Having been in London for a day or two, writing things on bits of paper with a scented marker I came home (on the last plane to allow toothpaste as carry on) and started visiting bars to talk to barmen about the beers that they sell.
This afternoon will be spent wandering from door to door, having a few drinks, asking a few questions and getting paid to do it. Well not quite - I won''t be getting paid; I'm officially working the weekend, for which there is no extra money. Damn.
Miami Vice last night happened to be the most laughable movie I've seen in quite some time. Guffaws met ever one of Coilin Farrell's tortured looks of consternation and every loving camera sweep of Jamie Foxx's butt. The 'hot chick' spoke english only phonetically and the whole thing looked grey and speckled enough to ensure that 1000s unfortunate enough to rent this on DVD will be getting up to check the disk and their connection leads.
Jude in Atlanta this week - conferencing - so I'm getting used to being home alone. She's gonna be in Sweden Sept 6th to 18th - catching up with friends and working on her thesis. Wanted shorter but I had airmiles to use up and those were the available dates.
Need to feed the dog, walk the dog, talk to some barmen and then head out to a rooftop party (the sun is shining, the sky is brilliant blue, there's NO humidity and temps are in the upper 20s)
Life has been worse
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Friday, August 11, 2006
Sunday is a day to shout about
Sunday Lunch is a tradition in England that steadfastly refuses to die.
People who assiduously avoid the stove all week will, for some reason, dust off the pressure cookers, turn up the gas to high and come over all Nigella Lawson (better than cumming all over Nigella Lawson - there's a Brit gag to make you gag).
Across the nation vegetables are over cooked, meat is heated past the point of charring - being allowed out of the oven only when it's threatening to pass the tipping point on the way to diamond and grandparents are invited over to share in this tradition of culinary disaster.
My parent's house is no different to any other on the street when it comes to Sunday Lunch. Ed the Ted (my mom's mom) comes over and is joined by my dad's dad. My mom flies around the kitchen, fighting her way through the steam whilst my dad does all of the manly things - which seems to entail removing lumps (from gravy, from mashed potatoes, from that orange pile of veg that might once have been a carrot, was then a puree and is now a soupy sauce) and carving meat with an electric knife held together with bits of tape.
Meanwhile the oldsters scream out cross word puzzle clues to each other and talk about the price of bingo markers, tripe and rain hoods. Or thery would if they were properly old - instead they talk about soccer players, soccer player's wives, Israel, the Lebanon and the racist attitudes of people generations younger than themselves.
Only half the conversation is heard - above the noise of electric carving, steam and whistling hearing aid batteries but it's a good time. A very good time. And it makes me appreciate that it's not what you eat but how you eat that matters.
People who assiduously avoid the stove all week will, for some reason, dust off the pressure cookers, turn up the gas to high and come over all Nigella Lawson (better than cumming all over Nigella Lawson - there's a Brit gag to make you gag).
Across the nation vegetables are over cooked, meat is heated past the point of charring - being allowed out of the oven only when it's threatening to pass the tipping point on the way to diamond and grandparents are invited over to share in this tradition of culinary disaster.
My parent's house is no different to any other on the street when it comes to Sunday Lunch. Ed the Ted (my mom's mom) comes over and is joined by my dad's dad. My mom flies around the kitchen, fighting her way through the steam whilst my dad does all of the manly things - which seems to entail removing lumps (from gravy, from mashed potatoes, from that orange pile of veg that might once have been a carrot, was then a puree and is now a soupy sauce) and carving meat with an electric knife held together with bits of tape.
Meanwhile the oldsters scream out cross word puzzle clues to each other and talk about the price of bingo markers, tripe and rain hoods. Or thery would if they were properly old - instead they talk about soccer players, soccer player's wives, Israel, the Lebanon and the racist attitudes of people generations younger than themselves.
Only half the conversation is heard - above the noise of electric carving, steam and whistling hearing aid batteries but it's a good time. A very good time. And it makes me appreciate that it's not what you eat but how you eat that matters.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
My brother has a baby
i can't spell her first name - Elanor? - but her middle name is Grace
I don't know her surname either - which is all very modern I'm sure.
anyway she's rather lovely, seems remarkably advanced for her age and seems to be especially well behaved in the eating, sleeping, not peeing on your Versace departments.
Redcar was good - cheap Prada, Cheap Vivienne Westwood, lots of family, too much cigarette smoke (that's england)
london was expensive but I developed a love for Mews streets. Visited three.
Jude's brother lives in a mews house that he shares with a number of flies attracted by the scent of the sweat eminating from the clothes he's seen fit to have strewn hither and thither across the limited floor space. In that London way it's cute whilst being murderously expensive.
The Mews I found in Knightsbridge was gorgeous, had a couple of good (if smoky) pubs and sold studio apts (flats!) for $2.5m. Pah!
And the final mews house was a photographer's studio with white walls, white tables and white coffee cups that set off the chocolate topped cappucinos to great effect.
Celebrities? Danny baker nearly getting hit by a cab as he moved at remarkable pace across a pedestrian crossing - and ex-boss, diamond top dog and all around good egg David Lamb (alas on his phone and moving too fast to catch)
Ate dinner at langham's - again overpriced, over familiar and mediocre but the company was good.
Flight back delayed (many were being cancelled around me) - got in at 1am; finished up sonme work, bed by 2am - awake at 5am and sent off yet more thoughts on everything. Will look impressive from across the Pond - but was really jet lag and boredonm combining to give the illusion of industry.
Heading for work - a beer pitch and another weekend I think. Jude will be away at academy and the office will let me take the dog with me so I really don't mind.
How are y'all?
I don't know her surname either - which is all very modern I'm sure.
anyway she's rather lovely, seems remarkably advanced for her age and seems to be especially well behaved in the eating, sleeping, not peeing on your Versace departments.
Redcar was good - cheap Prada, Cheap Vivienne Westwood, lots of family, too much cigarette smoke (that's england)
london was expensive but I developed a love for Mews streets. Visited three.
Jude's brother lives in a mews house that he shares with a number of flies attracted by the scent of the sweat eminating from the clothes he's seen fit to have strewn hither and thither across the limited floor space. In that London way it's cute whilst being murderously expensive.
The Mews I found in Knightsbridge was gorgeous, had a couple of good (if smoky) pubs and sold studio apts (flats!) for $2.5m. Pah!
And the final mews house was a photographer's studio with white walls, white tables and white coffee cups that set off the chocolate topped cappucinos to great effect.
Celebrities? Danny baker nearly getting hit by a cab as he moved at remarkable pace across a pedestrian crossing - and ex-boss, diamond top dog and all around good egg David Lamb (alas on his phone and moving too fast to catch)
Ate dinner at langham's - again overpriced, over familiar and mediocre but the company was good.
Flight back delayed (many were being cancelled around me) - got in at 1am; finished up sonme work, bed by 2am - awake at 5am and sent off yet more thoughts on everything. Will look impressive from across the Pond - but was really jet lag and boredonm combining to give the illusion of industry.
Heading for work - a beer pitch and another weekend I think. Jude will be away at academy and the office will let me take the dog with me so I really don't mind.
How are y'all?
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
remiss
afraid that I've been rather remiss with the old blog posting of late. The excuse - no computer in the London office where, as a guest, I'm low on the priority list when it comes to things like technology.
Have been sleeping remarkably well, though woke with a start at 7am this morning after 6 hrs sleep and consequently feel someone heavy eyed.
London is.... well it's London. Fearfully expensive, horribly class sensitive and full of hidden treasures. I found a Knightsbridge Mews street last night so lovely I forgot my hatred of the city.
I do have to say that the fact that I'm flying home tomorrow is all that's keeping me going today. Role on 5.45 and Virgin pick up!
More and better later
Have been sleeping remarkably well, though woke with a start at 7am this morning after 6 hrs sleep and consequently feel someone heavy eyed.
London is.... well it's London. Fearfully expensive, horribly class sensitive and full of hidden treasures. I found a Knightsbridge Mews street last night so lovely I forgot my hatred of the city.
I do have to say that the fact that I'm flying home tomorrow is all that's keeping me going today. Role on 5.45 and Virgin pick up!
More and better later
Sunday, August 06, 2006
ooh - you cheeky monkey
To James' house for drinks - though my ability to even attempt barometer drinking has been rather dampened by this whole cancer thing. Still good to see Mark and his soon to be wife Margaret, to see Margaret and her 'how soon to be husband' (snap him up dear) and of course the lovely Mr Jim, master of i-tunes and subtitled crap TV. The best of which was an excruitating lottery show hosted by a 'surely this act has worn thin' Dale Winton - though this quiz was run close by Cilla Black arriving at Andrew Lloyd Webber's country pile during 'What should be do about Maria' - a terrible reality show that really does need to transfer to the US (when it will flop)
anyhoo (did I just do that?) time to track down the brother and Baby Eg(g) - this blog thing really is pointless innit?
anyhoo (did I just do that?) time to track down the brother and Baby Eg(g) - this blog thing really is pointless innit?
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