There is always room at the top, don't let them tell you there is not
'An 18th century brain in a 21st century head'
Room at the top by
Adam AntRight at this moment I feel like I've got an 18th century body as well as brain. I'm too tired to be Machiavellian. In fact, things are so bad that I even bought a copy of 'Now!' magazine to read today - it has a regular column by
Jade Goody. I mean - FFS. This is the only entertainment that I currently have the cerebral capacity for. Well, that and
Marquee Moon - what an soft art-rocking ponce I am.
Last night I attended our Residents Association AGM with
JJ. This is one of those events that shouldn't be missed for a couple of reasons: 1) if you don't go it's possible that you will find out second-hand that our maintenance charge has been raised by stealth; 2) we are usually two of about five people under 40 (average age of resident - 79, I'd say); 3) it can sometimes be enormously entertaining, with lots of stating the bleedin' obvious going on as well as some ludicrous questions ('Can the committee do anything about the noise made by power showers?').
Sadly, last night was a let down on the entertainment front. However, there were some bitchy comments from a man in his fifties who looked like he's just walked off the set of
Howards' Way - all blazer and jeans. It was like 1987 never happened.
Can't wait to get home and relax. It's been a bloody long week.
Aint gonna work for you no more
'...It's too much pain for too little gain, and I feel like I'm gonna fight back, right now'
Labour of Love by
Hue and CryStill feeling irritated by life, but resigned to it in equal measure. Have been absorbing myself in the music of my early years, because that always cheers me up.
One thing that always entertained me about Hue and Cry were the Kane brothers' spats in the press. Man, they had the Gallaghers skinned to death. They truly hated each others' guts. I think they recently won
Hit Me Baby One More Time, a prime-time Saturday night fright-fest on ITV1. Apparently they did a version of
Crazy in Love by Beyonce to clinch their win. All I can say to that is:
Christ.
I've been tentatively offered an interesting proposition. I
may be interviewing a name New York artrock band next month. All very sketchy at the mo, so I'm not going to go into details in case it fails to come off.
Tell the world that you're winning...love and life, love and life...
Soundtrack:
12"/80s/2Relating to
my pal's recent recollections of nuclear war-related childhood terror, I thought I'd pitch in with my view. Well, it isn't quite a view, it's more a collection of thoughts...
I've been listening to the 12" 'Annihilation' remix of
Two Tribes a lot recently. There's lots of extracts from
Protect and Survive in that mix and it still scares the living shit out of me. The younger readers of this blog may wonder what all the fuss is about I'm sure, but believe me, when Reagan and Thatcher were knocking about, we all wondered when (not if) we would be nuked. All the way down the M5 were stencils that protestors had sprayed on the bridges that said CRUISE MISSILE ROUTE. As a kid who read and thought far too much anyway, this was incredibly potent to me.
This morning, I was reminded that my mother once told me that she was terrified that the earth would one day crash into the sun. Then she lived through WW2, which changed her life completely in a huge number of ways. But that's another blog in itself.
I was also reminded of an old colleague whose father-in-law was a colonel in the US Army, who had an obsession with playing the board game
Risk. This tickled my colleague enormously. Because that's surely like a surgeon wanting to play
Operation on the weekends?!
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Two things I forgot to post yesterday.
Small Monkeys 1 and 2 were given BB guns as a Friday afternoon treat last week. They don't use ball bearings any more - just these weird yellow plastic things, which are stored in plastic jars in the shape of grenades.
JJ and I spent some time shooting small targets with them. As we left their house their cat came into the house, upon which
SM2 said, 'Ah, now's my time to go cat hunting'. Which is pure evil, but it made me laugh.
After going to see V for Vendetta on Wednesday, we realised that most of Petersham and Ham had been blacked out. It was just as well we'd been in N1 for most of the evening, knocking back bitter and talking rubbish! So, for one night only, living in the 'burbs was like living in the middle of the countryside, pitch black and peaceful.
Throw me a line, I'm sinking fast
So much to say, so little time to blog.
My life at present seems to lurch between pleasant weekends full of worthwhile things to weeks at work where my situation descends further down the shitter with every passing day. I almost walked out earlier in the week...pretty frightful. I was so tense the other night that I woke up at 4 in the morning, crying and furious. As I have said before, work discussions here are
verboten so no more on that.
Last weekend I went to see the family and crammed a lot in. But my god, the conditions were arctic there. I saw virtually everybody, even
Nephew Number 1 (who I could have done without seeing, to be frank). We visited old pals
Barry and Jo in the pub they're running, which is a local landmark. I did some excellent charity shopping. And I hung about with the
Best Dog in the World. [no picture, sorry]
Last night I went with
JJ,
DL and
Smudge to see
V for Vendetta. I quite enjoyed it, but I gather if you are familiar with the source material that it's a little clunky. Bless
Natalie Portman, her English accent was a bit weird at times.
Smudge has passed on a wonderful
website to me today. This completely warped worldview really is just the ticket in these dark days.
You said I was ill and you were not wrong
Sick again. This is no good, I hate being cooped up, I'm rubbish at doing nothing. I'm good at sitting about - but that, I think you'll find, is another matter.
The last few days have been punctuated by delirium, high temperatures and the driest throat ever. We went to see
Capote at the weekend, and the sole graphically violent scene in the film haunted my dreams on Sunday night to such an extent that I woke up completely terrified. Similarly, last night I dreamt myself into the seedy world of
Kenneth Williams, after watching a one-off drama about his life.
[As a side point - I was fascinated with the work of
Joe Orton in my teens. I had half-forgotten Williams' connection to him. Being reminded of him was comforting, in an odd sort of way. There is something utterly disgraceful and subversive about Orton which really appeals to me.]
So, the world of daytime telly on digital has opened itself up to me. I can watch the same episode of
Scrubs twice in a day, which is something at least.
Friday night was quite a whirl. You wait ages for social events to come along, then three show up at once. First off, drinks in the Brackets with
Smudge and
Merv. Secondly, drinks for
Ms. Y and Mr. B at a wine bar. Last, but by no means least, landmark birthday drinks for
Ms. Robinson in a pub in Soho.
I was already feeling under the weather on Friday, so I was a bit of a party pooper, being able to have only one drink all evening and generally not being very sociable. My hearing also suffers in a bar or pub setting, so half the time I end up nodding mutely to whatever is said, having barely understood a word. A tip to you all -
just talk directly into my ear. I'm seriously considering going to lip-reading classes soon.
On Saturday afternoon I went to one of the worst jumble sales I've ever been to. There was simply nothing there of interest. The organisers were the same as the one I went to a few months ago (go digging for the blog entry, if you can be arsed). They'd increased the entrance fee to a quid (a 50% hike on the previous fee!) and once in there my sole purchase was an Iris Murdoch novel for 20p. Bloody useless.
I have plans to return to my place of employ tomorrow. There is something of note occurring in the evening, a leaving party for the wonderful
Bell of the Ball, whom is leaving us for another business unit. I'm going to miss her.
Them's the breaks.
This is what she's like...
Soundtrack:
DexysPretty stubborn
Sometimes loses interest in projects halfway through
Doesn't suffer fools gladly
Needs to lose a few pounds
Not brilliant at returning letters or text messages
Quite good at making cakes
Loathes washing up
Enjoys the satisfaction that a well-placed swear-word can give
Watches a bit too much bad TV
Winces at bad grammar and spelling (but doesn't always remember to spell-check)
Why say yeah when you don't really mean it?
Soundtrack: The Best of
SwervedriverThe weekend was, like the week, fairly quiet but productive. The allotment was attacked over the two days - we achieved a lot. I even re-organised our shed, which was packed to the gills with all sorts of old crap. This was enjoyable and I only jumped at the spiders once. Today, the dull pains in my backside/legs and shoulders hint at how out of condition I've become.
On Friday night I went out to celebrate a milestone birthday of
Circusboy's along with the
Young Boy Radish and some other notables. It was a good time but I must admit that I wasn't in a party mood. The stresses and strains of are really evident in me by the end of the week. I have to say that I've been feeling pretty anti-social recently.
*sticks the V's up* Get out of it ya fuggers.
