Other "Me"s

Claire over at the Mummy's Bracelet mentioned googling your own name in her list of 25 things which made me google myself again.



Here are the versions of "me" I came across:

• Lead singer of a Manchester-based rock band


• Photographer


• Me in my work capacity


• Failed Democrat candidate in a Pennsylvania election


• Someone in planning in Local Government


• Me in my freelance capacity


• Someone who attended a Hawkwind event

I wouldn't mind people thinking the first two were me, but I suspect I'm more likely to be confused with the fnal one.

Who shares your name? Do you wonder what else you have in common?

"Your Home is a Dump"

The girlfriend of the footballer Andrey Arshavin has been reported as saying she hates London because it is dirty and the woman are scruffy. She might have a point about it being a bit on the grubby side, but who judges a place on how its people are dressed? Are you going to dismiss a place brimming with culture and history because its citizens haven't all had manicures?

If a British person went to another city and made similar comments, it would spark a diplomatic incident and within a few days, they would be apologising and back peddling.

But it is perfectly acceptable for people to insult London.

A lot of British people do it too. Every time I go back up north, someone will tell me that they don't know how I can live in London/they hate London/London is too crowded/London is too expensive. Its so rude.

Imagine their response if I replied by saying how much I hated the town where they lived. I'd probably be punched. But it is fine for everyone to insult the place where I live.

Yes, it is expensive, but so are all capital cities, and so is Newcastle if you only ever go out on the Quayside.

And the transport system isn't very good, but it is just a means to an end. We don't choose to live in London because of the tube, unless of course, you work for Transport for London.

In Search of Stripes

For nearly three years now I've been searching for the perfect striped dress without success.

Ideally it should be black & white, round or slash neck (not v or scooped), preferably long or 3/4 sleeves, but I'm flexible on that detail.

Inspired mainly by this.

with a touch of her

and not too much of this

The closest I've come is this from American Apparel.

Unfortunately it is One Size Fits All, and whilst it does fit, it fails to flatter.

The search continues.

If you see anything suitable let me know.

25 Things about Me.

Roses posted a list of 25 things about herself with the invitation for others to do the same.
25? I struggled with the list of seven that was doing the rounds a while back. Apologies if some of these repeat things I’ve said before.

1. I have always looked pretty much the same as I do now, just in a different sized version.

2. I’m left-handed in terms of pen-holding, but do some things the right-handed way. I think I’m actually the opposite of ambidextrous in that I’m not good with either.

3. I found my first grey hair while I was waiting to go into a French lesson aged 15. If it wasn’t the invention of hair dye, I may be entirely silvered haired by now. I inherited this from my father.

4. I have claimed that The Monkees are better than The Beatles on more than one occasion because I know it annoys people, but I think I actually do prefer them.

5. I really love art and doing creative things, however I am generally rubbish at these things as I have no natural ability. An art exam at school was the one and only exam I’ve ever failed in my life.

6. I still find going to the cinema exciting, especially if the “Pearl & Dean” advert comes on before the film. The music sends a shiver of excitement down my spine.

7. My favourite clothing items are short black dresses and flared jeans, and I think I might be getting too old to wear either.

8. I can’t drive. I’ve never had a single lesson or attempt at it. I’ve just never been able to picture myself doing it and traffic scares me. I know I should do something to change this.

9. I grew up by the sea and still miss living by the sea (the smell of the salt air in the evening especially), but I never go on beach holidays.

10. I like spending time on my own and many of my favourite things are best enjoyed alone (swimming, reading and sometimes even going to the cinema)

11. I find it very difficult to relax. I’m either doing something or I’m asleep. There isn’t much of a middle ground.

12. I am such a bad singer that I don’t even like to sing to myself in private. I often have a song going round in my head though – today it is “Cover Girl” by New Kids on the Block which destroys any credibility I may have had. (My sister went to see them last week, that’s why I thought about it)

13. I don’t have much money, but given the choice between more money and more time, I’d definitely take the more time option.

14. I feel guilty about living far away from my family but in all honesty could not imagine myself living in my hometown again.

15. Aged 5, I organised a talent contest for the employees of my parents’ company and some of my toys. I was the judge. My toy Mickey Mouse won, my dad came second, my mum third. I was a very harsh judge of the other contestants.

16. I’ve just eaten some pumpkin seeds.

17. I know a little bit about a lot of things and am not an expert in anything.


18. I went swimming outside this morning even though it had been snowing.

19. I’m not a good cook, but I always enjoy anything I’ve cooked myself because of the sense of achievement. My family’s business was catering, so I used to see it as my small rebellion that I couldn’t.

20. I’m trying to do something good each day, no matter how small.

21. As a child, it was explained to me that films were different from normal television programmes because they were only on once. I went through a phase of crying if I’d missed a film on television because I thought I’d never get another chance to see it.

22. The best job I’ve ever had was working in a charity shop. Unfortunately it was unpaid. Other than that, it was ideal.

23. I worry constantly. About everything. I know I shouldn't but I can't help it.

24. I'm not at all competitive, which may be one reason why I was terrible at sport. I am however very competitive at pub quizzes.

25. I'm off to the theatre now.

So much for January

Where did it go? What did I do?

In summary:

Had a haircut and changed where my hair is parted (a subtle change)
Celebrated the 60th birthdays of the OH and my remaining parents
Caught a bug
Dined out using some discount vouchers

In a word, uneventful.

Wishing Wall

We went to the cinema last night (to see documentary about Hunter S Thompson, if you are interested). In the corridor, there was a display entitled "Wishing Wall" where local children had written their hopes and wishes for the 2012 Olympics. Visitors could contribute their own wishes too.

Amongst the dreams of "I wish I had a Gold Medal" and "I want to see Usain Bolt winning the 100 metres without even trying" was my favourite:

"I wish Boris would spend the money on pensioners and buying Woolworths instead".

Not quite the right word

Radio 5 was doing a vox pop of young people to see how much (or more accurately how little) they knew about the situation in Gaza. Most admitted to knowing nothing or next to nothing about it. Undeterred one young man still attempted to give an opinion. He described the conflicts as:

"a frivolous waste of time"

The OH entered the room at this point and understandably had to ask what the subject was.

Frivolous is not a word I'd use to describe it. Frivolous suggests an activity like shopping for a new hat or spending all your money on cake.

I think he may have meant futile.

Bus Load

Psychology is a subject I find fascinating, but I'm not sure about the merits of a piece of research from Salford University that was reported in the paper yesterday. A professor has spent time and presumably money researching what your favourite seat on the bus reveals about your personality.

Top Deck of the Bus:
Back: Rebellious
Middle: Independent Minded, more likely to read a newspaper or listen to music
Front: Forward Thinking

Downstairs:
Back: Risk-takers who like sitting on the raised aera because it makes them feel important
Middle: Strong Communicators
Front: Sociable meeters-and-greeters

People who don't have a preference are categorised as "Chameleons" and they feel they can fit in anywhere.

This brings to mind a couple of questions.
1. Where do you prefer to sit? I'm a forward-thinking front of the top deck person
2. What about on single deck buses or the controversial bendy buses?
3. What is the point of this research?

Cultural Review of the Year 2008

Not a vintage year for culture in the Sanddancer household, but as I've done it each year before, I thought I'd continue the tradition.


Music
Live music was strictly old bands. Jesus and Mary Chain were consistently brilliant, MC5 playing with Primal Scream was legendary, but truth be told I probably enjoyed the WonderStuff the most. I ignored new music again, with the only new band making an impression was Vampire Weekend, mainly because I spent a pleasant lunchtime in a cafe with a glass of wine and a book and they were being played.


Theatre
I did go to the theatre quite a lot this year, as I was determined to make better use of the free tickets offered at work and I returned to my old amateur theatre. However, I didn't actually pay to see any professional shows this year so it wasn't really that representative of my usual taste. Billy Elliot was probably the best show I saw, although Wicked was a lot of fun too.



Film
The films I enjoyed the most this year were comedies, which again is unusual for me, but perhaps a sign that in gloomy times that is what is needed. I loved Juno and Burn After Reading made me laugh more than anything else I can remember. J K Simmons was in both films, a great underrated actor.


Television
The final series of The Wire wasn't perhaps as good as the previous four series, but was still way better than anything else. The Daily Show with John Stuart became must-watch television, especially during the American election. The SkyPlus Box has changed my life as I can now record daytime detectives.



Books
A new category for 2008 as I read more this year than I have in any year since I finished my degree. I discovered the books of Magnus Mills, a genius of deadpan and inventive alternative worlds, and I read all five of his full novels. I hope in 2009 he will write some more, but I hear he is working as a bus driver. Fup by Jim Dodge and Naive, Super by Erlend Loe were other short, quirky favourites, and I loved Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro and Light of Day by Graham Swift too.

Highlights of 2008

I'm not going to dwell on anything negative about 2008, so here are some highlights.


Best Holiday
Most of my holiday time was absorbed by wedding-related activities, but even if I'd been on a dozen holidays, it would have been hard to beat our week in San Francisco. I loved it so much, I'm going back again in 2009.

Best Wedding
Is it wrong to compare weddings? I went to so many, it seems an obvious category. My sister's wedding wins easily. It wasn't the most lavish, the most expensive or even the most romantic, but everyone had such a good day. I spent all day either laughing, smiling or crying! She did have the best cake too.

Best Meal
Brunch of "Vanilla French Toast with Warm Berries" at the Cafe de la Presse in San Francisco. Not something you can eat everyday, but so gorgeous I still think about it months later. A late runner-up would be our meal on New Year's Eve at Jamie Oliver's Italian restaurant in Bath - great service, great food and very reasonable prices.

Best Discovery
The outdoor swimming pool near work. Not that I'm ending the year any fitter, but I did give it a good go at various points and I hope to improve in 2009.

Life is far from perfect but I'm entering 2009 with a roof over my head, a secure job and a great OH and family.

Happy New Year!

Puppy Love

The latest editions to the Sanddancer family (Northern branch):

Petal



and

Monty




They belong, one each, to my sisters and I'm very jealous. When I heard that they'd bought Chihuahua-Jack Russell crosses, I was sceptical. I was imaging some silly delicate little things, but I fell in love with them when I met them.

They are tiny, but they are pretty sturdy. Like very small big dogs!



They are only eleven weeks old but already have distinct personalities. Petal is boisterous, but affectionate, and loves to climb. She is determined to get upstairs. Monty is calmer, curious, but not very brave. He likes to pull up the hall carpet.

They have been lots of fun over Christmas.

And of course, Ellie was there too - the Grande Dame of the Sanddancer household. She watched the new editions good naturedly from her position on the sofa.

Of Mice and Men

The office mouse returned today.

He scurried across the floor from underneath my colleague's desk and came running towards me. When he reached my desk, he sat at the side of my chair, and remained there quietly. We co-existed happily side by side, there was no squealing from either of us. We were quite content.

Until a colleague tried to capture him with a teacup.

Wisely he ran off again. I miss him.

I know other people are disgusted by mice, but it was the closest I've come to having a pet since I've lived in London.

Yo Ho Ho and a Tanker of Oil

Despite the warning by the expert on the radio that these weren't glamorous pirates, but thugs with knives, I've still been fascinated by the pirates who've captured an oil tanker. I know they aren't romantic swashbuckling dandies but still I'm in awe of the crime - its just so audacious. I can't really comprehend how they managed to take over a ship the size of three football pitches. Yes, I realise they are ruthless criminals, but still the logistics of it are rather impressive.

There was quite a lot of talk in admiration of the pirates in my office this week, with a few people suggesting that we were in the wrong game and that they might move from the theatre world into the more lucrative field of piracy. These plans stalled however when it turned out that one of the most enthusiastic would-be pirates suffers from sea sickness so was thinking of a dryland based co-ordinating role.

I'm wondering whether all of this talk of pirates might mean better business for the stage production of "Treasure Island" that is currently on in the West End. I hope not. I saw it last week and it was possibly the worst show I've seen in my life (worse even than the production of the Hobbit with a 3 man cast and crew that I saw on my 10th birthday). There was nothing redeeming about this production at all. Even Long John Silver's wooden leg was rubbish. It is a show that deserves to sink without a trace and I hope its newfound topicality won't prolong its run.

Saturation Point

Something strange has happened. I don’t want anything for Christmas.

Various relatives have been asking what I would like for Christmas and I can’t think of anything. At a push, I can probably think of a couple of DVDs that I wouldn’t mind, but nothing I’m really that bothered about. And even stranger, I don’t want any more clothes.

I feel as if I have enough of everything already.

Obviously a bigger house, a top range camera, a round-the-world trip and a speed boat (have I ever mentioned that I’m great at driving speed boats? I am) would be welcome, but in the realm of small material things, I have enough.

There is one exception. Books. I could never have too many books. But part of the joy of books for me is the thrill of hunting them down, on ReadItSwapIt, at the library or browsing in bookshops, particularly the ones on Charing Cross Road. Giving someone a list of books on Amazon to buy for me would take away part of the pleasure.

The OH and I have never really gone in for ostentatious gifts and have never gone into debt over Christmas (or anything other than the mortgage) but this year he feels pretty much the same as I do, that it is pointless spending for the sake of it, so we are cutting back. It isn’t anything to do with the credit crunch, but we’ve reached saturation point.

As for everyone else, I’m thinking that I might be happier with another year’s sponsorship of a dog, even if the quarterly magazine often reduces me to tears.

I remember as a child finding it hard to understand that my parents didn't really want anything for Christmas (we always ignored this and bought them something), but now I can understand it.

The Numbers speak for themselves

The nagging thought that people in this country have their priorities wrong seemed to be confirmed by two stories in the newspaper yesterday.

Very different stories, but both involving the outraged public using online petitions to voice their concerns.

The story of baby P, perhaps the most harrowing disturbing story to hit the news in a long time. Something went terribly wrong with the system so social services failed to step in to prevent the awful abuse that led to the child's death.

5,000 people have signed a petition demanding an inquiry into how this happened.

The story of X Factor Contestant Laura, perhaps the most inane story to hit the news in a long time (or since something similar happened). Something went terribly wrong with the system so the wrong person was kicked off the television "talent" show.

50,000 people have signed a petition demanding an inquiry into how this happened.

The Loop

I went to a concert last week with Girl A. At the concert we meet up with another friend of mine Girl B and Boy X. Girl A and Girl B know each other through me and I know Boy X through Girl B. Girl A and Boy X had not met before.

However during the course of the evening, Girl A and Boy X took a liking to each other. Girl B (who is happily married to someone else) didn’t seem to too pleased about this and decided to leave, to “get Boy X away from Girl A.

This week, I receive an email from Boy X asking if it would be ok for him to ask Girl A out for a drink. He had cc-ed the email to Girl B. I asked Girl A and she was pleased so I passed her email address on to him.

A few hours later, I had an email from Girl A demanding to know if I’d passed on her details because he hadn’t been in touch. I told her to be patient. Then Girl B emailed to ask if I knew whether they were going out yet. I told her that I had passed on the email address and that was all. She then replied saying “Keep me in the loop”.

This morning, there was an email from Boy X thanking me for sorting things out and then another from Girl A asking if Boy X knows that she has been married. I don’t know what he knows about her. I've not said anything other than pass on her email.

I’m not going to keep Girl B in the loop. I don’t want to be in the loop myself. If they go out and like each other, that’s great. But otherwise I don't want to be kept informed. Its getting awkward already.

Words

Three clever words I've heard this week that I understand, but have never used myself

• Atrophy
• Synergy
• Paradigm

A newly invented word I came across for the first time

• webinar (a seminar that takes place online)

The Race to the White House

If I was American I would probably vote Democrat because I tend to be left-leaning (in politics, not posture). So I am pleased that Obama won, but not a jubilant as everyone else seems to be. The right man may have won (only time will tell) but I don’t think he won for the right reasons.

Lots has been written and said about how historic it is that a black person has won, I don’t think quite as much progress has been made as people think. It is great that millions of white people weren’t deterred by the colour of his skin, but there is a flipside. An unprecedented turnout of black voters who felt they had someone they could now vote (from comments on the news and on the internet) suggests for many race was the only issue. If they won’t vote for white candidates, have things really changed that much? Of course white people don’t have the terrible history of being slaves or more recent segregation, but it is still racism if a black person won’t vote for someone because of their skin colour.

The fact is that Obama has more in common with Bush and other white politicians than he has with the majority of the people who voted for him. I find it worrying that people will only vote for someone who they perceived themselves to have something in common with, rather than who will do the best for them (this isn't necessarily going to be the same). I don't need a white working class woman from the north east to stand for election to consider voting.

Furthermore, from what I’ve seen of him, I quite liked John McCain but think he received some bad advice along the way in his campaign. He displayed a great amount of dignity in defeat which I think was a truer reflection of the man. He mainly suffered from the fact that people wanted change (and by change, I don’t mean that they didn’t want a white person in charge). He is from the same party as the current president and the economy is in a state so no matter who stood on either side, I think “the other party” would have won. The same is true here – the Conservatives will win the next election, not because of the charisma of David Cameron (I’ve seen bits of cardboard with more charisma), but because they aren’t Labour.

So, yesterday was a historic day, but I think some perspective is needed.

Staying In

One of my myriad of faults is that I’m scared of missing out on something. This means I’m usually the last to leave the pub just in case something interesting happens and I rarely turn down invitations just in case something is amazing. This goes double for anything I’m invited to that happens to be free.

In the last week, this policy has meant that I was out five nights in a row.

Thursday night – launch party of a vodka bottle (free)
Friday night – pub for friend’s birthday
Saturday night – cinema and meal
Sunday night – work awards ceremony (free)
Monday night – benefit concert

This might be fine if you are twenty-something, but I’m not and even if my mind won’t accept it, my body is there to remind me.

Yesterday, I was exhausted and craving a night in. Then I was offered a ticket to the James Bond Premiere tonight. I deliberated all day. The devil on one shoulder shouting “It is free. It is glamorous. You wouldn’t want to miss out” whilst the angel on the other said “look the last one was rubbish, there is nothing glamorous about sitting in a cold cinema in posh dress waiting around for hours for the queen and you don’t like Bond films anyway”.

In the end I didn’t accept the offer, which is progress for me. As evening approaches I’m glad I’m going to be spending it with the OH, my sofa and television, but a little bit of me still thinks “what if it is really great?”

My October

Aware that I have been silent again for most of the month, a quick round-up.

I have:

Volunteered at an independent film festival again which consisted of;

• Lots of crowd control (aging session musicians are the worst)
• Seeing 3 features, 12 shorts and 5 documentaries
  Drinking free cocktails made from Tuaca (tastes nice but lethal)
• Being in the same room as celebrities of various degrees including; Faye Dunaway, Mark Benton, Richard Hawley and Corey Fieldman
• Meeting Adam Yauch from the Beastie Boys
  

Joined another library because the 200,000 book in my Borough aren't enough

Contemplated becoming a documentary film maker

Learnt how to prepare for and deal with a terrorist attack

Continued to dodge the Lucky Heather Sellers

Lucky Heather

I’m accustomed to weaving my way between Big Issue sellers, Chuggers and Living Statues in my lunch hour, but recently their ranks have been joined by another group looking for money; Lucky Heather Sellers.

Whilst you might be moved to give money to the Big Issue sellers or the fundraisers (encouraging those living statues is inexcusable), I’ve yet to see anyone parting with their money to a Lucky Heather Seller. When I’ve been feeling particularly glum, I have contemplated it, wondering if that is what is wrong with my life, but I’ve never actually succumbed. Ever the rationalist, I realise that if I want to change my life, I have to do something more about it than purchase a dried up weed from a buxom woman who accosts me in the street. Luck does play a part in most successes, but I doubt this product comes with a guarantee.

So I’ve ruled out buying it. But what about selling it? Is this a profitable business? The outlay is presumably pretty small (you could pick plants growing in the wild for free), but it is labour intensive, hanging around the street all day haranguing passers-by. My haranguing skills aren’t up to much anyway. Another career change ruled out.

Election Obsession

Not that I have any say in at all but I've found it fascinating so far. I've also become rather obsessed with The Daily Show and this bit about undecided voters is the funniest thing I've seen on television in ages (admittedly you don't many laughs in the endless crime shows I normally watch).

A wish come true

Today I got my wish and went swimming in the rain.

It wasn’t as great as I’d thought it would be.

In my mind, there would be big fat raindrops, but a blue sky and perhaps even a rainbow. In reality, the rain was persistent but fine, the sky was white with rain yet to fall and the surrounding buildings were drabber than ever. The poolside walk was treacherous and I nearly slipped. A light steam rose from the heat of the water and the palm trees swayed in the breeze.

The rain continued for my whole swim but after the first few lengths, once I was properly wet, I didn’t really notice it that much.

I’ve got a night out tomorrow that I’m really looking forward to – I hope it isn’t as much of an anticlimax as the rain swimming.

Why I still hate BT

Considering the problems I've had with BT in the past, I wonder why we decided to go with them when we decided to switch broadband providers? The main reason was that a comparison website didn't give any provider more than 4 out of 10, and BT came out top, although hardly with flying colours. 4 out of 10 is a failure mark regardless of how liberal your marking system is.

So two weeks after the switchover date between providers which promised minimum disruption to your service, we still have no broadband. What we have had is:

8 phonecalls from me to their call centres, most of which lasted around 45 minutes due to their systems not working
3 pointless call backs from their call centres, all optimistically starting the conversation with "Your broadband is working now, yes?"
Instructions to press the "Restart" button x 1000
2 new BT hubs
2 visits from engineers, one who reported a fault on the line, the other who diagnosed the hub as faulty.
2 days off work to wait in for said engineers
and today a bill for the broadbroad service!!!!!

If a miracle hasn't occurred and the service started up when I return home tonight, I have to call them again tomorrow. I don't think I can face explaining the situation again or pressing that Restart button again.

You Take the Low Road

and I'll take the train, and I'll be in Scotland before thee?

I'm off to Scotland for work today. I'm hoping I might see something beyond my hotel and the theatre foyer.

Then I'm heading south to the North which may be geographically impossible but makes sense to me. I'm there for my oldest friend's wedding, where once more I will a bridemaid.

Today's Burning Issue: Green

If you were green (skin colour, not environmentally friendly) what colour clothes would you wear?

(Inspired by a theatre trip to see "Wicked" last night, where the green central character favoured green clothes, which I didn't think was the best choice. She did later move onto wearing black once she'd become a wicked witch)

Oddly Familiar

I was browsing for boots yesterday (I don't think my black ones will last another winter, but I'm constantly drawn to tan boots which I don't really need another pair of), when I noticed a woman doing something rather strange.

She was trying on a pair of boots and looking the mirror to see what they looks like, but as well as looking at herself from different angles, she was also holding her hair back with her hand so she could see how the boots look with different hairstyles! Now logically, what difference does your hairstyle make to whether a pair of boot suit you?

But while I found her behaviour strange, I realised that this is something I do.

And its even odder when I do it, because I never go out in public with my hair tied back.

Welsh Situationist Punk Band

There's a phrase you don't hear on a daily basis. But we heard it on Friday night when we saw the Manic Street Preachers play. This is how they described themselves.

I've never been a fan of the Manics. I didn't hate them particularly but I didn't love them and they seemed to inspire that weird obsessive fandom that scares me a bit. So what was I doing watching them on Friday night?

It was a concert at the Royal Festival Hall, part of the Heavenly Forever series. The headline act was Doves, who I do like a lot but what led to us buying tickets was the promise of Very Special Guests. We consulted the list of who was already confirmed for other nights and who had been on the Heavenly label. And jumped to the conclusion that it could only be either The Chemical Brothers or Flowered Up.

So we bought tickets, and then it was announced that it was the Manics. They had released six songs on Heavenly Records before selling out (as they admitted themselves) and so would play those six songs, and those six songs only.

They opened with "Motown Junk" which I didn't recognise from the OH's rendition of it but knew as soon as the band started playing it. They also played "We Her Majesty's Prisoners" which apparently they'd wanted to call "Ceremonial Rape Machine". They ended with "You Love Us" which sounded a lot better than I'd remembered it but perhaps it was because I felt nostalgic.

Doves were excellent, and the first support band Cherry Ghost were pretty good too, but I was still a little disappointed that Flowered Up weren't on.

Low Level Decadence

Today I've worn a silk dress for work. It is quite a casual dress for something made from silk (its dull silk, not the shiny stuff), but the luxury decadent feeling I've had all day from wearing it has been unexpectedly wonderful.

I highly recommend it.

Probably just to female readers. For male readers wearing a silk dress to work, even on a Friday would probably be high level decadence and who knows where that may led.

I perhaps look like the less shrill long-lost daughter of Kate Bush. But that isn't necessarily a bad thing.

Excuses Excuses

There hasn’t been much in the way of posts here recently because

a) I’m trying to save some money so am not really doing anything worth writing about at the moment
b) I’ve stopped reading the newspaper on my morning commute because it depresses me so I can’t rant about current affairs
c) We are in the process of switching broadband provider and inevitably it isn’t going smoothly so I’m without connection at home,

Just so that you know...

Overheard Conversations No. 4

In the office today. I can see Colleague 1, but Colleague 2 is round a corner.

Colleague 1 (in an incredulous tone) "You bubble wrap your bananas?"
Colleague 2 (as if everyone does) "Of course I do"

And shifting from my seat, I see that Colleague 2 is indeed carefully wrapping her bananas in bubble wrap.

Things were better then

I can see myself becoming one of those old people who constantly talks about how much better things were in the past. I'll say things like "That wouldn't have happened when I was young" and start conversations with "In my day..." I accept this. but early in the week I experienced an extreme longing for the past.

We went to the Natural History Museum.

I found out that hippos roamed where Trafalgar Square is and there was a Woolly Mammoth from Ilford!

I wish there were still hippos in Trafalgar Square, they could wallow in the fountains. And Mammoths in Ilford could only be an improvement on much of the current population. Things were definitely better then.

My Sanctuary

I've been feeling blue this week and nothing could lift the gloom. But then yesterday, the sun was shining, so I was able to sit in my garden, amongst my tomato plants and read.

I love my garden, it calms and comforts me and I felt much better. Even though this morning there has been rain and thunder, I'm grateful for that one last day of summer.

Time Capsule

Inspired by the forthcoming display of one of Andy Warhol's Time Capsules at the Hayward Gallery, Bryan Appleyard wrote a piece in the Sunday Times this week about what would go in a time capsule to represent 2008.


I'm fascinated by time capsules, perhaps because I contributed to one myself when I was about 10. It was our school's centenary and it was decided that a time capsule would be created, to be opened in another 100 years. I was chosen to do the contribution from my class. For reasons I can't remember I wrote about fashion. This was the Eighties. The piece was accompanied by photographs of me to illustrate the piece. So somewhere there is a time capsule that includes photographs of me in leggings, bat-wing sleeved jumpers, ski-pants and a peach coloured sweatshirt. Not exactly how I'd choose to be remembered.

I discussed the time capsule article with the OH, explaining what was going in their 2008 capsule.

“I love time capsules. We should do one” he said.
“What would you put in it” I asked
“A tin of won ton soup” he replied

A little while ago, he decided to try tinned won ton soup, over enthusiastically ordered multiple cans only to find that he didn’t really like it. He is working his way through it on evenings when we aren’t inclined to cook or there isn’t much else in the cupboard, but still a few cans remain.

He couldn’t think of anything else he’d like to add and for the moment nor can I. So I don’t think we’ll be doing our own time capsule at the moment.

As the Olympics draw to a close

My favourite athletics related song. Belle and Sebastian "Stars of Track and Field".

2 down 1 to go (or 1 down 2 to go)

The first refers to the number of the summer weddings we’ve been to out of the three we are invited to.

The second is my mother’s perspective since her middle daughter out of three was married on Saturday.

The first wedding was two weekends ago. A countryside setting, with drinks in the parents’ garden, a marquee, a speech that name dropped Jacqueline du Pre and in sharp contrast, a DJ-set by my OH that involved a medley of Chas and Dave records.

The second wedding was my sister’s this weekend, which was a very different affair, but none the less still lovely. Despite being in the rain-soaked North, the weather was bright for most of the day. The little bridesmaids were cute, but proved the rule of “never working with animals and children”.

As the OH once said in a Best Man's Speech "Weddings are emotional occasions. Even the cake is in tiers". I came close to tears no fewer than three times during the day. The first was in the morning when we were all in our dresses ready for the photographer. I was banished to the kitchen to avoid setting my sister off, only to find that my other sister was already in there trying not the cry as well.

The second time was during the speeches, where my sister made the unconventional move of doing a speech, mainly with the purpose of thanking our mother for giving her away and how it was a shame our father wasn’t there to do it. The OH held my hand to see me through that, and luckily the Groom gave his hilarious speech next that cheered us up.

The third was when they did their first dance. My sister has a great love of show tunes, so it was “All Ask of You” from The Phantom of the Opera. Not a song I had any great love for, but again the tears started to fall. The Groom’s father was so overcome by this that he had to go outside.

The only bad point of the day was the Groom’s mother’s hair. For some reason known only to herself and the world’s worst hairdresser, her hair had been badly dyed purple for the occasion. It was so bad that on seeing from a distance, the Groom had asked why she was wearing a stupid hat! It really will be a blight on the photographs, but perhaps Photoshop can make it a normal colour.

We have a few weeks off now until the third wedding.

It’s really really grim up North

A right of centre think tank has declared that some Northern cities can not be regenerated and the inhabitants could consider moving to the south. (see here)

When I first heard this story on the news this morning, I laughed. The cities mentioned were Liverpool, Bradford and Sunderland. It seems a bit of a kick in the teeth and rather ironic considering that Liverpool is the European City of Culture this year. I’ve never been to Bradford so couldn’t possible comment. The third city is what made me laugh though.

Sunderland is near enough to being my hometown. I didn’t live there, but I went to school there, I support their football team and (perhaps most importantly) this is where I went out in my teenage years.

The report says: "Sunderland demonstrates just how hard it is to regenerate such a city. It is time to stop pretending there is a bright future for Sunderland and ask ourselves instead what we need to do to offer people in Sunderland better prospects."

To be honest, Sunderland doesn’t have much to recommend it, but hometowns are like families – it is fine for you to mock them yourself, but you don’t want to hear anyone doing it. Newcastle has a certain glitz and even something resembling cosmopolitan about it these days, but not so Sunderland. Actually I’m making an assumption, because on my fleeting visits to the north, I’ve not set foot in Sunderland in years. There isn’t anything there really and while money was poured into making Newcastle what it is today, Sunderland was left to rot (this is a source of local animosity as well as the football rivalry).

So is Sunderland beyond saving? I got out of there 11 years ago and did exactly what the report suggests people there do, move to London, Oxford or Cambridge. The jury is still out on whether that was a good move in my case, but I can’t see it is a viable solution for most people. Beside most people being very happy in the north, I don’t think we’ve got much more room down here.

Quiz Call Recall

When I'm on my own, I have a habit of falling asleep with the television on, and often my dreams merge with what is on the television, and I wake up unsure of what was real and what was imagined.

I had been watching Law & Order on Channel 5, but the next programme is that awful Quiz Call. It seems to be broadcast at a louder volume than other programmes, the presenter shouts enthusiastically in the hope that someone on a better programme might rescue her. People ring in to guess things and win some money. Beyond that I don't quite understand the rules, it often sounds as if the presenter is making them up as she goes along, but then I've never actually watched it with my eyes open for more than a few minutes.

From what I (and probably most of the street) heard of it last night, it was film titles they had to guess. That seems likely enough. But I also thought there was a section where it was book titles, but I think I may have dreamt this bit. One contestant was saying "The Human Stain" by Philip Roth, and the presenter kept asking him to repeat it and saying she didn't know what he meant, that she hadn't heard of it, and he was repeating the title over again and saying "you know by Philip Roth" and then she just cut him off and went to the next contestant.

Did this really happen or did I dream this part? Its just that I read something about this book the other day so perhaps it was in mind, and (no offence if you are a regular on the show) it seems a bit too high brow for a reference on Quiz Call.

Cursed

I’m cursed with an excellent long term memory. I can remember every detail about events from years ago. I can remember whole conversations I had with people I’ve not seen in over a decade, what they were wearing and what I was wearing.

What use is this to me? Absolutely none whatsoever (unless I need to write my memoirs later in life which seems unlikely).

It is a curse. It makes it far too easy to dwell on the past, nobody else ever remembers these things and I look like an obsessive for remembering everything.

On the other hand, I have what the OH refers to as my “skipping mind”, a shockingly bad short-term memory and an infuriating absentmindedness. I can't remember what I walked into the room to do, but I can tell you in detail about things that happened in 1994.