Fool Britannia

So Tony has finally stepped down and the nation’s thoughts turn to his successor (well, the few of us who actually bother to vote for anything other than television shows).

Already I’ve heard lots of radio discussions on Gordon Brown. I’m not sure about Brown – I don’t know enough about economics to know whether he has been a good Chancellor, but this, it would seem, is a minor matter. Some people are concerned about him being Scottish, some about his backing Tony on the war, but these are all fringe issues. The main problem people have with him appears to be that he is serious.

Personally, I think seriousness is a good quality for a Prime Minister to have. Its a pretty serious job. We are not picking someone to stay in the Big Brother house or to go through to the next round of Pop Idol. This is someone to run the country.

And the fact that he sometimes uses long words that most people don’t understand, again I don’t think this is a bad thing. I want to feel that the Prime Minister is more intelligent than me. Its not a job I could do so I do want someone more intelligent than me in the job.

What’s the alternative, Cameron in his ‘down with the kids’ fake Converse?

A return to politics where the policies are what matter would be a good thing.

(NB. This does not mean I support Labour)

The Suburbian Railway - Some Observations

I’ve been taking the train into work for about a month now. It is very different from my previous journey into work by tube.

• The train arrives a few minutes late most days, especially if I’ve panicked and hurried there
• The train is shorter than the platform but there is no telling where it will stop as it changes daily
• Everyone moves along the platform once the train arrives even if they were already level with a door
• The ‘No Smoking’ rule doesn’t seem to apply on the platform yet it applies on the outdoor tube station platforms, which are essentially the same
• The polyester suit is the outfit of choice on the suburban rail line
• You see the same people every day. Some of the ‘characters’ on my journey include the girl with the severe platinum blonde hair of looking like my ex-best friend, the scruffy man with the greying ponytail, the man in shorts, the art student with her portfolio. I wonder if anyone has noticed me and realised that I’m new?

Film Festival: Shane Meadows

Sometimes these Bank Holiday weekends just sneak up on me and I haven't made any plans. This weekend was like that. I didn't really do very much of note, but over the course of the weekend, we managed to watch three films directed by Shane Meadows, our own mini-Shane Meadows Film Festival.

We started on Saturday night with 'A Room for Romeo Brass' (2000). Paddy Considine plays a lunatic who befriends a couple of younger boys. Not exactly life-changing but interesting enough and better than the vast majority of British films.

Next up on Sunday was 'Dead Man's Shoes' (2004) which we had previously seen - at its UK premiere no less. It was still excellent on second viewing although knowing the story took away some of its impact. Again Paddy Considine was excellent, again playing a psychopath although in this case, a justified one. The plot again involves older men befriending a young boy.

Yesterday, we went out to the cinema to see his latest offering 'This is England' (2006). No Paddy Considine this time but many of the same actors from his previous films, and the plot - a young boy is befriended by some older males, this time a group of skinheads. It was ok - I don't think the word 'enjoyable' is appropriate - it held my attention, but I found it the weaker of the three films. The plot was rather predictable and the 1980's setting was hammered home a bit too hard.

I wonder how much appeal any of his films have outside of this country. Would people struggle with the Nottinghamshire accents? Are the themes too parochial? All of the films are certainly far removed from the made-for-the-overseas-market versions of Britain in glossy gangster films or genteel upper class comedies.

Does it matter if our film industry has gone down the drain? Its not as if we ever led the world at it or that we invented it (unlike, say football!).

My Babies

Tomato Plants, courtesy of the American at work.

I have been given explicit instructions for their care and nurture - but I have also been given four of them in the hope that at least one of them will survive. Good thing this theory hasn't extended to actual offspring.

I would love to have some success at this gardening lark - I'm picturing a modern take on 'The Good Life' (although I prefer the other couple - Margo for her clothes and I had a bit of a thing for Paul Eddington, bizarrely).

I hope I don't kill them.

What's in a Name

I’ve just discovered this website Corolla Cream – a feast of vintage-y stuff for the home and to wear.

Its makes great browsing but the thing I like best about it is that each item for sale has a person’s name –Vera, Madge and Philippa are teapots, Debs, George and Janet are cushion covers, Mildred and Cheryl are glovers.

As you may be able to tell, this has amused me no end.

Pictured here are George and Mildred, looking slightly different from the 70s sitcom of the same name.

There is even something with the same name as me (not Sanddancer – my actual name) – rather typically, it is a hideous pair of old curtains.

Dress Dilemma Update

I completely ignored the rules I'd laid out for myself previously and ordered this dress online from Topshop.






It broke the no common high street shop rule, something I might wear again rule and something that goes with shoes I already own rule. It also ignored M's helpful suggestion of something plain that could be dressed up with accessories.

In real-life it was foul. Shapeless, unflattering and cheap looking - and on reflection now even looking at the picture, it looks rather nightgown-esque. It has been returned and the search continues.

The New Local

We went to our new local again last night, the F.

The F is a lovely traditional pub with wood beams on the ceiling, friendly staff, a beer garden and as we discovered, a quiz night on Thursdays. To reach the F. we walk down a path alongside the canal, then down a street consisting of lovely stone-clad cottages. The F has been one unexpected bonus of the new area - in the old place we never had a local so we glad to have found one here.

But here is the problem.

It isn't strictly speaking our local - there are actually three pubs closer to our home. The nearest, The W, is a dump, the sort that shows endless horse-racing - but this is in the 'wrong direction' from our home, so we don't ever need to pass it or acknowledge its existence. Walking to the F. though you have to pass the V, a nice enough place, recently done up so fancies itself as a bit of a gastropub and recommended to us by the Estate Agent which is a bit of a negative point. Then even closer to the F, is the D, which we went in once while we were househunting - there was only one other customer in who was having a rather involved conversation with the landlord about drains that they tried to involve us in.

So are we allowed to call the F our local? The walk there is very pleasant, but truth be told it is in a nicer area than the one we live in, so are we fooling ourselves? My mum certainly seemed impressed when I mentioned walks by the canal which gives a false impression as really we are still living in an urban ghetto with poor rubbish collection service (although a green recycling box has re-appeared).

Music was my first love...

After the not very good Flaming Lips gig last year, I really did think I might never see another live band again. We considered going to Glastonbury again this year (quite a few of our friends are going) but then we realised we didn’t really fancy it that much – in my case I was mainly worried I’d be missing out on something. In the ‘are we too old for this festival lark’ conversation I talked about which bands we would actually want to see live – it wasn’t a very long list and many of the bands on it didn’t seem that likely to actually play anyway.

But then a few weeks ago I saw an ad in the Observer (how civilising and middle class we are now!) for the Connect Music Festival. The line-up was pretty close to my list of who we would go to a festival to see – Primal Scream (obviously), Jesus & Mary Chain (reformed with Bobby back on drums!), LCD Soundsystem, Hot Chip and this bit I was stunned by, Big Star! All in the grounds of a castle by the a loch which looks stunning.



But there was still the issue of it being a festival which involves camping, tents and all sorts of other unnatural things ("if we were meant to camp, God wouldn’t have given us hotels", has always been my motto). I contacted every hotel, B&B and caravan park within the area but they were all booked already. So we were faced with the choice of camping or not going. So we are camping but deluxe camping, where the tent is already prepared for you complete with airbeds and new sleeping bags, so all we have to do is turn up. To soften the blow, we are staying a hotel in town the night before and then one night in Glasgow on the way back. Since we’ve bought the tickets, Polyphonic Spree and Modest Mouse (also from our list) have been added to the bill. I'm almost not dreading the camping now.


Then this week the line-up is announced for Jarvis Cocker's Meltdown - and he had Roky Erickson of the 13th Floor Elevators playing, supported by Clinic. Two more from the list! How good this will be remains to be seen as Roky has had a rather difficult past but I'm looking forward to it.

I'm not sure how much this counts as being back into music as most of these are reformed groups rather than new bands but I'm genuinely excited by it all.

I'm also quite keen on seeing Macbeth at the Open Air Theatre this summer, but I think I might have used up all of the OH's good will towards obscure cultural outings for a while.

The Great Recycling Swindle

I’m sick of hearing about how, as a nation, we aren’t recycling enough. I know it is important and I want to do my bit but they don’t make it easy.

In our last place, because it was in a block (or multiple dwelling building as the council called it) we weren’t on the recycling collection route. This being London quite a lot of people don’t live in houses though so a fair proportion of the population isn’t able to recycle. Of course, we could have taken our recycling to a recycling point but the nearest one was about a ten minute drive away – two problems here 1) we don’t have a car, 2) even if we did, surely driving there is just as unfriendly to the environment?

So when we moved, I thought ‘great we’ll be able to recycle easily now’. I was wrong. Firstly, they will only take what fits in the supplied green box – if it is overflowing at all, they won’t take it, the recycling men being sticklers for the rules. My weekend newspaper habit alone is enough to fill the box.

But then the recycling took a turn for the worse. Our box went missing! We’ve been box-less for two weeks now. I’ve requested a new box from the council but so far, no joy. I’ve tried putting out my paper mountain in a bag labelled ‘recycling’ in the hope that they will take it away, but no, if its not stored in a magical green box, it apparently can’t be recycled.

I can only hope that a new green box arrives before we drown in newspapers and tinned tomato cans.

Foot in mouth

As I was getting off the tube last night, a man approached me. An aging surfer type.

Man: I just had to say I love your feet.
Me: ?
Man: I don’t mean to embarrass you but I love your shoes, your feet and your shoes. They are lovely. But I don’t want to embarrass you.
Me: Thank you.

I didn’t want to be embarrassed. I really didn’t but my checks were burning up by the end of this exchange. I didn’t know what to say. What is the correct response in these situations? I thought about telling him where the shoes were from and how little they cost (Peacocks £12), but I don’t think he wanted to buy a pair.

Instead I said thank you and then pretended I was in a bigger hurry to catch my train than I really was.

Art Nemesis Part 2

I ranted recently about my hatred of a piece of art at work. My loathing for that has been matched by that for a picture in my own home.



How could this have happened in my own home? Well, the previous owner kindly left the piece below hanging in the bathroom.







It is a rather dubious spurt of water in three stages or 'Ikea Generic Bathroom Picture #1' to give it its full title.

Again, its the blandness of it that offends me. And the relentless 'blue & white'-ness. Its so impersonal - I can't imagine it meaning anything to anyone. Silly, tacky or ugly even I could handle if it had some personal history.

Our bathroom is tiny. It really does not need anything on the wall. So where is the problem? Just take it down. End of story.

Except, there is a dirty great big nail in the middle of the white tiles. Not only does it look awful, but I'm afraid that if I leave it exposed one of us might have a freakish accident and end up impaled on the nail (we are both very accident-prone).

But tonight I'm determined to find something else to replace it. I've purchased an assortment of frames and something is going to found to hang up there in its place.

Bonus

We have had a refund of £570 from the electricity company. The electricity meter was stored in a cupboard outside of the property that we didn't have a key for so we were paying based on an estimate for four years! We also got £16 back from the gas comapany and BT.

Yesterday we received a cheque for the return of our deposit - less £100. There is a dispute over whether we had the carpets professionally cleaned - we did, but the carpets were about 20 years old so there is only so much a shampoo can do. I fail to see how something described as 'worn' four years ago can be expected to be in better condition now, but that is why I'm not a letting agent.

But all in all, a nice little bonus sum.

Less excitingly, we will probably be spending a fair amount of this on blinds and curtains for our apparently freakishly large windows. They really aren't that big (we aren't living in a glass house), but there seems to be some sort of conspiracy with curtain manufacturers to drive us to despair and custom-made window hangings.

“Mother did the shopping, I was in charge of ideology”

Last night we went to see ‘Elling’ the play starring the lovely John Simm. Even as a Norwegian mental patient with a dodgy haircut, I still found him attractive. I wasn’t alone as the front row seemed to consist of the American branch of the John Simm fan club who all seemed to think his career began and ended with Life on Mars.

The play was very good (that career as theatre critic has stalled somewhat!) and Johnny Simm (as the OH always refers to him) was excellent. It was very funny – the title above was the best line but it was probably more in the delivery.

The characters in it were rather like Pinkie and the Brain, those cartoon lab rats. I doubt that was intentional as I don't think its that well-known here, let alone in Norway.

Anyway, I highly recommend it and for once I was seeing something at the start of its run so there is still time to see it.

Dress Dilemma

When we moved and I looked at my clothes, I was shocked my how many I own and was convinced that I possibly didn't need to buy anything ever again as I had something appropriate for pretty much every occassion. However, I was wrong.

In July, we are going to weddings on two consecutive Saturdays, both for ex-colleagues of the OH so there will be quite an overlap of guests. Hence, the dress dilemma.

Last year, I bought this dress for my friend Jo's wedding. I loved it, it is hugely flattering (I don't think I've ever thought that before about anything on me) and I got loads of compliments. But it was bought from Warehouse just weeks before the event - i.e. a very popular high street shop - so I was in a bit of a panic that there would be someone else there in the same dress. Fortunately there wasn't, but I'm still very wary of it happening.

One of the weddings in in the Midlands which I thought was going to make it an expensive event and I was going to have to put my pride aside and make do with either the one dress or dig out something older. (I have a lovely apple green chiffon-y dress that has seen me through a few other ceremonies but it does have a few tiny stains, the result of running around a garden with children and a drink in hand - they are probably only noticeable to me and my drycleaning man who hates a stain and has tried his best on it twice).

However, before our invitation arrived the bride to be emailed to ask if we would like to stay in the wedding venue as they have a number of rooms available as part of their package and it is free to us! Of course, we accepted. The other thing is that the couple in question have said they don't want any proper gifts (he sold his company for quite a few million so money isn't an issue) but just wanted a gift from each guest's hometown. So the costs associated with attending this wedding have suddenly plummeted so I could definitely buy a new dress.

But, I am still scared of the doppleganger danger if I buy anything from the high street and I don't exactly have a designer budget. I'm also wary of buying something that I'll only wear this once - after this pair, the next wedding we'll probably go to is in the north in the autumn so it will be a much colder affair. But then I do feel I should make an effort for someone's big day.

So I'm on the look out for something that I might wear again, doesn't cost too much but isn't from a shop that is in every town, and if at all possible goes with shoes I already own.

Let the hunt begin.

Over-paid, over-pampered morons

Today, I hear on the radio that a Liverpool player, who hasn't played much this season and wants to leave, has described his time at the club as being a slave.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought slaves were taken from their home against their will, sold into miserable lives where they worked long hours, for no money at all and treated no better than animals.

Unless Liverpool have radically changed their players' pay structure, I'm sure he isn't working for free and that he isn't being kept chained up when he's not playing. In fact, I'm sure he has quite an enviable life compared with many people in the world.

I used to like football a lot more than I do now and I think the reason I've gone off it is largely down attitudes like this from players who are so out of touch with real life that it is often offensive.

Happy St George's Day

Every year, there is an outcry of 'why isn't today a public holiday?' or 'why don't we celebrate our national saint's day like other countries do?'.



Whilst another day off wouldn't go amiss, the last two hours have convinced me why we don't celebrate it more. The pub next door to my office has had a brass band playing traditional English songs for what seems like an eternity.

The first tune, I thought 'how sweet' but twenty or so numbers later, they all sound the same and I want to bang my head against a wall. In fact, I'm not even sure whether the band are still playing outside or if they are just playing in my head. If this is the best celebration of our culture we can muster up, then I don't think we should bother.

(and who are these people drinking all day in the pub? They aren't tourists or students so how come they aren't at work?).

Living Normally

Truth be told, we are still feeling a little unsettled in our new place – it doesn’t feel quite like home yet. I think this is largely due to the lack of a sofa in the lounge (it is ordered but delivery date still unknown) which means we haven’t really been using the lounge. We are mainly sitting in the spare room, which is quite nice as it overlooks the garden, but it feels a bit strange. The original plan was to move the sofabed into the lounge was scuppered by our narrow hallway which restricts the free movement of the sofabed without dismantling it. We’ve also been going out a lot more than usual which I’m not complaining about as the OH used to be very difficult to move from the comfort of the home, but I have been worrying about not feeling more ‘at home’.

Last night we were out for my friend Colin W’s birthday drinks in Richmond, which was a good evening, spent mainly with people I used to work with at various times and who I feel very comfortable around. Anyway, we were talking to my friend Ruth about this unsettled feeling and she was telling us about her parents buying their first home and being too poor to buy furniture so they sat on crates for a while. She said the fact alone that it was ours should make it feel special and that we should have a house-warming pronto before the arrival of any more furniture. The thing with Ruth is that she talks ten to the dozen, but by cramming in lots of words, she manages to cover a lot of topics and with the law of averages means she does sometimes speaks a lot of sense.

Then coincidentally today on a browse around Urban Outfitters I came across this book ‘Living Normally’ which is described as an anti-style bible:

‘a refreshing reminder that a home should be a place to escape to; to feel happy in; and to live in. This affectionately photographed look at our everyday homes is a celebration of nice people, the modern family and our need to surround ourselves with memories and the curious ephemera of daily existence’.

I just had a quick look through it but it seemed lovely, a real refreshing change from pictures of minimalist over-stylised living. I think I'll go back and buy it soon as a reminder of what is actually important should I lose sight of it again.

Party Politics

I don’t have an answer to the Irish problem. I don’t particularly have any strong views on the situation one way or another except my rather hippy thoughts of ‘why can’t everyone just get along?’

However, today at work, I’ve had to contact the Sinn Fein!

I know they are a legitimate political party etc etc but the association with the IRA is still there in my mind and it felt rather risqué looking at their website.

I do worry from time to time that I might be on some sort of ‘list’ based on my internet usage, book buying habits (i.e. I’ve bought a couple of books by Mark Steele, the Motorcycle Diaries and various Spanish books off Amazon, which I’m sure now has me marked down as a wannabe revolutionary in South America!). Browsing the website of a controversial political party can’t be helping with this profile if someone out there is tracking my moves.

Anyway, I couldn’t find the information I was looking for on their website so I had to email them! Again with some trepidation. I’ve also emailed their big rivals the DUP as well as the Welsh National Party , Plaid Cymru too today, but so far the Sinn Fein are the only ones who’ve replied to me. They were very helpful so whatever else they may represent, I can’t fault their efficiency!

No Big Surprise

These little beauties from Topshop are in the sale.

However, what does surprise me as that they've only been reduced to £30 (from the original £50).

Even if they were giving them away, I could not be persuaded.

My day today...

has consisted of:

• lots of curtains that are not long or wide enough
• lots of people who can't fill in forms properly
• the Data Protection Act
• a big plate of salad
• a little bit of sunshine