Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Every Breath You Take
17.41 On Time
Have become obsessed with the idea that ShiftyColleague is fiddling his leave. It's not like there could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for how he keeps using it all up but still managing to have more days off, or how come he was in the minus yesterday but is in the plus again today.
Am determined to thwart him. Might mean going through his bins, figuratively speaking. Might not be in accordance with RIPA.
Don't tell anyone.
I - Spy - Get Cape Wear Cape Fly
Watching The Detectives - Elvis Costello
Karma Police - John Vanderslice
Creep - Radiohead
Cracking Up - Nick Lowe
Have become obsessed with the idea that ShiftyColleague is fiddling his leave. It's not like there could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for how he keeps using it all up but still managing to have more days off, or how come he was in the minus yesterday but is in the plus again today.
Am determined to thwart him. Might mean going through his bins, figuratively speaking. Might not be in accordance with RIPA.
Don't tell anyone.
I - Spy - Get Cape Wear Cape Fly
Watching The Detectives - Elvis Costello
Karma Police - John Vanderslice
Creep - Radiohead
Cracking Up - Nick Lowe
Labels: work
Monday, November 02, 2009
Met C's New(ish)Bloke at the weekend. I met C at the school gates, got to know her over mornings of coffee and evenings of wine. I was at school with New(ish) Bloke, in the sense that he was in the year above me, but our paths had never crossed. We had mutual acquaintances and bad backs in common.
He reminded me of what it is I like about people who don't intellectualise every last thing and, as a consequence, are often mistaken for people who think about nothing.
He reminded me of what it is I like about people who don't intellectualise every last thing and, as a consequence, are often mistaken for people who think about nothing.
Labels: real life
Sunday, October 25, 2009
At first we weren’t even sure we’d go there at all, it wasn't part of the plan.
Then it was decided, by mutual hardly spoken consent that we’d drive by: just to see. A glance off to the left - a reflection in the rear view mirror, a glimpse through trees - that would be more than enough.
But when we arrived it was Open Day and without hesitation R turned up into the drive and onto the car park, where it used to be all fields. Really, it did. Who even had a car in those days? Maybe that one girl from Devon and the other, who came back for the second term with freshly divorced parents and her own transport.
While prospective students and the parents of prospective students single mindedly sought out the shiny new accommodation blocks and asked their tabard wearing guides tough questions about the state of the art sports science facilities we roamed the empty corridors of the old halls, unchecked, trying really hard to remember anything of significance and almost totally failing.
Except...except that I do remember this particularly seminal staircase, and this view of Stanley and I'm sure the ‘photocopying suite’ was once the entrance to the bar (which, unsurprisingly, is totally ruined - there’s no way you could have a disco in there now. Or spend hour after hour lounging around willing something of significance to happen).
In Southport it was the same - street after street that we might never have walked down before, an unremarkable flat on a road we would never have recognised. Not remembering things was a recurring theme: alternating with sheer wonderment at all those miles we thought nothing of walking in search of a night out or a bag of chips.
No wonder we were thin.
Now, if only we'd understood that.
Then it was decided, by mutual hardly spoken consent that we’d drive by: just to see. A glance off to the left - a reflection in the rear view mirror, a glimpse through trees - that would be more than enough.
But when we arrived it was Open Day and without hesitation R turned up into the drive and onto the car park, where it used to be all fields. Really, it did. Who even had a car in those days? Maybe that one girl from Devon and the other, who came back for the second term with freshly divorced parents and her own transport.
While prospective students and the parents of prospective students single mindedly sought out the shiny new accommodation blocks and asked their tabard wearing guides tough questions about the state of the art sports science facilities we roamed the empty corridors of the old halls, unchecked, trying really hard to remember anything of significance and almost totally failing.
Except...except that I do remember this particularly seminal staircase, and this view of Stanley and I'm sure the ‘photocopying suite’ was once the entrance to the bar (which, unsurprisingly, is totally ruined - there’s no way you could have a disco in there now. Or spend hour after hour lounging around willing something of significance to happen).
In Southport it was the same - street after street that we might never have walked down before, an unremarkable flat on a road we would never have recognised. Not remembering things was a recurring theme: alternating with sheer wonderment at all those miles we thought nothing of walking in search of a night out or a bag of chips.
No wonder we were thin.
Now, if only we'd understood that.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
"sometimes I almost feel, just like a human being"
For the last sixteen days I haven't felt anything much like anything.
This morning however I am full of the frustration of realising that, if only I hadn't been feeling like shit, I could have spent the last two weeks doing - you know - all kinds of stuff. Instead I sat around under blankets, drinking tea and watching bad westerns. Also, it feels like I wasted Southport - maybe we could treat that one as a practice?
But this morning...no pain killers and no pain. I almost feel, just like a human being.
Lipstick Vogue - Elvis Costello
This morning however I am full of the frustration of realising that, if only I hadn't been feeling like shit, I could have spent the last two weeks doing - you know - all kinds of stuff. Instead I sat around under blankets, drinking tea and watching bad westerns. Also, it feels like I wasted Southport - maybe we could treat that one as a practice?
But this morning...no pain killers and no pain. I almost feel, just like a human being.
Lipstick Vogue - Elvis Costello
Labels: real life
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
8.38 On Time
We did a fifteen minute meditation yesterday. I loved it.
Sometimes chanting is involved, and breathing, and keeping your eyes nine-tenths shut (which is more difficult than you might think) but this one didn’t involve much more than sitting still with our eyes closed emptying our minds.
Sitting still and emptying my mind is a big favourite of mine.
At one point it felt spectacular - like being on the edge of a black hole, peering into infinity, achieving harmony with the universe. Or, more feasibly, being on the point of nodding off.
We did a fifteen minute meditation yesterday. I loved it.
Sometimes chanting is involved, and breathing, and keeping your eyes nine-tenths shut (which is more difficult than you might think) but this one didn’t involve much more than sitting still with our eyes closed emptying our minds.
Sitting still and emptying my mind is a big favourite of mine.
At one point it felt spectacular - like being on the edge of a black hole, peering into infinity, achieving harmony with the universe. Or, more feasibly, being on the point of nodding off.
Garden Ruin - Calexico
Labels: real life
Monday, September 28, 2009
"...it's just like Venice, but it's not in Italy"
17.41 Ten Minutes Late
Horrible journey. Never ending stream of people dragging suitcases wider than the aisle through the train in the vain hope of finding their seat, and me conscious that any one of them could, at any moment, stop by the reserved seat that I've claimed and require me to surrender it to its rightful owner.
Luckily, I'm still just about buzzing from the end of a tricky but ultimately triumphal weekend of activity and social dilemma.
The GregsonOpenMicLancasterSongwritersNightLoveIn threatened to collapse under the weight of it's own popularity as the room filled up with the curious, the enthusiastic and the tiny young people (where did they all come from and weren’t they well behaved? Others could learn). The chairs ran out and the List was packed with performers all of whom wanted to be on at "about half nine, if possible". But with minimal bickering and an amazing amount of goodwill, looping & hollering it only overran by half an hour and no one from behind the bar got cross about it or tutted.
What is so funny 'bout peace love and understanding?
New Zealand Story - Not Every Moment Rules x3
Horrible journey. Never ending stream of people dragging suitcases wider than the aisle through the train in the vain hope of finding their seat, and me conscious that any one of them could, at any moment, stop by the reserved seat that I've claimed and require me to surrender it to its rightful owner.
Luckily, I'm still just about buzzing from the end of a tricky but ultimately triumphal weekend of activity and social dilemma.
The GregsonOpenMicLancasterSongwritersNightLoveIn threatened to collapse under the weight of it's own popularity as the room filled up with the curious, the enthusiastic and the tiny young people (where did they all come from and weren’t they well behaved? Others could learn). The chairs ran out and the List was packed with performers all of whom wanted to be on at "about half nine, if possible". But with minimal bickering and an amazing amount of goodwill, looping & hollering it only overran by half an hour and no one from behind the bar got cross about it or tutted.
What is so funny 'bout peace love and understanding?
New Zealand Story - Not Every Moment Rules x3
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
8.38 On Time
One day last week we went to the cafe in Stanley Park, to kill some time and eat a bacon barm (me, not him). It was much nicer than you'd think, and with the sun shining the way it was, it was almost like being on holiday.
On the wall is a price list from 1973.
In 1973 I would've had the egg & chips (22p), my Mum would've gone for the ham salad (42p) and my Dad would've wanted fish & chips but, on realising they were offering plaice rather than a proper fish, would've changed his mind. For pudding you could have apple pie or ice cream (or apple pie and ice cream if you were really pushing the boat out) and that was pretty much it.
Not that we would've been in Blackpool in 1973. We would've been in Morecambe.
Or Minehead or Barry Island or Ayr. Which is why I really love this book.
The Existence Of Harvey Lord
One day last week we went to the cafe in Stanley Park, to kill some time and eat a bacon barm (me, not him). It was much nicer than you'd think, and with the sun shining the way it was, it was almost like being on holiday.
On the wall is a price list from 1973.
In 1973 I would've had the egg & chips (22p), my Mum would've gone for the ham salad (42p) and my Dad would've wanted fish & chips but, on realising they were offering plaice rather than a proper fish, would've changed his mind. For pudding you could have apple pie or ice cream (or apple pie and ice cream if you were really pushing the boat out) and that was pretty much it.
Not that we would've been in Blackpool in 1973. We would've been in Morecambe.
Or Minehead or Barry Island or Ayr. Which is why I really love this book.
The Existence Of Harvey Lord
