This Charming Bloke

Bad vibes

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 00:16:06 GMT

Oh dear. It's been a shitter of a week so far.

Loads of working late. As if it's not enough trying to finish off writing up all of my team's appraisals by the deadline on Friday, my agreeing to join the college's Academic Council is coming to haunt me already. There's a three hour meeting tomorrow afternoon, and I was handed a full lever-arch folder to read beforehand; actual hundreds of pages. This had better look bloody good on my CV for all of the hassle and inconvenience in life that it's causing.

In other work fuss I was called to attend a first aid incident on Monday, thought I was never ever going to leave on Tuesday evening and then some twat got his laptop nicked by leaving it unattended in the library today. Oh joy. No, they don't pay me enough. I also discovered yesterday that my Gmail had stopped working, but I've received no response to any of my attempts to have this attended to; until now I had no idea that Google were so shit.

Let's see, what else... I thought I was well in the money when Ngog scored the opener on Monday night (just waiting for a 4-1 scoreline to come in at 60/1), before events slowly morphed into the shape of one pear. Brakes came onstage later than I'd anticipated last night, and consequently I arrived early enough to see the worst support band of the year so far. And the Lovely S has been unwell.

Tonight I eventually escaped work two hours late, then went straight to the gym. I should have realised it was all going wrong when I discovered that I'd forgotten my water bottle, although worse was to follow when I got home and realised that I've now lost my padlock (there's another fiver down the toilet). Tomorrow night I was supposed to be seeing Luke Haines play at Rough Trade East, only I stupidly double-booked and I'm already ticketed to see a comedy show instead. Unless The Lovely S is still unwell, in which case I may end up going to see The Haines after all. Oh, what a mess.

What else? RIP Robert Enke, poor bloke. Today I asked our CEO whether he's mentally ill on Young Persons' Facebook; he does have a sense of humour, but still, probably not the best way to enhance your employment prospects. Anyway, I was fucked off, and he deserved it... Would it be wrong for me to complain about the ignorance of an article written in ~~The Left Wing Daily Mail~~ The Independent ten months after it was published? Whilst searching for something else altogether this afternoon I stumbled upon a review of the Luke Haines autobiography which was plagued with inaccuracies. Here, have an example:

Despite the legend, he never released a Christmas single called "Unsolved Child Murder".

Well, out here in planet reality, Mr Shite Journalist, The Auteurs released their “Back With The Killer” e.p. in December 1995, and the lead track was “Unsolved Child Murder” you braindead, total and utter fucking idiot.

Cheer me up. I dare you. In the meantime, there's a big sink full of washing up to do...

Moaning Monday

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 21:24:53 GMT

I had a spectacularly nice weekend. It was lovely from start to finish, and I saw an unhealthily generous number of friends along the way. Yep, it was utterly great. But today, of course, it's a Monday; so today I think I will complain about things. Because that's fundamentally what Livejournal is for, isn't it?

Let's start with the mail. I have previously expressed sympathy with the striking postal workers, but warned them that my support would only stretch so far. Today I'm being tested. My pre-ordered copy of the new Luke Haines album (limited edition double CD) did not arrive. Admittedly I'm not yet at the point where I become a serial killer and start murdering a postman every day until it drops onto my doormat, but I would like to receive it soon please. And the new Brakes live CD which was also supposed to arrive today. If I can have them tomorrow then I'll happily come down to the picket line to collect them, and even wear some kind of protest sticker for you all week as a result (or until it starts to curl up a bit and drops off of my coat, whichever is sooner).

Let's also moan about Ladbrokes. Those of you who patron Young Persons' Facebook may already have read about my win on Saturday; the combination of Clint Dempsey to score the last goal of the match with a correct score of 3-1 to Fulham (at kind odds of 225/1). But those who have read my previous complaints about the insurmountable difficulties experienced when trying to claim your actual winnings out of Ladbrokes must surely have anticipated me coming down to earth with a bump. At lunchtime today I spent ten minutes trying to collect the cash, only to eventually be asked to visit a different shop because the staff in my local one were too stupid to figure it out. I'll try again (elsewhere) tomorrow. Give me my money, you cheating bastards.

In other complaints, in an indescribably important flick-to-kick tabletop game I drew 1-1 with MD early Saturday evening. I shan't be too bitter about the fact that he actually played most of the first half with twelve men (I'm prepared to accept his explanation that it was “an oversight” or something like that), and that I played most of the second with ten (I didn't notice that one of my players was sitting in the back of his goal net after a corner had been put into the mixer – a basic schoolboy error). But I was 1-0 up at half time, and I threw it away. It hurts. We don't play again for another month now. And, believe me, I am hungry...

In a non-moan, commiserations to Liverpool who were all over us in the first half on Saturday, and whose fans acquitted themselves a lot better than most of those elsewhere in the table do when they come to Craven Cottage. Nice to be able to drink and socialise with away fans before and after the game; you certainly can't do that with Manchester City, Burnley, Birmingham, Bolton, Stoke, Wolves... If they'd killed us off before half time then they'd also be back in the top four as well (and the first red card awarded was extremely harsh), which is where I secretly hope they'll find themselves again before too long.

But back onto the complaints... I'm sorry to be the the bearer of sour tidings, but Jamie Carragher really is a knob. Discontent with gazing into the mouth of his gift horse after demolishing Bobby Zamora with the goal at his mercy (no red card, no penalty, fortune twinklingly smiles upon James), ten minutes later he was sent off for a professional foul. Apparently he is outraged, and will appeal. Perhaps he's appealing against the fact that he wasn't sent off ten minutes earlier? Anyway, judge the decision for yourself. Cleanly played the ball without committing a foul did you, Jamie? Didn't touch him ref! Nope, you're right Jamie; that's never a foul, is it? You clearly didn't lay a finger on him.

Happy birthday to sir_guernica tomorrow. Even though he's something really offensive like about twenty-five or something.

Oh yeah, and please sponsor azureskies, to raise money for The Prostate Cancer Charity. I insist that you do. You can sponsor him here.

You can get rid of the Halloween header at the top of the page now, Livejournal. Thanks.

Ninety-seven pence

Mon, 26 Oct 2009 21:52:04 GMT

First of all, many thanks to those of you that voted in my poll from the post before last. I did actually learn something very useful from it; namely that more than two thirds of respondents read the post within twenty-four hours of it being posted, and that in fact nobody at all read it more than three days later.

I guess I ought to focus on trying to be more topical and current in my posts then; so today we'll avoid any such ramblings as going off on one about how The Mountain Goats played Old College Try at the Queen Elizabeth Hall the other week (just about the only song from “Tallahassee” which they didn't play when they toured with that album seven years ago), my feelings towards foot-in-mouth arsewipe Steve Bruce after his comments in the wake of the beachballgate scandal (no, little Steven, you are not a “saddo” if you actually know the rules of football, you are a braindead, worthless fucking cretin if you regularly go on television complaining about referees' decisions when you don't even know the fucking rules) or Roma's controversial equaliser with the very last kick of the match on Thursday (ouch, how that one hurt).

So in a nod towards more timely conversation, I noticed this piece about pub etiquette in The Guardian today which generated a large amount of discussion. Comments were largely homogenous (and tended to state the bleeding obvious on the whole), but I did feel strangely vindicated regarding last Thursday evening. You see, whilst I was waiting to be served in the Duke Of Cornwall I lost ten minutes of vital pre-football drinking time stuck behind two people in front of me who both paid for their respective drink (singular - just one drink each) by credit card. I was secretly hoping that the barman would pull out a gun and shoot them; only without the "secretly" part. Readers of The Guardian, it would seem, are generally in agreement with me on this point.

I was instantly reminded of a post by ruudboy the other day about waiting at cash machines; and, let's face it, who hasn't rued the theft of huge chunks of their life queueing behind people who appear to be trying to remotely access their e-mail or type out a livejournal post on the keypad in binary or something? Or worse still, people who stand there doing nothing for ages; just gazing. Didn't you give the slightest thought to how much money you wanted to withdraw before you started generating the world's biggest queue behind you, as we stand here for most of the afternoon waiting for you to grow a brain?

The locale most likely to turn me into a grumpy old man, however, has to be without doubt the ticket office at Victoria station. I've long felt that to avoid having to arrive at rail stations like Victoria at least forty-five minutes before your train is due to leave just to purchase a ticket (which can't be booked online), they should have a separate ticket window for people who just want to buy a ticket. Something like Ticket Windows 1-19 for those who wish to discuss world politics, request a comprehensive verbal history of the rail network from the emergence of steam engines through to The Beeching Report or ask the person in the ticket window whether they've ever really thought about Jesus; Ticket Window 20 for people actually wanting to buy a train ticket (the act of which takes less than fifteen minutes) in order to catch a train and go somewhere. I think that would do the trick.

Anyway, that's the end of today's rant; you can blame The Guardian for getting me started on that. And fortunately I'm very tolerant indeed; I've never murdered a single person in any of the above scenarios. I'm going to stop now, before I start sounding like some kind of left-wing Jeremy Clarkson or something...

I bought a new comb on my way home tonight, to replace the extremely manky old one which I've been using for the past fifteen years. It only cost me 97p. Why on earth didn't I do that sooner? When combs are that cheap, why don't I buy a new one every year? No wonder my hair usually looks shit.

Are you coming to see The Wave Pictures on Friday night? You are? Good, good, see you there.

A Grand Day Out

Fri, 16 Oct 2009 06:59:33 GMT

Waitrose do really good garlic, you know. But you didn't visit my journal today to read that...

I finally bought a new monitor yesterday, to replace my knackered screen, but it's turned out to be an annoying 16:10 widescreen crapper. It's beginning to irritate me already; but you didn't visit my journal today to read that either...

Thanks to those of you who voted in the poll in my last post. The result is still pending at this point in time, but I will discuss further in my next one. In the meantime, let's have some Friday Photos. Yes, let's. A few weeks ago, we all went to see the Wallace and Gromit World of Cracking Ideas at The Science Museum. And, well... Why try to explain, when a picture can tell a thousand words? Go on, dip in.

Hooray! We're going for a funday! And Mark chose the location (without giving anybody else any say in the matter whatsoever), so obviously it's going to be brilliant. Hooray!

Before we can gain entry, we have to pass through the electronic hand reader which measures whether you're intelligent enough to come in. With relief, Super P registers as Genius on their scale. We're in!

Right, let's have some fun then...

Super P gets a close up on a cracking invention, and you can sense the ideas beginning to brew.

Obviously anything where you have to press buttons or a screen is primarily designed for grown-ups, but we somehow find the patience to let smaller people have a go as well.

Gromit! Gromit! No, wait, hang on a minute, that's me...

That's more like it! Where have you been, Gromit?

As the inventions begin to flow thick and fast, we discover the singing-in-the-shower karaoke machine. And blimey, what a crooner we seem to have discovered here.

Super F and CRC try out a shower duet, but they just can't match the vocal achievements that have preceded them. Ten out of ten for effort.

Next up, we hit the mixing desk to make some techno. The music produced is so far ahead of it's time that we'll all be long gone before the Great British Public can ever appreciate this.

Oh dear, there's a big hole. Where might this lead to? Shall we take the plunge? It's your call, Super P...

Slide! Yeah! Oh yes! Super F shows us how it's done.

Oh dear. No comment. Er, it was really scary actually...

We're getting into hardcore science now. The Lovely S looks on, as Super P leads us through a modern day physics lesson.

It's all about heat and imaging now. Best leave it to the sharp youngsters, I'm well out of my league here. In my day, it was pinhole cameras and that funny paper that turns blue when you dip it into an alkali.

Being up with the times and very modern, I also have a mobile phone myself; text messages and everything. I might ask Super F to show me how it works sometime.

Now we're off on some kind of space motorbike or something. Despite the fact that we didn't technically actually move anywhere, it was terrifying. I was very brave though.

One gets the distinct impression that there might be something of a loud BANG on the way, perhaps?

Rumours that I ran to the other end of the hall and hid in the corner to avoid the scary loud bang were, of course, completely unfounded.

Hooray! That was a grand day out!

Any chance you'll have a good weekend? Go on, give it a go. Just for me. Thanks.

Murder On The Leyton Express

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 21:09:17 GMT

Oh El Jay, how I hath forsaken ye. I've been rubbish, haven't I? A combination of always working late, and I suppose not having very much of interest to tell you about recently. I've let you down. Sorry.

However, one thing of interest for me in my life is that the new CD by The Mountain Goats has just arrived on my doormat today. I was expecting it on Monday; but, well, I suppose they must have been doing more of those postal strikes recently which they seem to have every day. Whilst I am certainly sympathetic in principal (in terms of employment and all that), there is something of a ceiling to my understanding caused by the fact that they are universally so incredibly unhelpful, unfriendly and useless in every single dealing that I ever have with them. In today's delivery I also discovered letters clearly addressed to the house next door. Hmmm, I wonder how much of my post gets delivered to other people's houses? Anyway...

At this point I should like to add that they're still better than Amazon. Please take my advice. If you are ordering multiple books* then please order them one at a time (a few days apart) rather than in a big bundle; because then (a) at least those poor downtrodden postal workers will get a bit of extra trade, and (b) you might actually then have an outside chance of receiving them. My word, how useless are “myhdnl” whom Amazon seem to use at the moment?

Hmmm, how can I possibly describe my delivery hell in brief? Well, they don't turn up on days that you've arranged a delivery, they refuse to arrange deliveries on Saturdays (despite having left me a card last Saturday saying that they attempted a delivery), and their website makes it almost impossible to contact them – no e-mail address, and when you try to phone them the line is almost always busy. If you finally do manage to get through on the dog+bone** then you're put in a queue, where you wait for exactly ten minutes before the line goes dead. After ninety minutes of trying I finally spoke with someone who still says that they don't ever deliver on Saturdays (hello?), they refuse to deliver to my work address, and if I don't come up and collect the parcel from their depot (in Wembley) during the three hour window that they're open on this coming Saturday morning then I will have passed the collection deadline and the parcel is going back to the sender. Consequently, I will be cycling up to Wembley during the waking hours of the weekend. And never ordering a parcel of eight paperbacks from Amazon ever again. Heed my advice, kids; it's not worth the hassle.

Work has been very demanding recently; in hours and in content. But some small nice moments sneaking through... Yesterday morning I attended a meeting at which our BVC department were severely reprimanded (in great detail) by the Bar Standards Board, for greedily over-recruiting students but not putting the resources into place to provide them with the levels of service expected.

After a succession of unrelenting character assassinations (in an Anne Robinson stylie), my turn finally came around. I told those BSB cats (as Spud from Trainspotting would probably have described them) about all the measures I have in place to ensure that enough resources are provided (and about how I monitor users' needs and use of materials/services to ensure this); they told me in response that they were very impressed with what I'm doing (and asked me to keep up the good work). I instantly foresaw a Murder on the Orient Express scenario emerging, as fifty five people in the room instantly wanted to kill me. However, somebody told me in the lift this morning that she thought I was brilliant at the meeting yesterday (and kind of pulled things back when they were getting really bad), so maybe it's just fifty four suspects for my forthcoming murder after all.

In further work flattery (be careful Mark, keep it modest) my previous quiz night successes haven't gone unnoticed... There's an inquisitive event taking place shortly for the departments based at our student support and services site around the corner, and two different gangs have asked me to join their team as a ringer. Unfortunately it falls on the evening that The Lovely S and me already have tickets to go and see The Wave Pictures at the end of this month; but still, it's nice to be asked though.

In other news, would a young person out there please be prepared to explain to me how I do Freecycle? I'm considering that if The Lovely S and myself are to buy a house together next year (as is the current plan), I ought to think soon about discarding some of the items which have sat in this flat for almost fourteen years and never been touched. The problem is, though, that it doesn't look very accessible. There seems to be some kind of a separate Yahoo group for every single London borough – is this really how it works? Do I only post it once at the London Borough of Hammersmith and Fulham location; will everybody actually see that, or do I need to spread it around somehow? How does it work? Any assistance greatly appreciated.

In good news, it's hoshuteki's birthday tomorrow. Hooray! Are you coming to the pub? I'm planning to do everything within my earthly powers to leave work on time, then pop off for a quick swim before experiencing the alcoholic pleasantries of Clerkenwell (should be there by 8pm I hope). I'm sure that Ewan's birthday drink doesn't need pimping up though, as he's a very nice bloke and can easily draw a crowd without my input. I shall need to dash off to catch the train down from Farringdon to Herney*** though (and they finish relatively early), as The Lovely S will be away this weekend so we're planning to have cuddles and company tomorrow night.

Hope your lives are all great at the moment, anyway? Hooray?

*or any other genre of item, come to think of it
**Cockney rhyming slang
***Herne Hill

Friday Photos

Fri, 18 Sep 2009 17:07:40 GMT

Hello, I'm back. Would you like to hear about my trip? Would you like to see some photos? OK then, I'm happy to oblige with both. Here we go then...

Ten things you probably didn't know about Bulgaria:

1. The sheer 1970s-ness of the whole country strikes you from the moment that you arrive. Despite travelling from the airport in a licensed taxi from the city's main operator OK Supertrans I noticed that the taxi driver smoked in the cab, and the wing mirror was held together with masking tape. During our journey he had to hit the dashboard several times to get the radio to restart. He also had the kind of haircut that it's been impossible to get in the UK since about 1980.

2. Do not believe anything you read in guide books about young people there learning English as their second language; only about five people in the whole of Bulgaria speak English. Although one lady I spoke with in a shop seemed to think I was French; after I purchased a bottle of water (speaking in attempted Bulgarian), she looked pleased with herself as she answered with Merci.

3. The main occupation in Bulgaria seems to be, er, sweeping. Absolutely everywhere there were people permanently sweeping; when I first arrived I appreciated the distinct lack of litter and assumed this to be a throwback to the old communist rule (when you probably got banged up in prison for about twenty years for dropping a crisp packet). However, I soon realised it was simply the case that discarded detritus would barely survive thirty seconds without being swept up.

4. Rumours which I'd previously heard that the whole of Eastern Europe resembles one big rough-looking council estate were certainly reinforced in Sofia. Outside of the city centre, the entire place looks like downtown Peckham. Every single residence displays some form of external wear or damage, and the blokes all hang around in shell suits looking like drug dealers or pimps. Once you wander into the estates everywhere looks dark, even during the afternoon.

5. Public toilets simply do not exist in Sofia. Most of the bars are small gazebo type set-ups (on open greens or alongside main roads), and even these do not have lavatories. People in Bulgaria just don't seem to actually go to the toilet. I'm completely serious. I had to go in the bushes several times whist I was there; after hanging on for hours, there was simply no choice.

6. They like their heads in Bulgaria. There were busts absolutely everywhere, you couldn't find a single small patch of greenery without several funny-looking metal faces peering at you. Maybe Bulgaria literally translates as “Land of Heads” or something. If not, then it definitely should do. Heads everywhere.

7. Paranoia from the old days of the Eastern Bloc still seems to hang in the background, as soon as you get your camera out everybody over the age of about thirty looks nervous. Whenever the shutter went I saw doors closed, people vanishing back through windows and uniformed staff outside public buildings quickly straightening their ties.

8. Apart from the cafés and bars, there is pretty much nothing to do for young people in the evenings. So they all hang out, en mass, in the parks. In the dark. Sitting around doing nothing for most of the time. In contrast to Britain, however, there is a complete absence of crime resulting from this. I didn't see a policeman in the city centre at any point; I only know what they look like from the football match. Oh, and skateboarding appears to be pretty big there.

9. If you think you've seen bad driving before, you'll be forced to think again after you visit Bulgaria. The city's background noise is a permanent car horn; drivers don't just hoot once or twice, they simply hold it down until the traffic manoeuvre which they are unhappy about has reached its conclusion. Don't think that the green man means that you can safely cross the road either, oh no. Wait until somebody local wants to reach the other side of the road and stick close to them, otherwise you're taking your life into your own hands.

10. Bulgarian Music is largely dreadful. They're not really interested in ours (the only western pop music I heard from radios and car stereos was horrendous seventies anthems), and modern-day Bulgarian music appears to resemble traditional folk music set to some kind of baggy/acid house backdrop. I didn't see a single CD on sale anywhere in the country (they certainly don't have record shops); although every retail outlet (regardless of its genre) seems to also sell alcohol, so I guess they just all prefer drinking instead.

Well, enough of the top ten; on with the photos...

Hooray! I'm off to the Euroshit Cup! Last one onto the plane is an, er, well that's probably me actually.

My delighful hotel, complete with council estate backdrop. The staff were rude, the door to the shower was broken, the bar never opened, you had to pay to use the television set in your room and the “double bed” was actually two singles pushed together. Welcome to Eastern Europe.

Sofia looks like a happening place. Let's wander into town and see what's going on this evening...

Oooh, some people dressed in costumes are entertaining us with authentic dancing. Although I would soon learn that equal Bulgarian authenticity was presented by the people at the back holding the stage together, which permanently looked just seconds away from falling apart.

In the park. It's all a bit arty around here at night.

Authentic Bulgarian lager. Otherwise known as how to look like a tourist in one easy step, as all the locals drink the imported stuff. They don't know what they're missing, it tasted quite nice to me actually.

When I saw this sign I wondered whether they were trying to tell me something...

Not content with vandalising the walls, those crazy locals also paste their graffiti onto trees.

A typical car in Sofia. Reliable local transport. Built to last.

Hooray, it's a head! You don't have to do much to get your head put on display around here; this man appears to have been immortalised for the simple reason that he lived to be eighty-seven.

This is what normal Bulgaria looks like. Just in case you were wondering or anything.

One of the five Bulgarians that speaks English has kindly forewarned us about the perils of sitting on the dangerous three-legged bench.

The National Palace of Culture. Basically it's a bit like Wembley Arena, only with about one gig every five years or something. Lots of people were sweeping in the foyer though.

Trams! Scarier than they look, indecipherable for attempting to travel from A to B, and with a lot of rattling.

Hang on a minute, what's this all about? Looks like a football flag to me...

Aha, it's the Balgarska Armiya Stadium, home to CSKA Sofia. Except tonight's game is actually being played in the Vasil Levski national stadium. Never mind, let's have a look around anyway.

Hmmm, the temptation to put my hand in the window and borrow a major trophy must be resisted at this moment.

Nobody seems to mind if I wander in and explore. There's not a soul to be seen; should have brought a football and had a kick about on the pitch actually.

Guess what? It's another head! Bet you weren't expecting to see any more of those, eh.

Just for the record, everybody in Bulgaria supports Liverpool. I saw nine Liverpool shirts whilst I was there. Oh, those crazy Bulgarian scousers.

The Soviet Army Monument is alleged not to be popular amongst the indigenous population. Struggling with the crowds, I manage to grab a quick photo opportunity.

Sofia University. But then of course you could read that for yourself from the outside of the building, couldn't you...

Next up, the National Library. They wouldn't let me in for a look around. I guessed that I hadn't successfully articulated to them that I am a Chartered Librarian from London at the point when they slammed the door in my face.

Hooray! Art! It's all a bit Tate Modern in the National Gallery of Foreign Art.

The Alexander Nevsky Memorial Church. They like their churches in Bulgaria, despite the fact that nobody seems to go in them. A bit like Britain then I suppose.

In a policy common with most attractions in Sofia, the National Natural History Museum only costs about £1.75 to get in. This excellent value for money comes with the added bonus that you don't miss out on too much by not being able to read the Cyrillic captions below the exhibits.

I'm not sure what the bear holding the medal was all about, but it all seems to have gone a bit British Sea Power now...

Party House, the former head of the Bulgarian Communist Party until it all went a bit pear shaped in 1989. Ah well, never mind comrades.

The Rotunda of Sveti Georgi. I have no idea whatsoever what this is all about, but it seems to be listed as a must see in every tourist guide.

A pleasant view across the fountains in Sofia City Garden towards the National Theatre. As opposed to the view through the gardens ninety degrees to my left, of alcoholics drinking on park seats and scavenging through rubbish bins.

The Sofia City Art Gallery offers free admission. Definitely worth investigating then...

In fact, this turns out to be my favourite attraction in the entire city. Well, apart from the football of course.

They do like their markets in Sofia. Markets everywhere. This one spreads over three floors, selling food and particularly crap souvenirs.

The statue at the end of Nezavisimost Square, apparently depicting someone called St Sophia. A kind of a Bulgarian Nelson's Column, er, perhaps.

The Sveta Nedelya church looks very nice, but I'm getting a little bored with churches and busts by now. Time for some football I think...

Oh dear. That'll be those Fulham fans. I think I'll find someone quieter and more anonymous for a pre-match drink.

The excitement begins to grow, as I'm now outside the ground. One incredibly intrusive body search/indecent assault later (somehow still in possession of all bodily parts) and I find myself...

...inside the ground! You probably can't see it in the picture, but the noise is deafening.

Loads of people wave funny coloured flags, and they all generally get a bit over-excited. Come on chaps, it's only a football match.

Authentic Euroshit Cup action! Although those other photographers wearing the funny bibs managed to get a bit nearer to everything than I did.

Decent result in the end, very pleased with a point away in Bulgaria.

On our journey home, Fulham right back John Paintsil comes for a mingle with the fans on the plane. Lovely chap. Played a decent game as well.

Still, it's nice to be home.

Remember you're a womble

Tue, 15 Sep 2009 20:44:20 GMT

I'm just about to pack for Bulgaria, ready to head off in the morning towards our Europa League match on Thursday evening (via Gatwick Airport). I wonder what the weather's going to be like in Sofia later this week? Nice and warm, maybe; with a hint of autumn in the late evening? Deep red skies, with a cool breeze blowing in from the Black Sea across the Balkan Mountains? Perhaps BBC Weather can give me a few clues regarding what to pack?

Oh fucking hell. Never mind, there will be plenty of museums and galleries to see in the city which are indoors, and at least I'll be able to stay dry during the match. If it's a UEFA four star rated stadium, it's a safe assumption that we'll be under cover, isn't it?

Oh bugger. Looks like I'll be off work next week with pneumonia then...

Anything else you want to know about? st_sardonicist joined me in the pub on Saturday evening, and was on sparkling form; and for any of you over there wondering about his trip, he's doing well so far. I think I may just have converted him to Kronenbourg, in my attempts to promote English culture in a favourable way.

Let's have some more football, shall we... Today I ordered thirteen tickets for Liverpool v Fulham, in the away end. Well, actually it's in the “neutral” area, but this will be almost exclusively full of away fans for that tie anyway; don't worry azureskies, you're fine to wear your shirt/scarf/accent in that area. The Lovely S is bringing enough friends along to qualify for starting up their own songs, so I'm expecting to hear them all singing from the Hammersmith End.

If you make it home from work by 6pm on Thursday, CSKA Sofia v Fulham will be live on ITV4. I'll try to give you all a wave through the rainstorm...

The Man From (Great) Uncle

Tue, 08 Sep 2009 22:27:11 GMT

Hello journal. Here is some stuff.

Bloody hell,what an incredible pop concert last night. Drugstore were indescribably superb, so I won't even try. They played for an hour and three quarters; and, well, it was all a bit emotional in the end. Honestly, where were you?

It did bring to mind a pub conversation from about two or three years ago, when I remember spontaneously listing the ten bands which I most wished would reform, but probably never would. Since then, I've had four of them; Drugstore, The Jesus And Mary Chain, Throwing Muses and American Music Club. Now I'm just waiting for Kitchens Of Distinction, Sidi Bou Said, Gene, The Sperm Wails, Submarine and The Shop Assistants. I suppose I could also add The Broken Family Band as an eleventh now, even though they aren't actually packing it all in until after their forthcoming tour.

On the subject of pop music, if anybody would like a pair of tickets to go and see iLiKETRAiNS at The Garage on 22nd October then let me know; you can have them for free. Unfortunately it clashes with our home game against Roma in the Euroshit Cup (although we are actually through to the Euroshit League stage now). By the way, for any of you who missed the announcement (because you don't want to be my friend on Young Persons' Facebook) I can also share the news here that I'm going to Sofia next week. I eventually decided that I'm grown up enough to go on my own; so, er, bring it on.

Plenty of fun to be fitted in before that though. I'm hoping to go for a drink with the excellent st_sardonicist this weekend, and before that there is the small matter of England v Croatia on (the usually dreadful) ITV tomorrow night. Come over if you fancy it, I will be providing nibbles. Just don't arrive too early though as I'm going running after work beforehand; 7:45pm sounds like a good time to come over (kick off 8pm). Don't drink the gin though, as that's reserved for my lovely girlfriend.

Speaking of nibbles, Waitrose made me smile today. Items such as cheesey puffs and salt & vinegar twists are labelled as members of the Waitrose Essentials range. I love the idea that posh people consider cheesey puffs as an essential dietary item, rather than a luxury or something. Classy.

A day, another day

Tue, 01 Sep 2009 23:18:31 GMT

Dear journal

Blimey, has it really been a fortnight? Well, that’s what a combination of getting home from work late (far too often) and having nothing of great interest to tell people about does to you. I was thinking the other day about how nice it would be to do some Friday Photos again soon; but then today I worked until gone 10pm, then when I got home I had ironing to do, then after cooking and washing up it’s now 12:15am. Doesn’t really leave you much time, does it?

Why are people dropping like flies at the moment? Bloody first aid, I've filled in three accident forms at work over the past fortnight. Not just your ordinary paper cuts and stuff either; on Friday afternoon it was a man suffering an epilepsy-type fit due to a hypoglycaemic reaction, then back in to work today for a woman who collapsed when her eyesight went all blurry and she couldn't feel her legs. At this rate I'll be on first name terms with all the local ambulance drivers shortly; and not a swine flu to be seen amongst the lot of them.

However, some things of peripheral interest have happened, I’m sure; hmmm... I nearly booked tickets to go to our away game in the Euroshit Cup to a place called Sofia (presumably named after a girl that somebody fancied once), which is in a country called Bulgaria (presumably named after a womble). £220 on Expedia.co.uk including two nights in a four star hotel overlooking the stadium, and flights at earthly times to and from London City Airport. But then everybody else pulled out, deciding that they’d rather go to Basle in December instead. Pah. Damn you all.

Still, it’s not all been bad; during the time when I would have been researching hotels and making bookings last night, instead I managed to sew up some trousers. Also I went on a nice picnic yesterday afternoon with The Lovely S and some friends, on which we were joined by wicker_girl who thankfully doesn’t sound northern yet. Apparently martinv lives nearby as well, but we didn’t see him because he had a hangover. Went to see Darren Hayman last Friday night, but as it’s basically impossible to enjoy anything in the Buffalo Bar (unless you are the only person present, and are seven feet tall, and like only drinking small bottles of beer for £3 each, and don’t actually need to breathe air) you can probably conclude that it didn’t qualify as one of his more enjoyable shows.

Can’t remember much of excitement which happened before that, maybe I need to get our more. I haven’t seen the new Almodovar film yet, so I suppose that would be a start. Drugstore are playing next Monday, one of my “top ten bands you most want to reform in the world ever” as it happens. Can’t believe there are still tickets available, what on earth are you all doing that night?

It’s not too late, you know. If you would like to come to Sofia with me during the week after next, then just leave a comment of up to twenty words beginning with the phrase I love Fulham FC because...

Caravan Of Love / I Am Sailing / Fear Of Drowning

Mon, 17 Aug 2009 21:10:32 GMT

Hello, I'm back. From a marvellous holiday in Wales, with The Lovely S, her Mum and Dad and the excellent Tall S who joined us for much of the week as well. All bundled up in a caravan with hugely competitive scrabble games, loads of booze and Match Of The Day on Saturday night. I may not be the world's most experienced patron of holidays; but take it from me, it was a very good result.

In a burst of massive fun, I also did lots of sailing; in a proper boat, with sails and leaning over a bit (careful, don't fall in) as we swished through the water past seals and cormorants. Jib! Starboard! Firm up! Spinnaker! Basically I was Rod Stewart, only without the live performance “whites only” gig in Sun City during the height of apartheid, or the tartan. Also some nice walks, a bit of paddling, some 10k runs on the beach and I even ate carrots. A truly legendary week.

Shortly after returning home on Sunday evening I saw the immensely good but far from fashionable band The Tamborines on the platform at Shepherd's Bush Market station. I was tempted to go up and permit them the joy of being recognised that all small bands (who usually only play to about twelve people) presumably revel in (as all fans assume). But then it dawned on me that if somebody approached me in the very same station and said “You're a librarian!” or something I would probably think they were some kind of a mental fruitcake person; so instead I moderated my behaviour accordingly, and just stared at them when they weren't looking instead.

And of course I went to see British Sea Power play last night, at the Regent's Park Open Air Theatre. There's no need whatsoever for me to suggest how eventful it was, because if you can't guess then you're probably not someone who would understand anyway. As I learned from my teenage years two decades ago, there will always be people who just don't understand you. Anyway, it was up there with The Broken Family Band at The Scala as the best of the year so far. The bear was on top form as well.

And then I left work two hours late tonight (due to, er, lots of work) and then went to the gym. So now I'm knackered.

Hope you're all well.

p.s. The Smallest Church In Sussex, The Land Beyond, Lights Out For Darker Skies, Canvey Island, Remember Me, The Spirit Of St Louis, Please Stand Up, Atom, True Adventures, Men Together Today, Apologies To Insect Life, No Lucifer, Down On The Ground, Waving Flags, The Great Skua, A Wooden Horse, Childhood Memories, Carrion, All In It, Rock In A.

Camra Obscura

Fri, 07 Aug 2009 18:40:29 GMT

I went to the “Great” British Beer Festival yesterday. It's organised by some people called CAMRA, a group which campaigns for the removal of seats from all pubs, so that you can properly enjoy your drinks and pub food by having to stand continuously for several hours (I think their name is an acronym for something like Campaign Against Men with Relaxed Attitudes or something). Women are fiercely deterred from joining by the wide range of ugly misogynistic t-shirts on sale, and I guess the racist ones on offer also gave a further insight into their target membership. I won't be joining this club in a hurry.

However, there was fun and nice beer to be had despite the uncomfortable surroundings. And a wide selection of quite nasty beers as well... The tasting notes which Johnny F and myself made are listed below:

Andechs Weissbier Hefetrub (9/10) Peaked too early?
Bernard Cerne Pivo (7/10) Bad start, good progress.
Braustelle (alt) Unfiltered (8/10) Chocolatey, coffeetey, yum.
Fox Grizzly Beer (6/10) It's alright.
Girardin Lambiek (2½ /10) Whoever gave this a high score on the website needs their head examined.
Gukpener Korenwolf (8/10) It's nice.
Iceni Rasperry Wheat (6½ /10) Not raspberry, not wheat.
Josef Greif Weisse (7½ /10) Pleasant, yes pleasant.
North Cotswold Vanilla Bumble Beer (5½ /10) Didn't really see any vanilla in there either.
St Austell Black Prince (9½ /10) Rather nice, special sweetness.
Yates (Cumbria) Fever Pitch (5/10) Flowery, but nothingy.

Can't hang around for long tonight, as I'm off to a pop concert this evening. It's actually free to see The Vichy Government play in Kilburn tonight, but as it's still a real gig I think I might just inwardly pretend that I'm on the guest list or something as I amble in without expending any admission fee. Onstage at 10pm, so I'm just doing a little bit of laundry before I go.

And then tomorrow I'm off on holiday! Hooray! Back up to North Wales for a week, where The Lovely S will be picking me up from Bangor station tomorrow afternoon. We have broadband in the caravan, so you might possibly see me popping up from time to time on Young Persons' Facebook and the like. Back in time to see British Sea Power play at the Open Air Theatre in Regent's Park on 16th August though, so don't worry.

Oh dear, and then it will be my birthday shortly after I get back. I'm afraid there will be no big social event this year, as Fulham have a home match in the Euroshit Cup that evening against FC Amkar Perm. However, if through some strange twist you would actually like to come to the match then let me know, and I will happily secure you a ticket.

Anyway, on with the laundry. Have a nice weekend.

Yours in a maximum of 140 characters...

Tue, 04 Aug 2009 22:47:23 GMT

Bloody swine flu. Three of my staff are off. Now have to go in during my “day off” on Thursday morning.

How dare “thelondonpaper” describe our Europa Cup tie last week at Vetra as a pre-season friendly? Fuckers.

I miss my girlfriend. She's in Wales. I'll be joining her on Saturday.

Anyone coming to see The Vichy Government on Friday?

Anyone coming to see Fulham v FK Vetra on Thursday?

Anyone coming to work tomorrow?

I chuckle at how Waitrose “special offers” boast that tariffs have been reduced to the regular price at other supermarkets.

Cous cous with quorn pie, crushed mushrooms, spring onions, processed peas, chilli and garlic. Yum.

Moon was quite disappointing. A potentially intelligent film blatantly made for an unintelligent audience.

GBBF on Thursday afternoon? See you there. Nice beers only. Yes!

I've said it before, but listen to The Wave Pictures. You'd like them.

Now that it's all memory sticks, I wonder whether blank CDs will go the same way as blank tapes?

Why don't pommes noisettes exist these days? Food from the eighties was underrated.

I notice that since Michael Jackson died, nobody seems to be demonising Gary Glitter any more.

The Richmond Filmhouse isn't called Richmond Filmhouse any more.

Lars Von Trier is so obsessed with shocking people these days that he's allowing the quality control in his films to slip in the process.

That last one would just fit on Twitter.

Who needs fucking Twitter anyway?

Tweet tweet.

A single-topic post about football

Thu, 30 Jul 2009 06:52:17 GMT

So, FK Vetra v Fulham this evening. I am now becoming increasingly sad that I'm not currently in Lithuania.

It now seems evident that there will no coverage of the game on any form of what might be described as television (in even the loosest sense). As a double punch in the face, I have a work event tonight at the Holborn Wetherspoons with free drinks all night. After a brief chat with our chief executive (who is my friend on Young Persons' Facebook), he agreed to instruct the pub that as part of our booking we would require then to show the Vetra v Fulham game on their screens (he's actually a Chelsea fan, so an unusually kind act on his part).

So all set then? Wetherspoons! Free drinks! Fulham live in the Euroshit Cup! Nope, all scuppered by the television scum who would rather show Britain's Funniest Weathermaps or something instead. Hmmm.

Admission to the match costs just £5. The official Fulham travel package (which also included a full day in Lithuania yesterday) cost £199. In perspective, I paid £241 for travel and admission to a pop music festival in Minehead earlier this year, which was rubbish.

It also looks like about the safest place in Europe to watch a football match. I've been viewing footage of Legia Warsaw fans rioting there in 2007; as the police and home fans (perhaps sensibly) did nothing. If the police don't even react when people are smashing up the ground, then I suspect that the chances of them coming up to innocent fans who are sitting watching the football and violently beating them with weapons (like they do in Italy) seems terminally unlikely.

The one consolation is that we do seem likely to get through. Bill Hill have us at 2/5 to win the away leg, and Ladbrokes place us at 4/11. Let's just hope that we make it through and get a decent trip next time then. Shame that Bill couldn't get the kick-off time right on the coupon though. It's neither 7pm in our time or theirs, Bill!

Apparently ITV4 will be screening the home leg next week. Yeah cheers; I'll be at the match actually, as Fulham are only charging a fiver to get in as well.

Er, end of rant. But I'm still sad. Bah.

Indietracks

Mon, 27 Jul 2009 17:41:14 GMT

I'm not exaggerating, that was exceptional. You should have gone to Indietracks. There's no debate at all, you simply should have been there. You missed out; and consequently, you lost. Any vanishing of faith in indie festivals which I previously experienced after the horrible ATP rip-off earlier this year has been cured; festivals can be successfully designed with the simple intention of Young People Nowadays having fun, and that was truly, immensely, a great weekend.

Some high points... Repeatedly bumping into excellent indie friends, Emmy The Great (my word, the songs that young woman has), spirited fun at the How Does It Feel disco (which actually got even better every time the equipment overheated and the music stopped), the best bunch of people ever gathered together in the same place at the same time, fantastic indie music, the unadulterated joy on the face of the singer from The Understudies when he told me that they'd actually sold out of their CDs (he kindly offered to send me one), the funny bus thing which drove people up the road from the campsite to the stages (ATP would have charged you for that, plus probably a booking fee I suspect), the best performance ever from Art Brut, amazing vegetarian food NOT at festival prices, brilliance from Butcher Boy and The Smittens and many others, going camping with my girlfriend, nice beers (at ordinary pub prices) in an old railway carriage used as a bar, free steam train rides, BMX Bandits and Teenage Fanclub, an all-time festival first of not encountering a single wanker all weekend, MJ Hibbett suggesting to somebody in the toilets that he should Twitter the fact that he was having a wee, etc. etc. etc...

Hmmm, low points are hard to come by... Er, the death of my camera I suppose (or the battery more specifically), not being able to see MJ Hibbett play live on the steam train because it was too popular to get in, ditto Gordon McIntyre because someone thought it would be a good idea to put him on in the tiny Church Stage, some poor Spanish band playing to about fifty people at the outdoor stage because of the brief downpour at the time (we watched from the signal box – superb view!). I'm really struggling for low points though. And there are probably about a hundred more high points which I could list if we were going to be here all night.

In other news, you know how they used to make things so much better than they do nowadays? Well, my 1985 rucksack (which I used to use in the scouts) served me very well for this trip. East Midlands Trains may be a bunch of shitemongering shysters nowadays (where has all the luggage space gone on trains now? Hello? One poncey rack at the end of the carriage is a nice start, but where are the other seventy-seven people supposed to put their baggage?) but at least old school rucksacks don't let you down.

Hope you're all well, anyway.

Friday Photos

Fri, 24 Jul 2009 08:49:37 GMT

Haha! I'm not going to work today! No way, screw that. Instead I'm heading off to the Indietracks festival with The Lovely S; where we shall be watching nice bands in the company of such lovely people as strange_idol, duchess80, what_she_wrote, beattiedee, ruudboy and fox_in_snow. I am in little doubt that it will be excellent.

However, I couldn't possibly leave you without sharing a few Friday Photos before I go, could I? What with getting this new computer up and running and stuff it's been long overdue, so I think I'll share a few snaps from last weekend as I depart.

The high point of last weekend was, of course, Fun Day. During every long, hot and empty summer I attempt to fill the football-free void with a nice day out, to cheer up all of the footy kids during the misery period (a.k.a. the close season). For this year's Fun Day we visited the Museum of Steam in Kew for a selection of japes and capers, before a nice walk along the river and a little drink afterwards.

Are you sitting comfortably? Then please, dear reader, join me in a mild dose of fun...

MD and myself are bouncing with anticipation at the prospect of this year's Fun Day. Boing boing!

In the first wave of fun we encounter some small electrified model trams, as part of some kind of exhibition which is taking place this weekend; presumably put on especially for us.

AB may need to open the fun bypass valve, such are the early levels of hysteria.

MD finds a handle to turn. Blimey, it's like being in the Science Museum or something.

Cannie and AB locate some ye olden days bicycles. Blimey, I wouldn't have fancied doing the London to Brighton Cycle Ride on that; you'd be in Sore Arse City by South Clapham...

The Jamie inspects a big engine, which we deduce is definitely not working.

Oh come on! Put a sign like that in front of MD, and what else do you expect?

Some of the incredibly authentic carriages on the model railway include, er, a can of Diet Coke and a tin of Spam.

Right, enough small things, I think it's time for a ride on the train! Choo choo!

The Jamie experiences a brief moment of uncontrolled joy as we pull out of the station.

Of course, if there's a library in the building then you can rely on me to locate it.

MD finds himself a cup of tea and another knob to twist. Heaven.

After all that fun, a nice amble along the river is just what we need to calm us down a bit. The river fans among you may recognise Kew Railway Bridge and Eel Pie Island in the background.

Semi-pointless tunnels; don't you just love 'em?

We pause for lunch at The Steps Of Death. Walk too far down these steps and you, er, end up in the river. And die. Possibly.

Few things have been known to thrill MD as much as standing under a railway bridge as a train goes over. Oh, bless.

A brief burst of sunshine offers me the chance to try out my new hat. Er, it fits.

Hooray, just as the clouds turn up we seem to have found our way to The Ship. Doesn't look much like a ship to me; looks more like a pub actually. Ah well, I'm not complaining...

Of course, no weekend would be complete without a round on the quiz machine.

This is more like it. We've all had so much fun today that we need to unwind now...

Have an indie weekend!

You have to laugh...

Wed, 22 Jul 2009 11:52:34 GMT

Hello, I’m at work. But work is fucking me off so much today that I’ve decided to write an update instead. So, er, hello world.

Thankfully, elsewhere in life there are comedy moments to remedy this. Shortly after arriving at work this morning I managed to spill book repair glue on my trousers; I’m not going to attempt to describe what it looks like, only to reveal that it looks every bit as bad as it possibly could.

I also discovered today that train drivers on the East Midlands Railway are trying to stop me getting to Indietracks, by declaring a strike at short notice on both the day we’re travelling up there and the day of return; apparently the 3% pay rise offered (which would bring their average salary up to £38,500 per year) was not enough for them. I wish I earned £38,500 per year; in which case I could probably afford to go to Indietracks by taxi or something.

Let’s get back to hilarious things though, shall we... Have you seen the “short” list for this year’s Mercury ~~Comedy~~ Music Prize? I mean, each to his own and all that, but you have to admit that it’s fucking hilarious. Hmmm, who do you think will win this time? The Scottish Oasis? The female Damien Rice? The feeble attempted eighties band who used to make me turn my radio off every morning? The worst support band I’ve seen so far this year? They forgot to put Keith Allen's daughter on it though; tssk, what an oversight.

I sent an e-mail to the head of our Student Records Office yesterday about miscreant students who are having their exam results withheld because they have not returned their library books, locker keys, paid their fees etc. She replied telling me that she’d just had to go onto Google to look up what “Miscreants” meant. Priceless.

I went to see the Harry Potter sequal last night; except I found out that in fact there have been loads of these films, but nobody ever told me. There was a funny bit where it went all Jason and the Argonauts for a moment, but then I realised that I was the only person in the cinema laughing so perhaps it wasn’t supposed to be comical after all. Ah well; the film outstayed its welcome by about an hour, and I didn’t get home home until 1am (due to the fact that Waterloo is a peculiarly inconvenient place to get to/from despite its central geographical location). Serves me right then, perhaps.

At long last, I will actually have some Friday Photos up for you in a couple of days. Yes, really. Not to be confused with the pictures that I’ll be putting up on Young Persons’ Facebook this evening. These will be different ones. Honestly; it’s going to be a photo frenzy.

Wake up. Luke Haines is playing at the Borderline on Thursday 1 October. Sort yourself out.

Anyway, enough of this bitterness, back to work...

In Bruges

Thu, 16 Jul 2009 21:55:13 GMT

Wow, isn't it exciting – the draw for the Europa “League” (third qualifying round) tomorrow. Woo! Although if we get drawn away in the first leg then I won't be able to go, because of work. Pah. Sadly we can't play Club Brugge (due to the seeding system), but Austria Vienna are looking good after a 5-0 win in their first leg so I quite fancy that one instead.

Regrettably I'm strangely devoid of exciting things to tell you about at the moment. But let's make some token effort... I've started eating spring onions (which seem to be called “salad onions” these days in supermarket etiquette, for no explicable reason). The Lovely S has come over for the previous two nights; sadly partially as a result of feeling down after crappy days at work, but I love her very much and it was immensely nice to be close with her. And in other good news, I was starting to think that my window boxes might need watering if they didn't get need some rain and a little electricity soon, until the thunderstorm saved me the worry tonight. Special bonus credibility is on offer to the first person who recognises the second reference there.

Speaking of window things, I am starting to consolidate just how much I hate Windows Vista. When I have ticked the box saying “delete all deleted mail upon start-up” why do I still have 356 messages in my deleted folder? Why, when I have ticked the box saying “do not attempt to rip a CD ever” does it take the action, whenever I insert a CD, of attempting to... (well, I'm sure you get the picture). And just don't get me started on the “help” function... I love OpenOffice, by the way.

Happy birthday to Mark D this weekend. My very own partner in crime.

Thunder! Crash! Flash! Hope you're having a nice evening.

I like to have a little dance

Fri, 10 Jul 2009 07:21:08 GMT

I'd hoped to have some Friday Photos for you this week, but I'm afraid I just haven't had time to sort it all out. Oh, shame on me. Next Friday maybe.

Hmmm, why have I been so busy? I'm not sure, but I think that watching television might have had something to do with it. By 10pm this evening I will have watched an astonishing five programmes this week! Well, it's been a show called Touch Wood which is apparently something to do with Doctor Who, only without Doctor Who in it. It's been nice actually. In fact, I estimate that I'd be prepared to pay £10 for the five episodes, meaning that the BBC only owe me a £129.50 refund on their exorbitant licence fee so far this year.

So, what else have I been doing? Well, working late mostly (eleven hour days really take it out of you, don't they?). But in other idle moments I was watching The Strange Death Of Liberal England play a storming set, being given a card for 10% off drinks at The Lexington (in return for signing up for a mailing list which I'm already on), receiving a free CD single from a nice band called Revere, and being told by the lead singer of Drugstore that I'm “Getting too bloody clever for my own good” on Young Persons' Facebook. Oh, happy times.

Anyway, as I'm off to see that band that I like tomorrow, I just thought I'd leave you with this video clip. Living proof that the things which British Sea Power come up with when they're bored are more inspirational than what most bands manage to produce when they're feeling creative. Hope you enjoy it anyway. And have a nice weekend.

Come on feel the lemonheads

Mon, 06 Jul 2009 22:49:43 GMT

Hello Livejournal, thanks for all of the kind and helpful responses to my previous post, which I appreciated very much. There have been hills and mountains since, but things have ended up OK. Well, I'd even go as far as saying good in fact.

Speaking of “even” (er...) here's a nice little story for you. Obviously, like any self-respecting person, I will be going to see British Sea Power on Saturday. They're playing at a weird place called “Outside London” (I've been there before, and in fact it's vast, as it includes Oxford and Leicester and Edinburgh and stuff). Anyway, as interesting as you are Mark, get on with the story please. Oh, of course, sorry.

Anyway, I will be meeting up with a very nice bloke that I used to know years and years ago and then became reacquainted with via Young Persons' Facebook very recently. We used to go and see bands like My Bloody Valentine and The Jesus And Mary Chain in the late eighties and the vastly better end of the nineties, so I was most comforted that he told me early on that he can't be doing with all of the rubbish indie around nowadays, and since Hefner split up the only band he's really been interested in are a group called British Sea Power. And of course, as he lives in Outside London, what better circumstance for a reunion? But that's not the point of this story actually; I just remember that he used to be an extremely big fan of The Lemonheads, and I found out today that his son is called Evan. Which I think is mildly amusing.

Let's roll with the pop music stuff, as it seems to be going OK so far... For anybody else entirely unmoved by the idea that Blur exist, some exceptionally exciting band reunion news... It turns out that a particularly good band from that sort of era are coming back. Well, believe it or not, Drugstore will be playing at Dingwalls on 8th September. Yes, it's really them. Blimey. If you're at a loose end that evening are are even remotely considering not attending this, then really you must be the sort of person that trepanning was invented for; and I strongly suggest that you do it with a rusty iron railing. p.s. Kitchens Of Distinction next please.

Anyway, yeah, pop music, Spearmint are playing at the end of September as well (thanks to weddingpresent for pop concert advisory skills). The Ballboy film was very enjoyable by the way, if a little unsettling. I wasn't so disturbed by the fact that you can see me in the audience about forty-five times, as the small but significant detail that I was apparently wearing exactly the same clothes on the evening that it was filmed as I was at the screening last night. People will be thinking that I've only got one t-shirt. Which is blatantly untrue, as I've got six British Sea Power ones as well. Oh yes, don't forget that The Strange Death Of Liberal England are playing on Wednesday.

Dear Play.com, when I place an advance order for a CD, this is because I would like to receive it and listen to it when it is released. Where, then, is my copy of the new Neil Hannon album The Duckworth Lewis Method, you bastards? Yours faithfully, Mark H.

That's enough pop music for today I think. See you soon.

Holiday

Thu, 25 Jun 2009 17:39:20 GMT

Proof that I am in Wales.

You don’t get these in London.

Not much to answer for

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 18:26:08 GMT

Hello. I am in somewhere called Abersoch, which is in a country called Wales, which is near England. It’s quiet, and there’s loads of hayfever and stuff. I just heard a horse doing the opening noise from “Stand And Deliver” by Adam And The Ants. I’ve seen several rabbits running around, which The Lovely S informs me are all exactly the same one (she says he’s called Frederick), although I suspect that she may be winding me up. It did look feasibly like it could have been the same one though.

Manchester was, unsurprisingly, horrible. I’d never really tried to travel around on buses in Manchester before, and had no idea how difficult this activity would turn out to be; there are no bus maps, and when you politely ask the drivers for the most rudimentary of assistance they are all hostile beyond belief (even beyond the ordinary levels of unfriendliness which one typically experiences in the north). So I ended up walking just about everywhere in the end. Which was particularly tiring after minimal sleep, as I was kept awake at night by the traditional Manchester sound outside my hotel room window of a fight breaking out every ten minutes.

Just to round it all off, we weren’t able to all get together and have a drink in the hotel bar at the end of the day, as due to Manchester’s severe problems with prostitution, theft and drugs (so we were informed) non-guests are no longer allowed past the main entrance to hotels in Central Manchester. Right, cheers then. Please please please let me never go have to go back to Manchester again, this time.

People don’t really know how to give a lecture any more, do they? OK then, to avoid ambiguity, let me spell it out to you... At the beginning, the very first thing you do is to introduce the subject which you’re about to talk about, detailing how you will proceed and the ground which you will be covering over the duration of the lecture. What you do not do is just walk up to the podium and just start rambling, continuing in apparently unconstructed fashion until an alarm clock goes off in your head forty-five minutes later and you suddenly stop in mid-sentence and invite questions. Whilst the latter approach can be considered entirely suitable for Livejournal entries, I’m afraid that it doesn’t hold at all when it comes to speaking at conferences. Anyway, at least it’s over for another year; and the annual conference will be taking place in the civilised locale of Brighton next year.

I notice that in round two of the Euroshit Cup, Bangor have been drawn against Honka. That should be a noisy match, eh.

Anyway, please excuse me, must get back to my holiday...

Thu, 18 Jun 2009 04:13:05 GMT

Right, I'm off to Manchester then. Well done to those of you who got it right...

Graham

Wed, 17 Jun 2009 11:24:18 GMT

In lieu of the fact that I haven’t had time for a proper update this week, I think we’ll squeeze in a quick poll today instead. You like polls, don’t you? Everybody likes polls.

However, rather than your traditional categorisational canvassing type stuff, this will be different; in that it actually has a correct answer.

Here is a list of my very least favourite things which immediately spring to mind. Tomorrow I will be performing one of these acts. Can you guess which one it’s going to be?

View Poll: #1416995

Answer will follow tomorrow. Maybe.

Sometimes Always

Thu, 11 Jun 2009 20:55:51 GMT

Well, not that I was really all that gone, but I'm back. My new computer is finally up and running with everything properly installed. It was a struggle at times (why isn't there a single site on the internet explaining how to migrate your Firefox profile which actually includes every step?), but I got there in the end.

Along the way I have discovered that Windows Vista doesn't come with any of the MS Office functions such as Word any more (bollocks to you Microsoft, I'll just use OpenOffice instead), the Media Player doesn't even include the codecs that you require to play video clips (eh?) and that involuntarily installed McAfee anti-virus products are a pain (as soon as I can get it off of here I'm installing something else).

In the meantime I still had intermittent e-mail access at home (plus lots of it at work), so I didn't really miss much. Although no thanks to the ultra-useless Orange whom I had to e-mail three times to get an installation CD, and am still waiting for them to replace this faulty modem which I've had to reinstall twice since Sunday afternoon. Don't worry, the camel's back has finally been broken, I will be leaving Orange soon. I know I've said that before, but this time...

Also crap, I have discovered, is the Nineteen Eighty-Four sounding Ministry of Justice, whom I e-mailed on Tuesday morning about a document missing (not to mention faulty links) on their Civil Procedure Rules (government) website. A reply from them, perhaps? No didn't think so...

But enough of this hardship! Good things! I'm going on holiday in a week and a half with The Lovely S. A nicely enjoyable 10k run this evening, because running is for life, not just for ~~Christmas~~ marathon training; listening to my new Indietracks CD all the way. In fact, Indietracks itself next month, with the news that Teenage Fanclub have just been added to the bill. Yes, good things.

Today, I managed to negotiate an end of term evening meal for my team (paid for by work) which I can't even go to, because I'll be on holiday that week. I have to leave them the cash to pay for it (out of my own bank account), then claim it back retrospectively when they give me the receipts. Aren't I nice? And, of course, modest; but that goes without saying...

Oh, and thanks to the excellent redlaw for pointing out that you can currently legitimately download the superb Fanfarlo album (plus four bonus tracks) for the sum of just 62p from the band's website here. Sixty-two pence would barely buy you a bag of crisps in a pub these days. You would have to be utterly insane to pass over this offer. And you aren't utterly insane, are you?

Fighting Fit

Tue, 02 Jun 2009 21:23:43 GMT

Well, it seems that in response to the recession everyone seems to be attempting to grab my cash at the moment. GLL (the people who run my “local authority” gym and swimming pool) really take the biscuit. Despite having tendered my resignation, they were still entitled to take out one more payment (due to one month’s notice required). I discovered today that without notification the monthly price has gone up yet again (for the seventh time in two years) to £44.60 now (a 17½% rise since early 2007). So, well, even more good riddance to GLL than I wished them previously.

Elsewhere, tickets for the Ben & Jerry’s summer festival thing which cost £5 when British Sea Power played a few years back will be charged at £12.45 each this time around (oh, and as much free ice cream as you can shove up your arse, how generous). Never mind, I’ll be somewhere better that weekend anyway. Although not drinking Lucozade Sport purchased in Tesco, as a four pack has gone up from £2.95 to £3.59 overnight. Since when did an isotonic drink cost more than a gin and tonic drink? Anyway...

Elsewhere in life, I had my first session in La Fitness after work today. It turns out not to be French after all, as the “LA” part is capitalised so I presume an acronym (lactic acid perhaps?). It’s good to be free from GLL at last. I’m celebrating at this very moment with a nice Hoegaarden.

In other news, despite economic harshness I am attempting to maintain my role as The World’s Official Buyer Of Presents. This week I have purchased a “grow your own chillies” set and a freezer tray which makes ice cubes in the shape of authentic old school Space Invaders (for The Lovely S to give to her flatmate for his birthday), a “You Are The Ref” book and a silly cow-shaped reminders chalkboard (complete with free chalk) for my Brother’s birthday this coming weekend, and an nice picture for my Mum of Bruv and me just after we’d finished the London Marathon which just needs a frame.

The rest of the week should be quite nice. Tomorrow I’m claiming back a fraction of the extra time I did at work by going in during Saturday morning and running a training session on Monday night when I sneak out a little bit early to watch a Werner Herzog film about a bunch of weirdos who live in Antarctica; Mr Flatmate’s birthday meal proceeds afterwards (followed by my affirmation in the dirty rotten stopout genre when I spend the night in Herne Hill). A nice swim on Thursday evening followed by a democratic vote when I get home (must remember to pay my council tax that night as well though), affection on Friday night, then a big birthday adventure with my Brother on Saturday including televised association football of the Johnny Foreigner v England variety. Might have a lie in on Sunday morning. Or a run perhaps. Oh, the good life.

But for now, I’ve got some wrapping to do...