Pub Golf update

Come and play pub golf! Full details here.

My Visa has come through!!!!!

On Thursday my visa came through, so the Australian Government is happy for me to come to their country for a year. As someone said in the pub last night - they're taking pretty much anyone at the moment.

Next I've got to buy my flight, via Singapore. Woohoo!

Keith James sings the songs of Nick Drake

Tonight I went to see Keith James with Rowena. Keith was brilliant, with excellent guitar playing style, and a perfect singing voice for the material. The bassist, Rick Foot(?), was fantastic too, getting some wonderful harmonics and sounds from the bass. It was an intimate, friendly little gig in the Ritzy, in one of the screens oddly. Keith talked extensively about Nick Drake and his experience of the phenomenon that's arisen since his death. It was a lovely evening and perfect for getting over the hangover.

Christmas party

Friday night was the work Christmas Party in Balham. The Bedford's ballroom was dressed up beautifully for the evening, the wine flowed in large amounts, everyone dressed up and had an excellent time. Delicious food, an entertaining comedian (who didn't get the attention he deserved) and more wine. And some more wine. I don't remember much of the end of the evening. I met Anna today though and she said that everyone headed back to Andrew's place and carried on until 5am. A good time was almost certainly had by all.

Do unto others

My brother emailed me last night - he has a friend in London who has arrived expecting to be looked after by a man (presumably British), and the guy didn't show. Bastard. So she's now stuck in a foriegn country where she knows no one. My brother thought I might be able to introduce her to a few folks, so she's coming along to this monthly drink we're trying to set up among the Grantham people. They're a lovely bunch (you're a lovely bunch, Grantham people) and I'm sure she'll find a friend among them (assuming anyone else turns up) and go from there.

It occured to me that I'm putting myself in a very similar position of trust in March - I don't know more than one person in Sydney, and only a handful of people in Australia. If my friend doesn't show (I trust my friend implicitly, I have no fear of a no-show, but what-ifs sometimes make for sensible cautions and preparations to avoid them) I could be alone, thousands of miles from anyone I know. Still, I'm sure that won't happen, and in the unlikely event that it does, at least the weather will be better than London in early December.

Getting drunk with Granny

On Saturday my grandmother turned 82. My immediate family (Mum, Dad, Kirsty and Adam, Ben and myself - Luke is in Canada), my aunt Verity and a selection of her children (Peter, Alice and Hannah), Nichola and Phil and two of theirs (Jabez and Edward - Sam is in San Francisco), Guy and Laura all made it out. We had some excellent Thai food and plenty of wine, and a generally great time. I told my grandmother she should have birthdays every year (we had all got together two years previously, but not last year), and she said I had a blasted cheek, as I wouldn't be around for the next one.

18 holes of drunken oblivion

Come and play Pub Golf! On 3rd March, I've organised an 18 pub extravaganza through the centre of London. Golf attire will be obligatory, and anyone who would be turned away from the club will be turned away from the crawl (well, probably not). Click on the dude below and see more of the details, though expect them to change continually between now and then. Make a note in your diary!!!

Real life

So spending all wekeend excited about Australia, and all week making arrangements with work, for visas, to sell things, now life is settling back to normal. March seems like a long way off now, and that initial excitement has died down a bit. I still find myself smiling for no reason from time to time though, and I don't think that's going to go away. I've set a leaving date - I'll fly on 20th March, arriving some time on 22nd. While I'm saving money, I'm trying to put the extra time I've got into learning songs for a forthcoming gig in January, and into finding out more about the country I'm about to visit. Any suggestions for things to do on the East Coast of Australia?

Announcing it properly rather than halfway through a post

I'm going to Australia for a year!

I've been thinking about this a lot with all the mortgage stuff and so on, and I think when the idea came I felt it was exactly the right thing for me. I've never travelled properly before, I've never taken a year out of education or work, and I think I'm now at an age where I'll be able to really appreciate it. Hopefully I've also got the experience that I'll be able to find reasonably good work, so I've got the money to enjoy myself over there.

However, my personal finances are currently in a state that might make it difficult.

At the risk of completely whoring my blog - I'm selling a load of stuff. Let me know if you fancy buying anything that's there, or indeed, pretty much anything I own, within reason.

Leaving drinks, fights, going home for the weekend

On Friday, Laurence left work, and we all went for a few drinks to wish him well. The Dogstar was a highly suitable venue, and everyone had an excellent time as far as I can tell. A few people had a long moan about how work was going, and I think there might be some surprise results in a few months when the employee survey comes back. Apparently there was a bit of a fight after I left - I always miss these things at work dos, and they seem to happen so often...

I also went home for the weekend, as there was something I had to tell my parents. I've decided to leave Abel & Cole and go to Australia for a year. I arrived home at about 11am, and told my parents and they were incredibly supportive and really delighted for me. (While we're on the subject, I'm selling lots of stuff in order to help fund the trip - if you fancy pretty much anything I own at the right price, please let me know). We spent a very nice afternoon lounging around the house, and then went to the Sailing Club's laying up supper, which was an excellent meal in good company. My parents won the Dart prize and my brother won the Dart Handicap prize, which they were both very pleased with (though I think they all felt Ben should have won the Dart 18 2nd place as well...), and we popped home for a quick whisky and bed.

Flaming Lips - pass me a thesaurus

I've run out of superlatives this week. Go and read someone else's review of The Flaming Lips at the Hammersmith Apollo. And if there's a single bad word to say, then they weren't watching the band I was watching.

Horses for Courses

I saw this on The Onion today. As I walked into work I saw the death of Desert Orchid announced on the front of one of the red-top tabloids. I thought to myself, I'd probably mourn that loss more than that of anyone who's ever been on Reality TV.

Jaco Live!

Last night my Shadows and Light DVD arrived, with a couple of books, and I settled down to watch it, happy that I'd finally be able to watch my favourite musician as well as listen. I was utterly delighted to see that there was a Jaco solo on the DVD! Happy though I was, it's kind of sad to think I'm never going to get any closer to seeing him live for real.

On reflection, though, I should probably have bought this. Must pay more attention.

Next stop Tooting Carmen

Claudia, my parents and I saw two recordings of I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue last night. It all started when John Naismith, the producer, came on to tell us about it. He said they needed to check the levels of the microphones recording the audience. He said 'So, it's very simple. I say 'hello everyone' and you say 'Don't patronise us with pointless audience participation exercises'. Hello everyone!'. And the audience replied in perfect synchronisation.

Rob Brydon's version of Spank Me to the tune of Fly Me To The Moon was a definite highlight, and his definition of 'Control' as a list of people he didn't like was pretty good too. Humph had a little difficulty with a couple of the lines, but was his usual dry self. In notes and clarifications he told us 'Last week's assertion that Tooting Carmen is the next stop from Tooting Broadway on the District line was, of course wrong. They're both on the Northern Line'. Barry Cryer and Graeme Garden managed to turn the repetition of the word 'Monkeys' into the funniest thing ever, and Tim Brooke-Taylor managed to get a couple of references to the Goodies in there for good measure.

The current series of I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue is playing on Radio 4 at 6.30pm on a Monday evening. The last Monday in November and the first in December will be the shows we saw. There are repeats on a Sunday afternoon too.

Ravenous Guinea Pigs

I had a dream last week some time. In my dreams my house is always the same house. Sometimes it's a flat, sometimes it's a terraced town house, sometimes it's a colossal country mansion. Somehow they're all the same, or they share some rooms, or something. Occasionally the house will be a combination of the above, and sometimes it'll become a ship or a hotel or a boarding school or any number of other places. It's still my house.

That aside, there was a large area of the house (a terraced 3 storey townhouse on this occasion) that I had boarded off, and I knew that several months ago I had abandoned three hamsters in the area.

Pulling back the boards and venturing into the area I had boarded off I found three guinea pigs, mouths dripping with blood and a look of intense hatred in their eyes. Not quite like the below, think more blood, some of which had dried around the mouth, and more teeth on show. I ran.

Rage Against the Babies on Spikes

I was listening to Eddie Izzard this morning. He said:

[In Britain] there was a spirit of ex-empire, this thing of "things can't be done," whereas in America, I thought there was a spirit of "can be done!" The pioneer thing.

"Go do it! What do you want to do?"

"I want to put babies on spikes."

"Go then! Go! It's the American Dream!"

"Hi! I'm Crazy Eddie! I put babies on spikes. Do you want a rack of babies? We've got babies on racks! Mmm, they taste of chicken!"

Then I remembered that Rage Against the Machine thing in Know Your Enemy, where Zack De La Rocha shouts "All of which are American dreams!" repeatedly after the music has stopped. I was wondering if he ever considered putting the two together.

Yes I know my enemies
They're the teachers who taught me to fight me
Compromise, conformity, assimilation, submission
Ignorance, putting babies on spikes, brutality, the elite
All of which are American dreams!

My Point of View on Herbie

Herbert "Mwandishi" Hancock, the man I and, I'm sure, many others consider the greatest living musician, played his socks off at the Camden Roundhouse last night. Kicking off at the keyboard with Watermelon Man, with a searing funk intro and a solo on one of those keyboard/guitar hybrids, the opening number left little room to crescendo, but like the consumate professional and the incredible performer he is, Herbie managed it. His guitarist was astounding too, playing a solo piece for a while where he sampled and built up his own backing, and through the wonder of modern technology, harmonised with his own singing. The drummer played some unparalleled solos, switching from straight time to offbeats to triple time and never losing an ounce of the rhythm. The bassist didn't solo, but he sang a haunting version of 'I Just Called To Say I Love You', and another couple of numbers, with a really powerful, soulful voice and some excellent vocal harmonies with the guitarist.

Cantaloupe Island was an obvious highlight, with more breathtaking keyboard solos from Hancock. When they finished a two hour set, the crowd cried out for more. We only got one encore, but no one would complain about twenty minutes of Chameleon - with the bassist pulling his inimitable jazz face, the guitarist playing lines that would put Hendrix to shame without breaking a sweat, and Herbie just being Herbie. The three of the played a kind of jazz Chicken, daring the others to go closer and closer to their limits, and pulling away just in time, for them and the crowd. I swear I'll never see a gig like it again.

If The Flaming Lips on Tuesday is anything as good as that, I may not make it to work on Wednesday.

A litte more conversation, a little less action baby

On Friday night I met someone on the tube by the name of Marie-Louise. She was an attractive, interesting woman and was, for reasons known unto herself alone, absorbed by my conversation. We chatted about the couple opposite and whether they'd met tonight, or years ago, and about the book the lady opposite was reading. And about our respective evenings (thanks again Lorien, excellent party), and she said 'It's my stop next. And I kept chatting til she got off. As she stood, I thought about it finally.... I asked "I guess it's a little late to ask for your number?". I was right.

The name's Bush, George Bush

I'm watching The World Is Not Enough. Pierce Brosnan is an excellent Bond, but I can't help being annoyed when he says 'Nucular'. It only makes in worse when the lovely Denise Richards, of the United States, says Nuclear, with no Dubya-esque inflection, immediately afterwards. Stop showing us up, you Irish twunt!

I've just got back from GJs, where Harry Hill has been entertaining us. Douglas Adams once said how frustrated he found himself when watching a standup say 'You know the black box recorder that always survives an air-crash? Well, why don't they make the whole plane out of what they make the recorder out of?'. He thought, no, the plane would never fly, titanium is too heavy. And he was watching a room full of people laughing at someone because they knew less than that person. Harry Hill said something about how the digital age would progress further when the people writing binary learned the other numbers.

I really like the joke about there being 10 types of people in the world, those who understand binary and those who don't. Because you need to know something to find it funny. You didn't need to know anything to find Harry Hill funny. But like the first comic of the evening said, no one likes someone who indulges in pedanticness. (It's pedantry, you dumb fuck!).

This blog will swear less tomorrow.

Bullet for My Chemical Romance

Why are people buying this shit? How is this going to give you anything you haven't already got from a decade of manufactured pop-punk from California? Does it sound better cause they're dressed a bit like The Libertines?

At least Blink 182 were funny sometimes. Honestly, the youth of today, I despair.

New tunes online

The CD Jim gave me on Friday is now uploaded and available on this site, on this page. take a look and let me know what you think. And also tell me if there are any dodgy links in there, I put them up in a bit of a hurry.

Alex's birthday

Well, visiting Michael in Acton turned out to be a different affair altogether. I arrived to a very well presented meal, which was being put together for a Colombian lady, Alex. Eight of us had dinner, and chatted, mostly about gout, and partially about rugby. We managed to avoid accidents with the red hot oil in the middle of the table too. After dinner, Michael and I played a few tunes, the Colombian chap (whose name has already slipped my mind) played a few Latin guitar tunes, and I joined in here and there on bass, and there was lots of dancing. A few other folks from the Antioch community dropped by too.

There's something nice about the sense of community there. It's one of the things I miss most about Newman House, and about Christianity generally. There was real love for Alex and for each other in that room, and that's something it can be difficult to find, especially in a big city. It was a perfect end to a lovely weekend.

And then...

I decided photos of Tooting were probably a better idea, as it's closer. Also I'm about to move house, I hope, and so I wanted a few things to remember this end of Tooting by. The photos will be here when I put them up (the link will be broken until then), and Tooting is actually quite a nice place as it turns out.

Then I went to Ikea (not because of that, Emma) and bought a few things. It's a dangerous place. I thought I'd spend £20 if that, and then the bill came to £33...

England are currently losing miserably to the All Blacks (it just finished, 41-20 in their favour) but some promising new blood on England's side. Now I'm off to jam with Michael, who is back in London for the weekend. And no mention of fireworks!

I count, kind of

Today was a good day.

I went to the climate change march - I know I have friends who don't believe in that crap, but to my mind, we've proven that carbon dioxide has a higher insulating effect than nitrogen, and we know we're releasing a lot of it that wasn't there to start with, and we know that the world is warming up. We also know sea levels are rising, polar ice caps are melting, and there are parts of Kenya where it hasn't rained for three years. I don't really see where the gaps in the logic are.

Anyway, that aside, I went to Grosvenor Square to see speeches, and lots of people said the equivalent of many of our political parties promising a better Britain (anyone voting for parties promising a worse Britain?) safer streets, more hospitals (again, good marketing, but I don't hear anyone promising to the contrary) or a marketing agency promising the right messages to our customers at the right time (damn - the last agency promised the right message at the wrong time, and we nearly hired them!). I mean, we do want a better world for our children, so thanks for recommending it guys. I left shortly afterwards when they started singing about George Bush being a cowboy, as I felt the gathering was becoming too high-brow.

On the way to Trafalgar Square, where we were being counted and the number sent back to that nice Blair chap, I bumped into Laurence and Ruth. They headed to the US Embassy, I said I'd call them later. I did, and caught up with them and with Hannah and her boyfriend. We chatted a bit, and Laurence and Ruth left. Hannah and boyfriend disappeared later too, but left me with numbers for Sam and Theresa. I found Sam, and we texted Theresa and caught up with her, Ysanne and Theresa's flatmate's friend. Then Sam left, and I joined the others to meet Theresa's flatmate on the Strand. Then I left and bumped into Erin and Ruscoe, who were off to the theatre. On the tube home I happened upon Tracey and her son Kade, and we chatted too. At the start of the day I didn't think I'd meet anyone, so it was all a rather pleasant surprise.

Then this evening, I've listened to a CD Jim gave me, which I'll put on my site on Monday evening. I'm pretty pleased with it. Some of the tracks still need work, but they sound ok (Jim's done incredible work with the material he had!), and they're mostly good fun.

Tomorrow, I'm going to wander round Central London with a camera and see what I can find. The results will end up on a photo page - I haven't added one for several months, so it's about time! Any thoughts for good parts of London to photo, anyone?

Link to my Dad's new site (a work in progress).

http://loungewalrus.co.uk/HB/index.htm

Edit - Photo gallery is vastly improved now. Should be ready to go live on www.harwoodbuilders.co.uk in a few days.

Shepherds Bush done got two turntables and a microphone

Beck was brilliant. His support act, a guy with a laptop and a shellsuit, was a prick, but it just made Beck look all the better. The lights went down and came up to a small stage right in the middle of the stage, full of puppets, all playing along to recording of Loser - the crowd cheered like crazy, and then after a verse, the real band came on and took over from where the recording left off. For the rest of the show (which would have been fabulous on its own) the puppets mimicked the real performers unnervingly closely, and the huge video wall at the back of the stage showed puppet footage. Beck and his band rattled through a number of new ones, and some more familiar songs to me, 'Tropicalia', 'Devil's Haircut', 'Where it's at', and the singles from Guero. Beck did treat us to a little solo stuff, while his band sat down to a meal. Halfway through the meal they all began playing the table as percussion (which the puppets did too)! All in all, an energetic, imaginative and highly entertaining evening. With excellent company too, if they're reading.

Congratulations, Mr & Mrs Everitt!

On Bank Holiday Friday, two very good friends of mine were wed, at the Sculpture Gallery, Woburn Abbey. I could sing their praises here extensively, but that would be sickening, so I'll just say that I'm very happy for them both, and if they're as happy when married as they always seemed to be beforehand, then they'll have the blissful marriage they both deserve. Sycophantic rant over.

The wedding. Emma arrived to a string trio playing Nothing Else Matters (Orchestral - Hetfield/Ulrich, Op. 35), looking as beautiful as you'd expect a bride to look onher wedding day (I know, I said I'd stopped the sycophancy). She joined her groom at the front of the hall, who was looking rather fetching himself. The service started with a reading from The Velvetine Rabbit, and then the standard vows, as well as some the couple had written themselves. There was a poem Ben wrote, read by Uncle Byron, and then the couple left, covered in rose petals to The 'Arrival of The Queen of Sheba' (Instrumental, Lennon/McCartney). The gathered folks then stood outside for a few drinks and a general chat, while the photographer did her business. Dinner was a grand affair, three delicious courses and some well-chosen wines. Notes on each table introduced everyone to everyone else - they read 'Can you guess who...' followed by an allusion to an entertaining event about each person. Preemptive revenge for the best man's speech.

The speeches. I don't really remember much of the detail by this point - the wine was very good, but I won't forget the bride's brief address. She kept the speech short, but ended by leading everyone outside to the car she had bought her husband as a wedding present! Jaws dropped across the room...

More drinks and a rock disco and that about wraps it up (reminders of details welcomed in the comments). I think I can say without fear of contradiction that an excellent time was had by all. And there's a lot of couples who know Ben and Emma who have a big act to follow!

Completely not updating my blog for more than a month

Sorry. More follows. It's been a good month, with Fruitstock, lots of evenings out, a couple of dodgy gigs, and an excellent wedding - more on that later. And I watched a lot of V and Reading coverage, so I've got the 'going to see bands' bug again. Off to see Beck tomorrow in fact! Woo! And the esteemed Jim Edmonds and I are recording a few tunes tomorrow, beforehand. Assuming that Jim enjoys it as much as I know I'm going to, anyone who hasn't completely lost interest in this blog should leave song suggestions below.

A few changes at work - my colleague and friend Adrienne left work yesterday, which is sad, but I'm sure we'll see her again. I'm now sat with the finance people, not the marketing people. The marketing department has been torn down and rebuilt in the last couple of weeks actually. (These are just notes for myself, sorry to bore you with it).

More on the wedding shortly. More on Beck, and the rest of the weekend's antics first thing on Monday.

Dinner Party 3: Dinner Party Revolutions

So then Paul, Michelle and Chris joined Claudia and me for dinner last night, and we had sausage and mash with onion gravy. It was all very nice, but I have to say it's a relief not to have to cook dinner tonight. And I'm looking forward to that leftover cheesecake.

After dinner we went to the Bedford in Balham, to watch Steve Reed play a couple of tunes. A dutch chap let me play his double bass, and I complemented their singer on her excellent vocal stylings, and the way her band made 7 time sound so natural. They really did too, normally it sounds like a 3 and a 4 stuck together, but they made 7 sound like 7!

Well, that's the trilogy over - perhaps there'll be a spin-off TV series later in the year?

Dinner Party 2 - Son of Dinner Party

Last night, Christian, Catrina, Adrienne and Chris came round and had pork chops and cheesecake with Claudia and me. Our garden can take the table both ways round, as it turns out. We chatted about shooting stars, what a nice place Sheffield is, the etiquette of pouring wine for your guests first (sometimes you forget...) and who the hell Beatallica were. The cheesecake seemed to go down well. The recipe is pretty simple, courtesy of my mum. Beat the hell out of some ginger biscuits, melt some butter, mix the two together and spread evenly in a cake tin. Then blend, whisk or otherwise mix a tin of condensed milk and two small/one large pack of Philadelphia soft cheese, and the juice of a couple of limes. Add the zest if you're feeling fruity. Put this on the biscuit base and chill for an hour.

I'm going to go and look up the timing of the Leonid asteroids now, so I can encourage Christian and Catrina to invite us round during shooting star season.

Edit: Can anyone think of a better title for tomorrow than 'Dinner Party 3: Dinner-Party vs Mecha-Dinner-Party'?

Dinner Party 1 - Dawn of the Dinner Party

Well, they say the garden is like an extra room, and we definitely demonstrated that yesterday. We had a very pleasant evening with 6 of us sat outside, enjoying wine, company and a quick Thai Green Curry followed by a spot of icecream. Caroline, Rob, Ben and Emma joined Claudia and me for the evening. Caroline, Rob and Claudia discussed some local clubbing venues, Ben and Emma told us about the difficulties of moving house, and I angled for a plus-one at their forthcoming wedding. I'm particularly looking forward to meeting Ben's aunt and Emma's cousin, who will be sat together.

Watch this space for the rest of the trilogy.

A nice way to spend a weekend

On Friday I went out with work. I was determined to take it easy, as I had a date the following evening with someone I hadn't really spoken to much before, and I wanted to make a good impression. The road to hangovers, however, is paved with good intentions, and after a fantastic evening, and the first work do in a while where I haven't been apprehensive about going to work on Monday afterwards, I did go home fully aware that the next morning would involve a headache. I woke at 8.30. I went out, fixed my exhaust, got a few bits for the new strimmer and mowed the lawn, tidies the garden, tidied parts of the house, hoovered, washed up, mopped, etc. My head still hurt, but I figured that's probably part of who I am, and they always say about these things, be yourself.

The date was a very pleasant evening in the Ritzy Cafe, with excellent music and excellent company, I'm glad to say. The girl in question was very understanding about the hangover, and very polite about my tendency to rant about jazz.

Today, I've watched about ten episodes of Frasier, experimented with cooking for the series of dinner parties I've planned for next week, flown a kite a little (a short aside - struggling to get my kite into the air today, I saw someone else unfold something in Ozone Samurai colours. I thought, that's quite a big kite. Then they unfolded it some more. It was about 30 square metres. On asking, it quickly became apparent that it wasn't a kite at all, but a paraglider, and they were just giving it a bit of a clean. Still, if the wind is going to be like that more often, I might have to get a 30m kite of my own), and had some very nice pork chops. I've also discovered that no matter how hard I try, I'm never going to be able to play Chromatic Fantasy on the four string bass. I'm settling in to a nice bottle of rose, some breaded pork chops (couldn't find any sage, but coriander seemed to work ok), and Top Gear. I am a picture of contentment.

Ben's stag weekend

...definitely deserves a brief writeup. We spent a very pleasant Friday in Grantham with a few drinks, a lot of 'tall-silly-monkey', including a game that got us thrown out of one pub, and a kebab too. We popped up to Ancaster for a swim then we went camping. Waterskiing, wakeboarding and jetskiing on Saturday made a great hangover cure. The jetskis were a little fragile but it was all takn in fun by the guys who had to repair them. The tractor and trailr pub-crawl was a little on the warm side, but excellent fun, especially once the sun set. Sunday's trip to Go Ape wasn't heralded as the best thing ever by the best man the previous night, but in fact it was a lot of fun. Treetop tall-silly-monkey definitely added an edge to the game. The trip down to the barbecue was uneventful, and the barbecue itself a pretty sedate affair - both parties had had a rough weekend. A short drive back to London with Simon and Monica, and a quick pint in the Leather Bottle and that was that. Hats off to Guy for organising the thing, and for Grainger's dedication to the cause, driving the groom and best man back to the camping site.

Mohandas K Gandhi and areligious spirituality

I'm watching Richard Attenborough's biopic of Gandhi, and coming to some interesting conclusions. I think after discovering the idea of Humanism, through the late stand-up comic Linda Smith, I've been looking for something, well, not exactly spiritual but meaningful in an atheist life. While I have no longing for church services and for a connection to my creator (I still believe something happened to create the universe, but I'm not comfortable with the idea that a creator is taking an interest in our lives, less still mine specifically), I miss the sense of community that Christianity, specifically Catholicism, provided for me and still provides for many of my good friends and my family, though I know it's alway there for me to go back to, if I'm ready to change my beliefs.

I've just got to the bit where he turns away help from the British clergyman, saying that 'We must believe this can be done by Indians alone'. There's some injustice in Britain, but none that I feel so strongly about that I'm going to devote my life to opposing it (well, not yet, ID cards are on the horizon...). So when there's nothing to fight (not that is my fight anyway), what can I do to make the world a better place?

I've also been thinking about my career recently, and I think I've realised that I don't want to be successful for money or prestige - maybe because a higher level job brings more exciting challenges, but as long as I can eat, and I'm comfortable, I don't have any need for progression or promotion. Right now I want for nothing. A friend wrote today and told me about her calling, and where she felt God wanted her life to go, and that was food for thought (thanks for writing what you did, if you're reading). I'm probably feeling left out! I want a calling too!

As Leititia said when we were watching the Sultan's Elephant and she said something nice about French people, and someone replied 'Thanks very much', 'De rien, c'est gratuit'. Kind words cost nothing. I'm going to try to do that more often (and not just to pretty ladies with fabulous hair at operas in the park!). The majority will think nothing of it, but some will take it to someone else, and make their day better too. There's not enough of that in London. How do you promote a sense of community in 7 million people with as many sets of beliefs and opinions, and a hundred different languages and cultures?

And to my friends and family - you're the most important thing, you always will be, even if I go back to the Church, or to anything else. I'll try to tell you that more often, and not just in a drunk 'I fuckin' luv you' way!

Sorry this post has been a bit weird. I hope it doesn't sound self-indulgent or Messianic or whatever, I think I'm just trying to find a way of sharing my beliefs with a community I still haven't found, and I find all of this easier to type than to say. I guess the way to a better life is to make sure the people who mean something to you know that they do, and that you're there for the people with problems. And I'm probably still going to drink too much and revel in material possessions (I do love my kites...) but if this is all written down where people can see it, maybe I'll have to do something about it.

Chances are if you're reading this you're someone I know and like. So for the sake of a punchline, 'I fuckin' luv you!' Suggestions on a postcard please, for what we can all do to make life better for everyone. I'll ignore comments such as 'Don't drink a bottle of gin and several pints of pear/apple cider, bite your friend's fingers and talk a lot of crap all afternoon'. And I promise to go back to posting trivial observations on my social life tomorrow, cause I'll have stopped watching Gandhi and feeling spiritually inadequate!

Edit: It's probably a coincidence, but it's poignant that the only above-ground explosion in what is, disgustingly, becoming known as 7/7 (the terrorist attacks on London nearly a year ago) was in Tavistock Square, right by a statue of Mohandas Gandhi (that was a well-placed post on Policyblender, Ben). Ironically, the attacks probably did more to make Londoners closer to each other than anything in the last decade.

Reasons to be cheerful on the longest day

1) The Strokes put on a marvellous performance, the only band I can think of who would get away with covering that 'Walk on the wild side' song. The raconteurs were excellent fun too.

2) They had the pear cider! Pear cider comes up as rear aides on predictive text. Oh, and I put some guy on the floor in a dispute about a hat

3) This post has been edited, as I think I may have mentioned my website name to someone who was mentioned in it. But I swapped numbers with a very nice young woman (whose name I subsequently discovered,) and who turned out to be just as nice as I had hoped.

4) Contrary to the blockheads....I sang acapella White Stripes songs on the way to the tube and got applause, not abuse!

All in all, an excellent way to welcome the summer. Happy Northern-Hemisphere-Summer everyone!

'I choreograph violence'

When you're at dinner parties and civilised house parties, the conversation invariably comes round to a handful of topics. Firstly what you do, secondly how you know the host or hostess, and thirdly where you live in London (and depending on the prevailing age, the property prices there). I normally answer honestly with little imagination, and then hear people tell me much more interesting examples from their own lives. One of the ones I heard on Saturday night, at a very nice cocktail party in the docklands, was a man who said he was a Fight Director. This seemed reasonably plausible, the hostess was an actress. He said he essentially acted as a consultant to directors and filmmakers, to add realism and responsible depiction to violent scenes. He had studied martial arts from an early age, he boxed, he no doubt had some experience fencing and possibly with guns too. We had a chat about the difference between the A-Team, where thousands of rounds never actually hit anyone, grittier films, where every shot fired has a consequence, and Star Wars, where very violent scenes are done in a way so far removed from reality, that there's no real concern that they'll be taken seriously anyway.

Next time I get asked what I do at a party, I'm going to be a fight director.

Stupid lyrics

Yesterday I was in MacDonalds, listening to Bryan Adams and Mel C through no fault of my own, other than any fault you might find with being in MacDonalds. They sang the words 'Even food don't taste that good'. This is something I take particular umbridge with. Popular music, by its very nature, needs to pander to the lowest common denominator. Bryan couldn't have chosen sushi, curry, a roast dinner, a sandwich, crisps as something that exemplified tastiness that he could prefix with 'even' to indicate his shock at not enjoying eating it, because someone might not have bought the record, on the basis that they didn't think sushi, curry etc tasted that good anyway. However, on generalising as far as food, and leaving in the word 'even', what does he suggest the alternatives to food are, in terms of tastiness?

So I put my earphones back in and listened to Thom Yorke sing 'Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon' four times instead, which was much better.

Ballet and mobile phones

On Thursday last, Paul, Michelle, Rob, Caroline and I went to Covent Garden to see Sleeping Beauty on the big screen, live from the Opera House. It was pretty special, some wonderful scenery, beautiful music and amazing dancing. Unfortunately, glass wasn't allowed in the seating area, so Paul decided to buy a 3 litre box of Australian Chardonnay. After Rob, Caroline and I decided to go down to the river afterwards and have a couple of gin-and-tonics, my general sobriety deteriorated, to the point where I talked to people on the tube.

One of these people was called Keisia. She told me about her evening (I forget what she said...) and I told her about the ballet. She sounded interested, so I said 'Well there's an opera in a few weeks, do you want to come?'. She entered her number on my phone and passed it back to me.

When you enter a name and number on a Nokia phone then exit to the main screen, it saves and that's that. When you do it on a Sony Ericcson, like mine, it asks if you want to save the changes. When you're drunk, sometimes you blindly press buttons til the screen looks right. The following morning, I looked to check for her number. It had gone.

My next phone will probably be a Nokia.

Beijing pt2

So then the following day, I went shopping and bought myself an erhu, which is a type of Chinese violin with two strings. The box sits between the strings and the strings themselves rest on a wooden bridge on a snake skin covering to the sounding chamber. By Saturday, Liz was free again, so we hit an international art festival being held in Beijing at the time. Liz came home with a very attractive statue of a man pouring tea, and I picked up a couple of cups as a present for my housemate.

Much of the following week involved trips to temples, a mosque, a few restaurants and a lot of DVD shops. The temples were all spectacular, (though temple fatigue did begin to set in towards the end of the trip), and the photos are marvellous (I'll get them online eventually). The Temple of Heaven was particularly memorable, partially because I was escorted there by four very personable young women, but mostly becuase it was just beautiful - the buildings, the gardens, everything. The Lama Temple was something of a highlight too, with its 18m high sandalwood statue of Buddha.

At the end of the week, Liz and I travelled to Mutanyu (or something like that) where we visited the Great Wall. Aside from being 6000km long and built mostly halfway up a mountain, it was particularly impressive cause the stairs all made 'glug-glug' noises as people walked up them. Along with that evening's trip to a Tibetan restaurant, it was a great end to an excellent trip.

Tippy top

While there's still plenty more to say about Beijing, last night deserves a mention. Linda Smith, once voted Radio 4 listeners' funniest person ever, died a couple of months ago at a young age. Listeners to The News Quiz, Just A Minute and I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue will know how upsetting this is, and what a loss she'll be. When we went to see Hamish and Dougal recorded, Jeremy Hardy seemed particularly affected by the loss.

Last night friends and family organised a tribute evening in the Victoria Palace Theatre, which was all very impressive. Including shortened versions of the three shows above, performances from Mark Steel, Hattie Hayridge, Mark Thomas, Arthur Smith and Jo Brand and music from Humphrey Lyttelton and The Blockheads, it was a pretty spectacular affair, not least because of Phill Jupitus' vocal performance with the aforementioned Blockheads.

The thing about these charity things, not that I've been to that many, is that far too many people go cause they get such an excellent cast. I hold my hand up - I went to see a live version of I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue. I came away with a picture of a fascinating, warm-hearted, remarkably sharp young woman, whose life was tragically cut short by several decades. I also came away with a keen interest in these people, and a picture of Phill Jupitus drugged up to the eyeballs, screaming 'Hit me, hit me, hit me' into a microphone, while Paul Merton danced about to his left, fascinated by the patterns of light his suit was making on his shoes.

Beijing, Part 1

, I arrived at 9.30, as expected, and Liz was waiting by the exit. She'd dropped her grandparents off 5 minutes before at departures. We jumped straight in a taxi (something that would have been a challenge for me, as it involved at least some Chinese dialogue). We headed back to her place and popped out for lunch. We ordered a spicy pork dish, rice and two vegetable dishes, and a big bottle of beer. The whole thing cost about £1.50. Most of the rest of the day was spent sleeping...

I woke up yesterday morning and headed out to The Forbidden City. It's an enormous palace at the centre of Beijing, and you enter into a colossal courtyard. It quickly leads into another colossal courtyard, and you can get the impression the whole thing is going to be a bit dull, but towards the back of the palace I found lots of little passageways and hidden rooms, and the palace garden, which was particularly lovely. I could have spent days wandering around it.

As I left, a very personable young woman called Lucy tried to sell me some art (successfully, I have it in my bag - it's a picture fo a girl with a parrot, and it cost roughly the same as a large Mocha in London). I also met Cindy and Jack, who were from Xian, and who took me to have tea, somewhere very expensive. More on that later, once I establish where it was.

Yesterday evening, Liz took me to a Thai restaurant by the lake, to the north of the centre of town. The food was excellent, though our drinks were pretty dreadful. We popped into a bar next door where we met Paul and Chris, some friends of Liz's. Vodka ensued, and the last thing I remember, I was watching some guy try to work a diablo, at the shop just outside the building here. My head hurts.

More about China

Realising the below post could easily be taken as offensive, rather than a flippant indication of my own ignorance, I thought I should add that I am looking forward to this trip to China more than any holiday I've ever taken (a few notable exceptions, but that was about the company, not the destination). I've only been outside of Western Europe to visit America, and these days, the two are practically indistinguishable. This is the first time I've ever been somewhere properly foriegn, in the non-Daily-Mail use of the word. China is an enormous economical force at the moment, growing at a frightening rate, it has a fascinating ancient culture (from what little I know, I'm preparing to be much more fascinated next week), and doubtless has an exciting culture today, that I can't hope to experience properly in two weeks. I'm going to try though.

I take suggestions for things I should do (other than make quips about food, tea, communism, bicycles and walls) in the comments.

What do you like about China?

Last night Claudia was trying to set up a poll on her blog. As it turns out it's pretty straightforward, but needs some external help. In order to appear slightly smug and terribly clever, and also to gauge people's feelings on China, where I will be in just four days' time, I set this up. I invite you to give me your opinion, and feel free to add some other ideas in the comments bit.

What's China most famous for? Tea Chinese food Hideous political oppression That big wall round the outside Bicycles, cause of that Melua chick Free polls from Pollhost.com

Willard Grant Conspiracy

I went to some folky thing last night at what used to be Dingwalls. I sampled Kronenbourg Blanc for the first time (foul muck that it is) and while Ruth, the biggest Willard Grant fan among us, chatted to the singer beforehand, I hovered and listened. He seemed like a nice chap, and he was happy to tell us which albums he was most pleased with. Then we bought a 5 litre keg of Grolsch to keep us refreshed for the evening. The band was excellent to a man (or woman) - I didn't know a single tune they played, but I enjoyed every one. Excellent solos from mandolin and guitar alike, and some very well judged bassism. Their violinist also wielded the viola from time to time, in the fiddling style (a nod to the west, it can be done...). If there was one thing I'd change it would be that I was holding a great big barrel of beer for half of the time. It seemed like such a nice idea when we bought it.

Dinner, CDs

Last night Debbie, Claudia and I had excellent dinner, with Sainsburys providing the sushi and collaborating with me on the Thai Green Curry, Debbie providing an excellent dessert, in the form of Triple Chocolate Gateau, and Claudia providing a nice bottle of organic rose. We chatted about the idea of a 20ft hedgehog made of broccoli (in the vein of The Sultan's Elephant) and how on earth it's possible to jump into a bush in Mile End and suddenly find yourself falling 12ft to the ground.

After Claudia turned in and Debbie went home, I spent a few minutes sorting through CDs - my recent purchases were beginning to pile up after Virgin had a jazz clearance at £1.99 a CD. As it turns out, I now own 9 Herbie Hancock albums, 12 Miles Davis albums and 9 CDs where Jaco Pastorius is the bassist. Apparently Herbie has another 40 albums for me to find... Parhaps I'll pick some up in China next week.

The Sultan's Elephant - 7th May

At about 11.30, I wandered past Buckingham Palace, where the changing of the guard was drawing a big crowd as usual. But at the other end of The Mall, another show was drawing a much bigger crowd. A 42 tonne, 12 metre high elephant was wandering around town, with 12 people operating it, moving eyes and ears, and a trunk that sprayed water at the crowd. Also, sauntering through St James' Park was a 5m high puppet of a little girl. At one point she took a nap in a deck chair. Later she licked a lollipop. The elephant, meanwhile, wandered up to Piccadilly, where it sat down for most of the afternoon, while the Sultan had lunch. It then came back to Horse Guard's Parade at about 3.30, via Piccadilly Circus and Haymarket, where it met the little girl, and bid her farewell. At 5.30, they walked round the parade ground, and the little girl climbed up into her time machine, and disappeared.

The whole thing was on a colossal scale, all very simple, but very compelling. I'd expected to stay for an hour or two at most, but in the end I didn't leave until the show was over. The atmosphere into he crowd was one of childlike wonder, from children and adults alike. In fact, even a small brown dog was pretty impressed by the whole thing when its owner held it up to see the elephant. It did give the impression it wanted to fight the elephant though (which would have been something to see).

A request for Ken: More of this sort of thing please!

Photos here.

Jazz gig - Saturday 6th May

Easily our best one yet. Some excellent songs (both vocalists outdid themselves), some great instrumentals (although the crowd did talk through most of them), a particularly nice rendition of Brubeck's 'Unsquare Dance', with the audience clapping, a great improvised blues thing, in a direction we've never taken it in before, and some very nicely judged percussion solos. All in all, plenty to be proud of. The next one will be outdoors with any luck!

Work socials and the evils therein

I'm in work and it's Saturday morning. Last night we had a bit of a party, based around the theme of an open mic night, in the office's Atrium. I kicked off with a couple of covers, Tyler followed with some of his own songs. Then Caroline sang 'Heaven' by Bryan Adams and 'My Baby Just Cares for Me' accompanied by me. Gabby did a solo flute thingy by Bach (very impressive), we had a song from Andrew (preceded by a bit of standup), a song from Gary (nice shades), a few from Greg (about girls), a couple from Ruth (who insists she was drunk and terrible, though she's the only one who noticed), a bass solo and a lounge Postman Pat from me, a Dylan song from Cat, another from Tyler, with flute backing from Gabby, a song from Greg with Tyler on harmonica, another song from Greg and a loud shouty song from me. By this time it was about 10pm, but everyone was in the mood to carry on, so the wine kept flowing, the music kept coming and by about 12.30am, everyone was just at that point where they were really enjoying themselves (apart from the one or two vomiting incidents).

The place looks ok today. A bit of mess on the floor, but very little. One broken ceiling tile. A touch of washing up to do. I'm looking forward to the next one already.

It's the most beautiful day...

... the sun is shining, the birds are singing, there's a light breeze in the air. I've just spent an hour sat outside, watching two colleaguesrehearse a banjo/guitar duet, chatting to folk at work about all sorts of random crap, generally enjoying the weather, and enjoying being alive now the winter is firmly behind us. All is right with the world.

Inspiration from Bertram Wooster

A line from last night's book stuck with me for some reason. Bertie and Jeeves were discussing a friend of Bertie's who was having terrible trouble building the courage to propose to a lady.

"I recollect you saying he was letting - what was it? - letting something do something. Cats entered into it, if I am not mistaken."

"Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would', sir."

"That's right. But how about the cats?"

"Like the poor cat i' the adage, sir."

"Exactly. It beats me how you think up these things."

Apparently the line about cats and letting something do something is from another book or a play or something, possibly by some Scottish chap. But anyway, it made me smile enough to share it. I encourage you all not to let I dare not wait upon I would.

Remember! That Metal Is In Your Heart! And You Can Sta-art! With Diamond Headers!

Last night I saw Beatallica's first UK gig. It was side-splittingly funny. Not only did the band play in the style of Metallica, but Beatles songs were rendered in the Michael Jackson style and the Lynyrd Skynyrd style. A new song was in there (at least I think it was new, the band failed to mention whether it was or not), as well as pretty much everything they have on their website at the moment. And it was just loud enough to hurt, which is probably what you want. The crowd singing along to the 'Na's at the end of Hey Dude is a memory that will stay with me forever, and when Jaymz split the audience into two and had them all chanting Hetfieldisms, I could have collapsed with laughter. £10 well spent, I think.

I am Jack's eager anticipation

Last night I watched Fight Club, and it put me in a remarkably good mood. On the way to work I thought about pushing random strangers to try to get them to beat me up. I've mentioned the 'ass or crotch' line to several people so far, and I certainly intend on describing my neighbour on the plane to China as my 'single-serving friend'. I'm still going to go to Ikea sometimes though, and I have no intention of blowing up the financial areas of London to the tune of something or other by The Pixies, nor do I intend to run my car off the road, just so I know what it feels like. Perhaps something crazy will happen this weekend though - I could do with a near-life experience.

Tonight I'm going to see Beatallica in Camden, which I'm eagerly looking forward to. Sunday's Calexico gig was excellent, compelling, emotional even, but it's been far too long since I went to see some mindless noise, and the comedy element definitely appeals to me.

Invented by thugs, played by drunk people

Later today I'll be playing my first match of rugby in about 10 years. I'll be playing with, and against, some people who could have gone pro if they'd had the inclination (or so I'm assured). They tell me they've put me on the wing, out of harm's way. I think only time will tell whether that's true. Fortunately there will be a licensed bar on site, so should there be any injuries there'll be a cry of 'I've broken my ankle - for God's sake, somebody call a barman!'.

Gmail and my paranoia

After a very personal and rather emotive email conversation from my gmail account produced Google Adverts saying 'Considering suicide?' and 'Thinking of ending it all?', I've been very suspicious of Gmail. Then I realised it was storing all of the addresses I ever wrote to. Then I thought, if Gmail 'knows' who is writing to who, how many degrees of separation am I from a terrorist, or a child pornographer, or something else? Will I be under suspicion of a bombing in the future because I know someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows a convicted bomber? Does Gmail know I want to commit suicide, even though I'm pretty sure I'm happy in this world? Are my email conversations as private as I think? Can anything I ever say be taken to be going only to the person I send it to? Is there any security in any kind of conversation except spoken word? Could I be recorded and broadcast if I was just chatting to someone? Whose business is it what I say to anyone? Is there any escape from The Man? Is my life really my own?! Am I even who I think I am?! Who am I?! Where am I?! What do I do?!

But it's probably nothing.

More of the same - happy side

Humphrey Lyttelton is really utterly lovely. As a trumpet player, you can expect the man to lose a little of his lung power at 85, but he could definitely still cut it, and he'd assembled the most wonderful band. The alto solo in 'Lady of the Lavender Mist' nearly had me in tears, somethnig I never thought an alto would do. The two tenors soloing together nearly had me on my feet, and it was a particularly sit-down venue. I was grinning for an hour afterwards. Humph himself was the most charming old chap, full of stories, and only occasional dirty jokes. The onyl one I can remember was Q: 'Have you ever shoed a horse?' A: 'No, but I have told a pig to piss off!' His stories about the tunes were nearly as compelling as the tunes themselves.

The new Gotan Project album is wonderful too. TimeOut said the only thing that stops it descending into MOR pretention was the bandoleon. Fuck TimeOut. True to form, they hate everything. I've so enjoyed the new album I'll be off to see them live again in Shepherds Bush on 29th July. Hurrah!

Beatallica is a week today! How can I possibly be so excited about such a puerile and ridiculous gig? Who knows, but it's keeping me going when I wake up at 3am and can't get back to sleep, and when the salesmen just won't stop ringing at work. I can't wait to hear the opening strains of 'The Thing That Should Not Let It Be'.

So everything is good, especially when you're not inSurbiton.

More of the same - dark side

Right - lets slow things down.

I was a bit wound up on Saturday night for the fact that everyone who only knew me loosely seemed to only remember me from the fact that I'd:

a) Fell in a pond
b) Said libellous things about some mysterious third party's mother, and said party's involvement therein.
c) Got drunk and come on to someone they know.

This is not undeserved. Undoubtedly, all of the above had happened, but the vast majority was seven or more years ago, and I feel there should be some rule against dragging this sort of thing up from a person's past. aving said that, my mother still reminds me about the time I broke the glass top of the coffee table, and that's nearly 25 years ago now...

Fucking night buses! The 77 goes straight to my house. Why shouldn't the N77? Who thought up the idea of having a bus 77a, and having the nigth bus follow the 77a route? Why isn't it the N77a? It took me more than two hours to get home from Vauxhall. I could have walked it in that, saved 80p and got some exercise! Still, I did get some good views of Surbiton, famous for 'The Good Life'. And I won't do it again. At least I had the extra day to recover this weekend.

Damn, damn, damn

I need to leave in five minutes. I had so much I wanted to say. I wanted to start by saying how easy it would be sometimes to react badly when being bated and just say 'Well, fuck you guys, I'm going home' when someone mentions the falling-in-the-pond incident for the fifth time that evening. I wanted o say how furious I was to take a bus N77 to Tolworth Broadway (out beyond Surbiton somewhere) when the normal 77 goes to Tooting Broadway, and sometimes it's hard to make out the difference in the dark. I wanted to say how nice everyone has been about my recordings (thanks everyone). I wanted to wind Michelle up by saying I'm off to see Calexico again. (Still, she's holidaying in Vietnam, so it's one each in my book). I wanted to say never, never develop a romantic interest in someone you work with, no matter how shallow or fleeting. It's a permanent headache for 40 hours a week, much as it may seem otherwise when it works. I wanted to say how delighted I was with the ne Gotan Project album, and how much I'm looking forward to seeing, and perhaps meeting, Beatallica. I wanted to say how much I liked Humphrey Lyttelton's performance last Tuesday in the Bull's Head in Barnes. I wanted to cram a month worth of information into one short post.

Oh, I did.

Kids can be so cruel

On Saturday I spent a very strenuous two hours playing with the kite and the board on Tooting Bec Common. My shoulders are still recovering. During the two hour boarding session, I lost control of the kite slightly and as I regained control, the board started heading downwind. Just then the wind picked up and I got another twist in the kite lines, and treid to undo it. I jumped off the board - which was doing a steady 15mph at the time - and twirled round to untwist the lines and get my breath back. When I turned back towards the kite, it was sat in a tree.

'It's like kite prison' said a passing urchin. I agreed, through gritted teeth. The kite eventually came free, undamaged.

Calexico, The 100 Club, 5th April 2006

Last night I saw this band I haven't really heard of, in a cosy little venue on Oxford Street. I know this is probably going to make one of my occasional readers insanely jealous (sorry...), but to be honest, I don't think you'd get much more out of the little gig than you would out of something like their forthcoming Kentish Town Forum gig.

Anyway, the guitarist/singer was a fantastic guitarist, with an excellent stage manner. Their Mexican trumpet player sang one song (from their new album, I'm told) and that was a lot of fun, much more upbeat than most of the rest of the set. They used a double bas on a couple of numbers, which is always welcomed by me, as a jazz enthusiast. And then afterwards they sort of wandered round the crowd chatting to people, for the most part, which was pretty cool. Ok, you wouldn't get that at the Forum, but they didn't speak to us, so I'm not sure that's an issue. All in all, it made me think that I need to go and see Joe Zawinul next time he plays Ronnie Scotts, cause that's another place where the acts wander around the crowd afterwards, and I'd love an opportunity to speak to someone who knew Jaco.

And Michelle, you're right, I really did like Calexico, and I'll see if I can buy/obtain an album or two some time soon.

A family movie

Last night I saw Romance and Cigarettes at last, and it wasn't nearly as sily as I expected it might be. But it was sillier too. And sensitive and realistic and ridiculous and over-the-top, and beautiful and brutal. And really one of the nicest ways to spend two hours. It was also nice to see that around half a dozen people in the credits had the surname Turturro, so John's clearly keeping it in the family. I can't recommend this film enough. (Unless you're particularly sensitive about circumcision, your bottom, general sexual openness, violence of any kind, you know, all the stuff Hollywood sells itself on nowadays).

Drinks, meringues, fifth cousins twice removed

Last night, Rob, Chris, Letitia, Paul and I had a very pleasant evening in one of London's finest public houses. Happily, I bumped into the lovely Guss from my old Big Band, and Tom, a friend of Nina's who is slightly evil and very clever. A discussion we all had about meringues led me to this article about meringues and vacuums. So, to those who doubted me, Heston Blumenthal thinks it's a good idea, so there. We also established that Tim Harwood, of Corby Glen, is my fifth cousin twice removed, as this chart establishes, though I concede that it would have been easier to answer the question 'Are you related to the other Harwoods in the village?' by saying 'Yes'.

Companionship and cigarettes

Yesterday evening, my flatmate Claudia and I had planned to go and see Romance and Cigarettes, the John Turturro film. While a transport issue hampered the attempt, we did go for a quiet drink in Wandsworth, which seems to have about a dozen Youngs pubs, and pretty much nothing else. Choosing one old-man pub over another was a pretty straightforward matter, we chose the one nearest the bus stop. We chatted about work, social plans and how bloody tired we both were, and then went home. All in all, we reckoned we would have fallen asleep by the end of the film, so we're going to try again next Tuesday. Has anyone seen it? Any thoughts on how it is?

On a bicycle made for Tooting

"When I drive my car, I am not driving - I am participating in a conspiracy called traffic. I will walk." Jacques 'Jacques' Liverot - The Day Today.

This morning I cycled into work. Yesterday evening I cycled home from work. Both seemed to somehow have me cycling against the wind, and both were the most gruelling cycle journeys of my life. I think my bike might need a little maintenance. The wheels are flat, the brake blocks are rubbing, the frame is rusting, the gears are out of line, the tyres are balding, the saddle wobbles, the whole thing is in need of serious attention, either from me or from a scrap metal merchant.

This evening, I'll cycle home from work. Perhaps I'll take the time to fix the bike. Perhaps, tomorrow morning, like Liverot, I will walk.

Weekend in the studio

This weekend I spent 11 hours recording songs with Jim. It was quite an experience. All in all, tempers were entirely controlled, and we got what was certainly the best music I've ever recorded. It's already available for download, and there will be slightly improved final versions later. I'm already looking forward to the next session!

N.B. If you're particularly sensitive, please don't listen to Pornstar. It covers themes of incest, bestiality, and cheap French people-carriers.

I take it back

A couple of weeks ago I said something about, um, if Idon't have anything interesting posted here, it's probably because the interesting stuff is something I can't tell you about. It's lies. I've run out of money, and work is very busy, so I've done nothing even remotely interesting all week - in terms of meeting up with people, going to events or performances, even having interesting conversations, as I've been too busy at work to think of anything imaginative to say. I've found some very exciting spreadsheet functions (ones that count the characters in a cell, nested IFs, IFANDs, SUMIFANDs, arrays and so forth) but they don't make exciting conversation.

On the upside, this weekend I'm recording some music (covers - I've never been able to write songs) with Jim, hopefully including acoustic versions of Back in Black and (in the lounge style) Master of Puppets. There's a birthday party Rob mentioned, and a leaving do on Friday evening, for one of the drivers at work.

My aunt says you should never wish away time, because you can't get it back. She has a good point. So I'm not wishing it was tomorrow and the weekend was already here. Instead, I'm looking forward to another day of exciting Excel functions, followed by some focused practice on those lounge-style rock songs this evening.

Rugby and maths don't mix

I for one am hoping France win their Wales game tomorrow, because otherwise we're going to be sat there with calculators, trying to figure out who is going to win. We'll be at Ben and Emma's place generally shouting at the TV anyway, so it should make for a good afternoon's entertainment.

Blogging vs diary-keeping

I found a vacancy at Amnesty International today - they're looking for a data analyst to examine their fundraising activities and establish how effective they are - which is pretty much what I do at the moment for those nice vegetable people. Of course, I should say 'Well, actually I'm happy where I am, and there's a definite future for me in selling organic food' because I know a few people from work read this sometimes. But wouldn't it be marvellous to work for a charity that does so much good, for real people, with a tangible result to its work? Saving hostages, stopping persecution and torture, brutality and murder. In reality of course, the job would just be a matter of establishing whether guilt-trip TV adverts were more cost effective than charity-muggers, of course - I'm definitely better off with the carrots and celeriac.

Fundamentally, though, it was a good reminder that there's only so much one can say on a blog. Unless you keep an anonymous one of course. So if I run out of interesting thigns to say (whether I say boring things or nothing) don't judge me. Hopefully there's something really exciting I'm not telling you.

An interest becomes a passion, a passion becomes an obsession

... and Matt leaves home at 6am today, to get an hour of kiteboarding in before work. And it was the most successful kiteboarding yet, with speeds approaching 25mph (by my best reckoning - quick anyway) and using the large kite on the board for the first time. Some slight issues with turbulence, the kite folded in on itself at some inopportune moments, but all in all, a great way to start the day. Now to make it to 6pm without falling asleep...

Pet food

Yesterday evening I nejoyed dinner at Tito's, London's premier Peruvian restaurant. We had some delicious raw fish smothered in lime juice, and I also had an enormous plate of salmon and seafood in a rich tomato sauce. And some wine, of course.

We were disappointed to discover one glaring omission of well-known Peruvian cuisine from the menu, but other than that it was an excellent meal, and I highly recommend it. It's somewhere near London Bridge station.

Gopher, Everitt?

Last night Claudia came back from Australia, which was excellent news, though something of a shame from her point of view. During the day, I had my review (third one so far, I'm expecting another in a month's time, don't ask) and a long meeting about planning, all of which was a bit hard going. I also failed to get a proper night's sleep. I think Monday was the only undisturbed night's sleep I've had since January now. On the upside, I enjoyed watching the first half of O Brother Where Art Thou? again. So much so I made a note of lines like 'It's a fool who looks for logic in the chambers of the human heart', 'I'm votin' for yours truly'-'I'm votin' for yours truly too'-'Well, I'm with you fellas' and 'Consider the lilies of the God-damed field...'. I think I'll have to watch the rest of it tonight, when I wake at 2am and can't get back to sleep. It seems a shame to waste those hours.

Manners!

Yesterday a friend and I watched Graeme Garden and Barry Cryer record two episodes of 'Hamish and Dougal; You'll Have Had Your Tea'. It was full of puerile innuendo and fart jokes, and all in all made perfect entertainment. The ceilidh band were also pretty impressive, and the musical director of the programme was Graeme Garden's son, who also plays keyboards with the Scissor Sisters, apparently. Then we went to Wagamama, where we enjoyed excellent cheap Japanese style food. Then we went home. On the way, I saw a tube platform sign indicating that the first train would arrive in 11 minutes. I don't think I've ever seen that before.

Not killing small children; a kiter's guide

I went kiting yesterday. I went kiting the day before, but on the day before I wasn't approached by a small child, wearing a badge that said '5'. When you're flying a 6.3 sq.m kite, capable of lifting your weight (in my case around 90kg) and more in the right wind, and you're flying it in that right wind, a child that weighs around 7 kg offering to help launch the kite can be a little worrying. When the kite is dragging you forward, much as you try to stay still, the same child standing directly in front of you can also be worrying. The fact that a child is able to just wander along and come and say hi, when she's only 5, and when she has only a vague idea of which direction she should walk to get back to her parents, is also a little concerning. Even so, it really made my day.

She very quickly understood that standing in front of me was a bad idea. She also managed to actually help launch the kite, by holding one end of it up, to catch the wind (mostly children wanting to help get to hold the kite as the adult launches it, but she actually made it easier). And her parents seemed to be pretty easy going. We had a conversation about how the kite could probably pick her up and take her 25 metres into the sky. Dad said 'Well, she'd probably really enjoy it'. I said 'Yes, on the way up...'. As they left, she insisted on coming to say bye-bye to her new friend, and I picked her up by the wrists and put her down again, which she seemed to enjoy. Hopefully there'll be another kite enthusiast in ten or so years' time. And it kind of makes me think that one day I might be lucky enough to make little powerkiters of my own...

Not sleeping again

Yesterday I went to bed almost pitifully early, but at 12.45 I was woken to the sound of a two chord vamp with a major scale bassline. Not only was this disturbing my sleep, but to my disgust, a guitarist was improvising over the top using a phrygian or blues scale! I could have wept! The two chord thing gave way to some other half-arsed pop-rock crap and then something by the Doors. By which time it was nigh on 3am.

At 6am this morning, I felt a strange compulsion to watch 'The Big Lebowski'. So I did. I was surprised to discover my subwoofer was turned up quite loud. As I don't really enjoy loud bass sounds at 6am, I left the room and had a bath, and came back to the film at about 7am, picking it up where I had been watching it the previous evening before I went to bed. I'm expecting a restful night's sleep tonight.

This evening I'm visiting friends, tomorrow I'm eating Sri Lankan food, Friday is the usual work drinks, Saturday is a jazz rehearsal followed by a party, sunday will involve kiting activities, and on Monday I'm off to see this being recorded. I envisage having lots of restful undisturbed sleep to help me cope with a gruelling schedule. If I don't, I might have to buy some Schwarzenegger films.

Let's go (not) fly a kite!

On Saturday I went to Hampstead Heath to meet Chris for some kite flying. I walked with kite to the top of the hill, casually passing through the English National Cross Country Championships on the way. At the top of the hill I discovered a problem. The windspeed was 20-25, gusting 30 miles an hour. I considered flying the small kite, then I watched someone flying a 3.0m kite (my smaller kite is 3.6m) and being dragged around on their front with very little control of it. So we stayed on top of the hill for half an hour, watching people fall over, and helping a pretty lady fly her much smaller, more sensible kite. As I was launching the lady's kite, I noticed something disastrous happening with another kite flyer, so I turned, ran up the hill as fast as I could, and when I arrived there, saw that the kite was spinning round on the spot, a few inches off the ground, and the guy was still attached to it, being held down by a friend of his. I didn't know what to do that wouldn't injure me, but just then someone rode up on a bike, jumped off it and onto the kite. I joined him, and we held it down, and the guy on the end of the kite looked very relieved!

On Sunday I came back, and despite the fact it was still ludicrously windy, I flew anyway. I have a couple of minor bruises for my troubles, but Julie managed to fly the kite for about twenty minutes without injury!

Mountainboarding/Kiting photos

We went out on Saturday with kites and boards. Here are some photos - expect more over the next few weeks, weather permitting.

I shoulda learned to play the guitar, I shoulda learned to play them drums

Last night at the Purple Turtle was a highly enjoyable evening with Methodaire and Halflight. Methodaire are lively with interesting basslines and cunning lead guitar. Halflight sound like trainee Radio 2 fodder, with a cello instead of a bass and som pretty catchy tunes. I haven't seen bands I've never heard of in years. I need to do it more. And I probably need to go and perform something somewhere soon too.

Looking on the bright side

"You cannot see what I see because you see what you see. You cannot know what I know because you know what you know. What I see and what I know cannot be added to what you see and what you know because they are not the same kind. Neither can it replace what you see and what you know, because that would be to replace you yourself."

I found myself thinking about what I haven't done, and what it might be too late for me to do, yesterday. I never jumped in my parents' car and drove it down the motorway at 80mph when I was 15, I never skipped school to take mushrooms in the park, I never stayed up all night writing an essay that I'd forgotten about, I never ran in a student election, I never... and so on really.

The quote above is from a book I could quote forever, The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy - specifically the fifth one, which was never very happy, but had a nice bit about sandwiches. I've done things, and seen things, and I know things. They're not what anyone else knows or sees, and instead of jealousy or regret at not experiencing what others experience myself, I should be taking joy in their descriptions of those things, and sharing my experiences in return.

Yesterday I spent a full hour frying bacon and chopping it up with scissors. By the end of it, I was sticky and unpleasant, and smelt strongly of that orange/brown stuff that cakes onto the pan when you fry bacon too much. What have you done that no-one in their right mind would want to do?

Sir Nicholas Parsons was raised by cats...

A quick summary of the weekend, followed by a long waffle about Just a Minute.

Friday I bought a bed, and had the best night's sleep I can remember. I also got some new glasses, and so I can see again. Then I met up with Nina for a couple of drinks and a bite to eat, which was very pleasant. We ate sushi, tempura, Thai fishcakes and sesame and prawn/fish toast, red curry and rice. Yum.

Saturday involved a tense England match, which came off nicely in the end. And Just a Minute, which I'll come back to. Sunday was mostly spent playing guitar with Chris, which was good fun too, and buying far too many CDs (finally I have all three Joni Mitchell albums with Jaco on bass!). Also, a spot of jasmine tea, bangers and mash and a couple of medium-sized whiskies.

Just a Minute, at the Shaw Theatre in Euston Road, was fantastic. I laughed til I wept! We were graced by the presence of Paul Merton, Kit Hesketh-Harvey, Liza Tarbuck and Chris Neill. Possibly the best moment was when Liza Tarbuck started the subject 'Living legends' with the sentence 'Sir Nicholas Parsons was raised by cats'. Chris Neill buzzed and said 'Deviation - he hasn't been knighted', whereupon Paul Merton pionted out that no one seemed to take issue with him benig raised by cats. The jokes aboyut this continued for the rest of the show - has he been spayed, does he lick his arse, does he roam the streets at night, is there a catflap in his back door? I left the theatre with aches in my sides, and resolved to go back in Spring 2007 for the next London recording.

A fox on a wall

I wish I could come up with a more imaginative title for this, but I can't. Several 'stupid like a fox' type phrases came to me, something about cunning, a parody of that Jimi Hendrix song. In the end I gave up. I just wanted to share with the world that this lunchtime, in Tesco's car park in Brixton, I saw a fox walking bold as brass along a ten foot wall. At lunchtime. In the middle of the day. Ten feet up!

Annual family get together

A mere 20 hours after the ranting, half baked nonsense below, I find myself at the end of an evening of roast goose, potatoes, stuffing, cabbage, carrots and cauliflower, organic duchy original christmas pudding and brandy butter (the pudding from last year, no less!) and some viennetta type thing, Canadian wine (we all know Canadians make the best wine (the white was pretty dodgy but the red was excellent), along with growing the best bananas) and my sister's raspberry vodka. Today also included some violent kite scudding, some excellent kiteboarding and a couple of minor jumps (woohoo!) and a brief visit from my grandmother and auntie, who were on usual good form.

My family were better company than they've ever been for about half an hour after the meal, but then someone suggested watching Casualty, and all the priorities got mixed up. One day, we'll go out and ignore the TV, just for one evening.... Ithink I'll go and pour a whisky for my mother.

And apparently my mother always buys fairtrade tea,but never buys free range eggs because she doesn't eat that many eggs.

Home, home on the range

I'm off home for the weekend, to take in some fresh country air, to eat and drink and be merry with my three siblings and my parents, and to generally take a break from London. There will almost certainly be nothing exciting to say on Monday about the weekend, and this weekend, that's how I like it.

Sleeping, waking, dreaming

Last night I saw the clock show 2am, 4am and 5.30am. By the last one I had resigned myself to being awake until the proper morning. In fact, most nights have been really patchy since I dreamt about Terry Wogan. Maybe somewhere in the dark depths of the mind, I do genuinely think some sort of Dream Wogan is trying to kill me?! Maybe by sleeping for an hour or two at a time, I'm trying to escape from the evil Irish assassin, by not ever giving him long enough to find me and kill me? Maybe I should take back what I said about Frank Sinatra?

Birthday

Meat
Peri-peri chicken from Nandos

Drink
Too much. Started with beer, then a drop of whisky, then more beer, then more whisky. And the 'Desperado' tequila flavoured beer probably didn't help.

Company
Chris, Rob, Claudia, Ted, Ryan, Paul and Michelle, Ben and Emma, Dulcie and James, Erin and Ruscoe, Guy and Caroline, James, Fabien, Tom, Shane and Lore(sp?).

Headache in the morning
Headache in the afternoon. Little morning to speak of.

Memorable topics of conversation
Being a Guardian reader, tequila in beer - only the French, Bop-it, Flick-it, Pull-it, Twist-it, Spin-it, the best whisky ever, 'f*ck this book', why everything is shit, we-haven't-met-up-in-ages, getting old, 'Shut up Rob, if you value your carpets, shut up' (Sorry Rob).

Weather, Sport, TV
None. The whole thing was indoors, and without exercise of any kind. The TV remained off.

A good 8/10 I think - would have been improved by careful pacing, but definitely a good evening. Thanks to everyone who came, I had a great time.

I take it back

I still feel more 20 than 30.

Last post of my early twenties

Tomorrow morning, I'll wake up and, in the eyes of the law at least, I'll be 26 years old (I was born at 9.30pmish, so strictly speaking...). I'll finally have to admit I'm closer to thirty than twenty (though that's been true for almost a year already). But, like Canute desperately trying to hold back the sea, I'll be having a party tomorrow evening, and I'll keep up the denial that I'm an adult for another few hours. Perhaps we'll play pass the parcel?

4 is the magic number

I still haven't figured out what a meme is, butMichelle asked me to get involved in one, so I'm going to. And since 4 is the magic number, I was even more eager.

4 jobs you've had in your life
1) This one, doing numbers for an organic fruit and vegetale delivery company.
2) A week as a caretaker on a housing estate in Bethnal Green
3) Two weeks on a weighbridge at a grain store in Lincolnshire
4) Three months as a postal clerk for an insurance company in Peterborough.

4 movies you could watch over and over
1) O Brother, Where Art Thou?
2) Fargo
3) The Big Lebowski
4) The Man Who Wasn't There (spot the theme...)

4 TV shows you love to watch
1) ....

The thing is, when I lived in Lincolnshire, there was nothing else to do, and my parents had Sky. Now I live in London I don't even get proper reception on Five, so I've 4 channels to choose from. And they all tend to peddle crap. I'm going to do Radio 4 comedies instead.

1) I'm sorry I haven't a clue
2) Just a Minute
3) The Now Show
4) Hancock's Half Hour (sadly no longer broadcasting, following the death of Hancock some 40 years ago).

4 places you've lived
1) Corby Glen, in Lincolnshire - four different houses, but all within about 200m of each other.
2) Central London - Charlotte St, then Gower St, then Hampstead Road
3) Islington/Dalston borders - King Henry's Walk
4) South London - an indifferent experience in Streatham, but Tooting seems to suit me.

4 places you've been on vacation to
I'm going to be rubbish at this one.
1) Everywhere in France. Seriously, name a major city, I've probably been through it in a car towing a caravan.
2) Barcelona - we went for a week, and were a little disappointed by the Cathedral. On the bus on the way back, someone showed us some photos, and we found out we'd got the wrong one.
3) New Orleans, last March - I still remember looking at the Mississippi and looking at Jackson Square, about 6ft below it, and thinking something wasn't right. But who could have known?
4) New York - probably my favourite city in the world, so far, but Beijing might win me over in May.

4 places you would rather be
1) At home in bed
2) In New York, eating.
3) At the top of a hill, with a force 3-4 breeze and my kite.
4) Sometimes, back in Lincolnshire in 1996 telling a 16 year old me to take A-level music, and to pull his finger out.

4 of your favourite foods
1) Cheese on toast, as given 'nuff respec' by Roots Manuva.
2) Curry - Indian or Chinese flavour, and Thai curry is beginning to win me over too
3) Homemade sushi. For sentimental reasons, and because it's filling but not fattening.
4) Nachos.

4 websites you visit daily
1) B3ta.com - funny.
2) Google News - news.
3) The Onion - alternative news.
4) Airmonkeys.co.uk - kites.

Good.

And then last night...

...I had a dream about Terry Wogan. Why, I don't know. What, I don't know. But I woke with a very clear sense of Wogan in my mind, that wasn't attached to anything else. And then as I drove to work this morning I saw Terry's face on a billboard at the end of the road.



Perhaps Frank Sinatra sent him to kill me?

My meeting with Frank Sinatra

On Friday night, I had a dream. I met Frank Sinatra. And I was chatting to him about his music, and his amazing talent. And I said "Yesterday at the office, we were listening to you sing Mack the Knife, and it was really excellent. I mean, there's a deep, rich quality to your voice, and listening to it is like having warm butter poured into your ear, without the nasty side effects". He seemed pleased, though I don't remember what he said. I never seem to remember the things other people say in dreams, they tend to just be there. That's probably indicative of something, though I can't be bothered to figure out what. Anyway.

"But afterwards", I continued, "We listened to Ella Fitzgerald sing the same song. And you know what? She pisses all over your version."



He took it quite well, considering his Mafia connections. I expect to be assassinated in my dreams by the end of the week. Unless I can get some of Ella's connections to help keep me safe.

When turning right, think Bike

Yesterday evening, while walking to our local Sainsburys, I saw a car stop to let another car out of a side road. The other car was turning right, which it did, oblivious to the motorbike overtaking the car that had stopped to let the second car out. The motorbike hit the car, there was a revving of engine and a crunching sound and the man on the bike was thrown to the floor. He got up, all was fine - it was a shame though, it looked like a nice bike.

Later, in Sainsburys, I bought some MSC certified New Zealand Hoki, cause I liked the connection to yesterday's post.

Some amusing anecdotes from the weekend

Listening to Radio 4 on Saturday morning, I heard Adam Hart-Davies investigating laughing gas and Humphrey Davy. He was chatting to a dental anaesthetist, or something like that, who was telling him about concerns of recreational use of nitrous oxide, but among other things, Hart-Davies said "Come on then, turn it up and tell me a joke."

The anaesthetist said "Ok, I'm turning you up to 60% now. Tell you a joke? Well, how much are the BBC paying you to do this?" "That's not a joke", replied Hart-Davies, and collapsed into hysterical laughter.

Then there was the Russian festival, where they had written Happy New Year in Russian on Nelson's Column, with lasers. Only they'd taken a single Cyrillic character that looked a bit like two Roman Characters, and split it into the Roman characters. As a consequence, it didn't read right, and they didn't have enough room for one of the letters at the bottom. Effectively, Nelson's column read "Happy Nevv Yr". Quite aside from Ken's meeting with the somewhat unwholesome Mayor of Moscow, in which (we later decided) Ken said "I'd like to symbolise the synergy between our two cities, by accepting this brown envelope full of unmarked, non-sequential hundred dollar bills."

And then there was the Hokey Pokey (the American version of the English original, the Hokey Cokey), in the style of a Shakespearean sonnet. Courtesy of Radio 4, talking about the Washington Post's Style Invitational (you'll need to regiister and search to read articles).

O proud left foot, that ventures quick within
Then soon upon a backward journey lithe.
Anon, once more the gesture, then begin:
Command sinistral pedestal to writhe.
Commence thou then the fervid Hokey-Poke,
A mad gyration, hips in wanton swirl.
To spin! A wilde release from Heavens yoke.
Blessed dervish! Surely canst go, girl.
The Hoke, the poke -- banish now thy doubt
Verily, I say, 'tis what it's all about.

Lies, damn lies and London restaurant reviews

Yesterday lunchtime I scanned the internet for restaurants in the Marylebone area, where I would be having dinner with a friend that evening. I came upon a review of 'The Golden Eagle' (I think), that described it as a 'Gastropub' with excellent food, slightly slow service and a good selection of real ales. 'Ideal' I thought.

The evening went striaght to food in the end and we decided to pick somewhere at random, but happened upon a pub on the corner called, wouldn't you know, 'The Golden Eagle'. I said 'I've heard of this place, apparently it has excellent food' and we went in. Looking at the bar snacks menu (a disappointing list of pasties, sausage rolls and pies) I asked the barman if they did any other food. A little shaky-looking and obviously a few pints into his evening, he replied that he'd just check. 'We've got two cheese and onion pasties and a spring roll left' he said. We made our excuses and left.

Here's the only review of the place I can find this morning. I'd go back, but I'd probably eat before I got there...

Comedy: The Bedford, Balham, last night

For £3, we got 2 and a half hours of entertainment, of variable quality, but with plenty to shout about. Highlights include:

- Stephen Hawking portrayed as King of the Daleks, with the Daleks bowing down to him and not being able to get up afterwards.
- Bad Italian wine inducing facial expressions from across the Italian Gangster movie spectrum.
- Buying medieval cannons on eBay under the influence of alcohol.
- Getting discount from insurance under the Acts of God clause, if you're an atheist. Furthermore, claiming drunkenness while causing a road accident is due to all of the water in your body being miraculously changed to wine.
- The girl at the front of the room being very drunk, and the possible consequences of this.

I can highly recommend the Bedford's Tuesday night comedy, and I'll be sure to be there again soon!

Waiting On Dwarfs - The Vortex, Jan 7th 2006

I really like jazz. But I think I like the sort of jazz that would be Steps or Westlife if it was pop. Well maybe the Beatles or Sting or someone. You know, reasonably credible, but not 'specialist'.

Waiting on Dwarfs are distinctly specialist, so we stood at the back of the room and drank lots of red wine. Some muscial highlights included a couple of very nicely executed bass solos, and discovering that the reason I thought it was a viola was because the violinist was so little - though a friend of his suggested it was because I would normally have seen him in the Royal Albert Hall, and not a little room in Dalston. The second set was more crowd pleasing, but it's all relative. If you want something challenging and unusual in your jazz, go and see them. If, like me, you want something to tap your foot to, or unlike me, something to dance to, don't.

Later, we went to the Dalston Jazz Bar, where there was much grabbing of groin, and uttering of 'J'habite'. I cannot satisfactorily explain why.

An astronomical observation

Today marks the Earth's perihelion. This is when the elliptical orbit of the Earth takes us closest to the Sun, a mere 147,100,000km. The aphelion is 152,100,000km, a difference of 5,000,000km. So why is it so cold today?

You are what you whinge on about

I really don't like Dr Gillian McKeith. Yesterday, as I walked into the room with a curry, some naan and a beer, she was listing 12 things which are 'naughty' foods. 3 of them were Indian takeaways, white bread and alcohol. I refuse to be told I'm naughty by someone who tells people their poo isn't good enough, and wanders up to strangers, grabs their bellies and tells them they're fat. When I eat a curry or drink a can of Heineken, I know it's 10 minutes off the end of my life, and I don't care! And as for telling us all that being overweight and unhealthy is unattractive, what about being obnoxious, self-righteous and patronising?

...and breathe...

New Year

Meat
Some excellent Thai curried chicken. I'm already trying to find a paste to replicate it myself.

Drink
A couple of cans of Grolsch. Well, 3. Then the Wellington, three pints of London Pride. Then the Talbot. A few more pints of something or other. Some Champagne. Someone's leftover Guinness. Then back to the flat. Some vodka, possibly another beer or two. A short nap then some port and a cup of tea.

Company
Rob, Chris, Shane, Tom, Marina, Charlie, Jez and his girlfriend whose name I forget (sorry). Excellent to a man.

Headaches
Yes.

Memorable topics of conversation
Developing contempt for me on meeting me, it saves time, where to buy coconut milk, borrowing money, world of meat, world of wine and beer, lesbian leopards, Pride vs IPA, Swedish stereotypes, London is wonderful, Rob is from everywhere, what people 'do' (so, what do you do?), lots of pretty people, the Franco-Prussian war, the films of Sandra Bullock, 'We'll find you a nice man' 'I'm not gay though', 'Happy New Year', do you mind that we didn't go to that party?, 'I have a boyfriend, but...', where has Shane gone? and then it all breaks down into kebabs, vodka and numbness.

Weather
Cold but not too cold. Light showers.

Sport
There is a distinct possibility I danced.

TV
None

Overall an 8.5, due to the complete absence of television, and because the conversation was mostly excellent, if sometimes a little silly. The vodka was a bad idea, but it always is, and we always do it.