Peregrine Nation

I'm Busy. Want To Make Something Of it?

2007-02-25T23:19:00.000Z

Stop making a fuss.
I have just been quiet.

And watching several series of Lost at one sitting.
When it started, I didn't think much of it (see here), but am now a full-on addict.
It's compulsive viewing.

I love the fact that you can get DVDs out of the library. And download TV programmes off t'internet.

Right, what else?

Started my first 100 day practice placement in one of the county's fostering teams. Enjoying it a lot so far.

Bought a powerkite, and took it out last week for the first time with him, and him, and the wee feller.
Brilliant.

And I have been concentrating on my mental health.

That's a good idea, isn't it?

PS - I have shaved my beard off. On a whim. It feels like part of my face is missing. Urgh.

I Think This is Funny

2006-12-18T11:19:00.000Z

I don't know where it's from (Private Eye, perhaps?), because my sister found it.
I thought I'd share it, but it may only be amusing to those who did Latin at school (e.g. me).
Just think - 5 years of classical education, and all it achieves is to allow me to chortle at satirical jokes.
Quality....

* * * * * * *

NEW-LOOK GCSE LATIN PRIMER

How to decline:

Asbo: I terrorise my neighbours.

Asbas: You complain to a policeman.

Asbat: He does nothing.

Asbamus: We come round and set fire to your car.

Asbatis: You (plural) move to another neighbourhood.

Asbant: They say the situation is under control thanks to the new Anti-Social Behaviour Orders.

To be honest, the funniest part is that there might actually be a GCSE in Latin.

Festive Cheer

2006-12-17T13:32:00.000Z

Every year, near Christmas, this lot play a gig here.

Tonight's the night, and I'm excited.
It's not my first time seeing them.
But each time I see them, I feel the same.

I don't gig much. and often when I do, it's a repeat.
Bob Mould (in various guises).
Mudhoney.
Therapy?.
Rocket From The Crypt.
Martyn Joseph.
All people I like to watch again and again.

And these guys.
Unfashionable? Oh yes.
Partisan audience? Oh yes.
Slightly religious fever at gigs? Oh yes.
Know all the songs? Oh yes.
(Though I can never remember all the words, which makes me feel inferior because everyone else seems to know every word, every note, every reference.)

Last year I hurt my ankle really badly about fourth song in and had to spend the rest of the gig sitting in a corner feeling nauseous.
This year I shall be a bit more circumspect.
The entire dancefloor becomes a moshpit so I shall stay near the back....

And this year I have an iPod, so I have 8 and a half hours of their music loaded into it to fire me up.
Reminds me of wandering about the Gloucestershire countryside on rainy windswept nights in a big overcoat listening to "No Rest" and "The Ghost of Cain" twenty years ago.
Great days.

I really haven't grown up, have I?

* * * * * * * * * * *

Behind all the rusting cranes, in the lengthening shadows of the Empire days
there's a world that waits, but it's not needed.
In the teeming rows behind the goal - yelling for blood on the pitch below;
where does all the passion go when it's not needed?
Over the wire, and into the darkness . . .
Come evangelists of the Grand New Age proclaiming the future that they stole,
condemning the things they can't control - just like the priests before;
and now I can hear them call - the ghosts of the 1914-18 war
Where do all the innocents go when they're not needed?
Over the wire and into the darkness . . .

And the dawn it will come like blood across the sky,
Not the way that you think, not the way that you dream
In the silence of God, in the fullness of time,
like blood across the sky - the dawn it will come - the dawn it will come.

All still, like the pitshafts and the two-mile-down where they buried their hearts;
where does all the loyalty go when it's not needed?
In the plastic seats behind the goal yelling for blood on the pitch below;
where does all the passion go when it's not needed?
Over the wire and into the darkness . . .

Meece

2006-12-17T12:00:00.000Z

The mice have caused an explosion in the garage.

I am currently living with my mum, who - like the rest of my family - finds it incredibly difficult to throw things away because it "might come in useful".

She has kept several bin bags full of polystyrene blobs to aid her in potting plants (you put them at the bottom in place of stones. It works. Try it.). Not that she does much plant-potting, you understand.

Anyway.

There is clearly a posse of mice residing in the garage (and elsewhere, but they need not concern us today).
Every time I go in they have been nibbling at something else inedible, the loons.

This time they nibbled away at those bin bags, presumably in the hope that they might find digestible goodies.

I can imagine their consternation when they released an avalanche of polystyrene.

There they stand, hands on hips, whiskers twitching, crossly discussing why some idiot would keep all this useless stuff.......

Personally, I'm with the mice on this one.

Is this weird?

2006-12-12T09:21:00.000Z

.......or is it just me?

We are coming to the end of the wee feller's first term at school.
(First week - "School! YAY!"
Third week onwards - "I don't want to go to school.")

Of course, as we have all been informed incessantly by the industrial-military complex within which we consume, it's nearly Christmas, and has been since sometime in the 19th century.

Anyway, he got his first Christmas card from a classmate today.
Well, I say it is from his classmate.
But she has quite a severe case of cerebral palsy, and the handwriting all looked suspiciously neat and adult to me.

Which suggests that he has actually received a card from his classmate's mother.
On behalf of her daughter, who may or may not actually want to send him a card, despite appearing to be a very nice girl from the little I know.
And I suspect it won't be the last.

Why do I think this?
Because as loving, friendly and generous as my son is, he is also 4 years old and has not the slightest bit of interest in sending cards himself.
And so I assume that all the other kids are the same.

To be perfectly frank, he isn't particularly interested in receiving cards either.
They aren't Hot Wheels, are they?
Or Power Rangers.
So what's the point?
Fair enough.

So -

Do I purchase 27 small cards, write in them myself, and then bully him into scribbling disinterestedly at the bottom of 2 or 3 of them, while he stares longingly at Buzz Lightyear?

Or do I just say, "Mate. Is there anyone you want to send Christmas cards to? No? Ok then. Want to play pirates?"

Of course, I could just write and sign 27 cards myself.
But then I would be sending 27 infants Christmas cards on behalf of someone else, who isn't interested.
Which is just weird.

No, I am not going to buy into the Christmas that all these other people want me to celebrate.
Fuck them.

(I feel a bit guilty about that as those parents I have met are very pleasant, and all the kids in his class - who all now know me by name, and vice versa - are a lovely bunch.)

Spam

2006-12-12T09:15:00.000Z

The address I attached to this blog is now inundated with junk email.
Never mind.

Interestingly, I had one this morning inviting me to "Ejaculate Like a PornStar".

All I'd like to say is -

How do they know I can't?

The Story So Far....

2006-12-11T11:26:00.000Z

Right.

Lost my iPod.
Cobblers.
Having been rather dismissive of the damn things, my lovely sister gave me a Nano for my birthday.
I was overcome, of course.

A few weeks ago it fell out of my pocket.
We searched the wee feller's house.
We got the wee feller's friend's mum to search her house.
I walked the path where I had been.
I reported it to the police.
No sign.

So I put up a load of posters, and hey presto, two phone messages later, 'twas returned.
(Though the person who had found it was a bit miffed since he had erased all my music and formatted it for his PC!).
Never mind.
My guilt for losing an expensive gift was assuaged.
Now I can continue with my podcast obsession......

* * * * * *

Once the iPod was missing, the wee feller and I could no longer listen to The Muppets or Rolf Harris, so he insisted I play whatever the cassette was I had in the car.

Me - "You won't like it. What about Bob Dylan?"

Him - "No. Play that one."

Me - "OK...."

So on goes Therapy?'s 'One Cure Fits All'.
"Private Nobody" is the song.
Not the best song on the album. Bit of a clattering shouty racket.
(Don't say anything......)

Him - "What instruments are those?"

Me - "Electric guitar, bass guitar, drums."

We listen to half the song.
I am surprised, but not unimpressed.

Him - "Now that's what I call rock'n'roll."

That's my boy.

* * * * * *

Now this is the odd thing.

He doesn't like noisy stuff, including shouty music (fair enough, really), but he has rather taken to Therapy?

However, he is rather disturbed at the moment, because he is scared of the wind and the rain.
He says it's the noise.
I went round this morning to take him to school, and his mum was in tears because they had been up all night worrying about the wind and rain.
She wasn't upset, just exhausted.
And she works all day, while I fritter and faff.

Why is he scared?
Dunno.

But the wind blowing the nannies away in 'Mary Poppins' and going on a yacht in force 7 winds might not have helped.....

* * * * * *

Bet you're wondering why I'm blogging again all of a sudden.
Yes, you guessed it.
I have an essay to write.
'Research in Health and Social Care'.
Goody.

* * * * * *

And no, I haven't put up any decorations.
Or bought any presents.
Or any Christmas cards.
Piss off.
It's Advent.
I'm just enjoying my calendar.

* * * * * *

Still raining.
Fricking miserable weather.
I love it.

Suppose I'd Better Write Something Then

2006-12-11T11:14:00.000Z

Here's the view from my window now.
11am on Monday.

Yep.

It's rainy.

But I have a beard to warm me.

And Mastodon to cheer me.

Returning to Old Haunts

2006-11-20T14:23:00.000Z

Nice to see so many other people are as lazy as myself when it comes to updating their blogs.

At least I have a legitimate excuse.

Slackers.

A New Dawn

2006-11-20T11:33:00.000Z

Despite all evidence to the contrary, I am now much happier and less chaotic and generally achieving stuff and enjoying myself.

And I am still wearing my shorts.

And now I have a really big beard.

And sometimes I wear a big hat in public.

And do all the people I pass think I am weird?
I would imagine so.

But hey, weird and happy. That sounds pretty good to me.

Under Fucking Review

2006-11-16T14:18:00.000Z

So smile like you mean it.

Fuck It - Let's Make It Official

2006-06-18T21:24:00.000+01:00

Well, come on, I haven't written anything properly for a while, and, let's be honest, who wants to know about my stuff at the moment?

Things has kind of overwhelmed me, innit?

I need to get back on track.

And rather than leaving you all hanging - though I am sure you have far more important things to do than be checking on me - I will let you know that this blog is going on 'indefinite hiatus' (as American rock bands who don't have the bottle to say "we all hate each other but we are still under contract so we have to pretend that we haven't actually split up in case our alternative projects fail and the huge multinational conglomerate that is currently paying our wages force us to reform and tour" have a habit of saying).

This, however, IS a hiatus. Meaning that I shall eventually post here again.

Not for a while though, guys.
There is too much static to write anything of any worth.
If any of it has been so far.

Those of you I know in real life - see you soon.
Those I have met through here - send me an email, and if you are ever down this way, come and say hi.
I need to get out of the house.

Until then, well......

Play nicely.

Some Old Cobblers

2006-06-02T22:24:00.000+01:00

We are not at home to chaos.

Ok, we are at home to chaos, but, bloody hell, we have every intention of packing chaos' bags, and throwing chaos forcibly into the street.

If I lived in a street.

Let's not mangle this metaphor any more than we really have to.
OK?

Life is nothing but chaos at the moment.

Temporally.
Intellectually.
Physically.
Emotionally.

And damn it, I've had enough.
I'm wrestling chaos to the floor - in slow-motion - with every intention of subduing it.

At least I cleared all the crap off my bed.
It was pretty tricky balancing on the edge of my large-enough bed previously (paperwork, CDs, clothes, tools - including a hammer, Sam's toys, books, general detritus had all taken up semi-permanent residence on there). Now I can sprawl out.
Bliss.
Though I have an ant infestation now.
Nothing worse than feeling them marching across your face in the wee hours.
Fuckers.

Always wondered how that hammer got there.....

Now With Added Sound

2006-05-16T19:43:00.000+01:00

......and just to illustrate things in a musical manner.......

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Ars Brevis

2006-05-09T19:53:00.000+01:00

Oh, fuck it..........

This veneer is wearing thin.
The smile becoming cracked and frosty.

That
THING
is in my gut again
with its savage grin and its flashing, whirring blades
cutting, chopping
making itself a nest
out of the brittle bones of the man I used to think I was.

None of this is visible.

When I was a child I became fascinated by the idea of self-destruction
the romanticisation of dissolution
the anti-hero
the lines on the face of exhausted human endeavour.

I chased it
I let the seedy shattered image grow in my head
and when I had the chance, I raced headlong
base-jumping into the nearest available abyss.

I had no idea of the RUSH
the adrenal hit of it
how it enticed me

woooooooooooooooooooooooooHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The impulse of auto-destruction
the heel of my hand pressing down HARD on the big red button that says "DO NOT PRESS"

and I managed it
the smile held
the sun came up and went down and I managed to manage
and no-one needed to know

Recently it's been sleeplessness

again

Obviously I fuel my lack of sleep with other
MEANS
means that are dangerous enough in themself
but something in the
hallucinogenic properties
of tiredness keeps me there
the two forces propelling me forward
encouraging each other

As those around me struggle with insomnia and illness, I have pushed my boundaries.

Is four hours the minimum I can manage with?
What about three hours?
Two hours?
One?

None?

and can I cope with the combined pressure of my behaviour and my refusal to allow myself TIME to recover?

As the chaos inside me grows, it pisses its evidence into the outside world.
My body breaks down
my temper frays
my home becomes a hole
into which I crawl and hide
I wear the same clothes I have slept in
albeit briefly
the life I attempt to lead moments away from collapsing under its own weight
things important to me thrown to the wind

Something inside me is calling

'Come, destroy me.
I will it."

but look closer

there is something else inside
a root
a kernel
a nub

something so HARD that it will not melt

This is my test

I will burn myself in this furnace
and I will still be here when the glow of the last ember dies away.

Arse

2006-04-25T00:49:00.000+01:00

Oh, fuck it.

Spring Is Sprung

2006-04-22T21:07:00.001+01:00

Well, today was a lot better.
The sun helps.

And a man in the park offered me a reacharound, which was a novelty.
And very generous of him, too.
Especially in a public place.

This kiting business is good exercise, isn't it?
And bloody good fun.
Not cheap though.
Cobblers.
At least I got to trample all over Sam, and amuse him simultaneously.

And a lovely day to be back on my bike.
I really need to get fit again.
I am a fat giffer and easily knackered and somewhat weedy.
I don't rate a sedentary lifestyle.
Well, alright then, yes I do.....

Nitpickers.

Spheres

2006-04-22T20:34:00.000+01:00

It's all about music at the moment. It's keeping me together.

I am propped in bed, quietly listening to "The Boatman's Call" by Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds, letting it massage my pounding head, and leaven my black mood.

I'm looking forward to the release of Therapy?'s new album on Monday, "One Cure Fits All". I am hoping it is as good as the last one, and I am looking forward to raving about it with Hassan.

And not long after, Tool's "10,000 Days". Oh yes....

I bought the only Michael Jackson album I ever wanted recently - "Thriller" - and contemplated how I felt giving him more money. Strange man.... But it is fantastic, despite its sad status as the last decent work by a man whose mental state appears to have crumbled along with his physical appearance, and public profile.

Also fantastic is Prince's "Purple Rain", another recent acquisition which took me back in time.
I was 13 all over again.
A terrifying thought.....
....but faultless pop.
Is there anybody who doesn't like Prince? Let me know, because I can't believe it.
The word 'genius' is over-used and generally devalued (see also 'diva'), but come on, he was, wasn't he...?

Nods to Graham Coxon, and Editors too. Two great recent albums.
I recommend both.

I hope you are all listening to Daniel Barenboim's Reith Lectures on Radio 4.
If not, download them here.
If you care about music even a little, you should find something interesting there.

Music is at the heart of my life.
It's like sleeping, eating, or breathing to me.
Fundamental.
Always there.
Sometimes I am conscious of it, sometimes not.
Often there is a little radio station playing in my head, just to make sure.
Music defines me.
Rhythms pervade my universe, and I never stop dancing.

And I have passed on my obsession to my son.
I'm not ashamed to say I am pleased about that.

Everything else is a little difficult and strange at the moment.
Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.

Now.
Listen to some music.
Put something on.
Stop reading this.
Don't do anything else.
Just listen.
Don't dance. Don't sing along, or clap, or tap your foot.
Close your eyes if you must.
But just spend five minutes listening.

Brilliant, isn't it?

Love to y'all.

Where's The Sun Gone?

2006-04-20T09:20:00.000+01:00

What a pissing awful start to a day.

£170 down, no driving licence, no motorcycle test certificate, and an inability to work out whether it's my fault or someone else's.

Still, could be worse.
I could be Ben.

Apparently, Boredom Is Good For You

2006-04-15T14:08:00.000+01:00

I note that, in my absence, the stately Shady has tagged me, and, despite finding myself incredibly boring and void of fascinating comment currently, it would be churlish not to respond, so here you go:

What were you doing ten years ago?

Looking back in my diary of the time, I appear to have been writing an appalling diary.
And shaving my head.
And obsessing about films.
And being remarkably immature.
Oh dear, oh dear.

What were you doing a year ago?

Working, avoiding studying and rehearsing my part in the local production of "All's Well That Ends Well".
Almost unbearably exciting, isn't it?

Name 5 snacks you enjoy

Beans on cheese on toast
Hot cross buns (hey, it's Easter)
Tinned mackerel
Apples
Biscuits. Of course

Name 5 songs you know all the words to

Bad Penny - Big Black
You Shook Me All Night Long - AC/DC
The Marching Song of The Covert Battalions - Billy Bragg
Feelgood Hit of The Summer - Queens of The Stone Age
Archway Towers - New Model Army

What would you do if you won £1m?

Pay my debts
Buy some more pants
Build a house
Blow the remaining money on pointless things like CDs I will never listen to, and an iPod I will play with constantly
Weep bitter tears that I was not more sensible with my money......

Name 5 things you enjoy doing

Eating too much
Sleeping, preferably outside on a sunny day in the long grass miles from civilisation
Listening to music far too loud on headphones, leaping up and down, and playing air guitar (and you don't? yeah right...)
Going barefoot
A range of things too unpleasant to mention in public

Name 5 things you'll never wear again

Hair on the top of my head that is longer than a centimetre
A tie to work (not that I ever have, you understand)
Briefs
Basketball boots
School uniform

Name your 5 favourite toys

Top Trumps
Action Man (old school, not the new muscle-bound homo-erotic/mutant ninja nonsense)
Lego (Shady's right - it's legendary and for good reason)
Playpeople
Pretty much anything pre-video games (which I try every now and again, but which I'm afraid I find quite astonishingly dull)

Name 5 people to tag

Tamsin
Marcus
Jamie
Jen
and anybody else with time on their hands and the inclination to do it.

If you are still awake after that, I hope you have/had a lovely Easter.
Onward.

Misery

2006-04-13T22:35:00.000+01:00

Is it just me or has February stealthily annexed April?

I demand an independent inquiry.

Labour Saving Devices

2006-04-06T14:14:00.000+01:00

Sorry for the extended delay.

I bought a nice new iBook to replace my desktop iMac with.
I set it up, spent a week working on my college presentation on it, and then the hard drive died.

"That's not right", said the guys at Apple Support.

"Not really, no", I said.

So after a week of waiting around, they took it back, wiped everything off it, and replaced the hard drive with one twice the size. Which was nice of them.

When I got it back - minus all the music and documents I had on it - I made use of the Migration Assistant ("hey, here's a cool tool for transferring all your files from your old computer to your new one").
That was a mistake.

So then I erased my operating system and started again.

By which time, I had sort of lost interest.

But here I am again, despite the suspicion that I would do better throwing anything I own that was made since 1995 into a bin, and going and living in a yurt.

(I was going to say bender instead of yurt, but I didn't want to give the wrong impression...)

Go Your Own Way

2006-03-08T10:39:00.000Z

After Meeting on Sunday morning, one of the Friends told me of his plan to visit the annual Horse Fair in Appleby.

He is planning to travel up with his horse and cart, which he reckons should take him about a month.
Then maybe a month back.

Obviously it all depends on timing and his health (I would guess that he is over 60, but I would hate to say that to his face).

We talked about the difficulties he would face, and the potential conflict it may cause.

I thought - and still think - it is an excellent idea. It sits perfectly with my idea of travelling.

Sometimes it is important to travel purely for the sake of it.
To experience, to encounter.
To have an adventure.
An expedition.

Life itself is an adventure.
Each day, each step we take is a moment of uncertainty and vulnerability.

Sometimes we falter.
Sometimes we would rather not journey, but stay in bed and pull the covers over our heads, stop and rest.
But eventually we must begin again, or stop altogether.

See the path ahead of you - clear to the horizon or obscured beyond your outstretched hand - and set forth.
It will always bring you something new.

Bury Me Here

2006-02-26T19:31:00.000Z

Near Salthouse on the north Norfolk coast, there is a stretch of 'beach' that I love.

I say beach.
It's a man-made sea wall, millions and millions of pebbles in a mound running for miles, reclaiming an area of land from the North Sea.

There is no sand.
No beach huts or piers.
No deckchairs or ice-cream parlours.
No buildings visible.
No signs of life, beyond the handful of other people embracing this desolate length of our coast.

I stood there this afternoon, and watched the sea, roaring and clawing at the land.
Every time I go there, I feel as though I am on the front line of the ocean's attempts to reclaim our home for its own.

It's like being in a strange zoo, standing right next to, but safely protected from, this ancient raging atavistic creature that could crush me and all around me.
It feels nothing but desires everything.
I could feel the great rushing power behind its frothing brown breakers, pounding and sucking at the stones.

It is such a naked, primal place, and yet mesmerising and beautiful.
I feel at home there.
Really at home.

The Tuesday of The Year

2006-02-23T21:11:00.000Z

Phew!

It's all aggro and fisticuffs elsewhere in the blogosphere, so it's always nice to come home to my haven of tranquility and rationality.
Everyone seems a bit snappy at the mo.
Even I, Mr Love and Understanding, have seen fit to post some rude comments elsewhere.

Is it because it's February?
Yes, I do believe it is.

Afterthought

2006-02-19T19:41:00.000Z

Just remembered the OTHER traffic incident I probably shouldn't mention.

It was all Simon's fault.....

I'll Pop A Cake In Your Ass

2006-02-16T20:41:00.000Z

I don't know.

I don't write in my blog for a fortnight and there is a general weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Never fear, loyal readers, I'm back, and more than ready for some judicious swearing and general overuse of the c-word.
Bonzer.

First things first.

Leeds was a riot. A fucking riot.
Grade A hysteria involving a bunch of contemporary dance technicians, co-habiting, a quality real ale pub, Frosties at midnight, "cleft fisting", non-stop work, big trucks, rude people, pretty much every contemporary dance company you can name, fighting, "pre-lunar tension", and, inevitably, some alcohol.
I seemed to develop a form of Tourettes that involved me uncontrollably referring to people as "a bunch of cunts".
I also haven't laughed so consistently for a period of time for years.

Good team, good job.

And I met an old friend I haven't seen for 8 years or so, and that was lovely.
Wotcher, Lucia.

So all in all a good thing, yes?

Well, yes.
But I am afraid that the staff at the West Yorkshire Playhouse failed to cover themselves in glory.
In quite a major way.
Nice team effort, guys.

That's all I'll say, beyond observing that something must be fucked up when the office staff take parking priority at the central venue during an international arts festival.

Bunch of cunts.

And the less said about that traffic incident the better, I feel.

Nice to see y'all.
I'm listening to Dave Gorman on BBC6 and drinking London Pride, if you must know.

Busman's Holiday

2006-02-04T22:13:00.000Z

This is going to be briefer than I intended, because it's 10pm, I have a horrible cold and headache, and I have to drive a seven ton lorry full of gear to Leeds tomorrow.
At least I shall have Mr Pin-Up for company.

This blog will be falling silent for a week or so, as I, and a group of other intrepid wanderers/masochistic fools, venture north for this year's British Dance Edition.

If you are in the vicinity of Leeds next week, and fancy some contemporary dance (and hey, who doesn't?), come over and say hello.
I'll be the bloke with no hair, a beard, and a pair of shorts on.
One of them, anyway.

I'll be back home on Sunday 12th February.
I'm sure you will manage without me.
Try and keep yourselves busy, eh?

Right, I'm off.

Thanks, Jane

2006-02-03T00:43:00.000Z

I asked Jane the wrong question, and this happened....
Not normally my thing, but seems churlish not to.

4 Jobs I've Had

1. Petrol pump attendant. Yes, kids, once upon a time someone put the petrol in for you.
2. Watermelon thrower. Don't ask.
3. Hospital cleaner. Cleanest hospital in the country, I'll have you know. And no-one else would work on the psych ward, either.
4. Something vague in the performing arts.

4 Movies I can watch over and over

1.Blazing Saddles. Still the funniest film ever.
2. Fight Club. Though I laughed so much when I saw this in the cinema, that the couple near me moved. Not sure why.
3. The Sound of Music. I watched it religiously (ho ho) as a child. So much so that I was told off by my mum for running home from a friend's house when I realised I was missing it. I was probably 7 or 8.
4. Lawrence of Arabia. This was Cinema Paradiso, but then I started getting confused....

4 Places I've Lived

1. Gloucestershire. It's still my home in my heart. I miss it like an old lover.
2. Melbourne. On the morning I left there were 19 people staying in our house, most of them indefinitely.
3. Nottingham. What a great city, full of great stuff and great people. And the Stereo MCs.
4. Plaistow, East London. That's pronounced Plarst-oh. I know, I know...

4 Places I've Visited

1. Kununurra, north-west Australia. See the watermelon throwing above.
2. Tanzania. One day, while everyone else went into the operating theatre to watch my grandfather do a skin-graft, I went off with my great-aunt. Having been in the hospital, I forgot to put my shoes back on, and was therefore very grateful when she stamped on a scorpion as it ran towards me.
3. Los Angeles. If there is a stranger place, I have yet to visit it.
4. Bucharest. The first person I met on leaving the Hilton Hotel - all marble floors and what-have-you - was a young boy on a skateboard. I say on a skateboard. He was using it as an alternative to his legs. Which were missing.

4 Of My Favorite Dishes Only four? Sigh.

1. Fresh pasta. With pretty much anything. As Jane says, in Tuscany. A foodie's holiday heaven.
2. Tiramisu.
3. Rabanada. Reminds me of being a kid.
4. Baked beans on cheese on toast. I'm not a gourmet, but I know what I like.

4 Non-Blogger Sites I visit daily I don't turn on the computer daily. But most likely are:

1. Hotmail. Obviously.
2. My bank. Just so I know...
3. The BBC
4. Any site relating to my studies. Exciting, eh?

4 Places I'd Like to Visit

1. India. Again. But do it properly.
2. The Lake District.
3. The Scottish Highlands.
4. Any desert or wilderness.

4 People I'm Tagging for this Meme

1. Mike Carter, because this is all his fault.
2. My sister Sophie, who is great, and deserves a mention.
3. Ian Moorhead. Where are you, feller?
4. Bon Scott, because I really wish he wasn't dead.

Hit The North

2006-02-02T23:52:00.000Z

I've started listening to Mark Radcliffe in the evenings again.

Suddenly, it's 1993.

Chinwear

2006-02-01T19:34:00.000Z

I have been spending far too much time following the gibberings of, and trying to engage, with some of the other people you can find around the blogging community.

Racists.
Bigots.
Conspiracy theorists.

The kind of people who argue that black is white, even when presented with evidence to the contrary, and then respond smugly that you or I am lacking in understanding, or part of some political conspiracy, or changing the subject. Or they just become incomprehensible, presumably pursuing a conversation with the voices in their heads......

It's exhausting and it's pointless.
As I said in my last post -
If someone ran at you in the street, naked apart from tin-foil pants, and started shouting in your face about the moon being made of cheese, would you debate with them?
Or call an ambulance?

So why try and converse with them on the internet?
(I am loathe to use the word 'debate' in this context. It's not what happens.)

Therefore, in an attempt to redress the balance, here are some more beards.

Smile In The Face Of Fear

2006-01-29T23:20:00.000Z

Serious post today everybody.
Come back later if you are looking for beards.

This thread, and the fact that this political organisation delivered a leaflet to my son's house, have prompted this post.

I endorse the BNP's right to exist.
I endorse their right to hold the views that they do.

I also endorse my right to consider them a group of misguided, racist conspiracy theorists with a liar for a leader, and I endorse my right to state that in a public forum.

Nick Griffin is a liar and a revisionist.

His claims about Stephen Lawrence are based in fantasy, and are an attempt to imply that the Macpherson Report is flawed in intent and outcome.

I have no interest in sanctifying Stephen Lawrence, or claiming that he was anything other than an ordinary London teenager.

Nick Griffin, however, has been travelling the country, disseminating lies about a family's personal tragedy in an attempt to stir up ill-feeling against the black British community, and to reinforce the idea that our police force is under attack from political correctness.
His comments are half-baked conspiracy theories dreamt up in pubs, at best.
At worst, they are fuel for racist xenophobes in a climate of political fear, and relentless spin.

To take Griffin and his chums seriously does them a disservice.
If someone ran at you in the street, naked apart from tin-foil pants, and started shouting in your face about the moon being made of cheese, would you debate with them?
Or call an ambulance?
But to dismiss them as lunatics, and to try and ignore them, will merely serve to strengthen them.
These views, and these liars who propound them, will not disappear if we look the other way.

Hold their darkness up to the light.
Ridicule it.
Let them know they have no future.
And that they have no claim on our past, either.

Google Madness!

2006-01-28T01:02:00.001Z

Much like Frank, I find this an odd way to have one's blog discovered.

Here Hair Here

2006-01-27T22:21:00.000Z

Never blog when inebriated.
Tch.
No dinner, 3 pints of Summer Lightning, and - foof! - I'm a goner.

Though one of the benefits of working here yesterday, was that I avoided lighting him.
Thank goodness.

Onwards....

I am sporting a beard at the moment.
Since I do not have a digital camera, I cannot sadly make you aware of its full glory.

Today one of my fellow students (who shall remain nameless - thanks, Lizz) said, "Why? WHY? It makes you look older than God."
That was so brilliant I had to follow it up.

I love beards.
I think they are they absolute zenith of maturity and masculinity.
I guess growing up with a bearded dad has something to do with it.

So let's just take a moment to appreciate some fine beards:

the Slayer

the Catweazle

and because it's only right, the ZZTop

It's too late to pursue more.
Any suggestions?
The King Charles, perhaps?

Splendid Inventions

2006-01-27T01:07:00.000Z

Beer shoes.

What a great idea.

In fact, all sorts of things made out of beer.

I'd opt for beer cake.
Then I could die happy.

Yes, I am pissed.
Though I generally prefer the term 'refreshed'.

Been working here today.
Always a pleasure.

I hope you are all having a lovely day.
Bonzer.

Buggeration

2006-01-24T21:05:00.000Z

Well, here I am, having just fallen asleep with my son, who has developed a horrible cold.
Again.

I hate doing that - giving the wee feller a bedtime cuddle, and waking up thirty minutes to an hour later, groggy as hell.
Doubt it helps him much, either.

I love this thing about kids and illness.
The wee feller threw off a cold thing he had for months a few weeks ago, and here we are back in runny nose/disturbed sleep territory.
Poor little sod.

On the upside, he has been expressing his satisfaction with the word 'bugger' today.

"Oh bugger, we can't get in there."
"Oh bugger, it's broken"
"Oh bugger's sake!"
"Bugger bugger bugger."

Don't know where he gets it from, I really don't.

He and I went and drooled over motorbikes this afternoon, but I discovered he only really likes them at a conceptual level.
As soon as the bloke fired up a classic Kawasaki 650 so that we might be soothed by its gentle hum, Sammers spooned out, desperate for me not to get on it and ride off.
Despite all my protestations, he was unsatisfied that I wasn't going to abandon him.
So we went home and watched Wallace and Gromit to cheer ourselves up.

The tax (for those of you who need an update) has been started, and is in the process of.
The desk is clear of all surplus rubbish, of which there is plentissimo, trust me.

The new college term starts on Friday with our first module on Working with Children and Families, so lots of unpleasant subjects to come.
Hooray.
At least I've started reading stuff, which makes a change.

Disappointment this week comes in the form of not being able to attend Mr Bob Mould's current solo acoustic tour.
I know I come across as a bit of a groupie, but hey, that's because I am.
If you are nearby on any of these dates, check him out.

And now, I shall pretend to go and do some work.
Laters.

This one brung yer by Powderfinger's faultless 'Internationalist'.

Bloody Mondays

2006-01-24T00:07:00.000Z

Two things:

1) Stop going on about my bloody tax and essays and stuff, OK? Just because I whinge about my own inability to do things in a public forum doesn't mean any of you bastards can join in the fun. That's my job. Talk about your own failures on your own blogs. These are mine.

2) Never mention to me what a massive lightweight I am. First evening out for months, with my new compadres, him and him, and I had to write Sunday off completely.
Arse.
Have defective drinking gene.
Either that or it was 5(I think...) bad pints, 2 bad whiskies, 2 bad glasses of wine, and half a bad bottle of London Pride.

Oh, and thanks to Shades of Grey for the link in the title bar. It is, as ever, genius. Nice to make your acquaintance, neighbour.

A Rest Cure

2006-01-21T15:24:00.000Z

Oh, it was nice to get out of the house last night - and for work, no less.

I don't work as much as I would like (though I have a very exciting week coming up at the beginning of February), and often the work I do these days isn't very physical.
I have to admit that I really REALLY enjoyed the get-out I did last night.

That's right.
A get-out.
Four hours of pulling out a show and reinstating a bunch of lighting stuff.
It was like a trip to a health farm.

I fair skipped up that ladder, flew in a bunch of bars, hefted a load of weights, re-plugged the hard patch and the booms, and did some tidying.
Great!

Pathetic, isn't it......?

Admittedly, even though I created that very patch several years ago, I couldn't make head nor tail of it.
And I was a bit rusty operating the desk.

It was lovely to see the Peanut and Faymondo and Rachel, and all those others, too.
And let's face it - I wasn't really going all the way into London for the money, was I?

My social life consists of going to work.
Dear God.

I need to work more....
Any offers?

Render Unto Caesar

2006-01-19T13:43:00.000Z

Bloody tax.
Bloody motherfucking tax.

I am sitting here, looking at a plastic crate, filled to the brim with the last five or six years of tax detritus.
It's as bad as being a student.

Miss one deadline, get another.
Stare out of window for three months.
Panic.
Pretend there is nothing to panic about.
Watch endless fascinating television that is for some reason unforgivably dull for eleven months of the year.
Read own blog.
Read other blogs.
Tidy room, but not enough to have actually finished tidying the room.
Tidy someone else's room. Again, not enough.
Become frustrated with general untidiness.
Go for walk.
Read rubbish novels that under any other circumstances would remain at the bottom of a pile.
Go to the shops and buy things that I don't need and can't afford.
Worry about buying a new computer.
Sit in front of old computer, reading important stuff like fansites for obscure indie bands which have not been updated for four years.
Read other blogs.
Comment on other blogs.
Sit in front of computer and wait for other people to respond to comments on other blogs.
Comment on other blogs.

I need to do my tax, or my brain will die.

Hope You Like My New Direction

2006-01-17T23:41:00.000Z

I love being a dad.

Reading together - part one :

'OK, so if I'm this character, what does that make me?'

'The daddy.'

'OK, great, so what does that make you?'

'Happy'.

(Correct answer obviously being 'the son')

Reading together - part two:

'Who's that?'

'Peter's friend.'

'What's his name?'

'Well, I'm not sure. If his name is Peter, what do you think his friend should be called?'

'Daddy.'

I love my son from the bottom of my heart.

Even if I was a bit mean to him because he didn't want to sit through the puppet show today.

He still tries harder than anyone else in his swimming class.
Not to please me.
Not to please his teacher.
But because he wants to be able to swim.
I have never seen such focus in him. I knew that stubbornness would pay dividends.
Top feller.

Watched Poliakoff's "Friends and Crocodiles" tonight.
Still not sure what to make of it.
I miss this kind of writing for TV, though.
Potter, Bleasdale, Rosenthal.
People who saw TV as a bigger medium, and were not interested in patronising their audience.
Where are their kind now?
I am enjoying "Life on Mars", but come on, it's hardly art, is it?

Let's face it - I have nowt to say today.
What a relief.
I'm only blogging because now I have a deadline for my tax.

Bugger.....

Phew....

2006-01-13T19:54:00.000Z

Never, ever mention this essay to me again.

Ever.

Even after the sun has expanded, roasted the earth, and then shrunk back into a tiny shrivelled husk.
Not even then.

Here it is:

"Illustrate your understanding of the impact of poverty and social exclusion on selected groups within a local, national and international context and explore the key aspects of inclusive social work."

Easy, isn't it?

And yet somehow I ended up writing nearly four thousand words of grammatically pleasant drivel.
I made myself ill, and the lives of all around me a misery.
I even got a seven day extension, and still found myself blocked until about an hour before the deadline.

Anyway, it's over now and I can get on with real life.

Just wanted to welcome Lindsay to my sphere of blogging.
While so much discussion of wars, religions, politics and other huge national and international issues dominates many blogs I read, it's nice to read about someone's personal life and feel moved.

It's a brave blog you have there, Lindsay.
Keep it up.
And you lot - go over and say hi.

This post brought to you by a bottle of Brazilian Brahma lager, a glass of Australian Chardonnay, and The Festival in the Desert.

Our Country's Good

2006-01-12T21:58:00.000Z

In the process of avoiding the writing of this filthy essay monster, I was led here by Rachel From North London.

Make sure you read the whole thing.
The transcript of the phone conversation is simultaneously depressing and hilarious.

Unlike this.
Which is just depressing.
In fact, do not follow this link unless you are feeling really positive.
Trust me.

How True. Now Write Your Damn Essay.

2006-01-12T19:52:00.000Z

Your Blogging Type is Kind and Harmonious

You're an approachable blogger who tends to have many online friends.
People new to your blogging circle know they can count on you for support.
You tend to mediate fighting and drama. You set a cooperative tone.
You have a great eye for design - and your blog tends to be the best looking on the block!

What's Your Blogging Personality?

Grrr, Aaarghhh, Nk, Nk

2006-01-12T17:58:00.000Z

Either this essay will kill me, or I will kill it, and dance naked on its lifeless corpse, shrieking like a banshee, my woad-streaked nakedness glistening in the moonlight.

It's an essay, damn it.
How is it doing this to me?

I have had a week's extension, and it is still here, half written, leering at me like some malicious goblin thing.

It doesn't even appear to be in English.

I hate being a student.
It's a bunch of bum.

I'm going to kill Jamie and go to Spain in his place.

Robbing Hoods

2006-01-10T22:51:00.000Z

Would you give bows and arrows to a group of teenage lads with ADHD and anger management issues, who have been convicted of a range of offences?
And then stick them outside in the freezing rain?

Course you wouldn't.

I thought it was one of the best sessions I've been involved in.
Real group engagement, and good fun.

(Apologies for the appalling pun, by the way.)

Spring Cleaning

2006-01-08T18:27:00.000Z

Hello there.

You may have noticed a few changes round here.

This is clearly because I have an assignment to complete, so I thought now would be a good opportunity to make some pointless time-consuming alterations to my blog.
Obviously.

A few things:

I am creating a links list to bands, musicians, and sites of musical interest.
See down there on the right - no, further down - bit further - there you go, that's it.
Essentially this is because it takes too damn long to embed them in the text.
Hey, I have things to do.
Wish I could remember what they were, though....

You will notice that The Fat Tulips have two links - one under friends, and one under music.
That's because they were a friend's band.
Makes perfect sense to me.

The tiny St George's flag will lead you to the British Blog Directory - yay! more blogs to read (that assignment is doomed...)

And I am proud to say that this blog has spawned another one, which has spawned another one in turn.
Single cell replication in full effect.
Nature in all its amoebic glory.

This very important administrative post brought to you by New Model Army's 'Carnival', a mug of Earl Grey, and a slice of my mum's excellent Christmas cake.

(Actually, this blog has inspired another two blogs on that list, but that would have ruined my little metaphor, so I'll keep quiet about them.
Oh.
Damn.)

Fresh Blood

2006-01-07T20:10:00.000Z

Well, it was inevitable, but it's sad to see Charles Kennedy go.
He's a good man, and has done good things as leader of his party.
I hope things improve for him, and I am sorry that his tenure has ended as it has.

And whither the Lib Dems now?

The Spirit of Christmas

2006-01-07T15:26:00.000Z

Come on then.
Not been much mention of this that I can see.

Best presents you received over Christmas?

I can't decide between the Doctor Who-style scarf my sister bought me and which I seem to have on all the time (as I write this, in fact); the John Peel autobiography, 'Margrave of the Marshes', which I imagine most people got; or the expanded deluxe edition of The Fall's 'Hex Enduction Hour', which is great, and merely adds to my already unbelievably hip aura.

Let's hear yours.

(This post courtesy of Dvorak's String Quartet in F major No 12, and String Quintet in E flat major; and Spiritualized's 'Let It Come Down'.)

Big Hug

2006-01-02T23:25:00.000Z

New Year, then.

Same stuff though.

I was going to wax lyrical about System Of A Down's two excellent albums from 2005 - 'Mezmerize' and 'Hypnotize' - which were my albums of the year by absolutely miles, and are on a loop in the car.
I was going to mention Bloc Party, Doves and Depeche Mode in the runners-up category.

I was going to witter on about Simon Sebag Montefiore's book "Stalin: The Court of The Red Tsar" which accompanied me throughout last year, and has informed me and horrified me in equal measure.

I was going to jump on the bandwagon and rave about 'Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit', which Sam and I went to see twice in one week because it was just so damned good.

But there are always plenty of lists at the end of the year, and I didn't have the energy.
I also didn't have the energy for lots of woohoos and yeehas for the forthcoming year.
It is what it is and it will be what it will be.

I wanted to reflect on where I've been and what I've done and who I am.

And I wanted to say a big thank you to everyone I consider a friend, old and new.
Some will know, some won't.
Some may consider me a friend too, some may not.

I just needed and wanted to express my love and admiration for all those people who have stood by me, put up with me, listened to me, cared for me, funded me, challenged me, refused to judge me, and generally shown me their love.
I am proud to say I know a lot of people with great integrity and depth of character.
I may not speak to them often.
I may see them even less.
But I love every one of them - you - from the bottom of my heart.
Thank you.

Chin up.

Ever Get The Feeling You've Been Cheated?

2006-01-02T21:11:00.000Z

This is brilliant.

Thanks to 2/4 Flinchin' (or the continuing adventures of Jim Rose and friends...)

Is It That Time Again?

2005-12-22T23:42:00.000Z

All you people with jobs will be finishing for Christmas tomorrow (if you haven't already).

I hope you have a happy time with people you love and who love you, and that you feel refreshed, spiritually, mentally and physically.

And if you find that there isn't quite enough to go round, I think you'll discover that I ate more than my fair share.

Merry Christmas.

Unbelievable

2005-12-22T01:18:00.000Z

As I put the finishing touch to today's post, a final witty/interesting/time-wasting link in the title bar, the power lead fell out of the back of my Mac.

What are the chances of that happening?

And I hadn't said anything rude about anyone.....

Mortality

2005-12-15T21:25:00.000Z

What a sad week.

Another man executed.

Richard Pryor gone.

One of my many bosses buried today. She died of cancer, in her 40s.
A wonderful, warm, strong woman respected by many, if not all, who came into contact with her.
She also gave me some real help and advice with both my work and my studies.
She leaves behind a 15 year old daughter.

And finally, news breaks that aspartame is probably bad for you.
As if we didn't know.

However, on the plus side, Samuel is obsessed with 'Peter and The Wolf'.
Nice.

Chin up.

The County That Taste Forgot

2005-12-08T00:36:00.000Z

Further to my pre-Christmas rant, I have discovered this website.

According to my source, the large majority seem to be in Essex.

If it's not shiny, or not fast, no-one round here seems to be interested....

The Terminator

2005-12-04T18:32:00.000Z

I never thought I would ever e-mail Arnold Schwarzenegger, nor get a reply from him (ok, his 'people'), but I did.
Here is their response.
I am sure you will get it too if you email him.

"Thank you for your correspondence regarding Stanley Williams.

There is a court order currently in place that calls for Mr. Williams to be executed by the State of California on December 13, 2005, and Mr. Williams has, through his attorneys, expressed his desire for the Governor to grant him clemency in this matter.

Capital punishment is an issue about which many people hold strong and impassioned views, and Governor Schwarzenegger appreciates you taking the time to express yours with regard to Mr. Williams. Your correspondence will be given due consideration during the clemency process.

Thank you again for writing.

Sincerely,

ANDREA LYNN HOCH
Legal Affairs Secretary"

Something Important

2005-12-02T13:12:00.000Z

Please watch Newsnight tonight at 10.30pm on BBCTwo, and see this story.

If you feel the need to respond, send a POLITE message here.

A Bunch Of Stuff

2005-12-02T11:04:00.000Z

As ever, I have missed World AIDS Day.
Sorry, everybody.
Someone important to me died of AIDS in 1994, so I always feel a bit 'grrr' when I realise what day it is.

This is one of Sam's favourite songs.
He knows all the words, and can sing it in tune.
He will be four years old on Boxing Day.
Good lad.

Should have done this before, but I am doing it now.
My cousin Josh is performing in a show which I have yet to see, but I will big up anyway, because he is my cousin.
So there.
Go and see it if it comes to your town please.

I have been doing aikido for a little while now.
I'm still a beginner, but I am getting a lot out of it.
An old friend of mine with one of the best names in the world suggested I should many years ago, and she was right.
I recommend it heartily.

And tomorrow I am doing something I have wanted to do for years - my compulsory bike training.
That's motorbike training.
I can't wait.
Now all I need is a huge handlebar moustache, a flying helmet, and an old BSA.

How sexy is that....?
As my friend Ian would say, that's CORRECT.

This post given some much needed impetus by QOTSA, Clutch, Anthrax, Nine Inch Nails, Audioslave, The Charlatans, System of a Down, Robert Plant, NoFX, The Magic Numbers, Randy Newman, and My Chemical Romance.
One day I will learn how to post music on this blog.
Be afraid....
Or excited.
Hey, it's your choice.

Edited!!

2005-11-30T19:56:00.000Z

....I had to edit this post because I was in danger of disappearing up my own arse.......

Look at the pretty pictures instead.

Chin chin.

Bah. Humbug.

2005-11-28T23:21:00.000Z

This may make me sound like a miserable shit, but I hate Christmas.

OK, as I have said before I don't do hate.
And actually, I rather enjoy the festive season, though I rarely make a big deal out of it.

No, what really exercises me is how much I loathe OTHER PEOPLE'S Christmasses.
And how early they start the whole tawdry exercise.

Last year the lady (I use the term advisedly) who lives opposite questioned Emma on why we hadn't put up any decorations yet, sometime in early December.
I believe Em pointed out to her that it wasn't actually Christmas yet.
I did notice that her decorations were down come Boxing Day...

Two people on our street have put up their decorations already.
IT'S NOVEMBER, YOU TWATS.
(No wonder it's called a cul-de-sac...)

What IS Christmas about for these people?

What could drain the festive spirit from any joyful soul more than:

1) The neighbours putting up their white plastic Christmas tree, and external glow-in-the-dark Santa in November.

2) The local Tesco opening their Christmas displays etc in early November, as a 'test-centre' for other branches.

3) Christmas songs.

4) Christmas parties.

5) Small children incessantly obsessing about what they will be getting. You'll get what you're given, and you'll fucking well like it.

6) Sales.

7) Offers.

8) The thought of everyone lying about shoving bucketloads of fat and alcohol down their necks, while watching toss on the TV, and thrusting ever larger and more expensive items of pointless consumerist tat at each other, as an alternative to actually engaging with one another.

9) "Post-Christmas blues". Piss off. If you really enjoyed it, why get down about it afterwards? How many parties do you go to that you get down about afterwards because they're over? It's momentary. Enjoy the fucking moment, you fat-necked vultures.

10) 'It's just for the kids really'. PISS OFF!!!!!! Why inflict something you don't enjoy on children? That's abuse, isn't it?

11) The fact that for many (most?) people it appears to be about spending money. On fuck all. And telling anyone who might raise questions about the purpose of it all that they are miserable Scrooges.

Look at me.
Look at what these pinch-nosed whey-faced joyless pricks have done to me.
It's not even December.
The advent calendar is still gathering dust.
And already I am having my Christmas ruined by OTHER PEOPLE.
If only they knew.
If only I could let my pre-Christmas spirit crack for just one moment......

This post brought to you by 'Babylon's Burning' by The Ruts.
On repeat.

When Is A Door Not A Door?

2005-11-25T22:03:00.000Z

I had a breakthrough last night.

I was in an anxious state, alone.
A risky state to be in, I'm sure you would agree.

I could feel the usual ball of tension writhing in the pit of my stomach, spreading out towards my shoulders.

Normally I would just react, act out.
I'd try fighting at an intellectual level (maybe), but inevitably allow myself to make myself "feel better".
I would enter the trance and detach.

But I had spent a few days engaged and conscious, and I had read some interesting stuff about relaxing into the tension.
Not fighting, not disengaging - allowing myself to be in it, but not act out.
Not do anything.

Just relax, observe, be.

I turned the TV on and watched Carol Thatcher eat bush tucker (never thought a Thatcher would impress me, but...).

I lay there on the sofa and felt the snake curling, twisting, roiling in my gut.
I didn't think it through, or analyse it.
I didn't try and justify it.
I didn't fight it.
I just let it be.

And as I lay there, I began to feel comfortable in its presence.
I allowed it to coil through me, to hug me, and wrap me in itself.
Eventually, it began to dissipate.

I didn't let it control me.

My addiction has been in its current form for about 16 years.
It started to grow in 1998, and has been at its most extreme and debilitating for the last 4 years.

In all that time, I have never NEVER had the experience that I had last night.

I didn't act out.
I didn't do anything I would regret.

I felt GREAT.

It was a little victory.
I'm not over it.
I may relapse.

But last night something opened up between me and my sickness.
A gap, a door.

And next time, I will remember that.

Hate

2005-11-23T20:35:00.000Z

In response to a post on Joblog, quoting this article, and to my own post of 10th November:

I hate bigots.
I hate racists, misogynists and homophobes.
I hate people who cannot empathise with a fellow human being with a different experience from their own.
Especially people who like to use other people's views to justify their own poisonous attitudes, like religious fundamentalists of any order.

OK, hate is probably too strong a word.
I am not big on hate.

I have an intense dislike for such people.

What is wrong with homophobes?
Haven't they got enough going on in their own lives that they need to persecute other people?

Let's have a quick look at the Oxford English Dictionary's definition of homophobia - 'an extreme and irrational aversion to homosexuality and homosexuals'.

Quick recap - IRRATIONAL.
That's what a phobia is. I think we can all agree on that. An irrational fear.
What does irrational mean?
THERE IS NO REASON TO BE AFRAID.

What is it that supposedly heterosexual people are afraid of in homosexuality?
I am comfortably heterosexual, and have no fear of, or aversion to, homosexuals and homosexuality.
Why would I?
I'M STRAIGHT.
I have even done a modicum of experimentation (and no, I am neither ashamed nor embarrassed) and what did I find out after that?
I'M STRAIGHT.

Homophobes seem to either be afraid of being forced into a sexual act with a person of the same gender, or are concerned that homosexuality is a perversion against God.

Let's address both of those.

The former is a fear of rape, not homosexuality, and as such is perfectly appropriate to be concerned about.
However, male rape is often perpetrated by straight men on other straight men as an expression of power over that person.
Like most rape.
To my knowledge, if homosexuals wish to have sex with another person they generally find a partner who wishes to have sex with them.
Like most people.

Unless, of course, homophobes assume that people are generally only interested in forced non-consensual sex, in which case I doubt their moral position anyway.

So that leaves us with perversions against God.
Sigh.
Homosexuals are born homosexual, not taught to be homosexual.
God created all human beings, yes?
So God created them homosexual, yes?
Do I have to spell it out?
Now PISS OFF.

I know that I am preaching to the converted here, but this subject makes me really REALLY ANGRY.

I object to people I know and care about being persecuted, tormented, bullied, ostracised and excluded because of who they are, and because the world is run by small-minded cowards.

I must assume that homophobes are people with a type of sexuality that they are uncomfortable with, which they feel the need to hide from, and this makes them both fearful of and aggressive towards people of "different" sexualities.
Hiding in plain sight....

If I am correct, we are living in a pretty gay world.
It's the heteros who are the deviant minority.....

The Real World

2005-11-22T22:56:00.000Z

Myself and the wee feller went here today.
We had a brilliant time.

A short train journey down an Essex branch line and we alighted at a real station that also happened to be a railway museum.
And there was no-one else there.
Lovely weather and our own rail playground.
Ace.

We ended up having tea and biscuits in an old coach in a huge shed with no-one else around, grinning like pair of idiots.

The only downside was the fact that the ticket office was also a shrine to Britt Allcroft's Thomas the Tank Engine, so we spent much of our time in the museum discussing at what point we would be returning to the shop to buy a toy.

Sometimes the modern world really pisses me off.
Most of the time, in fact.
Never mind - it can't crush my enjoyment of our trip.

And in case you were worried, Sam chose a small die-cast Toby the Tram Engine, which Father Christmas will be delivering in a stocking in the near future.
Hope that has set your minds at rest.

Musings

2005-11-21T23:30:00.000Z

Breathe in, breathe out.

Life goes on. Fogs come and go. The frost settles, and begins to melt as the sun stretches out across the nation.

One of the things I find fascinating about addiction (or my addiction, if you prefer) is how much self-denial is involved.

Even as I say 'No, not doing that. Nope. Going to do something else. It makes me feel bad. It hurts others. It is unhealthy and unhelpful. I hate it', I do it.

I can act out while telling myself I am not going to.

It has made me understand addiction in others much more, and why addicts congregate in anonymous groups.

It's easy for our friends and families to sympathise, and support us, but as we lapse, the response tends to be 'Oh. I thought you wanted to stop. I thought you wanted to change. Why are you still doing it?'

Only other addicts seem to understand the compulsion, the magnetic pull in the face of our higher instincts. Only another person fighting that same battle seems to be able to fully empathise with the cycle of desire and revulsion.

The danger of this is that in a group of fellow addicts, we can find endorsement, if we are looking for it.
Having said that, the sympathy and confusion we get from non-addicts can solidify an addict's self-doubt and negative attitude.
'They can't understand why I've failed, why I've relapsed. Neither can I. What a terrible person I am. Hmm, maybe acting out will make me feel better....

Constant vigilance is required, but boy, it's hard work.

Today has been a clean and conscious day.

'Allow a small victory', my friend said. 'Be inside the feeling, but do not succumb to it. How does it make you feel? Enjoy the victory of not giving in. Do not look forward to the next achievement. Be present in it, rather than looking to the future. Because the future is now.'

It might sound like nonsense to you, but it makes a lot of sense to me.

This brought to you by System of a Down and Bob.
I should really get some more Big Black on here.....

I Don't Get It

2005-11-10T13:47:00.000Z

Please tell me that this is a joke.

I suspect not.....

Another Country

2005-11-08T22:46:00.000Z

Aha. I remembered what it was.

Television has been rather fun this week.
I wouldn't normally say that, as I don't watch TV much. Mainly because most of it is a load of vacuous arse.
However, when I do watch, I tend to enjoy it (otherwise what is the point?).
And, as I say, this week has been rather fun.

Three people I knew at college have been appearing in lead roles in high-profile dramas.
I like that.

Ray Stevenson is one of the leads in the new "blockbuster" series 'Rome'.
Victoria Smurfit was in 'Trial and Retribution' last night.
And many of you will recognise Rupert Penry-Jones as that bloke in 'Spooks'.

Now, I am not going to pretend that I have their mobile numbers. To be honest, I haven't kept in touch with anyone really from college, bar the odd email here and there.
But they were certainly people I knew, not just distant faces. And I get a real vicarious pleasure from seeing their success.

I'm a massive name-dropper, basically.

Rupert passed out in the back of my friend Richard's Metro on an airfield in Gloucestershire late one night.
Vicky had a thing with one of my housemates.
And Ray? Well, Ray was just a decent bloke, pleased as punch to be training as an actor. I liked Ray a lot, and I am pleased to see that he has had a modicum of success.
Though he didn't go out with Kylie....

As I recall, there was some other feller there called Aled Jones, but he never really made a mark.
Wonder what happened to him?

Nothing Important

2005-10-28T14:33:00.000+01:00

Pleased to see the boy Forbes throwing some shapes on the internet. Not only running his own business, but posting some of his excellent photographs.
Don't waste time. Check them out.

Also found a new blog dedicated to David Hasselhoff.
And that must be a good thing.

Further news on that New Model Army album.
It's excellent. The best thing they've done in years.
What a relief.

Off to sunny Lewisham tonight to drink beer with Mike, which I am looking forward to thoroughly.
Hope the plastic sheets are down in your place, mate.

I'm sure there was something else, but can't for the life of me remember what it was.
Can't have been that important then, eh?

Caption Competition

2005-10-26T12:07:00.000+01:00

I thought I'd go for:

"Come here, boy. Let me reprimand you."

One Louder

2005-10-25T21:45:00.000+01:00

Bloody hell, this blog needs cheering up.
Any more of this and I'll be tempted to disembowel myself with a spoon.

Been enjoying a host of music recently:

Doves released a new album a few months ago called 'Some Cities', and I picked up it and its predecessor 'The Last Broadcast' recently. I really dig Doves. They produce what I like to call 'epic pop' - big songs about big things with big sounds - like bands like Elbow and The Verve. 'The Last Broadcast' is a fine album (featuring 'Pounding' and 'There Goes The Fear'), but 'Some Cities' is bloody ace. Great songs; massive sounds; bits of gospel, northern soul, prog rock; emotion; social vision; melancholy; fantastic playing and singing. I heartily recommend it.

Speaking of Elbow, I recently copied (ahem) their first two albums 'Asleep in the Back' and 'Cast of Thousands' (thanks Terry). They have a new one out - 'Leaders of the Free World'. I haven't spent much time with these albums yet, but I like them too. One of the things I like about Elbow is that they are not in the slightest bit bothered by the vagaries of fashion. They clearly just make music to please themselves. Which thankfully results in some pretty excellent music. And a girl I worked with briefly went out with their guitarist. Tenuous, I know, but I'll take what I can get.

Depeche Mode have got a new album out - 'Playing The Angel' - which is the best thing that they have done in YEARS. It's utterly thrilling. Great songs and great analogue synth sounds. Reminiscent of Node's excellent CD from 1995, and also kicks off with what sounds like Graham Coxon's 'moose' guitar. Dave Gahan and Martin Gore are in fine voice and Dave has written three songs. It's all fantastically miserable, of course, but if misery sounds this good, let the weeping commence.

Oddly enough, DM's album is produced by Ben Hillier, who also produced Doves' 'Some Cities' and Elbow's 'Cast of Thousands'. He also worked on Blur's 'Think Tank' album. And some other Blur and Graham Coxon stuff. Hmm, keep an eye on this boy. His stuff sounds bloody great.

What else have we got?

Oh yes, 'Carnival', the latest from New Model Army.
I'm a die-hard NMA fan. They have been with me for about 20 years, and they speak to me in a way that many bands could never do.
I am not totally partisan. Some of their stuff has been weaker than others, let's say. NMA are an acquired taste, I suppose, but I love them, and I am not ashamed.
I have the suspicion that this one is a grower. I've played it a few times (home, car, discman) and at first I was a bit disappointed. No huge choruses or anthemic pop songs. The guitars seemed overly restrained when they should have been roaring. But I am beginning to see other things here.
Justin's lyrics read like essays, and the songs are densely structured. Nothing pithy.
This is an album that needs working at.
The vision seems broader somehow, with subjects covering Africa and flows of population.
There is a wonderfully moving song for Rob Heaton, their late drummer; and interestingly, his replacement, Michael Dean, has finally made himself at home, co-writing most of the songs and driving the album along. It's a drummer's album in every sense.
I am going to have to spend some quality time with this one, but I think it will be worth it.

Having watched Martin Scorsese's 'No Direction Home', I finally got switched on to Bob Dylan. I never really got him before.
That nasal incoherence, delivering too many words.
That squawking harmonica.
Yuk.
Even having seen him performing with Patti Smith in Darwin, I was a bit "Yes? And?".
But now, I get it.
Great songs.
Star quality.
Changing the face of popular music, and through it, the world as we know it... I see!
Maybe you just need to be in the right mood sometimes.
I picked up 'The Essential Bob Dylan' (Tesco can be great!), and I am slowly working my way through it.
I'm loving every moment. Took a long time but I'm glad I'm here.

And having made an online purchase, I wait with anticipation for Bob Mould's 'Body of Song'.
Ah yes.

Give Me A Place To Stand And I Will Move The Earth

2005-10-25T21:35:00.000+01:00

Sometimes, we need to give a little thought to people who do things that seem small but are actually pretty damn big.

RIP Rosa Parks

Heavy Post

2005-10-20T21:40:00.000+01:00

Hello.

My name is Alistair and I am an addict.

Emotive word, isn't it?
But also the correct one.

One of the main problems with addiction is denial.
Until you can recognise it in yourself, and give it a name, you cannot start to deal with it.
I mean 'I', of course, rather than 'you'.

I know I am an addict, and I know my addiction stretches back a long way.
I have denied it, and still do.

The nature of my addiction is irrelevant.
It twists itself into many forms, and wraps its insidious arms around my heart.

I have sacrificed many friendships, and two relationships to my addiction.
I have destroyed my self-esteem, and confidence; and I have immersed myself in self-loathing.
I have put myself, and others, at risk.
I am totally selfish while in the grip of it.

It has made a liar of me time and time again.
It has affected my work and my studies.
I cannot bear to consider the amount of time and money I have spent pursuing it.

I worry about the sour psychic energy I project around my son, and the impact my behaviour may have on him.

I have heard many addicts say that they do not know the person that they have become as a result of their addiction.
I can say that too.
Sometimes I look in the mirror and do not see myself.
I do not recognise the person there, and I look inside myself and find it hard to see me there, either.
Sometimes I cannot believe that it is really I who has done the things I have...

I feel morally compromised.

I know that I have strengths.
I know that I have allowed the addiction to take control.
I know that I like it, though I don't want to, and that is why I am addicted to it.
I know that it may haunt me for the rest of my life.
I know that the only person who can change things is myself.
I know that I need to lose the sense of guilt and shame that keeps me trapped within the cycle.
I know that I need to learn to love myself again.

I know that you do not need to read this, but I thank you for taking the time to do so.
I hope you do not suffer the same.

Wish me well.

Baby Shower

2005-10-20T20:50:00.000+01:00

Bloody hell, they're all at it.

Congratulations to my good friend Mr Ian Brown and his superior half Kath on yesterday evening's arrival of their second daughter, Charlotte (7lb 9 oz).

Now, which would make a better second name for a girl - Morrissey or Peel?

Happy Birthday

2005-10-17T22:39:00.000+01:00

Happy Birthday to my cousin-in-law, Marlon, who got a rather splendid birthday present a day early (that's yesterday, calendar-fans) in the shape of a daughter (8 pounds 8 ounces), provided by my cousin Mim.

Congratulations all round.

It will be nice to have another littley in the family.

Nonce Sense

2005-10-17T00:45:00.000+01:00

Did anyone notice the other day that one of the rubbishier newspapers featured a picture of Michael Jackson, the so-called 'King of Pop', shopping in Harrods?
Accompanying him were two of his children.

If you look closely, you can see through their net masks that they are both white-skinned and blonde-haired.

Now, I'm no expert, but I would have assumed that despite Michael's 'skin-lightening' disorder, he would still have black racial characteristics at a genetic level.

Which would lead me to assume that, even though the mother of his children was blonde and white, they wouldn't be.

SO WHY DOES NO-ONE IN OUR USELESS MEDIA MENTION THIS?

Effectively, the man has paid to adopt children privately.
Isn't that illegal?
If you were the local fostering and adoption agency, would you consider him to be an appropriate candidate?

Some things really annoy me.

Bollocks

2005-10-09T23:40:00.000+01:00

Well, that went tits up.

If the fuel gauge says it's empty, fill the damn thing up.......

Busy Busy Busy

2005-10-09T17:30:00.000+01:00

It has been a bit hectic recently, as I am sure you can imagine.

The tour with Arc is going OK, though it feels like exploring new territory. The piece was written for professionals working in the criminal justice system, and has transferred directly to schools, where we are playing to 14 year olds. We are still discovering new boundaries and ways of working, since the two audience's perceptions of the piece are considerably different.

The first day I spent with Union the other week was a blast - great people, great show (and that isn't something I often say about contemporary dance).

Last night I was at the Mercury Theatre in Colchester, re-rigging from Pinter's 'Betrayal' into 'The Kingfisher'.

Today I have spent an hour mentoring a young offender on Essex's ISSP programme.
And shortly I need to head to Barking to collect Arc's van for our gigs in Chelmsford tomorrow and Tuesday.

I have also started my college placement with the Brentwood Catholic Children's Society, which I am finding fascinating.

And on top of all that is spending time with Sam, helping my mum clear out her house (as I am now living there), and trying to keep life in order....

Blimey.

Thankfully, I spent last weekend with my lovely friends Ben and Sarah in Cirencester, one of my haunts from my youth. I had a wonderfully mellow time - they are very laidback people. We ate, looked at the house they are buying, watched TV, went to the pub, and went to the flicks where Ben and I enjoyed George Romero's socialist allegory 'Land of The Dead' (ok, it's a zombie film), while Sarah admired Viggo Mortensen's performance in David Cronenberg's 'A History of Violence'.
You know, I still haven't forgiven Sarah for making me sit through 'Blame It On The Bellboy' all those years ago.....
I had a great weekend, and I thank them wholeheartedly for it.

Now, about that van....

(This post brought to you by Martin Grech's excellent 'Open Heart Zoo' album.)

Misrepresentation

2005-10-09T17:17:00.000+01:00

Several people have pointed out how inaccurate my picture (see right) is, since I am clearly not wearing shorts in it, and they have never seen me in a suit.
This is the best I can do at the moment.
Though you can't see them, I am wearing my cycling shorts.
Emma thought I looked stoned.
Can't see it myself.

Have a Break

2005-10-07T23:15:00.000+01:00

Well, here I am, sitting at my mum's house, listening to Elbow and chatting to my sister's ex-boyfriend in Bulgaria, via Skype.

I am trying to create a bit of headspace for myself but I find that I just keep rushing rushing rushing. A kind of default setting, I guess, to use for hiding from things. Actually, I am quite aware that at the moment I need to pull back a little bit and take stock of where I am. Who I am. Who I want to be, and where I want to go.

I have been cruel in my time.
Unpleasant. Selfish. Abusive.
I have hurt myself and others with my actions, and I have allowed my behaviour to run things, rather than my feelings.
I am quite emotionally disconnected.
And I am also wracked with self-loathing.

A lot of the things I have done have just reinforced that view of myself.
That I am a thoroughly unpleasant person, without redeeming features.

It is hard to balance those two sides of myself - the positive "hey, life is great, let's all love one another" side, with the "I hate myself so I might as well hate you too" side.
Fucking exhausting, as well.

I need to let myself breathe.
To look at all this stuff I have, and to put it in some sort of order.
Only then can I start to do something about fixing it.

It's time for a break.

Let's Talk

2005-10-07T22:58:00.000+01:00

Have you guys come across this? Bit more sophisticated than MSN or Yahoo, I reckon.
Especially if you want to actually speak to people and hear their voice.
Can't imagine why, though.
Bah. Humbug.

Normal Service Will Be Resumed As Soon As Possible

2005-10-05T00:35:00.000+01:00

Sorry for the slow nature of my blog at the moment - please bear with me.
I am sure you understand.

In the meantime, please entertain yourselves with this.
Nice to see creative people copying me....

And wasn't that Bob Dylan film excellent?

Wake Up And Smell The Coffee

2005-10-03T01:21:00.000+01:00

Who am I trying to kid?

Splitting up is rubbish, and I am rubbish at it.

The Taxman Cometh

2005-09-27T00:22:00.001+01:00

Oh.

My tax return needs to be in by the end of September.
I need to do the maths anyway to ensure that my college fees are paid this year.

Hang on, September ends on Friday.

Hey - I have part one of this term's assignment to have done by Friday.
Maybe I should look at that too.

I have to leave at six o'clock tomorrow morning for a show at 8.50am in west London.

A show at 8.50am?
That doesn't sound right....

Oh dear.

Tribute

2005-09-22T23:00:00.000+01:00

Do you all know Viz?

Possibly the finest magazine in British publishing history, and certainly, at one point, the best-selling.

There was a fantastic single frame cartoon in there called "Rude Kid".

In one particular issue, Rude Kid's mother politely asks him to tidy his room (or something).

To which his response is to adopt his best angry face, flick her the Vs, and shout "Piss up a rope, fuckstick!"

Genius....

Saying Fuck 2

2005-09-22T22:35:00.000+01:00

Thanks to those who responded, but I think that you slightly missed the point.

Though there is nothing better than a woman using the word "cunt" with venom. Go for it, Zoe...

Try this tomorrow when you stub your toe/break a glass/realise that you haven't made a decent fist of whatever pointless task your boss has demanded you do, and you therefore face the sack, ruin, homelessness:

1) Hammer your tightly clenched fists onto a resonant surface (e.g. your desk, a door, the bonnet of your boss's car as he tries to manoeuvre past you)

2) Roar "Oh, Hanks! Tom ball-snorting Hanks!"

(N.B. Never shriek - expletives should be roared. Like a lion. You know you want to.)

You will find, I hope, that
a) everyone will notice, and
b) that you experience a warm sense of satisfaction that just screaming
"Fuck you, arsebiscuit! Fuck you, your friends, your family, your job, and all the shiting cockwash you stand for! Take your piss-stained job in your dung-laundering office, and ram it as far up your weeping rectum as physics will allow, you stink-licking bumsweat excuse for a man!"
into your boss's face just won't provide you with.

You can tell I'm self-employed, can't you?

Anyway, the point is - be creative with your swearing.
It makes you more interesting, and, dare I say, more desirable.

Further Up and Further In

2005-09-22T21:49:00.000+01:00

Well, it's about time I started to write here again.

As you can imagine, things have been a little topsy-turvy, and I only came properly online again yesterday, so hello.

I am currently staying at my mum's house (thank you, mother), as all single 34-year-olds should; though I have been moving between work and the old place a bit more, so I am rarely here.

Things seem to be working well between E and myself, which is positive. I have been back home (can I call it that?) for dinner and Sam's bedtime most nights.
Sam is clearly experiencing some upheaval, and his emotions are all over the place. Being who he is, and at the age he is at (four on Boxing Day), he can neither express his feelings and his needs fully, nor comprehend exactly what is happening. Also, I have been away a lot with work, so our routine has changed a great deal.
We are trying to be as sensitive and supportive as possible, without letting discipline and all the usual stuff slip. (I say discipline - some would argue we could be tougher!)

Hopefully, he'll weather the storm (which isn't too stormy), and come out the other side ok.

We might be considered unconventional in our split, in that we remain close friends, and a functioning family unit, while all this change is happening.

And I guess that is what this is about - not an ending, but a change. A transfiguration, if you like. This is not about fear and recrimination, or about fighting and dislike. It is about recognising weaknesses, and doing something new and different, in order to create positive situations and feelings.

When you are unhappy, what can you do to make yourself and others happy?
Just because you take a difficult and painful route does not mean you are heading for a painful place.
Life is full of hard choices and difficult decisions.
It's not a walk in the park. It's a challenge.

We are embracing a challenge, and embarking on a new adventure in an atmosphere of love and hope.

Thankfully, there is some money coming in again. Back on the road with Arc's "Stereo" tour, which is always a pleasure.
First gig with Union tomorrow, which I am looking forward to, then the Mercury on Saturday.

It will be nice to be able to pay some bills....

Stay well, and be happy, one and all.

Express Yourself

2005-09-12T19:49:00.000+01:00

Hardly Getting Over It

2005-09-12T08:45:00.000+01:00

And that was that.

Sort of.

On Wednesday night, I moved out of my house, and after 5 and a half years, Emma and I officially separated.

No fuss, no mess.
Just a little incision.
It will leave a scar but I'm sure it won't show.

We are still friends, we both love Sam, and we will still be a family.
Just a different sort of one.

And that's that.

If I Can't Change Your Mind

2005-09-11T08:40:00.000+01:00

It seems unfair really.

Pixies are on a well-deserved, successful reunion tour.

Kurt Cobain is eulogised to the ends of the earth and back.

Steve Albini has a rock adjective 'Albini-esque' and endless kudos following him around.

And Bob Mould?

Bob is in a sweaty subterranean club in central London, seven years after his last visit to Britain with a band, preaching to the converted.

But the joy of it is, I really don't think he cares.
I don't think he would enjoy the rigmarole of success.
Frankly, it destroyed Sugar, his second band, and many of us mourn the loss of them.
So why court it?

Because, bloody hell, the world should have been at the gig at the Mean Fiddler (previously LA2) beneath the Astoria on Tottenham Court Road on Tuesday night.
Watching Bob's face splitting into a massive grin, again and again.
Hearing 'Copper Blue' classics segue neatly into fresh 'Body Of Song' songs.
Shouting along with legendary Husker Du stuff.
Watching Fugazi's Brendan Canty drumming like a man destroying a house, but looking like a maths teacher.
Being deafened by an enormous noise produced by a ferocious band, each song driving straight into the next.

I know it was a good gig, because not long after it began, I started to engage in uncontrollable twitching, head-bobbing, pogoing, screaming and shouting, and general breakdown of physical function; and stayed that way until the final song was complete.

And my god, it was loud.

Every single song sounded like a classic, and band and audience were in a state of total over-excitement.
As the audience started to leave, the buzz was immense.
We could have gone on all night.
If only the band could.

You weren't there.
Sorry.
We were.
It was a classic gig, by anyone's standards.

I have loved Bob and his work for 20 years.
Yes, he is an acquired taste perhaps, but what a fine taste to acquire.

But if I can't change your mind, then no-one will.

(This one for Ali.)

Saying Fuck

2005-09-10T21:19:00.000+01:00

That got your attention, didn't it?

I have been wondering about setting up a forum for creative swearing.

As you all know, Anglo-Saxon is a particularly fertile language for strong expressions. But these days people seem to slip into relatively standard expletives, which I, for one, find slightly dull.

Please don't misunderstand me.

I love swearing.
I fucking love it.
Really.
I think it adds breadth and depth to my rather mediocre statements.

Yes, it is big.
Yes, it is clever.
And no, it is in no way evidence of a limited vocabulary.
Twats.

However, there is room (and indeed a real need) for creativity in this field.
I would like you all to take a few moments to think of something really fruity, and leave it in the comments section of this post.
Please feel free to add to other posters suggestions liberally.

Depending on the response, I may set up an official Swear Club website.
Unless any of you can point me in the direction of an already existing one, that is.

I will be sorely disappointed if I get a feeble response.
Fnarr.

White Rabbit

2005-09-10T21:09:00.000+01:00

That's a reference to being late, which is something of a state of being for me.
Lots of stuff going on, so everything is a little slower than usual on this blog.
That's not a good thing with me.

Anyway, just to tide you over, here is a fine example of a major news network finally reporting the truth.

About bloody time.

Hope I Die Before I Get Old

2005-08-29T00:30:00.000+01:00

I know I have mentioned this before, but I just can't help myself.

Sam got this very generous gift on Saturday from his uncle, and I reckon I am as excited as him.
If not more so.

This company have been going for many years - at least since I was a kid - and have changed nothing in their basic designs.
Because it works.
Absolute toy genius.

Playstations?
I shit 'em.

Holiday-ee, Celebray-eet (Apologies to Madonna)

2005-08-29T00:05:00.000+01:00

This blog will be taking a short break this week while I go on holiday with Emma and Sam, before returning for the delights of Andy and Annabel's wedding.

I hope you will be able to cope without me.

In the meantime, I would like to draw your attention to a few links to your right:

Mike Carter is a very splendid gentleman whom I met on a bus in Alice Springs.
I believe we both had beards at the time, and I was late.
Little has changed.

Bob Mould is one of my musical heroes, and a genuinely influential chap.
Without him, whither Pixies, Nirvana, and a host of American punky types?
He is also currently sporting a rather fetching beard.
Perhaps a theme is becoming apparent...

Non-Violent Communication will lead you to Emma's sister's website, and very useful tool for everybody.
If you have to interact with other people, give it some serious consideration.
It is genuinely worth it.
And Anna and Daren are very nice people, too.
Though no beards as yet.

And if you don't have to interact with other people, I am very sorry.
Turn off your computer, and get out of the house.

rock 'n' roll

2005-08-25T21:39:00.000+01:00

While I think of it, can I recommend this band?

I saw them last year and they were nothing short of excellent.

They were supporting this band, whose most recent album is the best thing they have done in ten years, and who are clearly having a bit of a resurgence.
And good for them.

A word of warning - if you like Dido, don't bother following any of today's links....

Oh, and while we are on it, I picked up this week's Kerrang! because it had a free CD with it, and it contained this song.
Featuring a wonderfully camp keyboard line.
How can you not love heavy metal?

That's a rhetorical question, by the way....

Dear God In Heaven

2005-08-24T00:43:00.000+01:00

Let us not forget that fundamentalists come in all shapes and sizes, though they generally seem to have lost any sense of human decency they may have once possessed.

The Future Is Now

2005-08-23T23:49:00.000+01:00

If ever there was any reason to fear the internet, this is probably it.

It's just one unique, weird story amongst millions, but I reckon it is just the tip of the iceberg.

Developmental Psychology

2005-08-23T21:28:00.000+01:00

One other thing.

A friend of a friend with a toddler son has been working on animal recognition.

You know,
'What sound does a cat make? Miaow.'
'What sound does a pig make? Oink.'

You know the drill.

He's moved on now.

'What sound do homos make? Oo la la.'

Is that really depressing, or am I over-reacting?
Someone said childish.
I certainly can't argue with that.

Today's posts brought to you by an assortment of music, including Big Black, Therapy?, the Muppets, Randy Newman, Soil, Smog, Pixies, and the Postman Pat theme.
Eclecticism at work, people.

It's A Man's World

2005-08-22T21:23:00.000+01:00

There are many stag party cliches, but who is to say what appropriate stag experiences should be?
Do what thou wilt, shall be the whole of the Law.
Or something.

Anyway, Friday consisted of a (relatively) civilised dinner on the King's Road with men and women from throughout the groom's turbulent life, followed by a visit to the club of student days.
Where I drank vodka, and fell asleep, as is my way.

Saturday was the boys night, over which I feel we should draw a veil, suffice to say that beer was drunk, curry was consumed, a 'men's interest' establishment was attended, and a cabbie was left irate and without payment.

That should cover all the relevant bases, surely?

What I found fascinating was that, for a bunch of modern well-travelled blokes with a variety of experiences between them, my fellow staggees (staggers? stags?) were a remarkably conservative bunch.

As you know - and if you don't, think yourself blessed - I am a pretty, er, broad-minded chap.
OK, I'm smutty.
Dirty.
A lover of cheap innuendo, and the rest.

I was once told that I could probably read the phone book and make it sound like something you wouldn't talk to your grand-parents about.
As you probably also know, I am unfailingly proud of this fact, and seriously intend to one day take up the phone book challenge.
Though who really needs a cut-price Graham Norton these days?

Anyway.

I also like to think I am fairly positive, friendly, open and non-judgemental, and though not always the most tactful man in the world (ahem), I reckon I can be sensitive and empathic when necessary.

However, a number of times over the weekend I brought up subjects that some of my other groups of colleagues and friends would consider amusing, entertaining, and non-threatening, if possibly a little risque (or downright filthy); but were somehow a step too far for my friends this weekend.

Let's be clear, this was a bunch of men between the ages of 30 and 40 out on a 'boys night' in west London to celebrate someone's impending marriage.
You would imagine taste would be cast off pretty early in the evening.

You would be mistaken.
I was.
A couple of times I felt quite isolated and uncomfortable.

I reckon that if you are going to embrace smuttiness and blokiness, go for it full tilt.
Don't cop out, and don't be afraid.
Anything else is hypocrisy.

However, I recommend you avoid misogyny, homophobia and any related bigotry.
That's just nasty.

2005-08-19T12:58:00.000+01:00

Off to this stag do this weekend. The first one I have ever attended...
Dreading it a little bit.
But also excited.
And ultimately very grateful to my friends who are prepared to fund my attendance.

However, I have been informed that it will be a very metrosexual event, and that shorts, sandals, and beards are all unacceptable.

I thought I ought to really work out what metrosexual means.
So -

"METROSEXUAL"
n. informal
a heterosexual urban man who enjoys shopping, fashion, and similar interests traditionally associated with women or homosexual men.
— origin 1990s: blend of metropolitan and heterosexual .
(OED)

"METROSEXUAL"
(met.roh.SEK.shoo.ul)
n. An urban male with a strong aesthetic sense who spends a great deal of time and money on his appearance and lifestyle.
—metrosexuality n.
(WordSpy)

I'm really not going to fit in, am I?

2005-08-17T21:25:00.000+01:00

In a battle of wills between an adult and a small boy aged, ooh, let's say approximately three years, seven months and three weeks, who would win?
Come on, put some money on it. Let's see how brave you are.

Well, of course, you, like all sensible people, voted for the adult. Didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?
Thank you.

And you would be wrong.
Because it is impossible to beat a toddler at this sort of game.
All you can do is paint yourself into a corner, and realise that the only person losing out is you.

There you are staring at a tiny morsel of cheese omelette, thinking, "But I want to go to the park and have an ice cream".

And the little boy?
He's just thinking, "I'm winning, you bastard. I'm winning".

2005-08-17T21:19:00.000+01:00

What are the chances of two people from the UK called Tom Partridge going into graphic design?

One is a professional, the other is a fifteen year old boy.

Spot the difference.....

2005-08-13T22:03:00.000+01:00

Dear God.
I am done in.
A five and a half hour bike ride with Emma and Sam, interspersed with brief picnic interludes, followed by an hour's diving at the local pool, followed by dinner with sister and mother.
Dear God.

Nice to be diving again after a six year gap.
I'll let you know how I get on.
In 2011.

Emma impressed me with her cycling today.
I know that sounds patronising, but it really isn't meant to. Em doesn't take that much exercise, and rarely cycles further than the park with the wee feller.
It was a long ride today, windy, with a few hilly bits and some riding on grass.
She excelled herself today, and I was impressed.

Sam was afraid of the cloud of dust produced by a distant combine harvester.
Weird what kids are afraid of....

If there was one thing today that made me glad we have moved out here, it was riding on the coast path at Bradwell, the power station on our right, Mersea across the water to our left, and filling the estuary next to us a horde of Thames barges in full sail.
The water was a bright blue-green, and the sky was a mess of blue and grey.
You could hear the thunderous flapping of the sails as they tacked their way up the estuary.
I felt a million miles from civilisation.
How good is that?