bored. me? pah

A wonderful German woman sits behind me at work. Her sister was visiting recently and she asked me if the shops would be open on the first of the Bank Holiday Mondays. She was pleased when I said that they would be open, and because she’s only lived here for the last, say 10 years, I told her what weekends were like when I was young hours and how it’s only minimum wage workers on soulless shifts that have made the change possible.

When I was young time stood still on Sundays and Bank Holidays. I thought that they dragged on forever. They were brilliant in the summer holidays or if I was camping or by the seaside but when I was stuck on a dull rainy London detached street it was pure torture. I was bored. We were all bored, until Doctor Who came on or the late night Hammer Horror film! Boxing Day was the worst, as I would have money and vouchers burning a hole in my pocket. Easter was the pits, and on Sundays I had to go to Church. Had to. And bearing in mind that as I went to a Catholic Primary School and a Convent High School, I’d already had my fair share of prayers and hymns by the time that the weekend came along.

When I started work, for about 10 years, Saturday was either when I went shopping for clothes that I would never wear or it began at approx 5pm while I slept off the night before. It was just in time for me to eat and go out again. I would never go through my 20s again. In my late 20s and early 30s I would normally work at the weekend and they became just another day. But once I resume normal(ish) working hours I began to recognise the weekend as a time to rest. I learned all about the joys of waking early, going to the park, spending time with friends and family, watching football results come flooding in, doing DIY (a hobby for me) or reading the papers, anything really. Sometimes I did nothing but at least I got up. After a few years spent in pursuit of hobbies I now have many.

Indeed, now that one, Art Class, has finished and moving is my new project I am busier than ever. This Saturday Bro Dom came round with my great nephew. Bro Dom was doing a reccy for next Saturday and the Saturday after (fingers crossed). Together we will spruce up my ‘tired’ kitchen. He’s a genius. He actually installed my kitchen 10 years ago. He knew a rich lady who had just bought a Chelsea Mews and when she said the kitchen had to go, he said, “I’ll have it”. And so it was transported in a Transit van. The only thing that I had to pay for was the van and a work bench. I can immediately recall getting the 12-foot long and very heavy bench into the flat. The only way was via the window in my smaller bedroom. Bro levied it up and I had to hold onto it while it rested on the windowsill and he ran up the stairs and hauled it into the room. That only took approx 30 secs but it was easily one of the longest 30-secs that I have ever known as I managed to balance something 3 times my body weight. By the time he ran up the stairs to grab it I was a gibbering wreck. I was shaking and laughing hysterically and shouting out “Look. Look. Look”’. We got it in but I’ll never know how. He installed my fully functional but now ‘tired’ kitchen in a day. Wow, he’s one of my heroes. And I’ve got him for 2 more days. With us working together, for he and Daddy have taught me all I know, this place will be a Palace. Anyway, before the reccy we went to the park and together with great nephew we spent 3 hours having riotous fun. We played football, petanque, we rolled down hills, ran, found the secret garden, had a picnic, ice cream, flew a kite and laughed our heads off.

Once they had left I went to B&Q to buy 2 cheap mirrors, for re-representation purposes. And now I know why it takes women so long to leave the house as both of them make my bum look big in this or anything. I feel short, fat and wretched but at least the flat looks great.

Off to do more sugar soaping. I love it.

re-representation in action

Master bedroom

Second bedroom

I simply cannot wait to have a garden (pt 150)

Since my regular boxing class stopped I have been developing bingo wings. They are now getting out of hand and quick frankly I need to shape up, upper body wise. My legs are getting there, I’m happy with the progress there but I need a punch bug. When I get my garden I’m going to have a punch bag. I’ll also have a little skipping area. Plus a petanque area too, if it doesn’t ruin the grass. For the ex-pats, it’s the 4th beautiful day in a row. Sun, blue skies and beautiful clear night skies. It feels like summer.

Jupiter it right next to the waxing moon which is due to be full tomorrow and the light is bouncing off it and onto Jupiter making it appear to be a huge sparkling jewel in the sky. It’s creeping over the rooftops opposite now and will shortly be followed by the nearly full and oh so bright moon. Oh, to be able to sit in a garden to observe. It’s beautiful. Someone that I haven’t spoken to since Glastonbury last year actually texted me this morning to say that she had seen the moon last night and thought of me. Ah. Cos of the moon we’re going to meet up again. What a spell it casts. Oh the moon is coming I can see it’s illumination. I’ll be back in a minute.




RING SIDE SEATS PLEASE (I'll have to get a tripod)

did I mention that I’m selling my flat?

Luckily by Monday morning I had gained full use of my fingers, essential for typing at work, although my arms were still sore. On Monday I went to the Album Chart Show again. This time I saw Richard Hawley, who was spurred on by us birds by the side of the stage, Matt Willis (formerly of Busted) who was kind enough to flirt with an older lady TWICE and the Don of rock n’ roll, the maestro himself, the sexiest man on stage ever……… Mr Bobby Gillespie of Primal Scream. They did about 8 numbers and were simply excellent!

I took today off as my as a man was coming around to service my boiler. Pnar. As discussed before, I am useless at waiting so I filled my day with re-representing my flat. On a whim I called the bed shop and they were able to deliver my bed today. If I can just have a Jodie Marsh moment, man was the deliveryman gorgeous! He was some sort of South American laid-back totally scrumptious being and he was in my bedroom today! So what if he was just delivering my bed. He said that if there were any problems putting it together I could call him, he would have actually done it for £25 but a mixture of being perfectly capable of doing it myself (without instructions) and only having Jodie Marsh moments on very rare occasions meant that I didn’t call him. I cannot wait to sleep on it tonight. Although I have been perfectly happy on my futon for 10 years it does feel divine and I can see totally new things out of the window too, as I am a foot higher. There were a few hours of pain when I realised that the new bed makes my bedroom look a lot smaller, however, I have shifted furniture about and now it looks great. A full-length mirror, which I know I need, (shark) will finish off the bedroom nicely.

The flat is now stripped of any sign of personality, rope lighting and junk in my instance, to make it more attractive to Everyman. The purple bedroom rope light has been re-positioned to a useless under the bed and the hallway one is stripped, waiting for the DON’T WALK ON IT IN SHOES cream carpet.

The funny room is now a bedroom/study. The desk unfortunately ruins the shape of the room but can I live without my blog until it’s sold. Or can I find a smaller desk? Well, if it drags I’ll have to but until then it stays.

What a great day to take off, I also had 2 hours being roasted in the sun in the park today too, plus a 4-mile jog in sweltering conditions. My tomatoes are coming along nicely thanks.

Blah blah….. x

can't tpye

I am absolutely knackered and I am typing with 2 stump-like claws. Daddy and I spent at least 3 hours turning over the earth in-between his potatoes in order to dislodge weeds before it rains next. The weeds love the rain and grow at a great rate then, of course making them harder to dislodge. I noticed that he uses carpet along the pathway and I told him that on my cycle to their house that I had spotted lots of rolled up carpet just one street down from them. Off we went with a trolley in order to carpet his pathways. I was the designated driver and chose to travel on the road rather than the path. I did look a little mad but it was also a lot quicker and quieter and the roads around there are not the mad racetracks of South London. In the end our skip raiding failed as conscientious builders (!!!!) had taken their mess way with them. After a short break for roast chicken, yum, we resumed with another 2 hours of trimming grass edges. This is a very unpleasant job. My hands are blistered claws. I met some of his mad allotment friends, whereby I was introduced as codenameelizabeth and told that the Bible blesses the childless and that I should be one of the happiest people in the word without the burden of a child. I dunno, and they call me loopy. We returned to the house where I attempted to sit down only to discover that I would fall straight to sleep, so I upset my Mummy by leaving immediately. However, although I arrived home literally dragging my tired body I somehow found the energy to sweep the front garden and to attack the ivy with a big knife. Mum’s advice, “just go mental with a knife”. It began to rain mid-task and I can only marvel at my Daddy’s timing. Bro Dom called while I was cleaving and I was sure that the Police helicopter that had suddenly started to hover over the flat was trained on the mad woman in the rain brandishing a knife in the air while plotting a crime on her mobile phone. Bro Dom is coming over Wednesday, fingers crossed, to collect my boxes and to do a reccy on the jobs in hand, which is booked I for the Saturday after that. Hurrah, like I said, every girl needs her big bro and he’s a dab hand at re-reperesenting.

Still cannot wait to have a garden though!!!!!

lesson #2 re-representation

Recalled in the order that it happened.

The first Estate Agent (do they get capital letters?) advised me that he would put the flat on the market at £220K. He advised me immediately to lay a bright carpet in the hallway. I have to admit that the new carpet in the shared hallway feels heavenly to walk on. He said that the kitchen and bathroom feel a little ‘tired’, at which point I felt physically pain. He may as well have stabbed me in the heart. I’ve never had the money to replace my avocado bathroom suite even though it clashes violently with my skin tone and makes me look ill when I am lying in it. I wince in pain whenever anyone sees it for the first time and always feel the need to apologise. A little sensitively would not have gone amiss. He should have seen it before. I still recall the pain of the 3 days of intensive de-grouting, re-grouting and painting the tiles that make up 80% of the wall space and (badly) laying the floor tiles that I went through last year. I’ve only meddled with the very smallest of DIY jobs since then because the pain can be recalled so easily. The kitchen only needs a few new doors in order to become a palace. It’s light, airy, well presented, functional and huge. There’s only so much that a single woman with a limited income and limited DIY skills can do on her own, for codenamed has had very few offers of help apart from Daddy. Sob. He also advised that I could possibly re-represent my funny room/study as either a bedroom or a dining room. I’m not going to do that as I do not have an extra bed and I have nowhere to put my stuff. Well, I might if the offers don’t come flooding in.

While waiting for the next estate agent, fuelled by caffeine, I arranged a carpet measuring for next Saturday. The man on the phone didn’t cope that well with me and explained that I had to choose a carpet before I could get measured. I don’t see the sense in that but I just blurted out that I’d have the same as the shared hallway and left it at that. I love my hallway with a painted floor but I can appreciate that people want carpet, hell even I’m looking forward to it now and wish I could have afforded it years ago.

I was more prepared for Estate Agent 2 and gave her some blurb as we walked around the East and West wings. I explained that I was arranging carpet for the hallway and that a double futon fitted quite easily in my funny room, and in fact looks bigger when it’s a bedroom. “No harm in showing that then” she said. I took it a lot better from her as she’s an obvious drinker and smoker and was positively down to earth. She told me that the average turn around time is 2 months. Goodness, if I could move in August that would be brilliant. August is quiet at work, hopefully, sunny and it would be in time to put up bird boxes in the hope that they could be nested in next year.

I couldn’t wait for her to leave but it was nothing personal. I just wanted to get down to Brixton and really chose some carpet. I chose a cheaper one, after all I am moving, and went up to see the very bored man behind the desk and explained that I had called earlier. He immediately recited my address to me without even consulting his notes. I apologised to him for being so excitable and explained that I was no calmer then and eventually we got there. I have picked a cream carpet in confidence, after seeing the carpet cleaning results at the shark’s UK gaff. I even chose some lino for the bathroom but I may renege on that.

I rang Mummy and Daddy and charted the progress. Mummy tried to pay for everything as she always tries to do. Bless. I have to fight her off all the time. I explained that I really, really appreciate the offer but perhaps I’d need the help more once I moved and maybe then she could buy me the bed that she desperately wants me to have. She hates me sleeping on a futon! And then I went barmy. Fuelled by a 4 mile run, 3 cups of strong coffee and just a bowl of cereal my mind went into overdrive. Unless I said, you buy me the bed now and I re-represent, as advised, my funny room, into a bedroom with my futon?????? “Great” she said and I ran to M&S for an egg and prawn roll and then to the end my road to buy a bargain but comfortable bed. It’s being delivered next Saturday. They had the gorgeous type of mattress that I slept on at the shark & TH’s NYC pad but sadly they were out of my reach.

So, sometime soon, when the Estate Agents come to take their photographs, I will have 2 bedrooms and carpet in the hallway. Brother Dom has yet to call me back as he’s not well, but I’m sure that he will have some ideas on how to waken up my ‘tired’ bathroom and kitchen. Well, he’d better, I’ve been waiting for nearly 10 years for him to finish off the fitted kitchen that he so excellently secured and fitted for me when I first moved in. Grrrrrr. Every girl needs her big bro.

I spent the rest of the day packing up bits and bobs (i.e. TOTAL CRAP THAT I WILL NEVER EVER NEED) to store at my parents until I move. I’m hoping to cycle there tomorrow so that I can store my bike there too. Weather permitting I have 6 hours of digging waiting for me in Daddy’s allotment. Oh, plus Mummy’s roast chicken. Yum.

here comes the sun

It appears that spring has finally sprung and at last I do not get shouted at when I dare to open a window by a crack at work. I’ve been a little perky at work of late, it’s all those early morning runs and the WB told me that I needed to go out and get drunk so that I could go into work like the more sullen codename of last year. When the sun came out yesterday I did just that and sat under my tree on a spontaneous whim. I sipped lager with a work colleague who has just moved into the area. On arrival my radar detected a strange man. Anyone walking around the park in the evening with a huge rucksack suggests that they are out for a while and have nowhere to go. I was pleased when he walked around us after having eyed us for a good 20 minutes. 10 minutes later the Rossers appeared to take him away in a meat wagon. It appears that he has mental problems and had chased someone through the park. It tool the Police about 20 minutes to calm him down. Normally a magnet for trouble it was good to have avoided it on my first sit down visit of the year. Today I thanked the WB for his advise as I did have a nice time but somehow I woke up this morning with no less than 12 mosquito bits. Boooooooooo.

I simply cannot wait to have a garden. I’d love to sit out on balmy evenings such as tonight and observe clear night skies. Tonight I can see Mars to the right of the waxing moon and a bright and shiny Jupiter rising. The moon is so bright that I have a window of light in my bedroom. It’s magical. In lieu of my own garden I am growing tomatoes in a sunny office at work. I planted them today and will naturally chart their progress. I know how to have fun eh.

And look, someone has managed to photograph my woodpecker. I can't wait to have a bird box and bath. And so the list goes on.... Valuations tomorrow…………

lesson 1

Estate Agent Speak
Earlier on today when I was just about to mail the Shark I realised where Poet’s Corner is. I actually typed and then deleted “what do you think of around Milton and Shakespeare Road?”. Poet’s Corner, just near P*** Artists Lane. Not moving there OK!

Still I am beside myself with excitement.

buying or selling?

The flat is clean and I am ready to make the make the call and arrange the valuation. Shudder. Scary. However, it’s a good time to sell. There are 2 flats next door up for grabs. One was on the market for approx 1 week before being sold and the other for 1 week before getting a CASH offer.

Daddy has advised me that although I will get a lot for my flat I will need to pay a lot to buy one. Bless him I love him. Any other invaluable advice from you bloggers?

In my brief trip to the Estate Agents on Saturday he dangled Poets Corner under my nose. Well, I’ve looked on maps galore but cannot locate the area and now fear the term is Estate Agent’s speak. I’ve not seen any Dulwich types putting up road signs advertising Poets Corner, or is it too exclusive for that? Will they let me in.......if I can find it?

they call me codename lizzy i’m back i’m back

Phhhhhhheeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwweeeeeeee. It’s been so long that I don’t know where to start. I’ve had to get my calendar out! So, a brief recap………..the week before last I went to see Erasure on tour with their acoustic CD ‘Union Street’. They had a stage full of Nashville musicians and backing singers. It was a great show and quite a radical departure from their normally firmly electronic sound. It really demonstrated Andy Bell's skills. He has the voice (and eyes) of an angel. I was more than a little nervous about bumping into He Who Cannot Be Named but in the end we talked to each other quite a few times and I got used to it by the end. He even helped me win a bet with the youngsters in the bar. They were watching the crew pack up the stage via plasma screens in the bar and foolishly bet me that I wouldn’t get up onto the stage to dance. Ha ha, I should have put some money on it. Needless to say I had full permission of the Stage Manager. Even though seeing HWCBN went a lot better than expected I was still pleased when I could leave at the end of the evening, not least as I could take the heels off.

Talking of heels, I bought another pair last weekend. They are only slightly lower but I can walk in them all day. Last weekend I completed my renaissance while in the hairdresser’s chair. It was the third time with my new hairdresser and I finally got him to understand that I only need the illusion of long hair, I don’t actually need a haystack on my head! So, my barnet is now a cross between Angie and David Bowie circa Ziggy phase. Yum, course I’ve had it this way before, so I knew it would be good. I’ve also completed the new wardrobe that I began in Madrid last year, worked on in New York and have now finished in London. I have stacks of outfits that are smart and flattering but remain indisputably codenamed NOT LAYDEE. Among the new items……….a short sleeved blouse. GASP!!! I drew gasps galore from everyone at work and rather enjoyed it all.

So, recapping a go go. Last Sunday I went to a recording of Top of the Pops. It was all rather bizarre walking past Jamie Callum, Graham Coxon, Dirty Pretty Things (Carl Barrett of The Libertines fame) and Jamie Foxx etc, all before 2pm. I’m more used to walking past artists at the other end of the day. We even saw John Prescott arrive for a Sunday politics programme and the fella from Sunday’s Match of the Day. I watched the Pet Shops Boys rehearse and saw the Flaming Lips and Goldfrapp run through their tracks twice, as TOTP has gone back to it’s old skool style and goes out live on occasion. Although not everyone sang live. Ssssh. All very bizarre. The last time I went to TOTP Martin Mclutchene [spelling ?], aka Tiffany from Enders, was numero uno, her words people. On Monday it was the Album Chart Show, again with live performances. I was taken aback at how small Koko appeared to be. When I used to go to the Camden Palace, oh back in those days again, it always seemed huge and cavernous. Tuesday was supposed to be my lovely evening at home on the couch doing nothing but I was spotted at the bus stop on the way home and easily persuaded by a work colleague to go to birthday drinks with one of our travel agents. Red wine went down easily as it does on these spontaneous occasions and just a handful of Japanese horseradish-covered nuts counted as tea as I tried to DJ from my laptop through 2 fist-sized speakers. Luckily after a couple of hours we realised that if we didn’t move sharpish we could easily be tempted to stay there all night. We fled into the night from the high pitched and loud, but lovely, gaggle of women, plus token gay man, around 9ish and so I had a couple of hours to myself at least. Wednesday was Popworld and the only thing that marred my day even slightly was someone who I really admire dryly commenting “We’ve seen that outfit before”. Dang, must buy more. Thursday began with a session at the Beeb. It was a flurry of activity and when it was over and everyone was shipped off in their cars we felt euphoric and returned to the office expecting to be carried on shoulders with Mexican waves and cheer leaders as the week’s activities had gone so well. No such luck but we were still high as kites. We were keen to hit the bar to celebrate but we had to look for a drinking opportunity later as it was only 12.30pm. It wasn’t until my way home, once again, that I stumbled upon an opportunity and went to see Richard Hawley knock out a few tunes at a publishing do. Firmly from Sheffield and a staunch Southern knocker he told us that he was feeling good, tired but good, from months of non-stop activity but that seeing a tramp do a s**t in the road had “tended to bring him back down to earth”. He’s quite the comedian and I love his voice. Play The Ocean, my favourite.

Now it’s just me on my lonesome. We’ve just had carpet laid in the hall and thus the house’s transformation is complete. I’m so excited about putting the flat up for sale and getting somewhere with a garden that I ill advisedly went to the Estate Agent after jogging around the park twice. Still after this I’m off to clean up and get ready for a valuation. It’s non-stop around here.

my keith allen stories

I had to chuckle when I read this as I have 3 of my own.

The first time I met him was during my ‘oh those were the days’. I was working for the Hayward Gallery press office at the time and Spellbound was the current exhibition. Damien Hirst was exhibiting his first feature film, staring Keith Allen and with music by Alex James of Blur (I think). It was the press opening and Alison was extremely busy looking after several other artists so I was entrusted with looking after this motley bunch. They rolled up obviously having either been up all night or with very little sleep. They had an obvious distrust of PR and just stood there completely ignoring me and looking at the ground whilst grumbling. While wondering just what on earth I was going to do with them all I looked down at the ground too. And thank god that I did as I noticed that Keith and Damien had the same shoes on. “So, who got em first?’ I challenged. It worked. “I did.” “No I did.” Ha ha, they were actually fighting for my attention.

The second time was backstage at Glastonbury in 1998 where we were guests of John Peel (RIP). Backstage in those days was one tent with a few bottles of warm wine and a barrel of warm beer. It’s so different now and to be avoided at ALL cost. It was a sedate affair with a handful of people reading The Guardian. Keith Allen suddenly appeared with a ghetto blaster on his shoulder. He stormed through with his entourage shouting “Come on you f*****s, it’s supposed to be a P-A-R-T-Y”.

Finally at last year’s Glastonbury New Order did a great set, which included loads of my favourites. At the time when I knew it was the last track, and knowing that Blue Monday was rehearsed and on schedule to be performed, while eagerly anticipating seeing it live for the first time, Keith Allen stormed onto the stage with a load of knobs in football shorts. They completely ruined it for me by doing World in Motion as their last encore. It shouldn’t be allowed.

By the by, his daughter is now on the music scene. You can check her out here http://www.myspace.com/lilymusic. Let’s hope that she doesn’t build a similar reputation.

this is wonderful

Check this out. The wonderful Goldfrapp cover Boys will be Boys by The Ordinary Boys.

ex pats

I haven’t read it yet but it’s bound to be good. A wee read for those overseas Haruki Murakami, from today’s Guardian.

Oh and the new Dr Who is fantastic.

buy my mate Paul’s suitcase for a good cause

In between a massive spring cleaning and mini DIY spurge I idly looked back at this which in turn lead me here and then ultimately to this.

Is this another failed auction? Is her brother ever going to get enough money to get into the studio? Come on folks, that’s got to be a good cause. Let’s get Jodie Marsh’s brother into the studio. I am accepting offers for my mate Paul’s suitcase. I’m sure he won’t mind. It comes complete with Paul’s very own European plug adaptor.

For Jane RIP

Just over a week ago Jane, my youngest brother’s wife, died of breast cancer. She was only 4 years older than me and she loved life and lived it with a positive zeal. She leaves behind my brother, 2 wonderful boys, both aged under 10 and a loving family and friends. None of it makes any sense.

It was Jane’s funeral yesterday and as we approached the Church I was happy to see the road bursting with cars. The ceremony was held in the Church that she was married in and her body is now laid to rest in the grounds, in the village where she grew up.

Jane was a beautiful, kind, funny, loving and popular person. The very best of company and I loved her from the minute I met her. She very so good for my brother and they were a spirited couple who travelled around the world together. In fact I think their first child was born in Hong Kong. She grew up with horses and on her return from Hong Kong she went to see her old horse, who she sadly had to sell in order to travel. On her return she went to see her old pal and was shocked to find the horse malnourished and in poor health. I am proud to say that she smacked the new owner and gave her what for. I learnt yesterday that we shared a love of birds and that listening to bird song was one of her favourite past times. Try it people if you haven’t. I mean properly. I hadn’t realised that she was so into wild life and I also learned that when she was young and on holiday with her family, she returned to camp base with a pony in a dog lead and said “I got one of em”. Sadly, she was not allowed to keep it. I smiled as 2 butterflies were fluttering in the altar’s stained glass windows as the story was told.

On my way home from work the day before the funeral I suddenly felt uplifted and buoyed and my mood transformed from sombre to something like elation. As I felt the wind through my hair I grew convinced of an other-worldly power coursing through me. I was convinced it was Jane. On meeting Jane’s Mum I struggled with whether or not to tell her. I worried that she would think me mad or that I was belittling Jane’s memory. But as we clasped hands and talked I felt that she would understand. “Oh yes dear, that was her. She loved to sail. She’s the wind all right. That’s why I chose the poem.”

‘I am not There’
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on the snow.
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.

I don’t think it was any coincidence that the wind was uncommonly strong yesterday and could actually blow you off your feet at the farm where we gathered after the funeral.

glow sticks are back

On Tuesday night I went to see the Klaxons at Madame Jo Jos. Check out their myspace @ http://www.myspace.com/klaxons. The last time I went there was more than 18 years ago, at least, and the waiters/waitresses were all attractive ladymen with long waxed legs. Or were they? It was all very mysterious. The bar staff now are all Indie kids and I was there on an NME rock night. I was a little disturbed that the toilet had US doors (ref the TERRIBLE picture) but at least the very English tradition of a toilet attendant was upheld. The Ladies, despite being the size of a phone box (remember them) was decked out with Chupa Chupas, Juicy Fruits, various perfumes etc etc. The very kind lady attendant handed me tissues to dry my hands and I gave her £1. I was taken aback when she grabbed me and gave me a hug. Everyone needs a hug and it was the only one I’d had since I left the shark in NYC. It’s distressing that I have to pay for them at the moment but it’s my own fault.

I digress….. the Klaxons were brilliant. Their music is infectious and every tune is up-lifting and impossibly catchy. Their set began with ‘The Bouncer Demo’ which contains the very familiar phrase “Your name’s not down you’re not coming in’. I thought “you’re not over 18 you’re not coming in” was more suitable as the Top Shop clad crowd all had to show their photo ID in order to get in. The Doorman warned the queue that ID would need to be shown. He took one look at my colleague and pointed at him and said “apart from you”. Te he, I gave out a loud chuckle seeing as I’m 10 or 11 years older than him but was not singled out for ridicule. My knicker bockers and baseball boots outfit knocks years off me. I think ‘the kids’ in general are creating a post-rave scene and the Klaxons are involved in this radical movement. There were at least 12 glow sticks on the go and it’s the object to carry if you are a fan. It was an affluent and academic crowd, all very young and pretty. I saw a few Penguin paperbacks. Their latest single is ‘Gravity’s Rainbow’ and they have inspired me to read it next. I’ve not read it despite having owned it for 15 years. Yikes. It’s still very much rock and roll though and the guitarist / vocalist proved this right at the end by jumping onto the poor drummer’s kit as a grand finale.

I have always loved glow sticks and I am very pleased that I can now partake of my habit without the sneering.

wot no artclass

It took me some time to adapt back to real life after having had such a ball in NYC and then hitting the road to follow a band. The most notable habit that I picked up in NYC was touching everything with the back of my hand before gripping as the shark and TH have a problem with static in their apartment. Virtually everything gives off a pretty hefty poke of electricity. It’s a routine that paid dividends in the hotels that I subsequently stayed in but I think that I can stop it now. I’ve also returned to my basic, boring, monotonous diet and hence have rediscovered my ribs and waist and I feel confident of a Dave Gahan body by June. Thanks to a jogging route suggested by TH in NYC and the new sign in Brockwell Park giving the distance of the parameter as a measly 2 miles (pah!), I now jog around it twice, with aims of getting higher soon. It’s an absolute pleasure to run at the moment as spring has hit our shores with gusto. But as always, it’s scattered. While I am basking in the sun’s rays, a game of football has been abandoned in Sunderland due to heavy snow and a frosty night with snow has been forecast in Northeast Scotland.

It’s my first Saturday in absolute yonks where I’ve had absolutely nothing to do all day and knowing that I can get stuck into some DIY next weekend, I’m a couch potato today and relishing my football. As usual Mourinho has come up trumps “For me, pressure is bird flu; I am feeling a lot of pressure with the swan in Scotland," revealed Mourinho when asked about the Manchester United manager's attempts to turn the psychological screws on Stamford Bridge.” I managed to summons some energy to switch channels for the Grand National but lost my ante when my horse dragged itself home.

RIP Jane xxx

booooooooo

I was just about to say how much I love the Beeb after finding this and then I found this.

Leave red heads out of it!

suffer well

It’s hard to believe that the lump that has just stirred after a doze on the couch is due to kick-start a health campaign tomorrow. A campaign inspired by Dave Gahan looking like this. Sunday and Monday saw Depeche Mode opening the new Wembley Arena and they rocked again. It’s absolutely unheard of for me to be able to watch the same gig 4 times in one week but these shows rock. ‘Behind the Wheel’ is my current favourite. What a sauce pot. There were after shows on both nights but Monday night was the busiest and I had lots of people to knock about with. James Holden DJ’d with some dark and twisted beats and built a few of us up into a frenzy. Catster and her FMB were there and it was nice to be able to spoilt them rotten, although they were marvellously helpful too. The WB had introduced me to MG as someone who can sort anything out and when the alcohol was running low in the dressing room I duly appeared on demand with my 2 assistants laden down with booze. We stayed in there until 2am when we were tempted to enter some sort of bizarre goose chase in a white van but wisely decided against it. The hollow legs had held up until then but I didn’t want to take it too far. In the cab back to the wonderful HH FMB told us about a distressing feature of her new alarm. On setting the time it tells you how much time you have left to sleep. I had a very poor 5 ½ hours but she had a measly 4 hours! The WB ended up going back to the hotel and didn’t get home until 5am. I gently sang “Never again is what you swore the time before” when he eventually got into work at 12pm. Oh, and I met my eyeliner muse. I had met her once before but had not recognised her from the visuals for ‘I Feel Love’. I gushingly told her that she had inspired me to kohl up. Her hair drops down past her waist and next to her I felt very unglamorous. Dave Gahan work out here I come.

just can't get enough

I’ve spent the majority of the last 2 weeks travelling by plane, train and in life threatening taxis, while living out of a suitcase and sleeping in 3 different beds. For this trip the majority of my luggage consisted of tissues, medicine and very warm clothes as I caught an absolute corker of a cold on the plane back from NYC. It really showed too, I was miserable, permanently cold, I had a bright red nose, small and puffy eyes, peeling nostrils and I tired by a pathetic 4pm. Plus as I still had jet lag early on in the week all my thoughts were wrapped up in cotton wool. As I was due to travel to 2 cities on Thursday and Friday, to be on my feet all day and to work until the early hours with only a brief rest on Saturday afternoon/evening I was prepared for an almighty fight with my health. Luckily by some sort of miracle although my cold was in full force on Thursday morning, by that afternoon everything had dried up and full health and strength gradually returned over the next couple of days.

Depeche Mode were absolutely brilliant. I had never seen them live before and although I had been told that they are brilliant live, you just can’t imagine it until you experience it for yourself. Dave Gahan has inspired me to get a body (not quite) like his and I plan to begin the regime on Wednesday. He had the whole of the Stadium eating out of the palm of his hands as he jutted about like a cross between Iggy, James Brown and Prince. Wow. I spent the whole of Friday bursting into spontaneous versions of “I feellllllllllllll love, this is the dawning of my life” as this is the moment that both shows really really kicked off. Walking in my Shoes was electric. Martin Gore has the voice of an Angel and when he sung Home he was positively angelic. As well as tonnes of old favourites there was lots of new songs from Playing the Angel, their new album, and seeing them performed live has made me love the album. I am now such a fan that I even joined in the Mexican wave before Friday’s concert (just don’t tell anyone). Dave Gahan has knocked Bobby Gillespie off the Sexiest Man in Rock and Roll No. 1 spot.

A few staff had travelled up for the Manchester gig so I had some nice people to play with, in fact I sat next to the WB who is a big fan and told me lots of interesting tit-bits throughout the performance. He yanked me to the side of the stage for the encores during which time I bumped into my only minor indiscretion of the last year and had a bit of a flirt. The flirting continued later when we popped to the band’s hotel for late drinks. The WB rang me the next day and said “the poor man looked terrified” and that I had him locked into place in a pincer movement but I swear it isn’t true. The minor indiscretion confirmed this the following day when we flirted some more. We didn’t actually get anyway near to being indiscreet, just for the record Shark!

One of the Depeche projections features a sexy nudey lady applying liquid black eyeliner and during the hotel drinks I felt inspired to source a black eye liner and hit the jackpot with a lovely but clearly mad World Music lady from work and blacked up. Her mad French friend said that the band were very machine but good. Mad as brushes, the pair of em.

I’m buying my own black eye liner on the way to Sunday’s gig.

the lesser spotted red belly

Hurrah, this is the red bellied bird that the Shark and I spotted amongst all the sparrows while waiting for the Ellis Island ferry.

Rejoice with me, the noisy neighbour moved out. She fell out with one of the housemates (Side Show Bob). She whacked the last one for trying it on with her sister. Said he was a perv.

Mega blog to follow soon. I am soon to travel to Manchester and Birmingham, to follow a stadium-filling band. I am packing both pair of heels, both pairs of knicker bockers, tissues and God help me please, my hollow legs. No time for bicker bockering.

Lord hear my prayers.

home......

... sad but safe.
xxxxx

sent packing

So, last night was my last in New York and I already want to come back. Boo hoo. I started the day with my first jog of the week before checking out a diner (a must for a tourist), thus our bodies were steeled and fortified for a trip to the stressful Century 21. It’s a discount designer warehouse full to the brim with shoppers and has no air conditioning. The only thing I wanted was a pair of plain black kitten heels and with my radar vision and the Shark’s uncanny, and previously undiscovered ability to locate sizes in a pile them up high in no apparent order system, we got lucky straight away. It was difficult trying to work out if I could walk in the heels or not as the shoes were cable tied together and we were not permitted to break the seal, but I took a chance on them so that we could get some air. We tried the basement to check out the ‘sneakers’ but air deprivation cut short that excursion. We did very well for 2 birds dressed in black though and spent another half an hour looking for clothes. We then took a stroll down to the South Street Sea Port and after that, at long last, we took a bus home, something that TH had been encouraging us to do for the entire trip. Later we met up with him and some of his barking mad work mates for another must, a burger. Yum.

Today I took an even longer run down to Houston, so that’s roughly 21 blocks and back. It was easily the best run that I have ever taken and it set me up well to go to this famous Jewish Deli for more huge helpings of good food.

I’m off to pack now and I am very sad. I just came up with the bright idea of a couple of drinks for the road. Te he.

The observant reader here will notice the complete lack of any mention to the infamous Mrs N. Although I could hear her yapping dog every time I passed her front door, it never actually budged in the manner that I expected. I was seriously beginning to think that she did not exist until TH explained yesterday that she was on vacation. Oh, and Shark had such plans for me.

Meanwhile in London…further to my brief mention to Chantelle working with Beatbullying, this has happened.

new shoes

I am a kitten.
Purrr.

addendum

Danny’s is a fun place with a crooning pianist, fantastic food and a back room that tempts debauchery. There was a band playing and the show was recommended to us a few times (a red head from Glasgow is much more exotic here) but as it was a performer that the Shark had seen twice, and a school night for TH we didn’t do it. I was slightly tempted though as I had chatted to and fancied one of the band. CNL in ‘fancies a man shocker’. It’s a biannual event these days. We were there very early but by all accounts Broadway stars pop in later and take to the microphone and lonely people make eyes at the pianist. Make it part of your trip when coming here!

The bathroom was dark with piped music.

bowery and restaurant row

After leafing through Time Out New York Shark suggested KT Tunstall playing the Bowery Poetry Room. A bargain at only $8. It’s a small venue and she was on very early so we gently stroked the chins on whether or not she is known in the States yet, or if she is on a promo tour. Still we dressed carefully for the occasion, trying to achieve the correct level of glamour and weirdness needed for the area and planned to hook up with TH there. The cab driver from hell #1 took us to the Bowery where I was immediately threatened by a man with a stick. Quite scary at the time, I really did think that I was going to get a whack. He obviously didn’t know that a certain Tai Chi warrior stance came very naturally to me (although less so in the new heels). TH was a bit annoyed that we wasn’t there to protect us. It seems that he wouldn’t push me to the front after all. We moved swiftly onto what turned out to be the non-event of the year. KT Tunstall wasn’t playing. She wasn’t even there. It was a launch party for an album that’s been out in the UK for ages. Time Out got it all wrong and I’m thinking of writing in to complain. Before you say it, we did try and phone ahead 212 614 0505 (ans ph). Very good, but not very helpful at the time.

Luckily we were in New York so it wasn’t the biggest of problems. After hooking up with TH we had a drink in Marion’s where Shark reminisced about days gone by and this led to the genius idea of going to Danny’s Sky Light Room. We hailed cab driver from hell #2. On getting into the cab Shark asked why there was no screen separating us from him. He pointed to the glove compartment and said “Cos I got a gun”. It was a long ride but luckily for us cab driver from hell #2 raced most of the way with competing cabs so we arrived a lot sooner than we should have. Another fun night in NYC.

soho and chi

Today we woke up fresh and fighting fit after our beautiful sleeps and practiced the fine art of Tai Chi. I’ve often watched the nutters, I mean practiscers, doing their Chi outside the Brockwell Lido at 7.30am in their gloves, hats and overcoats and people in various static poses under trees. I never imagined that I would ever want to be one, but after just 1 session I feel differently. It’s very hard to pick up and I felt relived when the Shark told me that it took her time and effort to learn even one routine. I only got the hang of one very small part of one routine and that was at the very end of the lesson. It’s not all brown rice and lentils you know, it’s for warriors! I couldn’t get the hang of it until teacher told me to aim like I was going to stab him in the eyes, knee him in the crutch etc etc while remaining calm, still and silent. These things really do go together. At the end of class he gave me 2 presents, one of his pens and a worry bead type bracelet. Shark says he notices things and I do tend to fiddle with my hair. This was like getting 2 gold stars. ☺ Being still is all foreign to me and I felt eerie and odd after class plus very cross-eyed but invigorated with it. Shark noticed a change in me immediately too in that my pace had lessened by about 30mph.

We had a wee stroll around Soho too and I bought myself another pair of knicker bockers. When I asked what sort of shoes I should wear with them, the overly helpful shop assistant brought me a 4-inch pair of stiletto shoes. I looked like Pete Burns, ie a docker in women’s clothing. It was oh so funny that she insisted on taking a snap of it.

On a more predictable vein, Chantelle with a C has acted as a spokesperson for Beatbullying. This is one of Jodie Marsh’s favored charities. Let’s see how charitable she is with her vitriol. In her battle with Murdoch the www.myspace.com/jodiehumanviagra has been removed. Does this means she’s winning or losing or that she now acts as a sleeping pill?

uptown

Poor CNL did not have enough sleep last night. Not down to jet leg, just Laydee tings. Still I bravely managed to get a little shopping done this morning, a lovely jacket in Diesel but I got tired and bored quickly and left it at that. I hooked back up with the Shark and we met a couple of her friends for lunch. We had shrimp risotto, gorgeous!!!! and I pretended to be awake and opened my mouth to make the right noises as much as I could, but I really wasn’t the best company ever.

But look who we were sat next to phoooooor.

More tourist activity today. Naturally I love to go up, although I am very scared of heights and the Shark suggested the Rockafella Center as an alternative to the Empire State Building, which I’ve been up twice already. It was enormous fun going up the 86, I think, floors. The roof of the lift is made of glass and the shaft is illuminated with blue neon lights. It looks something like this on the way up and down. Great fun – do it kids. Absolutely breath taking views, which of course I have not done justice to, what with having the shakes and all. We had timed the ascent carefully to coincide with the sun set but boo hoo it was cloudy.

We are now par-taking in a great American past time, American Idol. Shark thinks that Paula is high on the weed. It’s possible, as she can barely sit upright and her responses are somewhat erratic. It could be booze or prescription drugs too. TH is on bar duty so we are drinking quadruple measures. Woo hoo. Shark is now frantically dialling for Taylor.

Naturally I’m keeping an eye on Jodie Marsh activity, me being one of “them”, ie a scary weirdo. She’s thinking of taking on Murdoch in a war against someone hosting a myspace in her name www.myspace.com/jodiehumanviagra. I’ll keep you informed.

I will never get used to these toilets (pt 3)

Live Bait

I will never get used to these toilets (pt 2)

55 Bar

I will never get used to these toilets (pt 1)

Knicker Bocker

downtown

Earlier, in my sleepy haze I forgot to say that I am sleeping on THE most comfortable bed in THE world. My 12-hour sleep last night is a testament to that. I did wake up a few times though. Once, as it’s amazing how much traffic and sirens that one can hear 13 floors up. Plus, I am sleeping next to the computer that actually powers the Tardis and it kicks off a hell of a racket…. it has it’s own TV!!! TH was embarrassed to tell me it only has 6 channels plus a couple of Spanish channels. He thought 3 TVs with 250 channels would be overdoing it. I agree and remain incredibly impressed with his boffin skills. He spoke Japanese to us the other night. Wow. I also woke up with a parched mouth but we can glaze over that……..



Today Shark suggested that we do our ferry ride. I had suggested the Staten Island route as a visitor’s option, which I had done 11 years ago, but as I came determined to live a New York life for a week, I am very open to suggestions from a real New Yorker and the Shark counting as that now is brilliant. The best thing ever in fact. So, we went to Liberty and Ellis Island instead. This involved a ride on the subway, which passed unremarkably. No one was wearing a Walkman or an I-pod and no one was playing any MP3s through their mobile phones and there was no unnecessary announcements on the platforms either. Bliss. Actually leaving the Island though was quite an ordeal. The queue was huge and involved listening to a steel drum version of many popular classics: My Way, New York New York, London Bridge is Falling Down, plus numerous other numbers and a security procedure worthy of any good Airport. I volunteered the knowledge that I was carrying a miniature manicure Swiss Army knife and I was allowed through the security system that allowed no photos or indeed anything that might pass as entertainment for a good 20 minutes. I don’t think any more visitors this year will be accompanying the Shark anywhere on a ferry anytime soon. It was worth it simply to huddle like penguins, remembering of course that they have no arms. The winds were glacial and we were frozen to the bone. I am a tourist so I took several shaky pictures before my batteries ran out, which was all too soon. By the by we discovered that it is quite the trend for young Japanese girls to wear winkle picker dolly shoes a size too big so that they slip up and down with every step. Not at all annoying.

By the time we hit the shore again the Shark had come up with a wonderful plan which involved hitting her SECOND favourite bar Live Bait while we warmed up with spirits and waited for TH who was bunking off work early on my account. Due to our struggling immune systems the drinks went to our head quite quickly. We were in high spirits before his surprise early entry and quite frankly the rest of the evening passed in a whirlwind, although I can remember every minute of it. Shark cooked a lovely curry, TH did the rice and I did nothing apart from read out updated blogs (oh yes we are watching). They are in bed now, which is where I am going now, but I cannot go to bed without rejoicing lyrically in what a wonderful host and hostess that they are. Oh, and wonderful cooks too.

east village and greenwich all in one day

Yesterday we took a stroll to the East Village for brunch, even though the TH seems obsessed with getting everywhere by bus. Moroccan eggs, yum. We had plans to go to Brooklyn on the subway and walk back over the bridge but the wind chill factor was very high and we had a secret, warm alternative, watching March of the Penguins. Oh my God, can’t we doing something about this situation? We could drop food parcels, build platforms or drill holes through to the ice ANYTHING.

Then we hooked up with Jonathon at the fairy light grotto known as 55 Bar. Shark had told me that he is similar to me and I have to say that I like him, a lot. Very very handsome too. Phew. Shark slipped him some booty: PG Tips and V05 hair gel, which he immediately offered around the venue. He asked me why I was blogging about Jodie Foster. Hmm, explaining about Jodie Marsh was more than embarrassing. Still, I’m not ready to give it up just yet. We watched the Gabrielle Anders band. Against all the odds, ie small venue, band, music, being out, I really enjoyed it. I clapped when prompted, as the good bits were not always immediately obvious to me. I especially enjoyed the songs sung in English. I’m not racist, I just love lyrics you see. We met the drummer and some lovely “how you doing” men who shared a secret lovely flavour of Doritos, previously unknown to us. So salty snacks and table service led to another lovely evening topped off with Chinese take out. Life really turns around food here and I quite expect to come back the size of a house.

this is just showing off

New York New York it’s a wonderful town

Awesome. Opps, I’m not allowed to say that anymore. It’s been banned by the Sharkess.

I arrived safely in New York TG (another story there for another time) and took some blog notelettes of the journey for y’all. As Virgin do not give you a wee notepad anymore, I used the only blank piece of paper available to me, my sick bag. Before you scoff, while watching ‘Walk the Line’, as part of my in flight entertainment, I discovered that Johnny Cash had done exactly the same thing while inspired to write to Bob Dylan on a flight, before he had gone electric of course. So, if it’s good enough for him etc. So what if he was high on pills and booze at the time. I cast an eerie reflection on the screen throughout the film, rather like Frankenstein’s monster. Grrrrr. In complete contrast I then watched The Constant Gardener. Is it true that there will be a worldwide TB epidemic? I really must catch up on my current affairs.

On take off, I noticed a lovely advertisement on the top of a Tesco building. What is it that they want from you? I mean its not like I could jump off and get a 2 for 1 on bakery items is it? Apart from Sky Sports News only showing League One football results (der), the 1000000 mile per hour Duty Free opportunity that passed me by entirely (doh), the only thing of interest was going over Greenland. I think I saw some glaciers. Awesome, opps.

Last night was TH’s birthday and we went to Knickerbockers, the NYC equivalent of The Archduke, (without our laptops) to celebrate. I actually wore a pair, along with my lovely 4-inch heels. TH ate half a cow, I ate the other half, while the Shark was rather more sophisticated with duck. We had a marvellous time spotting who is gay, who is swinging and on occasion remembered to actually speak to each other. It was my best night out in New York ever and I did have a lovely time. We are also planning a night out on the local rough pub. It’s something that the Shark has wanted to do for a while but TH banned her. So, I’m not sure how to take the news that he actually suggested going to it BECAUSE I am here. His “It’s cos your Oirish” defence is sitting somewhat uncomfortably, although he means it with lots of love.

I’ve already hit the town, seen a sunset, Jupiter, a clear night sky with constellations and just narrowly missed Venus. Alright already.

Correction ; it’s because if there’s a fight he can put me in front.

jodie marsh's suitcase, the ebay auction

I was out at a gig at the time, Liars at ULU, which was top. Luckily I received the following texts keeping me up to date:

9.27pm Where are you?
9.29pm Ah. Not watching the auction then.
9.31pm Weirdness, it got to 7 grand with 5 mins to run. now its gone back to a grand with 2 mins to go! uh?
9.34pm OK. Auction over. No bids!? X
9.37pm You just have to read the reason at the bottom of the page! Ha!
9.38pm They were clearly all her!

Going going NOT gone.

© shark

for the addicts

A treat for you.

stop messing about

There’s a Kenneth Williams evening on the box tonight. His life was a truly heart breaking story and seeing it re-enacted has recalled a couple of memories from one of my past lives. I met him on a tube train in Hammersmith once when I was very little. I was with my little girlfriends and he was very funny and nice to us and gave us his autograph. And when he died our paths, sort of, crossed again. I was working for a bank, not in one, but for one and we looked after his Estate. On the event of his death I went to his house in Paddington or there abouts with the Trust Officer and we took all of his assets back to the office. It was a spartan place almost exactly replicated here. There was very little furniture and all I can recall was 2 chairs, one for him and one for his mother. Very neat, very tidy and very bare. Not much to show for a whole lifetime.

i smell a rat

I thought that the removal from ebay would be a little more interesting. It's back! Although I do suspect that she’s bidding for it herself. Te he.

you have not been evicted

The Shark’s back in Blighty and has set up camp here in the living room that doubles as a discotheque when needs be. I was ever so slightly nervous that it would be a little noisy for her due to my sash windows being 120 years old but my offer of earplugs was rejected. It seems that the noise actually helps her to sleep and acts like a lullaby gently bombarding her to sleep. “Cos I’m a City bird innit” she said (I think she’s been knocking about with some cock er nees or somefink).

Last night I gave the 4-inch heels another airing for a greatly anticipated curry at Fawlty Towers, I mean 3 Monkeys with shark & catster. It seems that Indian food is not that great in NYC but if any passing trade bloggers know differently, please feel free to comment. The shark and I retired to base camp to huddle over laptops, and I managed to get the shark addicted to the sick one too. We cannot wait to hear why the suitcase was taken off ebay.

She’s out tonight keeping up with an excruciating social calendar and is dining in palatial surroundings in Dulwich (which is clearly sign posted from Boroughs away). I’ve heard that the Estate can only be accessed via a drawbridge over a long moat. Don’t tell her I said but today’s trip nearly had to be called off due to me not having a full-length mirror. She couldn’t figure out how I cope until I reminded her that, until recently, I had approximately 2 outfits. I would be worried about her not coming back but I know that she’s only got 1 ½ hours of power on her life-line.

Oh dear. This received no bids on ebay and has beem removed. I wait with baited breath for an update. Perhaps a footballer offered her £20K.

i'm still sick

Oh dear. This has been on ebay since Wednesday. Despite being advertised on her own web-site and being in this week’s holy-moly mail-out NOT ONE BID!

queen shark

It occurred to me while washing up 1 ½ weeks worth of plates, clearing up clothes that have long since dried, washing the sink, contemplating hovering etc, that the cat and the mafling probably went through similar things on the eve of the shark. In fact I know the catster did as I admired her work! It must be rather like being the Queen, except that there's no smell of paint. It’s a good job that the shark knows and loves TH foibles as I fear that he will buck the trend.

the end of the road?

I’d like to take this opportunity to thank everyone here for their patience and understanding during this difficult time. Indeed I can only go on in the comfort that knowing that I have provided amusement to the solobassist , a man who makes a conscious effort to give a proportion of his time for the good of others. If he can, then I can.

The torment is over and I can now reveal, probably in a worldwide exclusive, that the long long long wait is over. Excited? I know I am…………….She has broken her blog silence. It’s been 5 weeks since I began to wait with baited breath for a response, a rant, a throw away comment. God damn it a lifeline. I needed closure after 4 long hard weeks of intensive, often, 24 hour reporting. Hopefully it ends here and this sad, unrewarding addiction is now beaten. Is it over? I can only hope.

a purple haze

The awards themselves were what you’d expect with lots of loud people, lots of smoke and lots of drunkenness. I arrived at 10pm, got myself a £9 hotel bar vodka and hid at the back. Despite smelling of fish and chips, and being me, I managed to get through the trauma of having to meet lots of drunken new people. I did this by disarming new comers immediately. I chucked my pre-planned stock phrase “do I look like a cheap hooker?” at em (the outfit, short pants, high shoes). I coped very well until I spied He Who Cannot Be Named and immediately felt like leaving, which I did. I’m not going into it on the World Wide Web like but suffice to say that there were tears at bedtime. Still on the upside the shark’s in the area and I definitely heard a wood pecker in the park during my early morning jog on Thursday.

What with the shark being about I’ve HAD TO go to some gigs, and for old time’s sake I accompanied her, the cat and their gang to Commuter Jazz at the QEH. There were lots of new faces with limp hand shakes but also some lovely familiar faces too, including Mr T, Mr H, Terry Edwards and solobasssteve. I saw the Beardless One, although only briefly as he was leisurely rushing home to a sick wife and Lady Jane who I didn’t get to talk to as every time I looked up at her, she was with strangers and what with the pain of standing for 3 hours in heels (not the new ones), I couldn’t cope with any more discomfort. Jimbob, it was really too bad of you not to be there.

Art class went like a dream. Although the work is not ready to be shown here yet, it was briefly exhibited in the Foyer of the National Theatre today when myself, catster and the shark went along to see Steve and Theo (who does not think I’m scary) play. It was all lovely apart from the bus driver from hell on the way home. Naturally I did not let him get away with it without a few choice certificate 18 words of my own.

just do it blog people

Planet Earth. From Sunday, BBC1 @ 9pm.

bit fishy

Bliss as I finally have a minute to think and a chance to rest my weary feet.

So, with Monday came the shocking news that I was going to a work do on Thursday night. I can now reveal that it was because our Chairman was collecting a special prize at the Music Week Awards, so me complaining about having to go or having nothing to wear wasn’t really on. He’s 100% behind his staff, he’s a top man and he employs me. I had to show some support.

Shoe shopping on Tuesday followed naturally. I did it all for him in the first instance. Honest. It was a totally clichéd shopping trip with staff being snooty to me at Prada and with me avoiding anything without a price tag, or that was chained to the shelf. Naturally I found THE shoes in the last shop that I went into. This was, of course, also the first shop that I went into and of course I cut it fine with only 5 minutes of shopping time left at the point of purchase. I had to admire the plucky sales girl who tried to get me to buy a matching handbag, even though I had holes in both socks, shockingly bad feet and was openly hysterical that I was actually buying them in the first place. I was on a bit of a role by then and managed to find Mammy a birthday present in the final 5 minutes of open shops, a lovely pair of white leather gloves – very jazzy, and a big hit with the lady herself, not an easy task. Tuesday came to a natural conclusion with pancakes at Susan Sontag’s and the unlikely event of me painting my toe nails purple and then giving them a layer of glitter, again c/o Susan. I also made the shocking discovery that the international man of intrigue Happy Dave is not someone that she randomly found on the world wide web but is in fact flipping moving in with her!!!! Pah. Where’s the mystery there eh?

Anyway, Mammy’s birthday is 1 March. It always makes me titter that had she been born a day earlier on a leap year, officially she’d only be about 12. Te he. We had a lovely tea and a nice quiet evening as I reserved my energy for the shark’s fish and chip supper and work do on Thursday. It was absolutely lovely to see her purpleness again and totally natural to see her sitting at her kitchen table in front of 2 lap tops. Happy Dave was there too but I’m managing to keep him a man of mystery by totally alienating him with my inane comments such as you’re blog gave me the impression that you’d be taller and other such nonsense. Anyway, we all had a lovely fish and chip tea. Not such a good idea seeing as I was just about to put a skimpy outfit on. I was pleased to resolve the shark's long outstanding whole life error, or break her drunken code, as she put it, by asking her if she had ever had a fish. Success.

i've caught linkitus

Hurrah, the shark is back.

Jimbob, here’s the top half.

On a more serious note....so while I’ve had my head stuck in a book, I’ve missed out on all sorts of conspiracy theories about 911. I’ve been told that I am way behind the times and that everyone knows this (Steve probably blogged it ages ago) but if not go here and watch the trailer for Loose Change.
Innit.

who would have thought???..........

The strangest thing happened to me this week. The WB told me that I have to go to a work ‘do’, well one of two possible events, one beginning at normal evening time and one being the after show and beginning at 10.30pm. Hmmmm.

I had the obvious reaction......“I don’t want to go” and “I’’ve got nothing to wear”. They did not go down well. WB is insisting. However, i do have a life line in that there may not be a ticket for me.

Either way, the strangest thing happened to me this week. Following on from the I’ve got nothing to wear but may have to go, i immediately began thinking of an outfit!!!!! My Madrid pants have only been worn twice so all I have to do is buy some shoes. Out of the blue and against all odds, I decided to get some heels. Absolutely determined to succeed I rushed to Oxford Street and scoured the shops for a pair of shoes. While searching I finally began to understand some women’s obsession for shoes and I found myself determined to fall in love with a pair (oh my God!!). Alas it didn’t happen for me tonight but I did find a pair that were comfortable and that I’m happy with. Plus when you put them on they tilt your hips forward into a kitten-like position. I am compulsed to walk like a model.

Cat has given me some purple nail varnish and here is the world wide exclusive of my new look................



Obviously I’m still trying to get of said do but for those who know me don't worry you can see my new look on Friday cos hurrah shark is here then...............

oi, noisy neighbours

Hear my roar.

I suppose that it’s now a little obvious that I had to go and see the tossers living below me last night because of their infernal racket. At approximately 10.45 the old acoustic guitars came out, 2 of them I think. I carried on reading and duly inserted my earplugs but to no avail. They weren’t gently strumming Stairway to Heaven, they were belting out nauseating tunes and whacking their guitars, stamping their feet on the wooden floor and about 8 of them were belting their lungs out. Bearing in mind that I’ve been up everyday at either 7.30 or 7.45 for the decorators, that I had to be up for 8am this morning for the roofers, that the decorators and lack of sunshine had plunged me into a deep depression that I’m still climbing out of and that hanging about waiting for the decorators to knock on the door is a little tedious, I just wasn’t in the mood for a night of stress and no sleep. They were so loud that they couldn’t hear me smashing my hammer on my futon bass, something I do more gently sometimes to hint that I'm unhappy with the noise. As I was in my PJs and I had no make up on, and because by this point it was 11.45, I just didn’t want to go down there. A quick look out the window revealed that there were 2 visiting cars, so there was a crowd settled in for a long night of noise. However, I was determined to put a stop to it promptly. It’s too depressing listening to it all night and I have rights. So, I looked for a slip of paper with their phone number on and I rang it. No response. On putting away the piece of paper I noticed it was a 2-year-old warning for a birthday party, dated 26 Feb. I experienced instant horror on reading that. And instant reaction. I went down there and rang the doorbell and told the bloke who answered it that I’d be calling the council in 10 minutes if the racket didn’t stop. Don’t forget they gave me 4 hours notice for their last party. They carried on singing and playing music, but at a reasonable level, so it did not end in violence although I fear that it will eventually.

I lulled myself to sleep with pretty thoughts so I was up in time for the roofers (who were all done in 15 minutes as the scaffolding was up) and still managed to go for a jog before college. Although I learned nothing today. After all the other classes if I thought that my work was rubbish I tried again at home. But a few of us today secretly agreed that we’d never look at today’s work again. Collage in mixed media. But next week we are painting so hurrah!!!! I had hung the 2 pieces that I showed you all on the wall and Sir said that they were good and that I should experiment in that format a little. I agree ink is tonnes of fun.

He was holding court today with outrageous, but true, stories of an art gallery beginning with W fleecing artists. I told Sir by the by that I used to work for the Press Office for the Hayward Gallery. Oh he was thrilled and thoroughly grilled me. I told him about the critics and the artist that I had met and he even offered me work doing PR on his forthcoming exhibition. I forget sometimes that I have lived a whole lifetime already and that I’ve spent the last 12 years in jobs that most people don’t even know exist. But I remembered it today when I got some really very filthy looks from some of the students. This was compounded when Sir asked me what I did now. I could feel the pins entering my body all over and I quickly packed my things and left.

yrs concerned of dullhill

I’ve always been a little concerned about jimbob’s penchant for links and now it looks like it’s catching and I fear for the shark.

day 5

Oh how nice. 8am and both workers are here. It’s currently not raining so they are scrapping the woodwork out the back. The rainbow maker has just burst into action and for the first time all week I can see the sun.

9am The scaffolders are back but are sitting outside the house in their lorry.

9.10am The lads have started putting the scaff up.

9.20am I haven’t been able to use my kitchen window ever, that’s 10 years as it sticks at the bottom and needs a giant yank to shut it. Seeing as it’s a huge pane of glass with rotten beading and putty holding it together, I’ve never wanted to risk it landing on the neighbour’s conservatory. Ivan, my new NOT LAZY worker has kindly sorted the situation with my mini planer. It’s going to be bliss being able to open and shut that window.

On the downside, I disturbed approx 9 or 10 sleeping ladybirds when I opened the window. They really do not like being disturbed.

10am Tea break. An industrious time for the robins and blue tits. Now it can take years to train birds to come to your feeders. I have waited at least 1 ½ years to see as much activity as I have and I’ve been really nervous all morning that the noise and activity from the workers would scare my birds away. The work is taking place on top of their feeders. Literally. But I must either have very brave birds or conditions are such that they simply cannot be so timid. They are feeding away and using the scaffold tower as a great big tree.

brett's filling in (get it?)

I have 1 new worker, who apologised for being 10 minutes late and immediately phoned his gaffer to tell him how to get here. You can forgive em having trouble finding you on the first day. He said that he understood that I had been messed around and said that he’s not like that. He’s a big gentle giant and already mentioned burning the wood back outside. Hurrah. He’s got the muscle for it too. He’s starting on the inside and he going to sand all the woodwork. I told him what the others had said and he didn’t try and tell me that they are right. He ran through the correct technique for sanding. He doesn’t look lazy and I am happy. Let’s hope it lasts.

Fingers crossed.

8.45am I’ve never had 5 young lads turn up on the doorstep at one go…….until today. They are here to put up the scaffolding. If you don’t mind me getting a bit Jodie Marsh for a second, there’s lots of testosterone in the area. For a few hours too as they are scaffing front and back. Not only will I be able to scrape off the paint that’s been on my kitchen windowpane for 8 years (grrrrrr) but I’ll be able to give them a good clean too. But the best thing about the scaffolding being put in is the amount of times we’ve had to ring the neighbour’s bell to get bikes and cars moved. He he he.

10.15am I am typing away to the comforting sound of sanding. The gentle giant tells me I’m going to get an extra special job as I’ve been mucked about. He’s absolutely cursing the blokes who were here before as he can see what they’ve done as he’s becoming intimately acquainted with removing it. He’s sanding while the scaffolding goes up but will save the hallway work for when it’s raining. He tells me his mate is coming around tomorrow and that he’s huge. Excellent, sanding woodwork back is a job for muscles. It’s my very least favourite DIY thing to do.

Oh and I’ve got a man coming around to give me a quote on fixing the loose tile. Fingers crossed it may only cost £65.

11.00am I had to turn a blind eye to one of the lads peeing in the back garden. They’ve been as good as gold and not moaned once about the snow. I forgot to mention that. The Orish fellow moaned about the cold all the time without once putting on a woolie and it did get to me.

11.20am I've just returned from making coffee in the kitchen and it was a little surreal seeing someone at eye level, 1 floor up, especially when he pretended to do a strip tease. Goodness, it’s all so different from Monday and Tuesday.

11.30am Teas and Jaffa Cakes all round for the boys. They are happy.

11.55am it’s all go here. The roofers are coming back on Saturday morning to refit the tile. It’s not cement that’s on the floor; it’s a brick from under the awning. £65 lovely. Brett the gentle giant has banned me from going on the scaffold in case I break my neck. I suppose that I can accept this in a Health & Safety way.

12.35pm Wood filler – I can smell it. It stinks but it’s good to smell it. There’s a proper job going on here now. : o )))))))

1pm Brett told me that he’s named after a cowboy. Cheers Mum he said, great name for a builder.

1.15pm One of the directors has just come around to check on the job. He explained that the previous foreman was the Guvner’s son and that he likes a drink, to get away quick and that it’s happened before. He said in a general chitchat manner that I’ve been lumbered with the supervising job. I’m glad I was, as maybe the others wouldn’t have complained or might not have known that paint isn’t just slapped on. He said that he’s very glad that I complained and I bet the old workers are going to get a rollicking. After 3 days of growing depression I now feel very spoilt. To celebrate I just brought the scaffolding blokes tea, toast and more biscuits.

3pm I’ve been worried about how the activity in the garden will effect the birdies. So, once the scaff men had gone (to return tomorrow for the front of the house) I ran in my bedroom to check. Damn if I didn’t scare 2 of them off. Come back birdies.

3.30pm Brett has just left after a full day’s work and left me feeling like Doris Day in Calamity Jane. Nooowwwwwwwww I shout it from my blog.

BEGINNERS art therapy

OK, I’ve ironed my new work with greaseproof paper and on comparing it to previous weeks work I’m sure there’s a theme. But I can’t tell what it is yet. Whatever it is I hope it makes me seem at least a little interesting.


Experiment in ink


Drawing with (invisible) wax and ink

deccy mate trials v bird watch

I got up at 7.45am for the second morning in a row, giving me an extra 15 minutes in bed. I need all the extra strength that I can get, due to the testing of my patience. But this is more or less a lie in to me. However, it’s now 10am and there’s no sign of the workers. They were due at 8am.

The robins are regular visitors now. We have a whole army of them camped in the back garden at the moment, along with a lot of blue tits. Whereas most of the robins are just pecking warily, one brave one just fed for at least a minute. And another or possible the same one, I don’t know them yet, actually jumped onto my window ledge. So there was only a pane of glass separating us. Cool.

11.15am Woo hoo. A blue tit visited and fed.

11.20am I spied a squirrel on the garden fence, obviously investigating why a whole flock of robins and tits are flying to and from my bedroom window ledge. I’ll have to keep my eye on the situation and make sure they don’t have a route to the booty.

11.30am I rang the decorators firm. Turns out that as it’s wet the workers are not coming today. It would just be nice to know.

12.15pm Right, I have a new supervisor tomorrow at 8am. The first thing that I shall be telling him is that the woodwork needs sanding and if he tries to give me any old baloney I’ll warn him not to and if he persists I’ll ask him to leave. I’m just not in the mood. The scaffolding also arrives tomorrow.

2pm Robins galore. Yahhhooooo.

4pm Just arrived back from a late jog. There were tonnes of starlings gathered together but sadly they didn’t move. Starlings in group flight is so uplifting that I was tempted to run and scare them but that would have been wicked.

i'm a customer get out of here

10am One worker turned up alone, the Irish one, the chancer – I can tell, I’m Irish. I’ve been brooding overnight on the woodwork. I saw one cleverly placed piece of sand paper on the floor but heard no sanding, saw no dust and no evidence of any sanding whatsoever. Which I told him. “Did you actually sand yesterday?” I asked him. “Oh yeah he did a bit it here and there alright”. I made it clear that the standard would need to be better outside. He looked at me like I was mad, which infuriated me. He showed me the spec which said “Spot burn and spot prime where required.” I am looking at a Dulux Specification which came with the quote saying “Burn off or rub down to a solid feathered edge”. I walked off to get the paper, mind ticking over at 100mph.

After mulling it over and realising that I am not being unreasonable and that I’ll regret it forever if I say nothing I’ve asked him to sand again, well to SAND. There is already one coat of paint over the woodwork, so you can tell how quickly they worked. “I’ll be here 2 weeks at that rate.” At which point I, of course, lost my patience. “Look mate, I could do a better job at sanding than this and I know it doesn’t take that long.” I phoned the company and explained exactly what happened. They were surprised that only 1 man turned up and completely agreed with me “Look, I feel like a grass but I just want a good job” I said. “Yes codenamelizzy, that’s what you are paying for”. It was the dream response. He’s having a word.

11.15am The other worker called to let me know that the sanding will be done in between coats. Apparently this is normal practice. This I except but I've never heard of paint being applied before ANY sanding. Normal practice my arse. Wee fellow me ladee here made it more than clear earlier that he thought he had done all the sanding that was required. And it’s only because of my intervention that there will be any sanding at all.

Irish lad can buy his own tea.

I relented and brought him a cup of tea and Hob Nobs at lunchtime, remembering the 2 sugars and to leave the tea bag in. The hallway is coming along great. It was 2 shades of blue before that didn’t go together at all and one was a darkish shade so it was really horrid and gloomy. Now it’s bright and white and coming on lovely. The lower part of the wall, to be painted tomorrow is the same colour as my living room, so it will act as a very grand entrance to my place. Hurrah.

I checked in with bro and yes the first stage of sanding is the most important as it provides a key for the paint. So workmen just don’t try and fob me off with a load of crap. The roof tile needs to be put back in place but should be fine other than that. Phew.

Worker clocked off 3.30pm. Maybe I’ve found my new career?

and bird watch

Wow, after 1 ½ years, finally. There were just 2 robins on my bird feeders. I recently changed to a new exotic mix. They were 1 foot away from my bedroom window.

on behalf of catster

Who gladly is not with us at this time.

Bah Easter. Pah Eggs. Grrrrr Sainsburys. Months away argggghhhhhh.

decorators watch

I got up at 7.30am, on the first day of my weeklong holiday, to make sure that I was decent when the decorators turned up at 8am. It was windy, cloudy and wet but also not raining, quite bright and not too cold. Hard but tolerable working conditions.

8.50am, I’m on my second cup of coffee, I’ve watched the news, read the blogs, sent some hotmails, read my stars but I’ve not answered the door to the workers.

8.55am, I’ve heard from the workers. They are in Richmond having been given the wrong address. I’ve been told not to wait for them, as they don’t know what time they’ll get here.

10am Hurrah they have arrived.

10.02am Boo. While showing them round the back of the flat I noticed lumps of cement on the floor on the path around the side of the house. We looked up and there is a slate loose on the roof. They’re bringing a cherry picker round one day so have agreed to have a look at it for me. They’ve also said that I can have a ride in it and I’m going to try and clean my windows then. Te he.

11.40am They appear quite typical. One is Irish and one is English, tea bag left in, tea bag taken out, 2 sugars each. The Hob Nobs went down well. Daddy told me to always look after the workers.

11.50am They’ve started on the inside as they are waiting for equipment and gear to turn up tomorrow. It looks loads better already and that’s just with an undercoat of white.

2pm I returned from the shops to find my workmen had scarpered. I’m not sure about the quality of the work to date to be honest. I had expected a little more sanding down and filling of holes. I’ll have a word tomorrow.

On the upside I had a chance to raid the local charity shops for book club. There were several of the books that I have recently bought all at 50p. I recently rediscovered charity shops for books and Fopp is great too. Otherwise I think I’d be skint by now, what with the art stuff to buy as well. The standard of the shops varied and bizarrely in the worst one I found a book for 50p that I nearly bought on Saturday for £7.99, only the till wouldn’t accept my card. When I told the girl behind the counter she said “you’re joking?” and she really meant it, and obviously thought the shop was full of crap. There was an awful lot of chic fic (or whatever it’s called), quite a few Di Vinci Codes and tonnes of the second Bridget Jones. Obviously people are reading that dross but are then too embarrassed to have it on their bookshelves.

singing the blues

I visited the folks yesterday and my youngest brother and 2 nephews, so and so high, were there. They live in Colchester and are football crazy. They were down for an extra special trip as somehow my brother had managed to wrangle 3 VIP tickets and dinner at Stanford Bridge for the FA Cup game Chelsea v Colchester.

Imagine their excitement, taking into account that Chelsea had a very rare defeat last weekend and in the FA Cup anything can happen and sometimes it pays to be the under dog. It was the things that dreams are made of when Colchester went ahead at 28 minutes due to an own goal by Carvalho. For 9 minutes they were beating Chelsea at home until Ferreira scored at 37 minutes. And they went into half time at 1-1.

Course Colchester lost 3-1 in the end but they’ll remember today forever innit.

points of view

Dulwich Guardian, dtd 16 February 2006

People power triumphs in bid to keep Herne Hill where it belongs
Proud Herne Hillian’s were celebrating a victory for people power after a council removed signs in the heart of their community welcoming visitors to a neighbouring area.
The protesting group were left baffled when one of four “Welcome to Dulwich” signs was erected outside the top half of Half Moon Lane, Herne Hill.
Southwark Council shelled out £200,000 to put up 47 signs up across the borough to mark their community council boundaries.
But after mounting opposition, the nine “Welcome to Dulwich” signs were removed last Monday, though the masts on which the signs were hung will remain.
Jeff Doorn, secretary of local group the Herne Hill Society, who led a campaign to remove the signs said:
“We are very happy that the signs are being take down. This is a victory for people power.
“Of course we are still hoping the masts will be taken down because they are a blot on the landscape, but we have won something – we have won the first round.”
A council spokeswoman said: “We have listened to the views expressed and agreed to remove the Dulwich community council signs.
“We will be liaising with local residents over what kind of signage they would like to see, and where, in the Dulwich area.”

Adrian Kajumba
akajumba@london.newsquest.co.uk

beginner's 'painting' 5 of 10

Today’s art class started well. We hung last week’s work onto the wall. Well, I hung up the one that I did the day after class due to nearly life ending hangover during class. Sir told the class that I had controlled the colour quite well and explained that if you covered the light blue on both sides by holding your fingers over your eyes the orange springs right out at ya. But if you look at the image as a whole it is flat. Try it. It’s true (actually I'll take another pic in focus and natural day light tomorrow - just trust me till then). Bingo, mission accomplished and not everyone was so lucky with their “Oh look at my fantastically clever and really experimental work”. Ha.

However, it’s not bloody painting is it?

Needless to say we did not paint in today’s 5 out of 10 art class, although we did ‘paint’. Firstly Sir’s male helper (who is an odd mixture of Francis Bacon and The Man Opposite (who had 2 ladies with him during the week!)) did 4 60 second poses. Purely portrait, much to the relief of us all, I think. We drew these on white paper with a wax candle. And we were advised not to tell Sir that we can’t see a thing “cos that’s the bloody point” although every single one of us failed to see that point. We then ‘painted’ over the wax in ink and watercolours. Mine really was shocking, so I grabbed the chance to try again and my second attempt was a little better, but still what was the point?

I have a week off work so maybe I’ll have another stab at it.

the final straw

I saw the Old Boss for quick drinks tonight and I was surprised to find Och Aye McKay among the small gathering. I have not seen him since his comb-over days and I even missed the infamous orange occasion. He may look different but he’s still exactly the same. Anyway, the Old Boss is fine. No missus, as she is unable to travel now due to the developing foetus. He’s staying at a hotel on the South Bank and was horrified when on feeling a little peckish, saw that a cheese and ham croissant was £18 from the room service menu. He really does live in a different world now. It wasn’t until I got out of the pub that I realised I had not smoked a twig, a pen, a cocktail shaker or a straw while supping my vodka. And on leaving the pub I complained that I stunk of smoke. I say.