Monday, November 30, 2009
"...do you ever ask yourself, what's she doing tonight?"
... because, when it came to that inevitable moment when there were only the two balls left in the bag I found myself wondering: "Do we really want to beat Kettering? All that much?"
The Whiskey Makes You Sweeter Than You Are - Laura Cantrell
Keep Breathing - Delgados
I Won't Die For You - The Lilac Time
Do You Ever Think Of Me? - Laura Cantrell
Friday, November 27, 2009
"...and he sometimes speaks of you, the way that you want him to"
OldFishWife is thinking about VR, ThesaurusBoy drives, Lovely goes running at lunchtime and it looks like Leanne's going to get to Arizona before me.
I can't keep up these days.
Two Seconds - Laura Cantrell
I'm struck by the trees.
It's not that I've never seen the trees before but I can't remember being so impressed as I am this morning by the way their skeletons range across the skyline. Far more imposing, leafless, than they've looked during any other season of the year.
Maybe it's a specific confluence of light and mood and weather? Maybe I've never paid enough attention to them before.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
I wonder if that fine rain drifting across the floodlights at the Giant Axe is the closest I'm ever going to get to seeing the Northern Lights?
Rain - Patty Griffin
Crying In The Rain - The Everley Brothers
Rhythm Of The Rain - The Cascades
Fire & Rain - James Taylor
Labels: real life
Thursday, November 19, 2009
A small miracle happens: I have a table seat on the only train in the North West of England currently running to schedule. Opposite are a Dad and his five year old Daughter, who have jumped on board at the last minute.
The Dad goes to stow the luggage on the rack, The Daughter empties out her Polly Pockets and lines up a collection of GoGos on the table. The man next to me really wants to open up his laptop and get on with Something Quite Important, but between us we've managed to engage the little girl in conversation. She tells us she has forty five GoGos and seventy one Polly Pockets but most of them are at home.
We've started moving before the train manager begins his announcement. He tells us that the train is due to arrive in Glasgow on time.
The Daughter informs us that "If you were going to count to ... erm ... two hundred and fifty it would take you ...er... about a thousand years". The patient man in the seat next to me chooses not opening his laptop over snubbing a five year old.
The train manager has not quite finished:
He repeats that tonight there will be additional stops at Penrith and Lockerbie, then delivers the sucker punch - there is no guarantee that the train will get to Penrith or Lockerbie. There is severe flooding (someone whispers that there's a freight train blocking the line, someone else heard that trees were down) he will do the best he can and the M6 is also closed (he says this almost defensively, as though anticipating the "I might as well have driven" remarks he'll face as he walks down the train).
The absence of an outbreak of consternation impresses me.
The Daughter divulges that the Dad is an actor, and she hopes he's going to be the Scarecrow, because he'll have to have straw up his jumper and in his hair. The indulgent man in the seat next to me smiles and abandons his attempt to get a Bit More Work done.
I feel a fraud as I wish them good luck and, standing to leave, confess that I'm only going one stop.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Every Breath You Take
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
Monday, November 02, 2009
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