Welcome To 2003, Thora - Part 1
Happy New Year everyone and welcome to a revived blog. I've been away from a PC over Christmas, hence the zero updates over the last two weeks, and I've got to say that I haven't missed the net one bit.
Vic and I had a smashing Christmas and New Year. Here's the abbreviated version:
I picked my new glasses up and have been shocked and amazed at life's little details ever since.
We went to Emma & Scott's for a party the weekend before Xmas. Simon brought along his Dreamcast and Samba Des Amigos game - you shake your maracas in time to the cartoon South American Ricky Martinesque mouse. Gav, Tam, Jacob (3 year old nephew) and Holly (6 month old niece) stayed with us that weekend, and although we didn't see much of them due to the party and early start on the Sunday, Jacob's excitement - and stonker of a cold - rubbed off on us.
We were up at the crack of dawn on the Sunday for our trip to Carlisle via North Wales. Our little detour to pick Vic's nana Beryl up from Colwyn Bay added a mere two and a half hours to the journey time. Her first words to me were not "Hello... how are you... nice of you to come and pick me up...", but "put my suitcase in the car". When we arrived at Vic's mum and dad's Beryl then told me that I was "looking old and fat". In between she attempted to crush me to death with her car seat.
The week we spent up in Irthington was very relaxing. Dazza joined us on the Monday. Walks with the dog were the main feature. I managed to watch the Two Towers in full New Specs-o-vision on Xmas Eve morning. We had duck for Xmas dinner. We played lots of family games.
The dog was sick twice - in the middle of the present opening.
The highlight though was this Christmas Day chestnut:
Beryl struggled up off the sofa and announced to us all that she "really needed a Thora Hird", before disappearing off to the toilet.
The rest of us sat in stunned silence for a minute before I built up enough courage to ask if what she'd said was Cockney Rhyming Slang.
While we were killing ourselves with laughter, Ann explained that Thora Hird apparently advertises chairs for the old and infirm that tip up and help their occupants out of the seat.
No matter, we now have a new catchphrase.
I'll give you part 2 and New Year later, but right now I'm off for a Thora...
Thursday, January 02, 2003
Wednesday, December 18, 2002
Heracles and the Hot Pudding
We've just had our Christmas Lunch here at work. A rather tepid affair in the staff restaurant. We have two sittings, so are herded through like lightning with no real opportunity to relax and socialise. Mediocre pate or french onion soup, followed by roast turkey (or veggie bake) and all the trimmings, Christmas pudding, mince pies and coffee. A single glass of wine. All downed in under 45 minutes.
My cracker "present" was a plastic moustache - the sort that pinches your nose between the nostrils. I really am wearing it as I write this.
My paper hat was green with square "battlements" around the crown.
My "joke" was "What do you call a penguin in the Sahara desert?... Lost!"
However, the highlight was Julian being dared to eat his whole Christmas pudding in one mouthful. Only an idiot would accept the challenge: the pudding was steaming with heat, covered in hot and sickly brandy sauce, and clearly just too big to fit in one's mouth.
Julian accepted the task, and with some help from my boss - who initiated the dare - managed to crush the pudding in his great maw. Within microseconds his eyes were red and bulging. They began to water. His cheeks were flushed and rosy. Bits of pudding and sauce residue were caked about his gob. He gagged slighty and had the haunted look of a man frantically trying not to be sick. His twisted visage put me right off my pudding.
It took him two minutes to finally gulped down the stodge, but all credit to Julian, he didn't vomit or spit it out.
He smiled like he'd completed one of the Twelve Labors of Heracles.
Although he's a fool, you can't help but admire his child-like simplicity at times.
We'll have him cutting off Gorgan heads and taming wild winged horses in no time.
We've just had our Christmas Lunch here at work. A rather tepid affair in the staff restaurant. We have two sittings, so are herded through like lightning with no real opportunity to relax and socialise. Mediocre pate or french onion soup, followed by roast turkey (or veggie bake) and all the trimmings, Christmas pudding, mince pies and coffee. A single glass of wine. All downed in under 45 minutes.
My cracker "present" was a plastic moustache - the sort that pinches your nose between the nostrils. I really am wearing it as I write this.
My paper hat was green with square "battlements" around the crown.
My "joke" was "What do you call a penguin in the Sahara desert?... Lost!"
However, the highlight was Julian being dared to eat his whole Christmas pudding in one mouthful. Only an idiot would accept the challenge: the pudding was steaming with heat, covered in hot and sickly brandy sauce, and clearly just too big to fit in one's mouth.
Julian accepted the task, and with some help from my boss - who initiated the dare - managed to crush the pudding in his great maw. Within microseconds his eyes were red and bulging. They began to water. His cheeks were flushed and rosy. Bits of pudding and sauce residue were caked about his gob. He gagged slighty and had the haunted look of a man frantically trying not to be sick. His twisted visage put me right off my pudding.
It took him two minutes to finally gulped down the stodge, but all credit to Julian, he didn't vomit or spit it out.
He smiled like he'd completed one of the Twelve Labors of Heracles.
Although he's a fool, you can't help but admire his child-like simplicity at times.
We'll have him cutting off Gorgan heads and taming wild winged horses in no time.
Jingle Jangle
I was on an Access training course yesterday. Whist the tutor was demonstrating a little trick on my PC, one of my colleagues - Blog Extra Man - came and stood next to me. His pocket was level with my ear, so when he started jangling the loose change in his pocket, I was irritated. After two minutes of "jingle, jangle" I was getting pissed off, so was happy when the tutor announced a coffee break.
Sipping my cup of coffee in the reception area, I spied a little book perched on top of a book shelf. The Little Book of Chaos. I opened it at the following page / suggestion on how to get people to kill you:
Jingle Jangle
When talking to people, continously jangle the loose change in your pockets.
I did my best put-on-laugh and passed the book - straight faced - to Blog Extra Man. Unfortunately he didn't get it, and the rest of the afternoon was interspersed with the soft jingle of fifty pence pieces in grey slacks.
The Wedding
Loch Awe should be renamed Loch Awe Some. As should the beautiful Loch Lommond. Quite why people are flying halfway around the world to go and see Lord of the Rings scenery in New Zealand when there is equally stunning scenery in Scotland, I don't know... Our drive from Glasgow Airport up to Taynuilt was spectacular, and we are likely to return in the future. People say that the Lake District is the most stunning countryside in the UK - I'm not so sure.
Nina and Craig's wedding was fantastic. The ceremony was great, the setting was amazing, the food top-notch and the company excellent. I shall return to it in more detail for you over the coming days.
A cool teaser shall have to suffice for now:
The two violinists who played the Christmas carols (sung in the ceremony) were on tour with Moby.
I was on an Access training course yesterday. Whist the tutor was demonstrating a little trick on my PC, one of my colleagues - Blog Extra Man - came and stood next to me. His pocket was level with my ear, so when he started jangling the loose change in his pocket, I was irritated. After two minutes of "jingle, jangle" I was getting pissed off, so was happy when the tutor announced a coffee break.
Sipping my cup of coffee in the reception area, I spied a little book perched on top of a book shelf. The Little Book of Chaos. I opened it at the following page / suggestion on how to get people to kill you:
Jingle Jangle
When talking to people, continously jangle the loose change in your pockets.
I did my best put-on-laugh and passed the book - straight faced - to Blog Extra Man. Unfortunately he didn't get it, and the rest of the afternoon was interspersed with the soft jingle of fifty pence pieces in grey slacks.
The Wedding
Loch Awe should be renamed Loch Awe Some. As should the beautiful Loch Lommond. Quite why people are flying halfway around the world to go and see Lord of the Rings scenery in New Zealand when there is equally stunning scenery in Scotland, I don't know... Our drive from Glasgow Airport up to Taynuilt was spectacular, and we are likely to return in the future. People say that the Lake District is the most stunning countryside in the UK - I'm not so sure.
Nina and Craig's wedding was fantastic. The ceremony was great, the setting was amazing, the food top-notch and the company excellent. I shall return to it in more detail for you over the coming days.
A cool teaser shall have to suffice for now:
The two violinists who played the Christmas carols (sung in the ceremony) were on tour with Moby.
Thursday, December 12, 2002
Fly Me To The Moon
...was Sara and Stashers first dance at their wedding. We're flying to Glasgow with them tomorrow for Craig and Nina's wedding at the rather splendid Ardanaiseig Hotel on Loch Awe. Whilst I'm viewing the flight as just a quick bus ride north, Vicster's fear of flying started to kick in last night, and she asked me if 10 o'clock in the morning was too early for a gin and tonic. It will be interesting to see if her summer visit into the cockpit - secured with tears - on our way back from Portugal has any positive effect.
A Windy Miller Moment
Last night before bedtime I checked myself in the bathroom mirror for blackheads, pimples, grey hairs and in-growing beard hairs. I also had a pluck at my nasal hairs and bushy eyebrows. All preparation for the wedding.
Whilst extracting a particularly wiry specimen, I had a dizzying "Windy Miller Moment": I was overcome with a fear of what presents might await me on Christmas morning. The fear comes from genuine trauma suffered two years ago:
Mum had gone on and on about how she had found the "perfect gift" for me. As we left for Vic's mum & dad's, she presented me with the gift-wrapped package and the words "and this is your main present... it's very special... I think you'll love it!". She was really excited at the thought of her son opening it, and was disappointed that she wouldn't see my face as the gift was unwrapped. She kept going on and on about it.
I left the box until last on Christmas morning, in the anticipation that it was going to be a special and treasured gift.
It was a "collectable" ceramic Windy Miller figure on his tricycle.
I was gutted.
Not because it was a) crap and b) clutter and c) had no meaning for me. But because it showed how out of touch my mum had become from me.
I'm an ungrateful sod.
...was Sara and Stashers first dance at their wedding. We're flying to Glasgow with them tomorrow for Craig and Nina's wedding at the rather splendid Ardanaiseig Hotel on Loch Awe. Whilst I'm viewing the flight as just a quick bus ride north, Vicster's fear of flying started to kick in last night, and she asked me if 10 o'clock in the morning was too early for a gin and tonic. It will be interesting to see if her summer visit into the cockpit - secured with tears - on our way back from Portugal has any positive effect.
A Windy Miller Moment
Last night before bedtime I checked myself in the bathroom mirror for blackheads, pimples, grey hairs and in-growing beard hairs. I also had a pluck at my nasal hairs and bushy eyebrows. All preparation for the wedding.
Whilst extracting a particularly wiry specimen, I had a dizzying "Windy Miller Moment": I was overcome with a fear of what presents might await me on Christmas morning. The fear comes from genuine trauma suffered two years ago:
Mum had gone on and on about how she had found the "perfect gift" for me. As we left for Vic's mum & dad's, she presented me with the gift-wrapped package and the words "and this is your main present... it's very special... I think you'll love it!". She was really excited at the thought of her son opening it, and was disappointed that she wouldn't see my face as the gift was unwrapped. She kept going on and on about it.
I left the box until last on Christmas morning, in the anticipation that it was going to be a special and treasured gift.
It was a "collectable" ceramic Windy Miller figure on his tricycle.
I was gutted.
Not because it was a) crap and b) clutter and c) had no meaning for me. But because it showed how out of touch my mum had become from me.
I'm an ungrateful sod.
Tuesday, December 10, 2002
Suits You Sir!
Julian was wearing his favourite tie yesterday: the one with the pink and blue flowers that was trendy in 1986. As tradition now dictates, I pointed the fact that he was wearing his favourite tie out to him, in order to extract a comedy response.
He surpassed himself.
Julian spent the next ten minutes detailing his favourite attire from his business wardrobe. Turns out he once wore a purple suit to an interview at John Lewis.
He didn't get the job.
And he used to wear, until quite recently, a red suit with a matching red shirt, red tie and, to complete the outfit, red shoes.
But his confessional didn't end there. He used to wear, until quite recently, a bright green suit with a matching green shirt, green tie and, to complete the outfit, green shoes.
A living, breathing, Joker look-a-like.
Oh Christmas Tree
Trevor the tree went up on Sunday afternoon. He was bought from the wonderfully festive tree barn at Christmas Common, and is a no-drop Nordic Fir. We always buy from Cristmas Common, as due to it being the best tree farm in the country, you are guaranteed a good fresh premium tree that has been looked after and renewed. There's something magically about dressing the tree and this year was no expection. A glass of wine, Bing Crosby's White Christmas playing on the stereo, and the scent of pine as you decorate. All of a sudden I feel Christmasy!
Only thing is, it takes up a quarter of the room. There seems to be a universal X File factor with Christmas trees that mean they look small in the shop but spontaneously grow to epic proportions in the car on the way home. Our 'small' Trevor - now that he's settled himself into the living room - looks rather like a giant redwood with tinsel on...
Julian was wearing his favourite tie yesterday: the one with the pink and blue flowers that was trendy in 1986. As tradition now dictates, I pointed the fact that he was wearing his favourite tie out to him, in order to extract a comedy response.
He surpassed himself.
Julian spent the next ten minutes detailing his favourite attire from his business wardrobe. Turns out he once wore a purple suit to an interview at John Lewis.
He didn't get the job.
And he used to wear, until quite recently, a red suit with a matching red shirt, red tie and, to complete the outfit, red shoes.
But his confessional didn't end there. He used to wear, until quite recently, a bright green suit with a matching green shirt, green tie and, to complete the outfit, green shoes.
A living, breathing, Joker look-a-like.
Oh Christmas Tree
Trevor the tree went up on Sunday afternoon. He was bought from the wonderfully festive tree barn at Christmas Common, and is a no-drop Nordic Fir. We always buy from Cristmas Common, as due to it being the best tree farm in the country, you are guaranteed a good fresh premium tree that has been looked after and renewed. There's something magically about dressing the tree and this year was no expection. A glass of wine, Bing Crosby's White Christmas playing on the stereo, and the scent of pine as you decorate. All of a sudden I feel Christmasy!
Only thing is, it takes up a quarter of the room. There seems to be a universal X File factor with Christmas trees that mean they look small in the shop but spontaneously grow to epic proportions in the car on the way home. Our 'small' Trevor - now that he's settled himself into the living room - looks rather like a giant redwood with tinsel on...
Monday, December 09, 2002
Gran’s Out Of Theatre
She came out at about 2 p.m., is “comfortable”, so it’s now wait and see. I think we’ll go and see her tomorrow evening.
Oxford United 1 – 0 Swindon Town
Scumdon Town were crushed by the Mighty U’s live on BBC1. It was a great day for the club.
Nobby was seen adjusting his scarf, grinning like a Cheshire cat, clapping, and bobbing up and down like a small child, live on BBC1. As the players ran out of the tunnel, the TV cameras panned around the ground, picking out fans from the crowd. And there I was, sat slightly forward of everyone else, on the edge of my seat, clearly excited by the prospect of the match. I looked like a retard.
And you couldn’t miss me: My Gramp phoned me immediately I got home to tell me he’d seen me. Scott said the same. A number of guys here at work – who I don’t even know the names of – have pointed at me this morning and exclaimed “Hey! Saw you on the telly yesterday!”
It gets worse. If you missed it on the BBC, but live in the Meridian TV region, you get the chance to see me again tonight! Our friend at Meridian, sports reporter Enda, has apparently included me in his edited report on the match, scheduled to go out this evening.
Set your videos!
If you missed me on telly, there was always the chance that you heard me on the radio. I was interviewed at half time by Radio Oxford on the touch-line (most people shirked away from the microphone, but not bashful me) - I actually made a number of excellent points – and then managed to get on the phone-in straight after the game. In high spirits, my “point” was complete tosh – the crux of it was “we looked really sharp today, especially Peter Rhodes-Brown [Oxford United Community Officer], whose suit was very dapper and gave David Dickinson a run for his money…”
I probably sounded like a complete twit, but Scott said it was actually quite funny. You probably had to be there.
Anyway, I’m going to add “TV’s” to my name – as in “TV’s Nobby Dobscrub” – and I am now available for football programme punditry, local radio commentary and children’s parties.
The Jefferson Louis Era II
Even if you can’t stand football, have a look at Jefferson “King” Louis celebrating the news Oxford United are playing Arsenal in the next round…
She came out at about 2 p.m., is “comfortable”, so it’s now wait and see. I think we’ll go and see her tomorrow evening.
Oxford United 1 – 0 Swindon Town
Scumdon Town were crushed by the Mighty U’s live on BBC1. It was a great day for the club.
Nobby was seen adjusting his scarf, grinning like a Cheshire cat, clapping, and bobbing up and down like a small child, live on BBC1. As the players ran out of the tunnel, the TV cameras panned around the ground, picking out fans from the crowd. And there I was, sat slightly forward of everyone else, on the edge of my seat, clearly excited by the prospect of the match. I looked like a retard.
And you couldn’t miss me: My Gramp phoned me immediately I got home to tell me he’d seen me. Scott said the same. A number of guys here at work – who I don’t even know the names of – have pointed at me this morning and exclaimed “Hey! Saw you on the telly yesterday!”
It gets worse. If you missed it on the BBC, but live in the Meridian TV region, you get the chance to see me again tonight! Our friend at Meridian, sports reporter Enda, has apparently included me in his edited report on the match, scheduled to go out this evening.
Set your videos!
If you missed me on telly, there was always the chance that you heard me on the radio. I was interviewed at half time by Radio Oxford on the touch-line (most people shirked away from the microphone, but not bashful me) - I actually made a number of excellent points – and then managed to get on the phone-in straight after the game. In high spirits, my “point” was complete tosh – the crux of it was “we looked really sharp today, especially Peter Rhodes-Brown [Oxford United Community Officer], whose suit was very dapper and gave David Dickinson a run for his money…”
I probably sounded like a complete twit, but Scott said it was actually quite funny. You probably had to be there.
Anyway, I’m going to add “TV’s” to my name – as in “TV’s Nobby Dobscrub” – and I am now available for football programme punditry, local radio commentary and children’s parties.
The Jefferson Louis Era II
Even if you can’t stand football, have a look at Jefferson “King” Louis celebrating the news Oxford United are playing Arsenal in the next round…
Wednesday, December 04, 2002
One Pint Lighter
The fact that gran is going into hospital next week was the final push I needed to go and give blood. I was anxious right up to the last minute – the blood pressure gauge on my arm freaked me out (its embrace is not a sensation I enjoy) – and even when prone on the trolley, almost wimped out and declined the chance to donate.
Of course, it was over in just 5 minutes in the end, with no side effects or reaction. I feel much better for doing it. A little heroic even. If it doesn’t help my gran, it will hopefully help someone in a similar situation.
Plus I’ve got some great Christmas “Give blood” stickers for my nephew.
Crazy Google Search of the Week
Snatching boobs for milk
Freak.
The fact that gran is going into hospital next week was the final push I needed to go and give blood. I was anxious right up to the last minute – the blood pressure gauge on my arm freaked me out (its embrace is not a sensation I enjoy) – and even when prone on the trolley, almost wimped out and declined the chance to donate.
Of course, it was over in just 5 minutes in the end, with no side effects or reaction. I feel much better for doing it. A little heroic even. If it doesn’t help my gran, it will hopefully help someone in a similar situation.
Plus I’ve got some great Christmas “Give blood” stickers for my nephew.
Crazy Google Search of the Week
Snatching boobs for milk
Freak.
Tuesday, December 03, 2002
Off Balance
In my usual style, I shall start with something irrelevant and trivial - to lull you into a false sense of security – and then move into the real post of the day.
Retro Con
I purchased a PC CD compilation of retro-games on Sunday from HMV. The old classic video games are still great, and although you can download most of them off the net (via the MIME system), I thought it would be easier (and would avoid any copyright issues) if I spent a few quid on a proper disk. The front cover features Pac-Man (being chased by ghosts), Donkey Kong, Space Invaders, Galaxians, Asteroids, Defender, Missile Command and Centipede. The back of the box tells me that the CD contains the original versions of all these classic games and many more.
It’s a con.
The CD is just a bad collection of terrible shareware files from 1992. Most of the files don’t work. Those that do work run at quirky speeds and look shit. To cap it all off, the clunky versions of Space Invaders and Galaxians - that actually bear some resemblance to the originals – end after level three. I get a screen message telling me that I need to send $10 to some bedroom computer programmer in California, who will email me the full version.
The CD will be returned to HMV with a tongue-lashing.
I am practising aggressively jabbing my finger at the box and uttering the words “Trade Descriptions Act”…
Gran Has Cancer
Her biopsy results came back yesterday. She has cancer of the womb lining. She goes in for a scan tomorrow and then into hospital on Sunday, for an operation on Monday. I guess it’s a full hysterectomy. I am feeling hollow, scared and upset. I’ve already lost one gran through cancer, and the spectre of losing another is frightening. I’ve been dreading this sort of news for years, and despite thinking I was prepared for it last week, it’s a hammer-blow.
Gran of course is putting her usual brave face on things and seems relatively positive about it. She just wants to get the operation over with and “things sorted out”.
I am praying that the cancer has been caught early enough and there are no secondaries.
In my usual style, I shall start with something irrelevant and trivial - to lull you into a false sense of security – and then move into the real post of the day.
Retro Con
I purchased a PC CD compilation of retro-games on Sunday from HMV. The old classic video games are still great, and although you can download most of them off the net (via the MIME system), I thought it would be easier (and would avoid any copyright issues) if I spent a few quid on a proper disk. The front cover features Pac-Man (being chased by ghosts), Donkey Kong, Space Invaders, Galaxians, Asteroids, Defender, Missile Command and Centipede. The back of the box tells me that the CD contains the original versions of all these classic games and many more.
It’s a con.
The CD is just a bad collection of terrible shareware files from 1992. Most of the files don’t work. Those that do work run at quirky speeds and look shit. To cap it all off, the clunky versions of Space Invaders and Galaxians - that actually bear some resemblance to the originals – end after level three. I get a screen message telling me that I need to send $10 to some bedroom computer programmer in California, who will email me the full version.
The CD will be returned to HMV with a tongue-lashing.
I am practising aggressively jabbing my finger at the box and uttering the words “Trade Descriptions Act”…
Gran Has Cancer
Her biopsy results came back yesterday. She has cancer of the womb lining. She goes in for a scan tomorrow and then into hospital on Sunday, for an operation on Monday. I guess it’s a full hysterectomy. I am feeling hollow, scared and upset. I’ve already lost one gran through cancer, and the spectre of losing another is frightening. I’ve been dreading this sort of news for years, and despite thinking I was prepared for it last week, it’s a hammer-blow.
Gran of course is putting her usual brave face on things and seems relatively positive about it. She just wants to get the operation over with and “things sorted out”.
I am praying that the cancer has been caught early enough and there are no secondaries.
Monday, December 02, 2002
My Clementine Point Was
Not so much that they give me bad guts, but rather that I play a little game with myself when peeling them: I attempt to remove the peel in a single snaking piece. The curly wurly pithy helix then makes a handy projectile to toss at Julian.
Steeleye Spam
We went to the gig of the decade at Aylesbury's Civic Centre on Friday night: The Steeleye Span reunion tour.
Unfortunately one of the founder members of the legendary folk-rock outfit has a heart condition and is currently unable to tour, making the "reunion tour" tag seem foolish and undermining their groovy sound. Not a bad gig, but Maddy Prior was off her usual pace and it was lacking a certain something. After seeing them three or four times now, I can safely say that I'm prepared to pass on the tickets the next time they hit the road. They do the same act every time.
However, the excitement level of gig was improved no end by the sight of the fat man sat behind us. When he sat down it looked as if he was hiding a Space Hopper up his shirt. It wasn't natural. At the risk of losing your arm, you just wanted to prod it.
A Pigs Head Fixture
Football hooliganism is alive and kicking in Europe. Last Saturday saw the feisty contest between Barcelona and Real Madrid featuring Barca fans throwing plastic and glass bottles at their former favourite (and now Real Madrid player) Luis Figo. Someone - presumably they forgot to bring a bottle with them - lobbed a whole pigs head onto the pitch.
The Match of the Day boys, attempting to lure neutrals into viewing next Sunday's MATCH OF THE CENTURY between Oxford United and Swindon Town, sniggeringly suggested that there was "some local rivalry between the two teams" and the Oxford v Scumdon clash was a "bit of a pigs head fixture" too.
I don't think anyone will be laughing about it come Sunday afternoon.
According to the lady in the Oxford United club shop, a large number of tickets in the home stands have been sold to travelling Scumdon fans. There will be insufficient segregation. There will be fighting on the terraces. And it will all be shown live on BBC1.
The good name of Oxford United is going to be blackened across the country because somebody's messed up on the ticket sales. I despair.
Not so much that they give me bad guts, but rather that I play a little game with myself when peeling them: I attempt to remove the peel in a single snaking piece. The curly wurly pithy helix then makes a handy projectile to toss at Julian.
Steeleye Spam
We went to the gig of the decade at Aylesbury's Civic Centre on Friday night: The Steeleye Span reunion tour.
Unfortunately one of the founder members of the legendary folk-rock outfit has a heart condition and is currently unable to tour, making the "reunion tour" tag seem foolish and undermining their groovy sound. Not a bad gig, but Maddy Prior was off her usual pace and it was lacking a certain something. After seeing them three or four times now, I can safely say that I'm prepared to pass on the tickets the next time they hit the road. They do the same act every time.
However, the excitement level of gig was improved no end by the sight of the fat man sat behind us. When he sat down it looked as if he was hiding a Space Hopper up his shirt. It wasn't natural. At the risk of losing your arm, you just wanted to prod it.
A Pigs Head Fixture
Football hooliganism is alive and kicking in Europe. Last Saturday saw the feisty contest between Barcelona and Real Madrid featuring Barca fans throwing plastic and glass bottles at their former favourite (and now Real Madrid player) Luis Figo. Someone - presumably they forgot to bring a bottle with them - lobbed a whole pigs head onto the pitch.
The Match of the Day boys, attempting to lure neutrals into viewing next Sunday's MATCH OF THE CENTURY between Oxford United and Swindon Town, sniggeringly suggested that there was "some local rivalry between the two teams" and the Oxford v Scumdon clash was a "bit of a pigs head fixture" too.
I don't think anyone will be laughing about it come Sunday afternoon.
According to the lady in the Oxford United club shop, a large number of tickets in the home stands have been sold to travelling Scumdon fans. There will be insufficient segregation. There will be fighting on the terraces. And it will all be shown live on BBC1.
The good name of Oxford United is going to be blackened across the country because somebody's messed up on the ticket sales. I despair.
Thursday, November 28, 2002
A Shotgun Isn’t Subtle
Emma’s taste in music is melancholy to say the least. Her idea of an uplifting party tape is a mix of Radiohead, Joy Division, Nirvana’s most introspective moments, and the Manic Street Preachers. Music to slit wrists by is what Scott and I call it.
It was therefore a little surprising to discover that the Samaritans are promoting their new “email your problem to us” campaign with an exclusive Radiohead track that you can download from their site.
Bet Now!
Is the tune a cover version of music hall classic “The Sun Has Got His Hat On” or the Manic’s “Suicide Is Painless”?
Disclaimer: The Samaritans do great work in the community. As do Radiohead. And Emma.
My Clementine
My favourite seasonal fruit – clementines – are in the shops and selling like hot cakes. They’re at their best at this time of year and I’m addicted to them. I’ve eaten over a 1kg of them over the last 3 days – that’s 6 or 7 a day. The flip side of their juicy sweet flesh is a stomach that aches and growls like a bear in a trap.
Nelson Dislikes the Floor
The dog is staying down with us (with Bob and Mop in-law). He was confused by his surroundings yesterday and really doesn’t like our new laminate flooring. The poor mutt can’t get a grip on the surface, and so skitters and slips about. The sound of his own claws - tapping gently when he walks - freaks him out. He also struggles to lay down on it and get up off it. All in all, laminate flooring doesn’t seem very dog-friendly.
It’s great to watch though.
Emma’s taste in music is melancholy to say the least. Her idea of an uplifting party tape is a mix of Radiohead, Joy Division, Nirvana’s most introspective moments, and the Manic Street Preachers. Music to slit wrists by is what Scott and I call it.
It was therefore a little surprising to discover that the Samaritans are promoting their new “email your problem to us” campaign with an exclusive Radiohead track that you can download from their site.
Bet Now!
Is the tune a cover version of music hall classic “The Sun Has Got His Hat On” or the Manic’s “Suicide Is Painless”?
Disclaimer: The Samaritans do great work in the community. As do Radiohead. And Emma.
My Clementine
My favourite seasonal fruit – clementines – are in the shops and selling like hot cakes. They’re at their best at this time of year and I’m addicted to them. I’ve eaten over a 1kg of them over the last 3 days – that’s 6 or 7 a day. The flip side of their juicy sweet flesh is a stomach that aches and growls like a bear in a trap.
Nelson Dislikes the Floor
The dog is staying down with us (with Bob and Mop in-law). He was confused by his surroundings yesterday and really doesn’t like our new laminate flooring. The poor mutt can’t get a grip on the surface, and so skitters and slips about. The sound of his own claws - tapping gently when he walks - freaks him out. He also struggles to lay down on it and get up off it. All in all, laminate flooring doesn’t seem very dog-friendly.
It’s great to watch though.
Tuesday, November 26, 2002
Lord of the Flies
One thing I failed to mention yesterday for all you Lord of the Rings fans was this:
Vic forgot to pack me any clean underpants for Sunday, so when we got down to Canterbury, we popped into Asda to pick up some cheap George pants. Lo and behold, you can actually buy official LotR branded underpants with "Two Towers" and "Lord of the Rings" printed on them.
[Think about it]
I chose plain pants...
Blood Drive
...would make a smashing address for "Spooky Manor" in an episode of Scooby Doo.
All of us at work have been invited to give blood to the National Blood Service next week. It gives me the willies. Every time the invitation comes round (normally every three months), I balance the fact that I really should give blood against the fact I'm a chicken. Ultimately the chicken wins out, but right up until the mini-bus (that the NBS send to pick up the donors) leaves, I'm pacing back and forth, one minute saying "yes I will!", the next minute "no I can't!".
I'm pathetic. I really should give blood. It could save a life. Or allow an athelete to cheat.
I'm not sure why I wimp out either. It's not the needle going in, but rather the thought of being strapped up to some sort of diabolical milking machine that's going to suck the life-juice out of me until I'm a grey and broken husk. I've seen too many vampire movies.
And they might try and force-feed me tea afterwards. [Blurgh!]
Perhaps I should get people to sponsor me...
One thing I failed to mention yesterday for all you Lord of the Rings fans was this:
Vic forgot to pack me any clean underpants for Sunday, so when we got down to Canterbury, we popped into Asda to pick up some cheap George pants. Lo and behold, you can actually buy official LotR branded underpants with "Two Towers" and "Lord of the Rings" printed on them.
[Think about it]
I chose plain pants...
Blood Drive
...would make a smashing address for "Spooky Manor" in an episode of Scooby Doo.
All of us at work have been invited to give blood to the National Blood Service next week. It gives me the willies. Every time the invitation comes round (normally every three months), I balance the fact that I really should give blood against the fact I'm a chicken. Ultimately the chicken wins out, but right up until the mini-bus (that the NBS send to pick up the donors) leaves, I'm pacing back and forth, one minute saying "yes I will!", the next minute "no I can't!".
I'm pathetic. I really should give blood. It could save a life. Or allow an athelete to cheat.
I'm not sure why I wimp out either. It's not the needle going in, but rather the thought of being strapped up to some sort of diabolical milking machine that's going to suck the life-juice out of me until I'm a grey and broken husk. I've seen too many vampire movies.
And they might try and force-feed me tea afterwards. [Blurgh!]
Perhaps I should get people to sponsor me...
Monday, November 25, 2002
Speccy Four Eyes
I'm shortsighted. My right eye was so bad that I didn't even recognise that the first set of opticians "symbols" were actually letters... U R B L I N D
The Show Must Go On
Britain's longest-running West End production - Mousetrap - celebrates its 50th anniversary this week. Pity the poor fellas who bought the film rights in 1953 for £5000, with the clause that they couldn't start filming until six months after the West End stage came to an end...
They're dead now. Hard cheese?
Talking Of Cheese
We made it down to my brother''s on Saturday. We went for a walk through Canterbury's European Food Fair, which was just an excuse for people to steal bits of food from French farmers. Hot spiced olives, Biddeton's Monk's spiced cider, and an assortment of speciality cheeses were the top titbits of the day, and it was really fun watching Jacob's facial expressions as he tasted new flavours.
Emma's sister Sarah, and her husband-in-waiting Gareth, would have had kittens. They work in Waitrose and believe people who pinch a grape off a bunch should be incarcerated at Her Majestys pleasure. Captial punishment should be introduced for those who give their children bananas or cookies - to keep them happy round the aisles - before paying for them at the check-out. Sarah and Gareth do not seem to understand the value to a supermarket of allowing customers to try the goods before buying. If they were in charge, they'd have a line of spiked heads outside Waitrose as a warning to others.
We didn't buy anything at the Food Fair.
I Was A Fool
We all know that I need my beauty sleep. I was therefore a little worried about the promise of a Sunday morning 6:45 wake up from my full of beans nephew. I was a fool to worry, as he was as dozy as we were at that time of the day, and it was ace that he felt comfortable enough to share our blow-up bed. Thankfully Daddy talked him into watching his Monsters Inc video rather than Bananas in Pyjamas. A close thing though.
Julian's Back From Holidaying in MK
Tina: "I watched that Doctor Zhivago last night"
Julian: "You can't beat those classic old films. My mum loves it [Doctor Zhivago]. That and Shirley Valentine..."
Churchill Wins Vote Of Being Our Greatest Briton
My faith in the British public has been restored, even though over 14% of people voted for Diana.
I'm shortsighted. My right eye was so bad that I didn't even recognise that the first set of opticians "symbols" were actually letters... U R B L I N D
The Show Must Go On
Britain's longest-running West End production - Mousetrap - celebrates its 50th anniversary this week. Pity the poor fellas who bought the film rights in 1953 for £5000, with the clause that they couldn't start filming until six months after the West End stage came to an end...
They're dead now. Hard cheese?
Talking Of Cheese
We made it down to my brother''s on Saturday. We went for a walk through Canterbury's European Food Fair, which was just an excuse for people to steal bits of food from French farmers. Hot spiced olives, Biddeton's Monk's spiced cider, and an assortment of speciality cheeses were the top titbits of the day, and it was really fun watching Jacob's facial expressions as he tasted new flavours.
Emma's sister Sarah, and her husband-in-waiting Gareth, would have had kittens. They work in Waitrose and believe people who pinch a grape off a bunch should be incarcerated at Her Majestys pleasure. Captial punishment should be introduced for those who give their children bananas or cookies - to keep them happy round the aisles - before paying for them at the check-out. Sarah and Gareth do not seem to understand the value to a supermarket of allowing customers to try the goods before buying. If they were in charge, they'd have a line of spiked heads outside Waitrose as a warning to others.
We didn't buy anything at the Food Fair.
I Was A Fool
We all know that I need my beauty sleep. I was therefore a little worried about the promise of a Sunday morning 6:45 wake up from my full of beans nephew. I was a fool to worry, as he was as dozy as we were at that time of the day, and it was ace that he felt comfortable enough to share our blow-up bed. Thankfully Daddy talked him into watching his Monsters Inc video rather than Bananas in Pyjamas. A close thing though.
Julian's Back From Holidaying in MK
Tina: "I watched that Doctor Zhivago last night"
Julian: "You can't beat those classic old films. My mum loves it [Doctor Zhivago]. That and Shirley Valentine..."
Churchill Wins Vote Of Being Our Greatest Briton
My faith in the British public has been restored, even though over 14% of people voted for Diana.
Friday, November 22, 2002
My Duvet Weighs a Ton
Is how Chuck D would have described this morning’s attempts at crawling out of bed.
I had about two weeks of poor sleep prior to my exam, but how it’s been and gone, I’m sleeping like a log.
In the mornings I wake up with lichen covering my trunk, and wood lice in my crevices.
My Ship Anchors in E Bay
Just as I’ve been a relative newcomer to blogging, so I have only just discovered the joys of shopping on ebay.
It’s fantastic isn’t it: Every thing you could ever want at knockdown prices. A Bargain Hunters dream. And everyone seems so friendly and helpful too. It’s great!
So far I’ve bought an old board game and two books that I’ve wanted for years (lost treasures from my youth).
Everyone who knows me, knows I love games. Board games, card games, computer games, bedroom games (joke), roleplaying games (especially in the bedroom – nudge, nudge, wink, wink), games of chance, games of skill. You have a game, I’ll play it.
My love of games comes from when I was very little, but the move into fantasy and sci-fi came a little later. I was introduced to the world of fantasy gaming by the classic – and ground-breaking – Warlock of Firetop Mountain, the first book in the hugely successful Fighting Fantasy series of “if you want to do this, turn to page such and such” adventure game books.
I’ve been riding the geek rollercoaster ever since.
Anyway, the FF writer Steve Jackson decided to compose a set of classic FF game books, called Sorcery! with two twists: The story / game played out over the course of all four books in the set, making it an epic – like Lord of the Rings – and you could use magic, with a very clever code system.
So my mum bought me the first book, and when I’d finished it, the second.
Unfortunately I never saw the third or fourth episodes in the bookshop and my quest was never finished…
I’ve been keeping an eye out for them ever since at jumble sales and charity shops, but had no luck until ebay came along… But with a two minute search and a couple of small cheques, I’ve now got my missing chapters.
Wish me luck as I set forth to reclaim the Crown of Kings!
Is how Chuck D would have described this morning’s attempts at crawling out of bed.
I had about two weeks of poor sleep prior to my exam, but how it’s been and gone, I’m sleeping like a log.
In the mornings I wake up with lichen covering my trunk, and wood lice in my crevices.
My Ship Anchors in E Bay
Just as I’ve been a relative newcomer to blogging, so I have only just discovered the joys of shopping on ebay.
It’s fantastic isn’t it: Every thing you could ever want at knockdown prices. A Bargain Hunters dream. And everyone seems so friendly and helpful too. It’s great!
So far I’ve bought an old board game and two books that I’ve wanted for years (lost treasures from my youth).
Everyone who knows me, knows I love games. Board games, card games, computer games, bedroom games (joke), roleplaying games (especially in the bedroom – nudge, nudge, wink, wink), games of chance, games of skill. You have a game, I’ll play it.
My love of games comes from when I was very little, but the move into fantasy and sci-fi came a little later. I was introduced to the world of fantasy gaming by the classic – and ground-breaking – Warlock of Firetop Mountain, the first book in the hugely successful Fighting Fantasy series of “if you want to do this, turn to page such and such” adventure game books.
I’ve been riding the geek rollercoaster ever since.
Anyway, the FF writer Steve Jackson decided to compose a set of classic FF game books, called Sorcery! with two twists: The story / game played out over the course of all four books in the set, making it an epic – like Lord of the Rings – and you could use magic, with a very clever code system.
So my mum bought me the first book, and when I’d finished it, the second.
Unfortunately I never saw the third or fourth episodes in the bookshop and my quest was never finished…
I’ve been keeping an eye out for them ever since at jumble sales and charity shops, but had no luck until ebay came along… But with a two minute search and a couple of small cheques, I’ve now got my missing chapters.
Wish me luck as I set forth to reclaim the Crown of Kings!
Thursday, November 21, 2002
A Stitch In Time
And we had Marks & Spencers very tasty strawberry-flavoured Squeelingly Fizzy Piglet sweets for afters.
I've just realised that with the recent spate of recipes and film & book reviews, this blog is starting to resemble a women's magazine rather than a man's diary. My Wonderful World is becoming a Woman's World. I'll be sewing quilt covers next!
The last piece of sewing I did - apart from stitching up my gaping imaginary war wounds with a fish hook, by myself, macho Rambo style - was at school in Needlework, a good 18 years ago.
I made a fabric pencil case with a picture of a lion on it. The lion was made of felt: Yellow face, brown mane and nose, big white eyes with little round black pupils. Antelope carrion hanging from blood-stain gob.
It took me ten weeks to make it and was crap.
But it wasn't as bad as my brother's attempt at knitting a 2 foot tall penguin.
He managed to knit all of two inches of orange beak in his ten week Needlework stint, and my gran had to finish it off for him. It took her all of a morning to whip up the Woolly Emperor.
Gran goes into hospital next week for an exploratory Op.
As usual I didn't know where this blog entry would end up when I started writing it - you just go with the flow. But how its ended, with the prior talk of stitching up wounds, makes me feel uncomfortable. I'll leave as is for now, as if I start getting sentimental, it'll ruin the tough macho elements of the post...
And we had Marks & Spencers very tasty strawberry-flavoured Squeelingly Fizzy Piglet sweets for afters.
I've just realised that with the recent spate of recipes and film & book reviews, this blog is starting to resemble a women's magazine rather than a man's diary. My Wonderful World is becoming a Woman's World. I'll be sewing quilt covers next!
The last piece of sewing I did - apart from stitching up my gaping imaginary war wounds with a fish hook, by myself, macho Rambo style - was at school in Needlework, a good 18 years ago.
I made a fabric pencil case with a picture of a lion on it. The lion was made of felt: Yellow face, brown mane and nose, big white eyes with little round black pupils. Antelope carrion hanging from blood-stain gob.
It took me ten weeks to make it and was crap.
But it wasn't as bad as my brother's attempt at knitting a 2 foot tall penguin.
He managed to knit all of two inches of orange beak in his ten week Needlework stint, and my gran had to finish it off for him. It took her all of a morning to whip up the Woolly Emperor.
Gran goes into hospital next week for an exploratory Op.
As usual I didn't know where this blog entry would end up when I started writing it - you just go with the flow. But how its ended, with the prior talk of stitching up wounds, makes me feel uncomfortable. I'll leave as is for now, as if I start getting sentimental, it'll ruin the tough macho elements of the post...
You Get Less For Manslaughter
It was our 11th (first date) anniversary last night. We reminisced about the Oxford Polytechnic Bop and the drink Vicster ordered at the bar.
“Cinzano and lemonade please!”
It was her sophistication that appealed to me *.
I was under orders (pain of death or divorce) to cook something yummy for dinner. I resorted to a tried and tested recipe that I knew would be a winner: Rick Stein’s Spanish style Squid and Chorizo **.
For 2 people:
150g Squid – prepared, hoods cut into rings, tentacles cut into bite-sized bits.
100g Chorizo sausage – thinly sliced.
1 red pepper – roasted until blackened, skin removed, seeded and diced.
2 good handfuls of new potatoes (about 8 oz) – boiled until tender, then thinly sliced.
1 plum tomato – seeded and diced.
1 garlic clove – crushed.
1 red ‘finger’ chilli pepper – seeded and chopped small.
½ teaspoon of hot red chilli powder.
A cup of fresh flat leaf parsley – roughly chopped.
Freshly ground salt and black pepper.
1 ½ tablespoons of olive oil (about 2 big glugs).
Cook the new potatoes and roast the pepper.
Heat the oil in a heavy-bottomed frying pan or wok.
Stir-fry the squid over a high heat for 1-2 min – don’t over do it otherwise they’ll go like rubber bands.
Add the chorizo, chilli and garlic, fry for 1-2 min – this gets the chilli working and some colour out of the chorizo.
Add the potatoes, red pepper and chilli powder. Give it another minute or so to let the potatoes heat through.
Add the tomato and parsley, season with plenty of black pepper and salt to taste.
Serve with some French bread (to mop up the juices) and a green salad.
Scrum-diddly-umpious!
Top tip: Put the tentacles in your mouth, let the ends pop out between your lips, and then scare the kids by waggling the tentacles with your tongue so they look alive. Rah!
* She doesn’t even like Cinzano. It’s just like Stashboy ordering himself half a pint of Pernod whilst we were on holiday in Spain, and then remembering he didn’t like Pernod after the first sip.
** with black fuel oil.
It was our 11th (first date) anniversary last night. We reminisced about the Oxford Polytechnic Bop and the drink Vicster ordered at the bar.
“Cinzano and lemonade please!”
It was her sophistication that appealed to me *.
I was under orders (pain of death or divorce) to cook something yummy for dinner. I resorted to a tried and tested recipe that I knew would be a winner: Rick Stein’s Spanish style Squid and Chorizo **.
For 2 people:
150g Squid – prepared, hoods cut into rings, tentacles cut into bite-sized bits.
100g Chorizo sausage – thinly sliced.
1 red pepper – roasted until blackened, skin removed, seeded and diced.
2 good handfuls of new potatoes (about 8 oz) – boiled until tender, then thinly sliced.
1 plum tomato – seeded and diced.
1 garlic clove – crushed.
1 red ‘finger’ chilli pepper – seeded and chopped small.
½ teaspoon of hot red chilli powder.
A cup of fresh flat leaf parsley – roughly chopped.
Freshly ground salt and black pepper.
1 ½ tablespoons of olive oil (about 2 big glugs).
Cook the new potatoes and roast the pepper.
Heat the oil in a heavy-bottomed frying pan or wok.
Stir-fry the squid over a high heat for 1-2 min – don’t over do it otherwise they’ll go like rubber bands.
Add the chorizo, chilli and garlic, fry for 1-2 min – this gets the chilli working and some colour out of the chorizo.
Add the potatoes, red pepper and chilli powder. Give it another minute or so to let the potatoes heat through.
Add the tomato and parsley, season with plenty of black pepper and salt to taste.
Serve with some French bread (to mop up the juices) and a green salad.
Scrum-diddly-umpious!
Top tip: Put the tentacles in your mouth, let the ends pop out between your lips, and then scare the kids by waggling the tentacles with your tongue so they look alive. Rah!
* She doesn’t even like Cinzano. It’s just like Stashboy ordering himself half a pint of Pernod whilst we were on holiday in Spain, and then remembering he didn’t like Pernod after the first sip.
** with black fuel oil.
Wednesday, November 20, 2002
Cutting Costs In The Workplace Bond Style
Our purchasing manager asked the company grunts for any cost cutting ideas today. Instantly we had the predictable response of someone popping their head up over the pen and suggesting that the company "gives us all a sweater so they can cut the heating bills!".
Never one to let an opportunity such as this go by, I replied to the purchasing managers request will this email:
Suggestion: Switch off the lights when nobody is working. Should reduce the lighting costs by 100% in Purchasing.
On second thoughts you could buy everyone some nightvision googles:
http://www.ticketsofrussia.ru/store/lomo/nightvision/png2.html
Large one off cost, but would cut lighting costs to a minimum.
In a similar vein to the "sweaters" suggestion, just more James Bond.
Hopefully he won't read the suggestions before he presents them to his manager...
Our purchasing manager asked the company grunts for any cost cutting ideas today. Instantly we had the predictable response of someone popping their head up over the pen and suggesting that the company "gives us all a sweater so they can cut the heating bills!".
Never one to let an opportunity such as this go by, I replied to the purchasing managers request will this email:
Suggestion: Switch off the lights when nobody is working. Should reduce the lighting costs by 100% in Purchasing.
On second thoughts you could buy everyone some nightvision googles:
http://www.ticketsofrussia.ru/store/lomo/nightvision/png2.html
Large one off cost, but would cut lighting costs to a minimum.
In a similar vein to the "sweaters" suggestion, just more James Bond.
Hopefully he won't read the suggestions before he presents them to his manager...
Wot No Updates?!
Were you starting to think that TWWOND had gone the way of many a blog and died a death? Or perhaps I myself had dropped off a cliff *?
Well do not fret dear readers, for Nobby lives and so does his blog. You just forgot that I had my CIMA Business Taxation exam yesterday and that I've been busy revising. How did it go? "OK" pretty much sums it up. Professional exams like these are notoriously difficult to predict how you've done, and the best I can say it that I might have passed. I'm not unhappy, but not happy either, if that makes sense.
Results are due at the end of January, so I'll just forget about it until then: No point in sweating on it or getting excited / depressed - what's done is done.
[Crack - tinkle, rattle]
That's the sound of my chains breaking. No longer a prisoner of revision, I am released back into the community.
* What do you call a man with a seagull on his head?
Falling Head Over Heels Into The Chamber of Secrets
Friday evening was Harry Potter 2. Read some amateur review of it here. Dark and sinister and great fun. Much better than the first one - which was 2 hours of character introduction and 1/2 of plot - and it actually featured Harry "Greatest Wizard Ever and he's only 13" Potter doing some magic. I recommend watching it in a cinema full of kids too: Their excitement rubbed off and the gasps, shrieks, wails, cheers and clapping made it feel interactive. Seeing the target audience react so positively to it upped the enjoyment and value of the film. And yes, despite Vic telling me off, I did clap and cheer too. I'm so down with the kids.
The shrunken heads, giant man-eating spiders, and pecked out eyes were cool.
Blade 2
...was watched alone on DVD on Saturday night, as Vicster had left me to do my revision earlier in the day and travelled into London to see Sara and Stashboy. She was very brave considering the threat of dirty bombs and poison gas. They always seem to do the best things when I'm not with them, and Saturday was no exception as they did a walking tour of Jack the Rippers East End haunts. Free piece of spleen with every ticket.
Anyway, Blade 2 is crap. If you're writing a book or screenplay about vampires or characters who play with swords (and who have the word "blade" in their names), watch this film to see what not to do. It was like watching MTV for 2 hours. Bad CGI, terrible plot, rip-off of Aliens, 2D characters, just awful. It sucked big time ;)
I loved the first Blade - very cool film, great atmosphere, nicely paced, depicted vampires as they should be. I was expecting more of the same, but like so many sequels - whether film or music or novels - it was a real let-down.
However, the DVD extras disk featured not only an immense Roni Size / Cypress Hill "Child of the Wild West" music video, but also a little story from the director about Michael Jackson:
Apparently MJ approached them about a cameo role in the film as he'd seen Blade and really liked it. So the director writes this little scene in where one of the Reaper Hunters opens a door deep within the heart of the vampire nightclub and discovers this weird drug-dealer type guy who is taking littlebags of entrails out of a suitcase. There is a dentists chair, strings of razor-blades and various surgical implements on show in the background.
For some reason MJ turned it down.
Darren Popstar
Darren Hayes is apparently "the voice of Savage Garden". Not only do I not care about this, but as Vic says "That's not right! Darren isn't a name for a pop star!".
Eye Test Voucher
I've got one and I'm going to use it on Friday. Unfortunately I can't read the small print.
Were you starting to think that TWWOND had gone the way of many a blog and died a death? Or perhaps I myself had dropped off a cliff *?
Well do not fret dear readers, for Nobby lives and so does his blog. You just forgot that I had my CIMA Business Taxation exam yesterday and that I've been busy revising. How did it go? "OK" pretty much sums it up. Professional exams like these are notoriously difficult to predict how you've done, and the best I can say it that I might have passed. I'm not unhappy, but not happy either, if that makes sense.
Results are due at the end of January, so I'll just forget about it until then: No point in sweating on it or getting excited / depressed - what's done is done.
[Crack - tinkle, rattle]
That's the sound of my chains breaking. No longer a prisoner of revision, I am released back into the community.
* What do you call a man with a seagull on his head?
Falling Head Over Heels Into The Chamber of Secrets
Friday evening was Harry Potter 2. Read some amateur review of it here. Dark and sinister and great fun. Much better than the first one - which was 2 hours of character introduction and 1/2 of plot - and it actually featured Harry "Greatest Wizard Ever and he's only 13" Potter doing some magic. I recommend watching it in a cinema full of kids too: Their excitement rubbed off and the gasps, shrieks, wails, cheers and clapping made it feel interactive. Seeing the target audience react so positively to it upped the enjoyment and value of the film. And yes, despite Vic telling me off, I did clap and cheer too. I'm so down with the kids.
The shrunken heads, giant man-eating spiders, and pecked out eyes were cool.
Blade 2
...was watched alone on DVD on Saturday night, as Vicster had left me to do my revision earlier in the day and travelled into London to see Sara and Stashboy. She was very brave considering the threat of dirty bombs and poison gas. They always seem to do the best things when I'm not with them, and Saturday was no exception as they did a walking tour of Jack the Rippers East End haunts. Free piece of spleen with every ticket.
Anyway, Blade 2 is crap. If you're writing a book or screenplay about vampires or characters who play with swords (and who have the word "blade" in their names), watch this film to see what not to do. It was like watching MTV for 2 hours. Bad CGI, terrible plot, rip-off of Aliens, 2D characters, just awful. It sucked big time ;)
I loved the first Blade - very cool film, great atmosphere, nicely paced, depicted vampires as they should be. I was expecting more of the same, but like so many sequels - whether film or music or novels - it was a real let-down.
However, the DVD extras disk featured not only an immense Roni Size / Cypress Hill "Child of the Wild West" music video, but also a little story from the director about Michael Jackson:
Apparently MJ approached them about a cameo role in the film as he'd seen Blade and really liked it. So the director writes this little scene in where one of the Reaper Hunters opens a door deep within the heart of the vampire nightclub and discovers this weird drug-dealer type guy who is taking littlebags of entrails out of a suitcase. There is a dentists chair, strings of razor-blades and various surgical implements on show in the background.
For some reason MJ turned it down.
Darren Popstar
Darren Hayes is apparently "the voice of Savage Garden". Not only do I not care about this, but as Vic says "That's not right! Darren isn't a name for a pop star!".
Eye Test Voucher
I've got one and I'm going to use it on Friday. Unfortunately I can't read the small print.
Friday, November 15, 2002
Christmas Jumper
Friday is dress-down day at work. Today someone has come in wearing a "christmas" jumper. The sort of sweater your great aunt thinks would suit you. This person is surprisingly not Julian (the someone is just a Blog Extra). My double-take at the nasty knitted garment caused me to walk into the door.
Julian is wearing a sweatshirt with an Aylesbury duck on the front. As usual he has made the fashion faux pas of tightly tucking his sweatshirt into his trousers.
I am starting to agree with stick-in-the-mud management who believe casual Fridays are a bad thing.
Friday is dress-down day at work. Today someone has come in wearing a "christmas" jumper. The sort of sweater your great aunt thinks would suit you. This person is surprisingly not Julian (the someone is just a Blog Extra). My double-take at the nasty knitted garment caused me to walk into the door.
Julian is wearing a sweatshirt with an Aylesbury duck on the front. As usual he has made the fashion faux pas of tightly tucking his sweatshirt into his trousers.
I am starting to agree with stick-in-the-mud management who believe casual Fridays are a bad thing.
Thursday, November 14, 2002
After Six O'Clock You Risk Incineration
So the national fire strike kicked off last night. Doomgoblins will be happy. Three burning-building deaths last night (that's up on the average of 1.63 deaths per day when the firemen are working normally). No doubt the Daily Mail will blame the frefighters for all three.
Vic is paranoid about going up in flames at the best of times, so last night saw her making a few special preparations before bed time:
1) She checked that both of our smoke alarms were operational and in optimal locations.
2) She unplugged the TV, as they are apparently at risk of randomly exploding into balls of plasma even when switched off.
3) She checked the torch that is kept at the side of the bed.
4) She donned her asbestos pyjamas, welders mask, motorcycle crash helmet and divers lung.
She did forget to fish out an axe from the shed, so I shall remind her to do so tonight. I will also prompt her to uncoil the emergency escape ladder that is still in its box in the cupboard.
Better to be safe than sorry.
So the national fire strike kicked off last night. Doomgoblins will be happy. Three burning-building deaths last night (that's up on the average of 1.63 deaths per day when the firemen are working normally). No doubt the Daily Mail will blame the frefighters for all three.
Vic is paranoid about going up in flames at the best of times, so last night saw her making a few special preparations before bed time:
1) She checked that both of our smoke alarms were operational and in optimal locations.
2) She unplugged the TV, as they are apparently at risk of randomly exploding into balls of plasma even when switched off.
3) She checked the torch that is kept at the side of the bed.
4) She donned her asbestos pyjamas, welders mask, motorcycle crash helmet and divers lung.
She did forget to fish out an axe from the shed, so I shall remind her to do so tonight. I will also prompt her to uncoil the emergency escape ladder that is still in its box in the cupboard.
Better to be safe than sorry.
Wednesday, November 13, 2002
We're Off To See The Wizard
Vicster has booked us in to see Harry Potter on Friday. I can't say that I'm really looking forward to it, as I didn't think the first movie was much cop (didn't do the book any justice), and this will be much of the same. To make matters worse, we are apparently sitting in row B, which is about six feet away from the screen. I cannot sit that close to the screen for three minutes, let alone the three hours that Chamber of Secrets will run for. My eyes will fall out. A few months back when we went to watch Attack of the Clones and were ushered into row A (four feet from the screen), I kicked up such a fuss (i.e. I politely asked the Duty Manager if we could change seats), that we were moved into the "House Seats" - the best in the cinema.
I am practising my "Kicking up a Fuss" spell.
Muggles and Duty Managers beware!
Help
How can I get comment boxes on this blog?
Suggestions, html code or whatever to nobby_dobscrub @ hotmail.com please!
Vicster has booked us in to see Harry Potter on Friday. I can't say that I'm really looking forward to it, as I didn't think the first movie was much cop (didn't do the book any justice), and this will be much of the same. To make matters worse, we are apparently sitting in row B, which is about six feet away from the screen. I cannot sit that close to the screen for three minutes, let alone the three hours that Chamber of Secrets will run for. My eyes will fall out. A few months back when we went to watch Attack of the Clones and were ushered into row A (four feet from the screen), I kicked up such a fuss (i.e. I politely asked the Duty Manager if we could change seats), that we were moved into the "House Seats" - the best in the cinema.
I am practising my "Kicking up a Fuss" spell.
Muggles and Duty Managers beware!
Help
How can I get comment boxes on this blog?
Suggestions, html code or whatever to nobby_dobscrub @ hotmail.com please!
