Monday, May 25, 2009
"...first night of your life, curled up on your own, looking at you now..."
Songs that unexpectedly ambush you?
First, TheYoungerBoy rings up to say he's on a waiting list for eye surgery and he's scared.
Later, we're in the pub when a song comes on that, at first, doesn't even register.
Then it does register and then, there it is:
- that line -
And I'm standing, helpless
Outside the SCBU
Not listening to explanations.
Looking down into that incubator...
Wires - Athlete
First, TheYoungerBoy rings up to say he's on a waiting list for eye surgery and he's scared.
Later, we're in the pub when a song comes on that, at first, doesn't even register.
Then it does register and then, there it is:
- that line -
And I'm standing, helpless
Outside the SCBU
Not listening to explanations.
Looking down into that incubator...
Wires - Athlete
Labels: music, nostalgia, real life
Saturday, May 23, 2009
"I think I've behaved, if I may say so, impeccably"
Just in case (unlikely as it is) the thought that, maybe, the Tories are not so bad after all should ever creep into your mind - listen again:
"And I'd've gotten away with it too if it weren't for that meddling Labour Government and its pesky Freedom of Information Act."
"And I'd've gotten away with it too if it weren't for that meddling Labour Government and its pesky Freedom of Information Act."
Labels: real life
Friday, May 22, 2009
16.44 Eight Minutes Late.
I'm realising it's taken me all week to get over Monday night.
Which is maybe why I'm more crotchety than I have any right to be, given that it's a Friday afternoon, and a Bank Holiday Weekend.
Because, as I try to board the train, I'm disproportionately niggled by the pair, already ensconced, who have decided to pick this precise moment to remove their luggage from the rack and open it up, rooting about for something that has become suddenly vital, thus blocking the wave of commuters attempting to take their rightful place on the early train home.
Eventually they sense the disgruntlement eddying towards them and get out of the damn way. I'm able to bag a forward facing window seat and it looks as though I'm going to get it all to myself, until the last minute when ... she flumps down next to me again, immediately expanding over the divide. Our elbows, like knitting needles, engage furiously for a few seconds, then I concede and shrink away. I can't bear her intrusion. Or her perfume which is so cloying I can taste it. She cannot sit still, again. During the fifteen minute journey she searches her bag fifteen times.
As we leave the train I rescue the woman behind me who falls victim to the game of Oranges & Lemons the Pendolino plays daily and finds herself pinioned by the door, arms at her sides, unable to reach the button and free herself. If it'd been her I would have left her stuck there until Glasgow.
Sometimes I should rein in my inner curmudgeon.
I'm realising it's taken me all week to get over Monday night.
Which is maybe why I'm more crotchety than I have any right to be, given that it's a Friday afternoon, and a Bank Holiday Weekend.
Because, as I try to board the train, I'm disproportionately niggled by the pair, already ensconced, who have decided to pick this precise moment to remove their luggage from the rack and open it up, rooting about for something that has become suddenly vital, thus blocking the wave of commuters attempting to take their rightful place on the early train home.
Eventually they sense the disgruntlement eddying towards them and get out of the damn way. I'm able to bag a forward facing window seat and it looks as though I'm going to get it all to myself, until the last minute when ... she flumps down next to me again, immediately expanding over the divide. Our elbows, like knitting needles, engage furiously for a few seconds, then I concede and shrink away. I can't bear her intrusion. Or her perfume which is so cloying I can taste it. She cannot sit still, again. During the fifteen minute journey she searches her bag fifteen times.
As we leave the train I rescue the woman behind me who falls victim to the game of Oranges & Lemons the Pendolino plays daily and finds herself pinioned by the door, arms at her sides, unable to reach the button and free herself. If it'd been her I would have left her stuck there until Glasgow.
Sometimes I should rein in my inner curmudgeon.
The Bitter End - Placebo
Labels: train
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
17.41 Seven Minutes Late
Best thing I read all day:
“Satellite UK Ltd recently sold their assets and data base to Satellite & Digital Ltd. Satellite UK customers were supposed to get a letter explaining the changes within 30 days of the takeover.
Payments will now appear on their bank statements to Satan”
Still not sure if it was a typo or a S&D Ltd employee with a sense of humour.
I Am Kloot - I Am Kloot
Best thing I read all day:
“Satellite UK Ltd recently sold their assets and data base to Satellite & Digital Ltd. Satellite UK customers were supposed to get a letter explaining the changes within 30 days of the takeover.
Payments will now appear on their bank statements to Satan”
Still not sure if it was a typo or a S&D Ltd employee with a sense of humour.
I Am Kloot - I Am Kloot
Labels: work
Sunday, May 17, 2009
"...too much time gone by and I can't find you if I try"
I didn't catch the start of the conversation, but it sounded as though ukuleleleboy's Nick Drake related moaning had inspired djwrighty to compose the BT Broadband couple a song of their very own. (I especially like "I'm going to Cornwall this weekend... I may be some time")
The rest of the night was the traditional curate's egg.
But it did what it said on the tin.
Too Much Time - John Vanderslice
Western Skies - Roddy Frame
Western Sky - American Music Club
Northern Sky - Nick Drake
The rest of the night was the traditional curate's egg.
But it did what it said on the tin.
Too Much Time - John Vanderslice
Western Skies - Roddy Frame
Western Sky - American Music Club
Northern Sky - Nick Drake
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
17.41 Ten Minutes Late
There are such a lot of birthdays at this time of year.
It’s not something I want to dwell on but my mum did (towards the end, when she'd decided she might as well finish off the half bottles of anything left in the drinks cabinet because, as the Doctor told her, it couldn't do any harm) tell me that I was conceived in Ilfracombe.
So, I probably owe my existence to the fact that my Mum finally persuaded my Dad they could do better than another holiday touring Scotland and sleeping in the van, and got him to blow the budget on a West Country B&B.
If it’s yours today – Happy Birthday. Was it Butlins or Bournmouth? Abersoch or Abroad?
(And speaking of baps, I'm not sure about this top. It's fine in soft focus sepia, but in real life? I just don't know if I can pull it off... )
This Old Heart Of Mine - Isley Brothers
Fly Like An Eagle - Steve Miller Band
Absent Friends - Divine Comedy
Alone Again, Or - Love
There are such a lot of birthdays at this time of year.
It’s not something I want to dwell on but my mum did (towards the end, when she'd decided she might as well finish off the half bottles of anything left in the drinks cabinet because, as the Doctor told her, it couldn't do any harm) tell me that I was conceived in Ilfracombe.
So, I probably owe my existence to the fact that my Mum finally persuaded my Dad they could do better than another holiday touring Scotland and sleeping in the van, and got him to blow the budget on a West Country B&B.
If it’s yours today – Happy Birthday. Was it Butlins or Bournmouth? Abersoch or Abroad?
(And speaking of baps, I'm not sure about this top. It's fine in soft focus sepia, but in real life? I just don't know if I can pull it off... )
This Old Heart Of Mine - Isley Brothers
Fly Like An Eagle - Steve Miller Band
Absent Friends - Divine Comedy
Alone Again, Or - Love
Labels: real life
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
It's another glorious day and I'm off work again.
You would think it's the perfect day to go out shopping and be a bit extravagant maybe.
It's a glorious day and I'm off work.
It's Tuesday morning so it won't be too busy.
What better time to amble round the shops idly picking things up and putting things down.
It's a glorious day.
I'm off work.
It's Tuesday morning so it won't be too busy
And it's my birthday.
I come back with a bag of bird seed and some wholemeal baps.
You would think it's the perfect day to go out shopping and be a bit extravagant maybe.
It's a glorious day and I'm off work.
It's Tuesday morning so it won't be too busy.
What better time to amble round the shops idly picking things up and putting things down.
It's a glorious day.
I'm off work.
It's Tuesday morning so it won't be too busy
And it's my birthday.
I come back with a bag of bird seed and some wholemeal baps.
Labels: real life
Friday, May 08, 2009
Life In A Northern Town
8.38 On Time
I’ve got a bit of a headache now but that’s the tiredness not the wine. Although it’s true we can’t handle it like we used to: and I wasn’t that good at handling it then.
We tried to remember what it was we'd seen in him.
Then we tried to work out who the 'Cool Girls' had been, but didn’t get far.
We didn't think we could remember much at all, except...walking for miles trying to find some party or other, popping out to The Zetland for the last hour, those prawn crackers from The Joy Garden. The bowl of fat under the sink, the empty milk bottles everywhere and that bedroom being freezing.
Trudging up and down St Helens Road in all weathers and at all hours.
The drama studio, The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari, The Grapes of Wrath and Quiet Flows The Don. Watching FirstRoomMate scribbling notes about 'Henry Gibson' and being almost sure she was getting it wrong. Never ever getting the hang of diphthongs. Or the phonetic alphabet.
And whatever did happen to J’s sister’s shoes?
We tried to remember what it was we’d seen in him, and had to agree that we couldn’t even imagine it … maybe we'll have ourselves a proper reunion come the autumn. If we can get our acts together.
Crash - The Primitives
I Can't Stand Up... - Elvis Costello
Walk Away Renee - Billy Bragg
Tiny Voices - Joe Henry
Life In A Northern Town - Dream Academy
I’ve got a bit of a headache now but that’s the tiredness not the wine. Although it’s true we can’t handle it like we used to: and I wasn’t that good at handling it then.
We tried to remember what it was we'd seen in him.
Then we tried to work out who the 'Cool Girls' had been, but didn’t get far.
We didn't think we could remember much at all, except...walking for miles trying to find some party or other, popping out to The Zetland for the last hour, those prawn crackers from The Joy Garden. The bowl of fat under the sink, the empty milk bottles everywhere and that bedroom being freezing.
Trudging up and down St Helens Road in all weathers and at all hours.
The drama studio, The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari, The Grapes of Wrath and Quiet Flows The Don. Watching FirstRoomMate scribbling notes about 'Henry Gibson' and being almost sure she was getting it wrong. Never ever getting the hang of diphthongs. Or the phonetic alphabet.
And whatever did happen to J’s sister’s shoes?
We tried to remember what it was we’d seen in him, and had to agree that we couldn’t even imagine it … maybe we'll have ourselves a proper reunion come the autumn. If we can get our acts together.
Crash - The Primitives
I Can't Stand Up... - Elvis Costello
Walk Away Renee - Billy Bragg
Tiny Voices - Joe Henry
Life In A Northern Town - Dream Academy
Labels: nostalgia
Thursday, May 07, 2009
17.41 On Time
Because I read Blake Morrison's birthday card to Alan Bennett at lunchtime (alright, so it was a little after lunch time, but it's been quiet again today) ThesaurusBoy had to put up with a couple of hours of me trying to remember the name of the man who was in the chip shop at the time of the Kestrel incident in 'Writing Home'. Not for any good reason, just because I knew I knew it and knew I'd forgotten.
It came to me eventually. Then I Googled to make sure.
Guest List - Eels
Isn't It A Lovely Night? - The Decemberists
Our Little Angel - Elvis Costello
Because I read Blake Morrison's birthday card to Alan Bennett at lunchtime (alright, so it was a little after lunch time, but it's been quiet again today) ThesaurusBoy had to put up with a couple of hours of me trying to remember the name of the man who was in the chip shop at the time of the Kestrel incident in 'Writing Home'. Not for any good reason, just because I knew I knew it and knew I'd forgotten.
It came to me eventually. Then I Googled to make sure.
The chip shop in the Kestrel incident is the one we used to go to on Thursday nights, after Brownies, for a bag of chips & scraps. Not every Thursday mind, if it'd been every Thursday it wouldn't have been a treat would it?
The chip shop, back then (when it was good), was owned by relatives of the ManWhoPreferredSherbertStrawberries.
There isn't a punch line. Just history.
Fade Into You - Mazzy StarGuest List - Eels
Isn't It A Lovely Night? - The Decemberists
Our Little Angel - Elvis Costello
Labels: nostalgia
Monday, May 04, 2009
"...we'll run like we're awesome, totally genius"
Generally speaking I tend towards 'hell for leather' rather than "wisely and slow".
When something needs doing - and it's something I'm keen to do - I want to wake early and get up early and start the job and keep at it until either it's finished or I am. The ultimate reward is that "so tired, so hungry, so much in need of a shower...so earned that beer" feeling.
I know there are other ways to approach a task.
More relaxed ways that encompass tea breaks and a bit of a sit down. Pacing yourself, maybe going away and doing something else for an hour or so and coming back to it later refreshed.
I'm not saying these ways are wrong ways, but they're not my ways.
Discovered another wall this weekend. This one's going to be more of a challenge. My arms hurt.
Alligator - The National
When something needs doing - and it's something I'm keen to do - I want to wake early and get up early and start the job and keep at it until either it's finished or I am. The ultimate reward is that "so tired, so hungry, so much in need of a shower...so earned that beer" feeling.
I know there are other ways to approach a task.
More relaxed ways that encompass tea breaks and a bit of a sit down. Pacing yourself, maybe going away and doing something else for an hour or so and coming back to it later refreshed.
I'm not saying these ways are wrong ways, but they're not my ways.
Discovered another wall this weekend. This one's going to be more of a challenge. My arms hurt.
Alligator - The National
Labels: real life
