Last Supper

We’ve been watching a lot of Prison Break recently – in fact its pretty much the only thing I’ve watched since we moved. We are watching the first series on DVD rather obsessively, then the latest episode of the second series on the television every Monday. When this programme first came out, I scoffed its ludicrous storyline and didn’t watch it, but at the start of the second series, the OH had to write about it at work so he thought it would be a good idea to watch it rather than just relying on Wikipedia. And we’ve been hooked.

Don’t get me wrong, it is nonsense. Surely there must have been another way of breaking his brother out of prison other than having a cryptic encoded version of the prison’s layout tattooed over his (rather fine) body and then getting himself put in the same prison for armed robbery. But it is very watchable.

The other night his brother was facing the chair and was asked what he wanted for his final meal. He picked blueberry pancakes. I was rather disappointed it was just one course, as I’d always assumed you got a big slap up feast of three courses.

This is a favourite ice breaker/lull in the conversation topic of one of our friends – what would you pick for your final meal? I still don’t have a definitive answer after months of on & off thought:

Starter – French Onion Soup with the cheese covered bread crouton thing (if I’m allowed to be very specific, I would like it from Steph & Nic’s restaurant next to Madison Square Garden in New York!).

Main course – I really don’t know. I do love a curry but thinking practically, it wouldn’t go with my other two courses and it is quite filling. Perhaps something Mexican, something with a bit of chilli. This needs more thought.

Dessert – Summer Fruit Pudding with vanilla ice cream. No contest. Its not very healthy but at this stage, I don’t suppose calories matter.

What would you have? Most people surveyed by our friend would apparently have sausage & mash and apple pie.

La vida loca

Not how I would normally spend my time, but on Sunday evening we went to watch , El Superclásico, which you probably don’t know (I didn’t until yesterday) is the local derby game between two Buenos Aires football teams, Boca Juniors and River Plate.

Obviously, the OH will watch anything sport related but the reason I went along was because we were meeting up with Red Malc and his girlfriend Lara, who is from Argentina. It was a great night out – good company and one of those times that makes you glad you live in London. (I can’t imagine there being a very big Argentinean community in my hometown, where you are treated with suspicion if you come from the next town along).

The screening was in Zoo, a bar/club thing off Leicester Square, which isn’t the sort of place I’d normally frequent (they are the place offering the new style karaoke in front of live band). The atmosphere was brilliant – mainly people from Buenos Aires, with a few other South Americans and a few British people as well. There was lots of good natured singing of football songs which Lara kindly translated for me as my Spanish isn’t up to much.

At half-time there was a disco of Argentinean pop classics – a dubious selection the highlight of which was a reggae version of ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’. The DJ was apparently a member of Argentina’s mafia, known as the ‘El Gordo’ who as well as DJ-ing runs a market selling Argentinean produce, not usually available in the UK – bizarrely one of the best selling products is Hellman’s mayonnaise which people are convinced doesn’t taste the same here so there is a large market for importing it from Argentina!

Before last night, I had no allegiance to either side but since Lara is a Boca supporter, it seemed polite to cheer on her side who also seemed to have the most support in the room. Our friend Marc for some unknown reason decided he would support River Plate. Later, I asked Lara what dictated who you supported back in Buenos Aires – in her case it was because that was who her family had always supported, but generally Boca are the team of the poor, in Lara’s words ‘from south of the river, where it smells!’ whilst River Plate are the team of the rich. So I think I would have picked Boca too anyway.

The game got off to a very exciting start (although rather later than expected) with a goal in the first few minutes from Boca, but it ended 1-1. Whilst I won’t be hunting down every screening from their league, I will keep an eye on the progress of my new found team.

My new toy

I bought this last night at Ikea (in blue).

I'm very pleased with it. Sometimes little things make me disproportionately happy.

I have one hanging basket in the garden to water with it. I've remembered to water it every day so far but was using various cups and glasses until I bought this - I'm sure it will be even more of a pleasure now.

There are also several large pots in the garden which may or may not containing living plants - it remains to be seen - I give them an occassional water just in case. I'm not a natural gardener - I love flowers but am impatient and want instant results. I'm also a bit forgetful, which doesn't help. But I'm quite determined to make the most of our little outdoor space, so I may yet overcome these obstacles.

Any recommendations for things to grow that give quick results but don't die if you forget about them for a day or so would be much appreciated.

A Bridge Too Far

I'm scared of bridges.

Not all bridges - I'm fine on footbridges over water. The type of bridges I'm scared of are bridges where there are lanes of traffic running next to the pedestrian path or even worse, foot bridges over busy roads. Perhaps its traffic that I'm scared of, although I'm not that keen on bridges over railway lines either but I can just about manage those without vomiting.

In Prague, we went the wrong way back to our hotel one night and ended up walking along the side of a dual carriageway, right next to the traffic which also involved a bridge over yet more traffic. I was terrified. I didn't fair much better walking across Brooklyn Bridge. There is a lot of camera shake on my photographs - it doesn't look artistic, just a reminder of my horror.

Last night I went to Ikea. The quickest way to get there from the tube station involves firstly a bridge over a railway line (with traffic running alongside) and then crossing a bridge over umpteen lanes of rush hour traffic. I had to cross the railyway bridge - there wasn't much alternative. My palms were soaked by the time I got over it. I had every intention of facing my fear of the bridge over traffic but I was too shaken by the first bridge that I backed out. This added about another 15 minutes onto my journey time and I was very disappointed with myself.

A pedestrian bridge over a busy road just outside of my home town once collapsed - I don't think anyone was hurt but it has stayed with me so may be at the root of my fear. There were some lovely window boxes in Ikea that I didn't buy last night so I'll probably be going back there soon and perhaps next time I will manage to cross that bridge.

Don't Look Back

I keep receiving emails and letters from my old University reminding me about a 1990s reunion event which involves a campus tour and culminates in a disco. A thought crossed my mind about going, getting in touch with the one person from Uni that I’m still vaguely in contact with to see if she wants to go along. Of course, she won’t – she has a young daughter now – her days of university discos are long behind her and possibly something she is even in denial about now she’s a mother since hers were wilder than most.

Today’s email mentioned that there was an attendees list online so you could see which of your old friends were going. Curiosity got the better of me and I looked. Of course, there wasn’t a single name of the list I recognised. The sort of people I was friends with at university weren’t really the sort of people to go in for organised alumni events, just as they aren’t the sort of people to be on Friends Reunited, although I do still keep an eye on it to see if anyone interesting will pop up.

I know all this nostalgia isn’t healthy but I would like to know what became of people, how their lives worked out. I did bump into someone I knew from uni at the NFT about 18 months ago, which was a bit of a shock. Someone I had been pretty good friends with for a time and very briefly a little more than friends with. I didn’t recognise him and even when he said his name, it still took me a while to place him. It was actually a bit awkward, I blushed a lot and didn’t really know what to say, then our respective partners came back and we went our separate ways into the cinema.

If that was encounter was anything to go on, a big reunion event probably isn’t for me and no doubt would be full of people boasting about how wonderful their lives/families/careers are.

We're In!

So we've moved.

The actual move itself went briliantly, thanks to the lovely pair of removal men. I must admit, I had my doubts as to whether they were up to the job at first as they weren't exactly hulking specimens - one of them (Jari) wasn't much bigger than me, but thankfully he turned out to be a lot stronger. They were so friendly and helpful too.

The same could not be said of the man who came to clean the carpet in the old place (a term of the lease was that we had to have the carpets professionally cleaned before we left). He cancelled coming on Thursday and came on Friday instead and then had the nerve to moan that the carpet was dirty. Well, of course, it wasn't spotlessly clean, otherwise we wouldn't have hired a cleaner! Actually, it wasn't even that dirty - we had vacuumed the day before - but it isn't the newest carpet. It felt like a waste of money getting it cleaned but at least we did things properly so I'm optimistic we should get our deposit back.

The weekend was spent unpacking and arranging our things. It still feels a bit odd - we don't have a proper sofa yet so aren't really using the lounge much (we are sitting on the sofabed in the spare room which is quite nice as it overlooks the garden). It feels like we are on a strange sort of holiday but with our own furniture. This feeling was probably exaggerated by the glorious weather and the lack of internet access (although the phone works fine, there is a fault with the BT exchange so we can't get our broadband yet).

Being without the Internet is strange - until its gone, you don't realise how much you've come to depend on it. In a way I quite liked having a break from it, except when I turned up at the shopping centre on Sunday to discover everything was closed because I had no way of checking before I went out. I wasn't alone though - there were hundreds of zombie-like people wandering around the centre, not quite knowing what to do since the shops were shut and I thought about how much we are driven by unthinking consumerism. Not a pretty sight.

Packing

Packing to go on holiday might be fun but there is no joy in packing to move.

Nearly all of our worldly good are now packed in boxes, bags and any other recepticles we could lay our hands on. There are just a few niggly little bits left that we need to use in the next 20 hours.

Just like the last time, we started well - months ago we sorted out books and videos. I thought we'd left ourselves plenty of time and that this time my packing would be super-effecient and organised, so that unpacking would be easy. But we ran out of time. All of our time and energy over the last three weekends has been spent on decorating the new place so packing has become a last-minute, cram things wherever they'll fit and hope for the best affair.

The old flat now looks like a warehouse. Its not pretty. I'm convinced the removal company either won't turn up or won't be able to fit it all in their van.

Tonight, amongst the boxes, we are having our final meal there - a takeaway from a restaurant that delivers its wood-fired oven pizzas to this postcode but not our new area.

The Power of Freecycle

I mentioned Freecycle once before but today for the first time, I offered some things on it. And I've been blown away by the response.

As part of the Big Move, we are having a Fairly Big Clear-Out. The OH surprised me by suggesting we freecycled his acoustic guitar! I should point out, he can't play guitar, his ex bought it for him what most have been about 12 years ago and it has a string missing. It has been gathering dust in the corner of the lounge. He probably could have sold it but I think I may have sold him on the Freecycling idea. Within minutes, I'd had umpteen offers for it in my Inbox, which made me wonder if we might be unknowingly sitting on a valuable antique!

We've also found new homes (subject to collection) for our old microwave (OH's gran owned it before us), old scanner & printer and the coat stand (the hallway is too narrow in the new place for this).

I've really been amazed by it and highly recommend it if you have any old junk you want to get rid of. I'm now wondering if there is anything else I can get rid of...

Decorating Boot Camp

That is what our weekend has consisted of. Non-stop decorating under the sometimes harsh directions of the OH's father.

The lounge is finished now and the bedroom will be at the end of today (OH and his father are finishing it off this afternoon).

My arms ache from vigourous roller-ing. There is still an awful lot of packing to do before Thursday. Then we have to start the industrial levels of cleaning on this flat in an attempt to get back our deposit. This next week is not going to be much fun.

Excess Baggage

Is this a trend I'm missing because I keep seeing women on the tube doing what looks rather pointless and impractical - carrying a small paper bag (usually from a designer or cool brand) in addition to their main bag. I don't mean a full sized carrier bag, just a dinky little thing with a rope handle, a small gift bag size really. The woman I saw doing it this morning was carrying a book and her make-up in it (which she was applying en route - another thing I just don't get), but it wasn't really big enough for the book which was sticking out the top.

What is the point?

If there isn't room in your main bag, why not a) get a bigger bag b) take a second proper bag for the overflow. These little bags can hold so little it hardly seems worth the effort, aren't that easy to carry & aren't water-proof. Is it to show-off that you've bought something very small in an expensive shop?

A Chic Retreat

I knew it would happen. Having previously vowed to forego a holiday this year, I have found myself thinking about a little break. With the moving and decorating stress, I feel that I will soon need (and indeed, deserve) a little holiday and yesterday I found myself browsing holiday websites. In particular, this one - Chic Retreats. Why did I have to look at this site. Everywhere on it looks beautiful. Some of them are wildly expensive but others are affordable for a mini-break if (and this is a very big if) we get our deposit back from our rented flat (there is no real reason why we shouldn't get it back but its always a struggle with landlords & letting agents).

So thoughts of boutique hotels have temporarily pushed aside thoughts of curtains, cushions and rugs.

Common Sense Prevails

I was pleased to see that the judge ruled against that silly cow who was suing her landlords because she fell through a skylight she was dancing on whilst drunk. Her complaint was that her tenancy contract didn't warn against doing this. But the skylight was on a garage that didn't below to the property she was renting so as the judge pointed out, she was trespassing anyway.

Its very rare for me to take the side of a landlord as I've known a few who were underhand and probably negligent, but this case was nonsense. I'm surprised it even got so far.

Anyway alls well that ends well. The snooty little madam has had her picture in all of the papers, so is now a laughing stock as she was roundly ridiculed in the papers.

A twisty mystery tale

Last night we forced ourselves to go to the theatre. We were both tired, stresed and overworked but I thought it would be a good idea to get out and do something rather than just collapsing in front of the television.

We went to see Underneath the Lintel, which sadly has had its run cut by a couple of weeks so it was our only chance to see as well. I'm glad we made the effort. Richard Schiff (Toby from the West Wing!) was excellent. It was a one-man show - the OH was astounded that anyone could stand on stage for 80 minutes talking on their own and remember all their lines!

The play is about a lonely Dutch librarian who gets caught up in a mystery involving an overdue library book and in his quest to hunt down the borrower, he lives his quiet life and travels the world.

The premise of the monologue is that he has hired some community hall type venue to give a talk on his adventure, so he looks out and speaks to the audience. Rather aptly, as he peers out into the auditorium at the beginning he says something like 'Is this all there is? I put up lots of posters but they were covered by other posters. Its very expensive here so I'm only doing this tonight'. He could have been talking about the productions own struggle competing against the big musicals. There was an unruly mob outside of the Lion King and baying crowds waiting for Evita, while this play struggled.

Still at least it meant I got the tickets cheap.

Art Nemesis

We have a new painting in our entrance way (at work, not home!) and I hate it. I despise it. I loath it. Every time I walk past it, it offends me and I glower at it.

Its on loan from the Arts Council (cheers!) because the art that was there before went on tour. I can't remember the one that was there before - I think it was another abstract thing but somehow that one didn't offend me so much.






I'm not normally against abstract art - in fact I often prefer modern stuff to the Old Masters. But there is just something about this that annoys me. I think it might be its sheer blandness. It doesn't shock me, it doesn't make me think about anything, it really is just a series of squiggles. If they were aesthetically pleasing squiggles I wouldn't mind but they aren't.

I tried to look it up on the internet to see if I could find out any information about the artist Jack Smith (know thee enemy etc) but could only find references to an experimental film-maker of that name. Not sure if its the same guy, but if it is, he should have stuff with the moving image.

Cover Versions

Having mentioned below the cover of a Smiths song, I thought I would list my favourite cover versions.

The Man Who Sold the Earth - Nirvana
Lost in Music - The Fall
Come Together - Ike & Tina Turner
Winterlong - The Pixies
Brass in Pocket - Suede
Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley
Jump into the Fire - LCD Soundsystem
Sympathy - Janes Addiction
Hounds of Love - The Futureheads
Ms Jackson - The Vines
All Along the Watch Tower - Jimi Hendrix
Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon - Urge Overkill
Dolphins - Beth Orton and Terry Callier

and then the multiple entries from Johnny Cash (the king of cover versions):

Personal Jesus
One
Solitary Man
Hurt

and our course, Primal Scream's covers of Kick Out the Jams, Born to Lose and Slip Inside This House.

I would also probably also add Candy Flip's version of Strawberry Fields Forever, which I realise is pretty dreadful but it reminds me of my formative years...

Watches to Go

If you are ever in central London with a broken watch, I urge to go to 'Watches to Go', the little watch repair booth in Piccadilly Circus tube station. The man who runs it is a real gem - a character and a genius with watch repairs.

I dropped my watch on the hard floor at the new place which broke the strap off, so I took it along to him at lunchtime. It cost £1 to have it fixed, but I only had a £10 note, so he let me off with it, saying with a wink 'Drop it by the next time you are passing'. But this wasn't an isolated incident. The last time I was having a battery replaced, the man in front of me was telling him he was unemployed and he told him to come back & pay him when he'd found a new job! My friend who put me onto him in the first place was let off the price of a new watch strap because her request for a non-leather one because she was vegetarian made him laugh so much!

I wonder that watch repairers might be a dying breed as everything in society becomes increasingly more disposible. It would be a shame as its a skill and he is great.

(I know also a good cobbler in the North East of Enland, if you ever lose your heel in South Tyneside)

New Home Update

As predicted, we spent the whole weekend decorating and it will be more of the same next weekend. I'm exhausted but it has been quite satisfying to do the work ourselves (with a huge amount of help & direction from the OH's parents) and we starting to see real progress now.

The lounge is ready to be painted but already looks so much better now the walls are smooth and clean. And I genuinely like this room again - the high celing, the cornicing and the original fireplace (picture taken before the clean-up began - it looks better now).

I investigated the contents of the shed further yesterday. I had been a bit annoyed that the previous owner had left a lot of junk in there, but there were a couple of useful things. Here's what I found:

• 2 Directors chairs (dismantled so it took a while to realise what these were)
• 4 rolls of masking tape
• mop & bucket
• fold out dressing table mirror (the type with three parts)
• decking paint
• pair of crutches
• lawn mower

The last two items, I'm less than thrilled about - the garden is decked so a lawn mower ain't much use and I'm hoping we won't ever need the crutches.

I also met one of the neighbours - the OH's mother instigating conversation with her when we were in the garden. Silvia (probably mid 60s) who lives at 188 with her daughter - she bought her place for £1,040 40 years ago. She likes gardening but the woman next her (Scottish with a daughter) doesn't look after hers very well. She also told us where the nearest tip is, which local doctors were best and when the garden waste is collected. I suspect Silvia may be a bit of a gossip but she was friendly-enough and after 40 years, she must be a wealth of local knowledge.

Blog is 1 tomorrow

I'm writing this post now because I doubt I'll get near the computer tomorrow - our gruelling schedule of decorating will commence at 8am tomorrow morning.

So as of tomorrow, I'll have been writing this blog for a whole year. It hasn't really turned out as I expected - firstly I've stuck with it and secondly, it has become a lot more personal than I originally anticipated - I intended to write more review type things but in the end I've ranted alot about work & buying a flat and moaned about lots of other things. And as a result I talk outloud to myself a bit less these days.

It just isn't cricket (Pt 2)

The news that Pakistan Coach Bob Woolmer was murdered!

Suddenly cricket has become rather exciting - more the stuff around it (murder, drunken goings-on etc) rather than the game iteself which remains a slow-burning acquired taste.

I have to remind myself though that is real life rather than an episode of Morse. But I don't think I'm alone - when his death was first announced David Gower said to a reporter 'It's wrong to speculate, but..' before forcing the reporter to do just that. He seemed to be enjoying it all far too much but I suppose it was a welcome respite from talking about England's lacklustre performances.

I've been trying to get the OH to give me a list of possible suspects as my own knowledge of Pakistan cricket is rather limited. I only know the big one who doesn't like running (probably not stealthy enough for murder and he looks like he's quite nice!), the one who used to be the only Christian in the team until he converted to Islam and his run rate increased enormously, possibly the strangest religious propoganda ever (too busy praying?) and the one whose name sounds like actor (Aktar?) who is like a bad actor when he appeals and reminds me of Dev from Coronation Street (he isn't the squad this time so in the clear). My other suspect was Imran Khan but apparently he isn't involved in cricket anymore and has moved into politics.

I know its wrong to find it exciting but I do love a mystery.

Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before...

especially if you've heard the original version by The Smiths.

I'm off work today (hence lots of posts) and have just heard the Mark Ronson cover version of the above titled Smith's song on the radio. I don't mind an interesting cover version now and then, but this was dreadful. What a travesty!

Call me a pale-faced miserablist, but some things are best left alone.