I just realised that I've had this blog for over a year. When I started it, I was on holiday in Key West and didn't want to go back to work. I wanted to get on a plane to St Kitts and get a job on the set of the Pirates of the Caribbean sequels. Life didn't quite work out like that, but it's all still good.
A year.
Time is relative - Einstein was right. It goes faster as you get older.
28 January 2006
sublime to the mundane and back again
Thought 1:
Exercise is excruciatingly boring. This is not a new thought, but one that's crammed my cranium recently so I'm airing it out. I use a cross-country machine called a Nordic-Track. It's pretty old. Maybe a decade or so. It still gives a good workout, so that's a plus. But I'm not actually cross-country skiing. In fact, I'm in a shed, surrounded by garden impliments, a host of empty boxes and the skeletons of old furniture from a life on another continent. It's here that my imagination runs wild, and if it's a good day I'll get ideas for the book. If it's a bad day I use it to batter out any poison head that may be kicking about. In a funny way, it's much harder than sitting down and writing as instead of seeing the words appear on the screen, I'm just staring out the door of the shed. Sometimes I picture what I'll look like after another month on the machine. It's pretty close to what I see in the mirror at the moment. In any case, the work-out seems to be as much mental, shutting out the monotony of what I'm doing, as it is physical. Would love to have a tv to watch. But not actual television. DVDs of the Simpsons. I think that would make exercise bearable.
Thought 2:
Electronic crack. I've had a problem for the last week or so. I've been playing a game every free second I have, maniacally. Civilization III. This morning I've taken the first step in going cold turkey. I deleted it from my hard drive. I wanted to hurl the CD into the Thames in an effort to permanently expunge it from my life, but that would littering. So I resisted the temptation and it's adrift amid the flotsam of my desk. A terrible fate, I assure you.
Thought 3:
My drivers license arrived yesterday. With my picture and signature on it and everything. I've been looking at it a lot. Not in a self-obsessed way - or at least not in any more of a self-obsessed way than normal. And I'm sure if I'd passed my test when I was 17 it wouldn't have been that big of a deal. But at 29 I'd kind of resigned my self, in part, to the life of a pedestrian. So there's a bit of lingering disbelief about the whole thing. So I suppose the license is there to get rid of that disbelief. And I'm so unbelievably chuffed that I have to keep looking at it.
Thought 4:
I didn't win 100 million £s in the lottery last night. Ah well.
Thought 5:
Carly Simon's Nobody Does it Better, from The Spy Who Loved Me, is the best Bond song ever. I made this discovery recently and the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced. If Bond is the man that every man wants to be, then this is the song that every man wants sung to him or about him. It's kind of genius. And ironic. And everything really.
Thought 6:
I finally have my nano back. Well, actually, it's a brand new shiny nano, which is nice. You see, the first one they sent me was caput as well. And so I sent that one back and now I have a new shiny one. I going to try to keep this one shiny. So I'm using a felt case I nicked from a mate (well, he left it at my house and hasn't asked for it back).
Thought 7:
Time to exercise.
Thought addendums:
Bought the new translation of Don Quixote. It just seems like something I should read.
Does a litre of Innocent smoothie really count as my 5 fruits for the day? I know it says it does, but they would say that. Just cuz their name is Innocent doesn't mean they are innocent.
I need more natural light when I wake up. The Belfry bedroom is dark. Very dark. And still all those creepy noises from the surrounding trees.
Don't eat more than 1/2 of a large Firezza pizza. Just one more slice will put you over the edge. I know of what I speak.
Watch My Name is Earl. It's funny. Big giggles.
Don't watch the news more than twice a day.
Unless something earth-shatteringly terrible has happened.
Exercise is excruciatingly boring. This is not a new thought, but one that's crammed my cranium recently so I'm airing it out. I use a cross-country machine called a Nordic-Track. It's pretty old. Maybe a decade or so. It still gives a good workout, so that's a plus. But I'm not actually cross-country skiing. In fact, I'm in a shed, surrounded by garden impliments, a host of empty boxes and the skeletons of old furniture from a life on another continent. It's here that my imagination runs wild, and if it's a good day I'll get ideas for the book. If it's a bad day I use it to batter out any poison head that may be kicking about. In a funny way, it's much harder than sitting down and writing as instead of seeing the words appear on the screen, I'm just staring out the door of the shed. Sometimes I picture what I'll look like after another month on the machine. It's pretty close to what I see in the mirror at the moment. In any case, the work-out seems to be as much mental, shutting out the monotony of what I'm doing, as it is physical. Would love to have a tv to watch. But not actual television. DVDs of the Simpsons. I think that would make exercise bearable.
Thought 2:
Electronic crack. I've had a problem for the last week or so. I've been playing a game every free second I have, maniacally. Civilization III. This morning I've taken the first step in going cold turkey. I deleted it from my hard drive. I wanted to hurl the CD into the Thames in an effort to permanently expunge it from my life, but that would littering. So I resisted the temptation and it's adrift amid the flotsam of my desk. A terrible fate, I assure you.
Thought 3:
My drivers license arrived yesterday. With my picture and signature on it and everything. I've been looking at it a lot. Not in a self-obsessed way - or at least not in any more of a self-obsessed way than normal. And I'm sure if I'd passed my test when I was 17 it wouldn't have been that big of a deal. But at 29 I'd kind of resigned my self, in part, to the life of a pedestrian. So there's a bit of lingering disbelief about the whole thing. So I suppose the license is there to get rid of that disbelief. And I'm so unbelievably chuffed that I have to keep looking at it.
Thought 4:
I didn't win 100 million £s in the lottery last night. Ah well.
Thought 5:
Carly Simon's Nobody Does it Better, from The Spy Who Loved Me, is the best Bond song ever. I made this discovery recently and the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced. If Bond is the man that every man wants to be, then this is the song that every man wants sung to him or about him. It's kind of genius. And ironic. And everything really.
Thought 6:
I finally have my nano back. Well, actually, it's a brand new shiny nano, which is nice. You see, the first one they sent me was caput as well. And so I sent that one back and now I have a new shiny one. I going to try to keep this one shiny. So I'm using a felt case I nicked from a mate (well, he left it at my house and hasn't asked for it back).
Thought 7:
Time to exercise.
Thought addendums:
Bought the new translation of Don Quixote. It just seems like something I should read.
Does a litre of Innocent smoothie really count as my 5 fruits for the day? I know it says it does, but they would say that. Just cuz their name is Innocent doesn't mean they are innocent.
I need more natural light when I wake up. The Belfry bedroom is dark. Very dark. And still all those creepy noises from the surrounding trees.
Don't eat more than 1/2 of a large Firezza pizza. Just one more slice will put you over the edge. I know of what I speak.
Watch My Name is Earl. It's funny. Big giggles.
Don't watch the news more than twice a day.
Unless something earth-shatteringly terrible has happened.
25 January 2006
More party pics
Malia tries to tame the savage shirt.
Malia & Christina decide that dancing is for tables. Mind the chandelier, girls.
Pete W, Ben McC & Kirsty D with big fun drunken grins.
From Norway with Love, the inimitable Jon E - grimace aside, a legend for not only making the trip, but enduring a 6am departure the following morning from Prestwick. For those who know not what that means, imagine having to taxi, train & bus for 4 hours to get a 1 hour flight. Sucks huh? Oh yeah.
From Nigeria with Love. Imelda (right) and Neneh (left) are a mother and daughter team who easily liven any party at which they arrive. It was not the first time they brightened up the West Port, and I'm sure it won't be the last.
24 January 2006
magnums and velvet
I returned from St Andrews today to an actual letter. Letters are brilliant. Handwritten and everything. So that was cool. All the other post was from banks, and that's never cool.
St Andrews was amazing. Andy's leaving do was very much a Luvians' Greatest Hits, with most of the great customers, friends and staff from the last ten years making an appearance. Many of whom by surprise. People came from as far as Germany for the event. Though, that said, Sunday nights in Germany probably aren't worth sticking around for. Sunday nights most places aren't worth sticking around for. So, you know, if you have the chance, go to a big party in St Andrews. Magnums of champagne flowed and then some was mixed with Guinness and so the black velvets were flowing. Now, I'd never really had black velvet before. It works quickly. The drifted into dancing and laughing and kissing and hugging and eating and drinking more. I went to two flat parties and found my bed at 4am. Here are some pics that show the event.
The party man himself, Capt. Cook, with the lovely Malia and Kat. That shirt was louder than the tunes that night, I assure you
Yours truly with the fabulous Christina - in fabulous and happily married form and looking gorgeous. She was somewhat less jovial the next day.
The lovely Veronica, who has a wonderful smile. Someday, Luvians could all be hers, but without myself and Andy there, why would she want it?
Ben and Malia towards the end of the night. Malia was just making sure that every single last drop of Taittinger was really gone.
Myself and the fantastic Helen, flatmate of the lovely Veronica and a new addition to this party crew. Not an easy crowd to fall into but she handled herself brilliantly. A firecracker from Armagh. We're both drinking TVRs in this picture. That's TVR spelt S-T-U-P-I-D.
Tim Butler, one of Scotland's foremost restauranteurs. Seriously. You wouldn't think it, would you? Me neither. Food's pretty good though.
Big Mac & Kirsty D. I've drunk so many cocktails in the company of these two, prepared by the former, it staggers the mind. And erases it over time.
St Andrews was amazing. Andy's leaving do was very much a Luvians' Greatest Hits, with most of the great customers, friends and staff from the last ten years making an appearance. Many of whom by surprise. People came from as far as Germany for the event. Though, that said, Sunday nights in Germany probably aren't worth sticking around for. Sunday nights most places aren't worth sticking around for. So, you know, if you have the chance, go to a big party in St Andrews. Magnums of champagne flowed and then some was mixed with Guinness and so the black velvets were flowing. Now, I'd never really had black velvet before. It works quickly. The drifted into dancing and laughing and kissing and hugging and eating and drinking more. I went to two flat parties and found my bed at 4am. Here are some pics that show the event.
The party man himself, Capt. Cook, with the lovely Malia and Kat. That shirt was louder than the tunes that night, I assure you
Yours truly with the fabulous Christina - in fabulous and happily married form and looking gorgeous. She was somewhat less jovial the next day.
The lovely Veronica, who has a wonderful smile. Someday, Luvians could all be hers, but without myself and Andy there, why would she want it?
Ben and Malia towards the end of the night. Malia was just making sure that every single last drop of Taittinger was really gone.
Myself and the fantastic Helen, flatmate of the lovely Veronica and a new addition to this party crew. Not an easy crowd to fall into but she handled herself brilliantly. A firecracker from Armagh. We're both drinking TVRs in this picture. That's TVR spelt S-T-U-P-I-D.
Tim Butler, one of Scotland's foremost restauranteurs. Seriously. You wouldn't think it, would you? Me neither. Food's pretty good though.
Big Mac & Kirsty D. I've drunk so many cocktails in the company of these two, prepared by the former, it staggers the mind. And erases it over time.
19 January 2006
The Belfry of Ideas
I face the day quite excited. I'm doing something different. You see, the other day I had a new idea. Well, when I say new, it was more of a new take on an old idea. But that's what most new ideas seem to be these days, so I'm still pretty happy with a new take. It's better than same old shit, at least.
So as I was thinking about this new idea and trying to sqeeze it in with all of my other ideas it occurred to me that I didn't really have a repository for all the ideas that I have shifting about. Aside from my brain. Which, if you know me, is so crammed full of useless trivia and detailed memories of unimportant events that it's easy to lose my place. Especially with ideas.
So today is my big idea day. I'm going to be getting everything onto paper and into a folder and any time the writing starts going slow I'll whip out one of the ideas to work on instead. In fact, I don't even need paper or folders as apparently you can get all of this done on computers these days. Ain't technology something?!
So today I will be doing rough outlines of:
1 movie
2 stage plays
1 screenplay
5 novels (not including current project)
2 tv shows (1 travelogue, 1 sitcom)
1 cook book
And as usual, new ideas beget other new ideas. So there's fun to be had. A welcome break from prose.
PS - Yes, this is a task I should have done a long time ago. I am one of the billions of people in the human race who tends to put things off for too long. Deal with it.
PPS - Buy Steven Fry's The Ode Less Travelled.
So as I was thinking about this new idea and trying to sqeeze it in with all of my other ideas it occurred to me that I didn't really have a repository for all the ideas that I have shifting about. Aside from my brain. Which, if you know me, is so crammed full of useless trivia and detailed memories of unimportant events that it's easy to lose my place. Especially with ideas.
So today is my big idea day. I'm going to be getting everything onto paper and into a folder and any time the writing starts going slow I'll whip out one of the ideas to work on instead. In fact, I don't even need paper or folders as apparently you can get all of this done on computers these days. Ain't technology something?!
So today I will be doing rough outlines of:
1 movie
2 stage plays
1 screenplay
5 novels (not including current project)
2 tv shows (1 travelogue, 1 sitcom)
1 cook book
And as usual, new ideas beget other new ideas. So there's fun to be had. A welcome break from prose.
PS - Yes, this is a task I should have done a long time ago. I am one of the billions of people in the human race who tends to put things off for too long. Deal with it.
PPS - Buy Steven Fry's The Ode Less Travelled.
18 January 2006
16 January 2006
Be careful what you wish for
It rained today. And yet it didn't impress me.
A probe bringing back comet dust, that impressed me. A lot, in fact.
Worked a lot today. Some was great (the writing stuff). Some was rubbish (the work stuff).
I have "a lunch" tomorrow.
I got an email from the pretty single girl I was writing about a couple of posts ago. The one that asked for my email. You know the one? Yeah, that one. Haven't written her back yet. Will do.
A probe bringing back comet dust, that impressed me. A lot, in fact.
Worked a lot today. Some was great (the writing stuff). Some was rubbish (the work stuff).
I have "a lunch" tomorrow.
I got an email from the pretty single girl I was writing about a couple of posts ago. The one that asked for my email. You know the one? Yeah, that one. Haven't written her back yet. Will do.
15 January 2006
New toys
So, I passed my test. After 29 years of life as a pedestrian, I can now drive a car.
Aside from a brief time in my pre-teen years where cool cars were essential and copies of Road & Track magazine were littered throughout my room, often with the Matchbox or Hot Wheels twin (or, as I got more sophisticated and expensive in my tastes, Burago) of the featured super car on the cover on the floor somewhere guarenteed to find the foot of an unsuspecting adult, I've never really been into cars.
So now I'm thinking about what car to buy. A friend has a Renault Clio for sale, pretty good nick. Sadly it doesn't come with Nicole from the adverts. Though to be fair, he said he wouldn't be selling it to me if it did. It's pretty expensive. But I'm not sure I want a car named a Clio. Is that a bad reason not to buy a car? The good reason not to buy a car is that I can't afford it, but that's beside the point. I have a license, and sort of feel a car should have come with it as well. I think that's the American in me.
Maybe a Golf, or a Polo. I like Volkswagens. They're expensive though. And kind of clichéd. It just needs to be able to make the London-Fife run without any hassle. Is that too much to ask? Maybe some nice speakers as well - you know, to take advantage of iTrip. And, well, fast enough to overtake grannies on the motorway. And not an ugly colour. Or, if it is an ugly colour, an outrageously ugly colour. Don't want to do things by half. Electric pink with purple go-faster stripes. Might as well get a car called a Clio with that sort of paintjob.
It's all kind of moot at the moment. New toys to be had but no money to buy them with.
Aside from a brief time in my pre-teen years where cool cars were essential and copies of Road & Track magazine were littered throughout my room, often with the Matchbox or Hot Wheels twin (or, as I got more sophisticated and expensive in my tastes, Burago) of the featured super car on the cover on the floor somewhere guarenteed to find the foot of an unsuspecting adult, I've never really been into cars.
So now I'm thinking about what car to buy. A friend has a Renault Clio for sale, pretty good nick. Sadly it doesn't come with Nicole from the adverts. Though to be fair, he said he wouldn't be selling it to me if it did. It's pretty expensive. But I'm not sure I want a car named a Clio. Is that a bad reason not to buy a car? The good reason not to buy a car is that I can't afford it, but that's beside the point. I have a license, and sort of feel a car should have come with it as well. I think that's the American in me.
Maybe a Golf, or a Polo. I like Volkswagens. They're expensive though. And kind of clichéd. It just needs to be able to make the London-Fife run without any hassle. Is that too much to ask? Maybe some nice speakers as well - you know, to take advantage of iTrip. And, well, fast enough to overtake grannies on the motorway. And not an ugly colour. Or, if it is an ugly colour, an outrageously ugly colour. Don't want to do things by half. Electric pink with purple go-faster stripes. Might as well get a car called a Clio with that sort of paintjob.
It's all kind of moot at the moment. New toys to be had but no money to buy them with.
Shades of grey
The weather is dull. Apparently, this is the grey-est January since records began. It doesn't surprise me. I'm convinced that the day I took those pics in St Andrews was the last day of proper sunshine in 2006. It's not even raining. Most would count that as a blessing, but I want something meteorlogical to happen. Anything really. Sun, rain, hail, snow (if only to watch the terror in the eyes of the newscasters and weathermen/women as the snowpocalypse arrives). Even sleet would be enough of a shift to bring a smile to my face. But it seems that January lethargy extends to the weather and I am regretting my decision not to go to Key West.
It's been a good weekend. Thursday night, heady in the rush of driving triumph, I went up to ultra-trendy Camden to see my mate perform at a club called Underworld. Rubbish clubname aside, it was a brilliant gig. She signed autographs afterwards. That was weird to watch. I drank too much Guinness.
Friday's excitement was a rare venture into the wilds of Fulham. We discovered an awesome Italian restaurant that kept it simple and gave us great food at reasonable (especially for the area) prices. The wine was yummy too. After filling ourselves to the point where we had to reassess our commitment to beer as our drink for the rest of the evening, we trekked towards the Salisbury Tavern on Dawes Road. I've had the odd drink here over the last ten years and it's a decent boozer. Bumped into an old mate from St Andrews who was celebrating her 11th anniversary with her now husband. Weird. Most of the clientelle were at the apex of Sloane-dom, with glass-cutting posh accents and enough Prada and Gucci to make a St Andrews Yah blush. In fact, the scene at the bar was spookily like St Andrews. So much so that I had to drink beer and whisky to distract myself. It kind of worked. As did the mission of the night, which was to get the birthday boy drunk. Fun night. And the cab home was only a tenner. Bonus.
Yesterday I met a really lovely, nice, pretty, single girl. There was all sorts of rugby and a lunch and the team I support lost and there was curry for dinner and loads of other stuff from yesterday. But the important thing was meeting someone nice. Not that I think there's a future in it (but there may be), but it was just cool to meet someone new in London who is single. This isn't coming out right. She asked for my email address though. Which is nice.
Today someone came to look at the house. She really liked it but wouldn't be looking to buy until May. Her brother or brother-in-law (couldn't remember which) is Seamus Heaney, Nobel Laureate. She was nice. But I don't want to sell the house to anyone, even someone who's sibling(-in-law?) is one of the world's greatest living poets.
I'm listening to The Doves; The Last Broadcast. Good album.
I'll write for the rest of the day. Then I'll watch a DVD. Hopefully something to make me laugh and set somewhere there's sun. Just to remind me what it looks like.
It's been a good weekend. Thursday night, heady in the rush of driving triumph, I went up to ultra-trendy Camden to see my mate perform at a club called Underworld. Rubbish clubname aside, it was a brilliant gig. She signed autographs afterwards. That was weird to watch. I drank too much Guinness.
Friday's excitement was a rare venture into the wilds of Fulham. We discovered an awesome Italian restaurant that kept it simple and gave us great food at reasonable (especially for the area) prices. The wine was yummy too. After filling ourselves to the point where we had to reassess our commitment to beer as our drink for the rest of the evening, we trekked towards the Salisbury Tavern on Dawes Road. I've had the odd drink here over the last ten years and it's a decent boozer. Bumped into an old mate from St Andrews who was celebrating her 11th anniversary with her now husband. Weird. Most of the clientelle were at the apex of Sloane-dom, with glass-cutting posh accents and enough Prada and Gucci to make a St Andrews Yah blush. In fact, the scene at the bar was spookily like St Andrews. So much so that I had to drink beer and whisky to distract myself. It kind of worked. As did the mission of the night, which was to get the birthday boy drunk. Fun night. And the cab home was only a tenner. Bonus.
Yesterday I met a really lovely, nice, pretty, single girl. There was all sorts of rugby and a lunch and the team I support lost and there was curry for dinner and loads of other stuff from yesterday. But the important thing was meeting someone nice. Not that I think there's a future in it (but there may be), but it was just cool to meet someone new in London who is single. This isn't coming out right. She asked for my email address though. Which is nice.
Today someone came to look at the house. She really liked it but wouldn't be looking to buy until May. Her brother or brother-in-law (couldn't remember which) is Seamus Heaney, Nobel Laureate. She was nice. But I don't want to sell the house to anyone, even someone who's sibling(-in-law?) is one of the world's greatest living poets.
I'm listening to The Doves; The Last Broadcast. Good album.
I'll write for the rest of the day. Then I'll watch a DVD. Hopefully something to make me laugh and set somewhere there's sun. Just to remind me what it looks like.
12 January 2006
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
