Well, I guess the update is, there is no real update. News from within Burma has dried up significantly. And with a stem in the information comes a predictable down grading of the story from lead article to third, fourth or even more humble news piece by the majors.
On account of my recent visit to SE Asia, I have a good number of friends and contacts there, not least of which is Christina. But there's also Andrew & Kelly, Justin & Kerren and Guy and their families. Christina and the rest of the S. the C. crew seem safe from what I can glean.
My good friend and mother of my godchild, Ros, is in Rangoon right now as well. Not that it matters to the world at large but she's also six months pregnant. As a freelance journalist, she's feeding news out as best she can, which makes me feel a little uncomfortable, as it does her husband Dan who's in Bangkok. It wouldn't need a rocket science degree in Internet Research (and why would you get a rocket science degree in Internet Research anyway?) to find out who or indeed where she is and therefore the Burmese authorities could easily have her pegged. Obviously she's there on a tourist visa as journalists are distinctly unwelcome at the best of times. So even if things calm down, surely she's a sitting duck for some serious questioning when she tries to leave the country? 'Why were you here?' and 'Why were you quoted all across Sky News, BBC, CNN, etc.?'
So China and why isn't it using its political power to initiate peaceful dialogue and regime change? Well, here's an interesting take: why would they be interested in lending support to a Buddhist monk led rebellion against an oppressive regime when they have spent 40 years trying to keep a lid on exactly that in Tibet? Forget currently having a full order sheet for arms to Burma. I think they are shit scared about revolution in Burma being a blue print for regime change in Tibet - a country they are actively oppressing and have been for decades.
All in all, it doesn't bode well. Give Burma some thought and don't let it slip from your conscience.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
I say, it's party time - chocks away!
London
Well, it will be PARRR-TAAAY TIME on Sat 13 Oct.
Well, it will be PARRR-TAAAY TIME on Sat 13 Oct.
Hey there, fancy donning some fluffy shin
warmers and getting flying suit fruity?
Of course you do!
Sat 13 Oct 2007
@ my current digs in Camden, London
Rock up 2pm onwards.
Kids early, big kids anytime after you wake up.
Moustaches welcome.
[Email me for hard copy invite and map. If you don't know my email address, leave a TAG or comment and explain why you should get an invite...top three beggars get one.]
========================
Did I just hear that a baby of 17lbs was born in Russia this week. Ouch. That's just plain wrong.
And can anyone explain how a coffee percolator works. It's been perplexing and also fascinating me lately. How come all the water goes from the bottom up that little pipe, through the grounds and into the top bit. That said, if someone was blow-torching my arse, I'd try and crawl up a drainpipe to get away. I have been drinking far too much coffee just because I love seeing the oily, chocolate brown liquid froth out of the spout.
I even made another pot to take this picture! Don't worry, it won't go to waste, I'll drink it down...then go on a caffeine wired rampage around Camden ripping the wing mirrors off cars and flashing my knob at old ladies. Should fit in pretty well with the local YOOF...and bag an ASBO if I'm lucky.
And seeings as this post is stumbling around like a Saturday night drunkard, I have a dilema. I hate chavtronica but I really like Kate Nash. What to do? It must be all this hanging out in Camden.
Oh, and lastly, marrow fat peas. Why call yourselves that guys? I think you need to hire a new PR agency as you're not bad lads, just got a bad name.
Leonora Slowgrove - where are you now?
JoB Mansions, Camden, London
My current digs are with my old friend Jo at JoB Mansions in Camden. It's a long story why, after returning from my travels, I didn't move back into my flat, The Borough Bunker, and for once I shan't rattle it out.
Anyway, I was drying down after having a shower this morning, having availed myself of a fresh towel from the airing cupboard, and I noticed it had a name tag. Equally (or more) odd was that it was the name of some lass I've never heard of: Leonora Slowgrove. This throws up a few questions:
1. Why has Jo got a name tagged towel when nearly 20 years has passed since 3C's swimming lesson, or 4C's gymnastics class?
2. Even ignoring that issue, why is it not her name on the tag? Did the towel end up in her kit bag by accident all those years ago and has languished in the airing cupboard unused 'til now? Or is it more sinister? Does Jo creep around school sports halls pinching unsuspecting victim's towels? Or does she invite people to stay in her house and then whack 'em, bury them in the garden and revel in stealing their linen?
3. Did she victimise Leonora at school, bully her and steal her towel, and now I'm unwittingly swabbing myself down with a towel belonging to some poor lass that is watching E4 nightly wondering why this world is so against her?
I've known Jo for 20 years or more, definitely more when you consider we were born in the same hospital in Norwich, two weeks apart in 1970. But do I really know her? Is she actually some crazed towel thief, stopping at nothing until she has a brushed cotton memento of all the people she has ever known?
A Google search for Leonora Slowgrove throws up NO hits. Jo is a sharp, shrewed and cool operator. I'd expect nothing less. Gone without a trace.
I tell you what, I'm going to be keeping a weather out for any irratic behaviour and I shall be guarding my brushed cotton pyjamas with my life from now on for fear of having a random name stitched into the seat and bodily ending up buried beneath the patio.
Jo's due back from Russia tommorow. If you never hear from me again...call the police!
My current digs are with my old friend Jo at JoB Mansions in Camden. It's a long story why, after returning from my travels, I didn't move back into my flat, The Borough Bunker, and for once I shan't rattle it out.
Anyway, I was drying down after having a shower this morning, having availed myself of a fresh towel from the airing cupboard, and I noticed it had a name tag. Equally (or more) odd was that it was the name of some lass I've never heard of: Leonora Slowgrove. This throws up a few questions:
1. Why has Jo got a name tagged towel when nearly 20 years has passed since 3C's swimming lesson, or 4C's gymnastics class?
2. Even ignoring that issue, why is it not her name on the tag? Did the towel end up in her kit bag by accident all those years ago and has languished in the airing cupboard unused 'til now? Or is it more sinister? Does Jo creep around school sports halls pinching unsuspecting victim's towels? Or does she invite people to stay in her house and then whack 'em, bury them in the garden and revel in stealing their linen?
3. Did she victimise Leonora at school, bully her and steal her towel, and now I'm unwittingly swabbing myself down with a towel belonging to some poor lass that is watching E4 nightly wondering why this world is so against her?
I've known Jo for 20 years or more, definitely more when you consider we were born in the same hospital in Norwich, two weeks apart in 1970. But do I really know her? Is she actually some crazed towel thief, stopping at nothing until she has a brushed cotton memento of all the people she has ever known?
A Google search for Leonora Slowgrove throws up NO hits. Jo is a sharp, shrewed and cool operator. I'd expect nothing less. Gone without a trace.
I tell you what, I'm going to be keeping a weather out for any irratic behaviour and I shall be guarding my brushed cotton pyjamas with my life from now on for fear of having a random name stitched into the seat and bodily ending up buried beneath the patio.
Jo's due back from Russia tommorow. If you never hear from me again...call the police!
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Burma update from Rangoon
Got another email from Christina in Rangoon, Burma. Nothing more than you'd know from watching the news on TV but I'll keep posting updates as I receive them.
Quick note as things have turned nasty - dont be alarmed when you hear of the shooting, we are miles away! All quiet where we are.
Ants - look out for Ros and Andrew live on Channel 4, BBC, CNN etc.! She's right in the thick of it! (But safe!)
All of us are following very strict security guidelines and not venturing near the flashpoints. It is all localised and NOT in the whole city.
Pray for the poor Burmese. It's a terrible day for them...
=============================
Quick note as things have turned nasty - dont be alarmed when you hear of the shooting, we are miles away! All quiet where we are.
Ants - look out for Ros and Andrew live on Channel 4, BBC, CNN etc.! She's right in the thick of it! (But safe!)
All of us are following very strict security guidelines and not venturing near the flashpoints. It is all localised and NOT in the whole city.
Pray for the poor Burmese. It's a terrible day for them...
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
News from Rangoon, Burma
In June I was in Burma (a.k.a. Myanmar) and of all the places I visited over this past year, it was the country that affected me the most: the time-warp feel of the place (Rangoon - 1950s, the countryside 1920s), the beautiful scenery, the backdrop of countless golden Buddhist pagodas and of course the people. The people above all else: their smiles, their welcome, their generosity, their honesty and their inner peace. And of course the thousands upon thousands of monks everywhere, from young boys of 10 to gracefully aged men, majestic and striking in their orange & maroon robes and shaved heads. It is hard to believe that a body of Burmese are in illegitimate power and act out the antithesis of all the qualities that were so abundantly obvious to me from the people I met: brutality, oppression, violence, hatred, malice, greed...basically evil.
Well, you'd have to have been on the moon not to know that it's all kicked off in Burma over the past 10 days. Public demonstrations, protests against the twisted regime and calls for political change was always a 'when' not an 'if' issue. It could have taken years or decades perhaps but history tells us that masses oppressed by a tyrannical regime will revolt.
Perhaps that it happened now was predictable - the information age accelerates people's understandings of their position relative to citizen's of other countries. After all, information is power. The Burmese en masse are learning what is going on in their own country and in the outside world, and what the outside world thinks of Burma, despite the regime's attempt to prevent any access to politically sensitive websites. They are getting a feel for how bent out of shape their country is due to its leaders greed and hunger for power and control. Access to foreign media and email, particularly from Burmese dissidents in exile in other countries, brings information on the human rights abuses carried out primarily on borderland ethnic minorities and anyone speaking out against the military junta.
In addition to the flimsy and ineffectual direct sanctions imposed on Burma by the US and EU, there has also been recent and unprecedented political pressure from Burma's wary allies in the form of the Association of South East Asian Nations (ASEAN), of which Burma is a partner. There has been barely disguised calls for political reform, something that has never happened before, brought on by the fact that Burma's shocking political and human rights reputation is scuppering trade deals between ASEAN and other trade bodies such as the European Union.
Throw into the mix widespread economic oppression - massive taxes on rice and other food produce going directly into the military generals' pockets and a doubling of state controlled fuel prices for no fiscally excusable reason and I guess that was the match to the tinder dry bonfire of public revolt.
Where it goes from here we shall have to wait and see. I suspect, whatever the outcome, there will be bloodshed along the way. Here's hoping reform, democracy and freedom are the outcome and the bloodshed is as minimal as possible.
The eyes of the world are indeed on Burma.
....well... as the sky darkens (its nearly black, and its only 2pm!) and the lightning shards pierce the sky (I'm getting all poetic now, in the face of doom), we hear the first reports of shooting, albeit in the air as warning shots...for now.
The monks carried on protesting (some just went by), followed by truck loads of special army commandos brought in from the eastern fronts. They are the tough guys.
We had reports of tear gas and riot police beating the monks in the big pagoda (Shwedagon), which is very bad. Roads are getting blocked to stop movement. Hospitals on standby. Not a good sign.....we are all safe in the office and not allowed out for now, stocks of every thing we need.
...the march that came past our office today had a few hundred monks at the front, and then civis with banners saying 'keep the world's eyes on us'... and indeed we should!
Justin just back from the front line, and interestingly his take is that it's not quite as 'drastic' as the media is making out. Sure there are confrontations, the police, the gas etc., but we are not talking organised violence or resistance, more of a scrappy skirmish.
We know a monk has been killed, and that is dreadful. The next few days are crucial now. Thai airways have cancelled their flights today, so we have to think of Plan B for getting out! Having said that Ros is on her way tomorrow... somehow! Funny we are getting more live news and pics from the cable TV as comms here are so bad!
Well, you'd have to have been on the moon not to know that it's all kicked off in Burma over the past 10 days. Public demonstrations, protests against the twisted regime and calls for political change was always a 'when' not an 'if' issue. It could have taken years or decades perhaps but history tells us that masses oppressed by a tyrannical regime will revolt.
Perhaps that it happened now was predictable - the information age accelerates people's understandings of their position relative to citizen's of other countries. After all, information is power. The Burmese en masse are learning what is going on in their own country and in the outside world, and what the outside world thinks of Burma, despite the regime's attempt to prevent any access to politically sensitive websites. They are getting a feel for how bent out of shape their country is due to its leaders greed and hunger for power and control. Access to foreign media and email, particularly from Burmese dissidents in exile in other countries, brings information on the human rights abuses carried out primarily on borderland ethnic minorities and anyone speaking out against the military junta.
In addition to the flimsy and ineffectual direct sanctions imposed on Burma by the US and EU, there has also been recent and unprecedented political pressure from Burma's wary allies in the form of the Association of South East Asian Nations (ASEAN), of which Burma is a partner. There has been barely disguised calls for political reform, something that has never happened before, brought on by the fact that Burma's shocking political and human rights reputation is scuppering trade deals between ASEAN and other trade bodies such as the European Union.
Throw into the mix widespread economic oppression - massive taxes on rice and other food produce going directly into the military generals' pockets and a doubling of state controlled fuel prices for no fiscally excusable reason and I guess that was the match to the tinder dry bonfire of public revolt.
Where it goes from here we shall have to wait and see. I suspect, whatever the outcome, there will be bloodshed along the way. Here's hoping reform, democracy and freedom are the outcome and the bloodshed is as minimal as possible.
The eyes of the world are indeed on Burma.
The beautiful side of Burma (Bagan, June 2007)
Further Burma photos
=======================
Christina's currently in the thick of the the action in Rangoon (or Yangon depending on your stance, just to confuse matters). Here are some extracts from an email I received to give you a flavour of what's going on on the ground (assuming you're bored of the BBC's coverage).
=======================
....well... as the sky darkens (its nearly black, and its only 2pm!) and the lightning shards pierce the sky (I'm getting all poetic now, in the face of doom), we hear the first reports of shooting, albeit in the air as warning shots...for now.
The monks carried on protesting (some just went by), followed by truck loads of special army commandos brought in from the eastern fronts. They are the tough guys.
We had reports of tear gas and riot police beating the monks in the big pagoda (Shwedagon), which is very bad. Roads are getting blocked to stop movement. Hospitals on standby. Not a good sign.....we are all safe in the office and not allowed out for now, stocks of every thing we need.
...the march that came past our office today had a few hundred monks at the front, and then civis with banners saying 'keep the world's eyes on us'... and indeed we should!
Justin just back from the front line, and interestingly his take is that it's not quite as 'drastic' as the media is making out. Sure there are confrontations, the police, the gas etc., but we are not talking organised violence or resistance, more of a scrappy skirmish.
We know a monk has been killed, and that is dreadful. The next few days are crucial now. Thai airways have cancelled their flights today, so we have to think of Plan B for getting out! Having said that Ros is on her way tomorrow... somehow! Funny we are getting more live news and pics from the cable TV as comms here are so bad!
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Hovis, a boy on a bike, cobbled streets...ahhh the memories
Central London
Ever wondered what it'd be like if you closed central London to cars and let the bikes take over? Well, it'd be a bit like it is with cars really - congested. Only it'd be congested with bikes. Funny that.
Actually that's a scewed view of today's Hovis Freewheel event - a bike focused day in central London. It just got a little congested around the hub in St James' although one cyclist's comment from the above video mustn't fall into the hands of any black cab or motorist lobby group as it would nullify any ground we pedal pushers have gained in the turf war of transport in London.
The below was more indicative of what it was like. In fact the underpass beneath Blackfriars Bridge was a riot of hollers, shouts, whoops, bell rings and horn honks. A better sound than the revving of stationary exhaust clogged traffic, you can't help but agree.
[By the way, did you know that (Sir) Ridley Scott directed the original 'New World Symphony' Hovis ad back in 1973? No? Well you do now. Never let it be said that Spratticus isn't educational as well as primarily pointless.]
Ever wondered what it'd be like if you closed central London to cars and let the bikes take over? Well, it'd be a bit like it is with cars really - congested. Only it'd be congested with bikes. Funny that.
Actually that's a scewed view of today's Hovis Freewheel event - a bike focused day in central London. It just got a little congested around the hub in St James' although one cyclist's comment from the above video mustn't fall into the hands of any black cab or motorist lobby group as it would nullify any ground we pedal pushers have gained in the turf war of transport in London.
The below was more indicative of what it was like. In fact the underpass beneath Blackfriars Bridge was a riot of hollers, shouts, whoops, bell rings and horn honks. A better sound than the revving of stationary exhaust clogged traffic, you can't help but agree.
[By the way, did you know that (Sir) Ridley Scott directed the original 'New World Symphony' Hovis ad back in 1973? No? Well you do now. Never let it be said that Spratticus isn't educational as well as primarily pointless.]
Saturday, September 22, 2007
The dark & light side of men's tote bags
Gladstone Arms, Lant Street, London: Resonance 104.4 FM's Hello Goodbye show presents Acoustic Suicide XIII. Turned up too late for the tunes but did have a pint with the Badger and Gerry Mitchell, former Photographer of the Year, Scottish poet, established 'miserablist' & inveterate charmer who was also sporting a fetching tote bag (girl's bag in some circles). Up the tote!
I have to say Gerry's looks much more impressive in the dark - oooh errrr missus.
To treat your ears to the acid drop and spiky sound of Gerry Mitchell you could do a lot worse than check out:
I have to say Gerry's looks much more impressive in the dark - oooh errrr missus.
To treat your ears to the acid drop and spiky sound of Gerry Mitchell you could do a lot worse than check out:
Dexter Bentley: Brown Envelope (doesn't start 'til 0:13, Gerry pipes up at 2:15, stick with it)
I'm looking forward to hearing the deinty fruits of Gerry's collaboration with those ex-choir boys: Bag of Piss.
Friday, September 21, 2007
I have a job!
So, it has been officially a month since I returned to Blighty from my travels (what as opposed to unofficially...get a grip man!). After a brief period of goggle eyed staring at double decker buses and pointing the wrong end of the remote control at a thing you call a t-e-l-e-v-i-s-i-o-n, I have a job.
I am the International Buyer for a major footwear collector. Crazy I know but it's true. OK, OK, so the major footwear collector is my brother in the States and the footwear in question is one pair of size 9 desert boots (or chukka boots as I'd call them altho' I don't know why I'd call them that)...and I'm not getting paid but it looks good on my CV right?
Being an International Chukka Boots (Size 9) Buyer (an ICB(S9)B as we like to call ourselves) isn't as easy as you might imagine. You have to covertly take a picture of the chukka boots (size 9) to get confirmation from the client that they are up to scratch and of the desired chukka style and chukka quality. You then get quizzical looks from fellow Chukka Boots Buyers (CBBs) and shop staff at Wanderland Discount Shoes, which could escalate into a potential 'situation' where they accuse you of international retail espionage and ask you to leave. It's complicated and fraut with danger but the rewards are well worth it.
I am the International Buyer for a major footwear collector. Crazy I know but it's true. OK, OK, so the major footwear collector is my brother in the States and the footwear in question is one pair of size 9 desert boots (or chukka boots as I'd call them altho' I don't know why I'd call them that)...and I'm not getting paid but it looks good on my CV right?
Being an International Chukka Boots (Size 9) Buyer (an ICB(S9)B as we like to call ourselves) isn't as easy as you might imagine. You have to covertly take a picture of the chukka boots (size 9) to get confirmation from the client that they are up to scratch and of the desired chukka style and chukka quality. You then get quizzical looks from fellow Chukka Boots Buyers (CBBs) and shop staff at Wanderland Discount Shoes, which could escalate into a potential 'situation' where they accuse you of international retail espionage and ask you to leave. It's complicated and fraut with danger but the rewards are well worth it.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Robert Shepherd Promotion Week
Well, apparently it's Robert Shepherd Promotion Week on Spratticus, so why stop at tea-towels? Below is a piece called Horrors of War.
Interested in seeing more? Don't hold back, leave a comment or TAG and I'll post different Shepherd pieces up each week if you like.
Or contact him directly on:
Tel +44 (0)20 7388 0115
Fax +44 (0)20 7388 2822
info@unitypeg.co.uk
Interested in seeing more? Don't hold back, leave a comment or TAG and I'll post different Shepherd pieces up each week if you like.Or contact him directly on:
Tel +44 (0)20 7388 0115
Fax +44 (0)20 7388 2822
info@unitypeg.co.uk
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Freaky Fighting
[Brief background for those new to the 'Spratticus meets Freaky Realistic' scene that's been going on lately:
Freaky Realistic (FR) - short lived band from 1993 that my friends Dan, Dave and I spend too much time talking about when we get together. Aki Omori, ex-band member of FR, now yoga teacher (and singer) in west London. Dan & I unearthed her blog and dropped her a note about the long defunct FR. She replied and we now have far more info to obsess about than is healthy for 30-something men.]
The internet dialogue with Aki Omori, ex-band member of Freaky Realistic, continues and takes on an even more surreal twist. She posted this on Oh My Dog, Both Freaky & Realistic but I thought it was worth bubbling it up to the surface. Incredible stuff, especially for a band who sang of 'cosmic love vibes'. In fact the perpetrator of the guitar assault on lead singer Justin, MPL (rapper Michael), raps in one song - 'Yo Justin sing of a love that loves.' (Perhaps the only instance of the name Justin appearing in a rap.) Whacking Justin upside the noggin with a guitar wasn't exactly a selfless act of brotherly love. Inexcusable, even if he had stolen his bag of Spicy Tomato flavour Wheat Crunchies. Read it and be amazed:
"hi there
thanks for the comments in my blog. useless answers to your questions;
where's Michael - the rapper?
I've no ideai've not seen him since the fight - you must vaguely know about this. god knows how it got there but it was in NME, the story slightly modified. justin & michael had a fight in the rehersal studios. a physical one. i still remember rushing into the studio with a bad feeling as they were left alone there while the rest of us went to get sandwiches. And found michael swinging a guitar up in the air about to hit justin who was already on the floor with it. i screamed & the bass player tackled michael to stop him. i had to take justin to hospital casualty afterward - my friend Alex from the Orb happened to be in the next room rehersing and I remember borrowing £10 - all in one pound coins they were - from him to get a cab there. it was just bruises. the next day we played a gig without michael. justin in sunglasses. so in the end FR was just me & justin. a little drama of the band. otherwise we were a pretty peaceful band, really. cosmic love vibes, oh yeh.
who/what is koochie ryder?
it's whatever you want it to be
just come back from NZ - you seem to have been there yourself recently. a fabulous land, don't you think?
be well
aki x"
A fantastic piece of insider info and amazing amount of detail there: the sandwiches, the 10 one pound coins, and the fact they were borrowed from the Orb's Alex. Wonderful, even if it was a slightly evasive answer regards what Koochie Ryder actually means. Now, how to broach the subject of Aki being the guest of honour and prize giver at the annual ADWorld XI vs Lackademicals cricket match next year without it coming across as just a little weird?
Freaky Realistic (FR) - short lived band from 1993 that my friends Dan, Dave and I spend too much time talking about when we get together. Aki Omori, ex-band member of FR, now yoga teacher (and singer) in west London. Dan & I unearthed her blog and dropped her a note about the long defunct FR. She replied and we now have far more info to obsess about than is healthy for 30-something men.]
The internet dialogue with Aki Omori, ex-band member of Freaky Realistic, continues and takes on an even more surreal twist. She posted this on Oh My Dog, Both Freaky & Realistic but I thought it was worth bubbling it up to the surface. Incredible stuff, especially for a band who sang of 'cosmic love vibes'. In fact the perpetrator of the guitar assault on lead singer Justin, MPL (rapper Michael), raps in one song - 'Yo Justin sing of a love that loves.' (Perhaps the only instance of the name Justin appearing in a rap.) Whacking Justin upside the noggin with a guitar wasn't exactly a selfless act of brotherly love. Inexcusable, even if he had stolen his bag of Spicy Tomato flavour Wheat Crunchies. Read it and be amazed:
"hi there
thanks for the comments in my blog. useless answers to your questions;
where's Michael - the rapper?
I've no ideai've not seen him since the fight - you must vaguely know about this. god knows how it got there but it was in NME, the story slightly modified. justin & michael had a fight in the rehersal studios. a physical one. i still remember rushing into the studio with a bad feeling as they were left alone there while the rest of us went to get sandwiches. And found michael swinging a guitar up in the air about to hit justin who was already on the floor with it. i screamed & the bass player tackled michael to stop him. i had to take justin to hospital casualty afterward - my friend Alex from the Orb happened to be in the next room rehersing and I remember borrowing £10 - all in one pound coins they were - from him to get a cab there. it was just bruises. the next day we played a gig without michael. justin in sunglasses. so in the end FR was just me & justin. a little drama of the band. otherwise we were a pretty peaceful band, really. cosmic love vibes, oh yeh.
who/what is koochie ryder?
it's whatever you want it to be
just come back from NZ - you seem to have been there yourself recently. a fabulous land, don't you think?
be well
aki x"
A fantastic piece of insider info and amazing amount of detail there: the sandwiches, the 10 one pound coins, and the fact they were borrowed from the Orb's Alex. Wonderful, even if it was a slightly evasive answer regards what Koochie Ryder actually means. Now, how to broach the subject of Aki being the guest of honour and prize giver at the annual ADWorld XI vs Lackademicals cricket match next year without it coming across as just a little weird?
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Shepherd of the flock
London
In this world there are people that read the script and there are people that write the script. Then there are a handful of people who rip up the script, stick it on a wall, daub it in paint and leaves and glitter, set fire to it, get some friends round to watch the flaming scene whilst having a pavement party and drinking cans of Holsten Pils, laugh and then walk away. Have they created art? Maybe. They certainly don't play in society's defined behavioural sphere.
My friend Robert is like that and it's a breath of fresh air to meet up with him for unhinged and free form chat: stories that start two thirds of the way through and are told in both a forward and reverse gear often with a diversion down a cul-de-sac; talk of historical sci-fi graphic novels about rival gangs of tramps, politicians & pigeons battling infront of a yester-year Bloomsbury backdrop; cooking up crazy photographic projects; simply revelling in nonsense language play about pies; a writing retreat to a Swedish bakery. Pretty much anything at the other end of the spectrum from house prices, stock market jitters and reality TV. Terrific. Yesterday's lunch with Robert at Alara on Marchmont Street was just such an occasion.
I left him with a smile on my face and a spring in my step as always (despite my reluctantly healing sprained right ankle...thanks for the sympathy, cards and flowers that have flooded into Spratticus HQ by the way. Touched).
Here's Robert with his new DVDs containing the back-catalogue of his artwork all ready to be sold to a shrewd art collector with an eye for the genius.
Robert's taste in records and knitwear might leave a little to be desired though.
Now here's a pretty gratuitous plug (excuse the pun...you'll see that it's a pun later) but if you're struggling for a suitable birthday present or Christmas gift for your Maiden Aunt Maude or anyone dear to you in fact, you could do worse than picking up one of Robert's original art-towels (tea towels with his art work on it) or table cloths from UnityPeg. Small taster below:
And for no other reason than I found this facility on my camera yesterday, here's a multi burst picture of some random commuter on a train.
In this world there are people that read the script and there are people that write the script. Then there are a handful of people who rip up the script, stick it on a wall, daub it in paint and leaves and glitter, set fire to it, get some friends round to watch the flaming scene whilst having a pavement party and drinking cans of Holsten Pils, laugh and then walk away. Have they created art? Maybe. They certainly don't play in society's defined behavioural sphere.
My friend Robert is like that and it's a breath of fresh air to meet up with him for unhinged and free form chat: stories that start two thirds of the way through and are told in both a forward and reverse gear often with a diversion down a cul-de-sac; talk of historical sci-fi graphic novels about rival gangs of tramps, politicians & pigeons battling infront of a yester-year Bloomsbury backdrop; cooking up crazy photographic projects; simply revelling in nonsense language play about pies; a writing retreat to a Swedish bakery. Pretty much anything at the other end of the spectrum from house prices, stock market jitters and reality TV. Terrific. Yesterday's lunch with Robert at Alara on Marchmont Street was just such an occasion.
I left him with a smile on my face and a spring in my step as always (despite my reluctantly healing sprained right ankle...thanks for the sympathy, cards and flowers that have flooded into Spratticus HQ by the way. Touched).
Here's Robert with his new DVDs containing the back-catalogue of his artwork all ready to be sold to a shrewd art collector with an eye for the genius.
Robert's taste in records and knitwear might leave a little to be desired though.Now here's a pretty gratuitous plug (excuse the pun...you'll see that it's a pun later) but if you're struggling for a suitable birthday present or Christmas gift for your Maiden Aunt Maude or anyone dear to you in fact, you could do worse than picking up one of Robert's original art-towels (tea towels with his art work on it) or table cloths from UnityPeg. Small taster below:
And for no other reason than I found this facility on my camera yesterday, here's a multi burst picture of some random commuter on a train.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Oh My Dog - Both Freaky & Realistic
If you are a regular to Spratticus (I thank you even if I do question your judgment), then you may remember I recently had a night in Bangkok with Dan doing 'research'...OK, getting merry and giddy about the 1993 band Freaky Realistic (Mary Poppins Fights Freaky Realistic). To be honest, you may remember it better than I do, it's all a little hazy. Well, Dan & I somehow stumbled across former Freaky Realistic band member Aki Omori's current blog site - http://www.akiomori.blogspot.com/ and wrote her some half-baked message that didn't even make sense to us at the time so heaven knows what she thought of it.
BUT would you believe it - she's replied! She left a message on my Mary Poppins Fights Freaky Realistic post, which I am now regretting giving such a ridiculous name. Here it is:
"you found me and i found you by chance! i'm always amazed that some people still mention us after all these years. cheers for your persistence and spare time you seem to have.see if you notice this comment... i am a yoga teacher, indeed. i live in west london not north though.the orb's next single has a bit of my singing again also an artist called subsonor's new album has 3 songs i worked on. done a few more tunes this year elsewhere too all in between yoga stuff. they all sound different from FR [Freaky Realistic - ed] however. safe trip. x "
There are a few things to note here.
BUT would you believe it - she's replied! She left a message on my Mary Poppins Fights Freaky Realistic post, which I am now regretting giving such a ridiculous name. Here it is:
"you found me and i found you by chance! i'm always amazed that some people still mention us after all these years. cheers for your persistence and spare time you seem to have.see if you notice this comment... i am a yoga teacher, indeed. i live in west london not north though.the orb's next single has a bit of my singing again also an artist called subsonor's new album has 3 songs i worked on. done a few more tunes this year elsewhere too all in between yoga stuff. they all sound different from FR [Freaky Realistic - ed] however. safe trip. x "
There are a few things to note here.
- Well, it wasn't exactly chance - Dan & I cyber stalked her basically.
- She seems to have a sixth sense that picks up I have quite a lot of spare time at the moment. INCREDIBLE.
- I shall be buying The Orb's next single and checking out Subsonor, he sounds pretty smashing, I'm sure you will agree.
- Dan thinks she would be a worthy celeb to hand over the Regents Cup at next year's Kew Green cricket match; I'm going to ask her if she would honour (humour) us...and she lives in west London so could probably swing over on her bike.
There's more to be uncovered through our new connection to the fabulous and much missed Freaky Realistic, such as where is the rapper MPL now and what/who exactly is Coochie Ryder?
This is all too exciting for words...as you may have gathered if you've read this far. Here are some snaps to get you freaking your realism - Justin 'Liquid' Anderson (on The Word) (c), Aki Omori (l), rapper MPL (r). Terrific.
This is all too exciting for words...as you may have gathered if you've read this far. Here are some snaps to get you freaking your realism - Justin 'Liquid' Anderson (on The Word) (c), Aki Omori (l), rapper MPL (r). Terrific.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Housework & general cleaning by Faithless
Shepherds Bush, London
Freebie tickets to see Faithless at Shepherds Bush Empire on Monday courtesy of Christina's friend, Bill. Thanks Bill. Jo drove being off the sauce. Thanks Jo.
You suddenly realise that they had their moment of high glory quite a while ago when you look around the crowd and everyone is in their thirties. Then you look at yourself and you're in your (late...eeek) thirties and wearing cords and sporting a limp. Oh dear. At least I didn't have my walking stick. Seriously - Mum bought me one when I sprained my ankle (see Running to Stay Still).
Great gig though and Maxi Jazz, the grand oral disseminator (self proclaimed), still exudes cool, even though he is probably in his late 40s
At least Rollo allied himself with his more mature audience, even back in 1997. From the CD sleeve of 'Reverence' : Rollo's Hobbies - "Housework and general cleaning." Class.
Here are a set of snaps from my phone that show you nothing but look pretty all together.
Freebie tickets to see Faithless at Shepherds Bush Empire on Monday courtesy of Christina's friend, Bill. Thanks Bill. Jo drove being off the sauce. Thanks Jo.
You suddenly realise that they had their moment of high glory quite a while ago when you look around the crowd and everyone is in their thirties. Then you look at yourself and you're in your (late...eeek) thirties and wearing cords and sporting a limp. Oh dear. At least I didn't have my walking stick. Seriously - Mum bought me one when I sprained my ankle (see Running to Stay Still).
Great gig though and Maxi Jazz, the grand oral disseminator (self proclaimed), still exudes cool, even though he is probably in his late 40s
At least Rollo allied himself with his more mature audience, even back in 1997. From the CD sleeve of 'Reverence' : Rollo's Hobbies - "Housework and general cleaning." Class.
Here are a set of snaps from my phone that show you nothing but look pretty all together.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Ode to a Geek Yearn
My friend and neighbour The Badger (of Chappel Beer Festival notoriety) helps host a Saturday lunchtime radio show on Resonance 104.4FM (London's arts based radio station) called Hello Goodbye. It's a jumble of his (and co-host Richard Bentley's) warped yet delightfully eclectic taste in music championing the oft flea bitten underdogs of the music scene and includes live sessions from crazy named bands along with more unusual items such as interviews with flexi-disc collectors and players of the spoons. I understand once the live performances were pedal powered (Open Bike Night)...getting the vibe? It's been off-air for a wee while but comes back loud & proud on Sep 22. You really should give it some ear time.
Anyway, a few years ago I got badgered into submitting a piece for one of his shows called One Minute Wonders - the concept being for listeners to submit a one minute piece of work: music, prose, poetry, comedy, white noise, an old lady hiccoughing into her shoe...whatever and c.60 of them would form the one hour show.
Well, I've just discovered that my 'piece' is on the Dexter Bentley website (the band Badger & Richard play in) and available to be downloaded/listened to. You can do so here if you wish to endure a rather camp sounding fellow (errr...me...why do I always sound so differently to how I imagine I do?) reciting a rather up-its-own-arse poem, cooked up in my own wordy kitchen, to the background noise of traffic and bikes.
It's a deep shame and indeed a loss to mankind that 49. Martin: Answer Machine : 1.14 and 50. John Wynne: How to use a Condom : 1.03 aren't available to download as they are genius. You'll have to take my word for it. Still Fizzy Bangers: Short Attention Span is there to make up for it.
Friday, September 07, 2007
(Beer from) Leaves & Twigs on the Line
Chappel Beer Festival, Essex
I'm not religious but I go to Chappel once a year. [GROAN! Not my idea, it was printed on a XXL t-shirt]. Actually it's true, I went last year and I found myself there again this year. And let's face it, The Chappel Beer Festival was the REAL (ale) reason that I returned from my global roaming!
Chappel Beer Festival is probably the best beer festival I've ever been to (and there's some tough competition) obviously because it serves a vast array of fine ales but also it has the added frisson of being held in the East Anglian Railway Museum...so there are trains and assorted large railway things to look at and old 1940s style carriages in which to drink the beer. Smashing.
So with great fervour and a level of precision planning only associated with sniffing out some fine nutty brews, The Badger, Shelly, Ian and myself met at Liverpool Street Station, purchased a Family Saver ticket (huh?) for Chappel & Wakes Colne (change at Marks Tey...who makes up these names? Enid Blighton?) and hopped on the 17:08. Shelly was a bit nervous about joining in being a 'no-tail', but I assured her I saw a woman there last year (on reflection however, it might have been a man without a beard).
Crouch Best proved to be my personal favourite to begin with followed by anything wet and brown in a glass.
Pics say it better as ever:
Raising the holy chalice of ale at Chappel.
The Badger & Ian thrusting forth their brews whilst enjoying a stationary 'ride' in a rail carriage.
The Badger, Shelly and myself in a beautiful old railway carriage. We had to lock Shelly in there for most of the evening due to the interest sparked amongst the bearded masses by a woman at a beer festival. They were shuffling menacingly around the carriage in their baggy Matalan slacks and oversized Ts and murmuring in low tones like a scene from Night of the Living Dead. Scary.
Ian buying a pint a pint of Scabby Hog in the Shunters Arms (errr...a goods carriage turned into a bar).
Ian at a jaunty angle after a pint of previously mentioned Scabby Hog.
We also met up with Adam (above stuffing his face with veggie curry so fast it's a blur) who was accompanied by Dr Bateman & Dr Davies - handy in case of medical emergency. Good thinking.
The main 'Shed' with thronging crowd of beards braying for booze.
Ian & Shelly surveying the vista of fine ales. I assume that's what they were doing. Either that or watching a man in a leather hat & waistcoat breakdance to the 'band' murdering Lynyrd Skynyrd's Sweet Home Alabama.
And finally we returned back to Liverpool Street...errr...slightly merry.
I'm not religious but I go to Chappel once a year. [GROAN! Not my idea, it was printed on a XXL t-shirt]. Actually it's true, I went last year and I found myself there again this year. And let's face it, The Chappel Beer Festival was the REAL (ale) reason that I returned from my global roaming!
Chappel Beer Festival is probably the best beer festival I've ever been to (and there's some tough competition) obviously because it serves a vast array of fine ales but also it has the added frisson of being held in the East Anglian Railway Museum...so there are trains and assorted large railway things to look at and old 1940s style carriages in which to drink the beer. Smashing.
So with great fervour and a level of precision planning only associated with sniffing out some fine nutty brews, The Badger, Shelly, Ian and myself met at Liverpool Street Station, purchased a Family Saver ticket (huh?) for Chappel & Wakes Colne (change at Marks Tey...who makes up these names? Enid Blighton?) and hopped on the 17:08. Shelly was a bit nervous about joining in being a 'no-tail', but I assured her I saw a woman there last year (on reflection however, it might have been a man without a beard).
Crouch Best proved to be my personal favourite to begin with followed by anything wet and brown in a glass.
Pics say it better as ever:
Raising the holy chalice of ale at Chappel.
The Badger & Ian thrusting forth their brews whilst enjoying a stationary 'ride' in a rail carriage.
The Badger, Shelly and myself in a beautiful old railway carriage. We had to lock Shelly in there for most of the evening due to the interest sparked amongst the bearded masses by a woman at a beer festival. They were shuffling menacingly around the carriage in their baggy Matalan slacks and oversized Ts and murmuring in low tones like a scene from Night of the Living Dead. Scary.
Ian buying a pint a pint of Scabby Hog in the Shunters Arms (errr...a goods carriage turned into a bar).
Ian at a jaunty angle after a pint of previously mentioned Scabby Hog.We also met up with Adam (above stuffing his face with veggie curry so fast it's a blur) who was accompanied by Dr Bateman & Dr Davies - handy in case of medical emergency. Good thinking.
The main 'Shed' with thronging crowd of beards braying for booze.
Ian & Shelly surveying the vista of fine ales. I assume that's what they were doing. Either that or watching a man in a leather hat & waistcoat breakdance to the 'band' murdering Lynyrd Skynyrd's Sweet Home Alabama.
And finally we returned back to Liverpool Street...errr...slightly merry.
For The Badger's eye view of events check out his blog and photos.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Running to stay still
Camden, London
So, what has been going on since the smoke belched off the wheels of a landing Air New Zealand flight from Hong Kong and deposited me wide eyed and bewildered into the hub-bub of 'home', the weird combination of the frenetic, new and yet familiar? As an aside, I have to say seeing so many European faces has oddly freaked me out, a bit like when I came back after a previous period in the States where, on the cat front, I had been used to seeing an ex-girlfriend's Burmese pug faced wee beastie and on seeing 'normal' cats, I cringed as they all seemed to have a massive and grotesque muzzle. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that Caucasians have massive and grotesque muzzles, just I'm more used to seeing Asian faces and it still feels odd that there are so many Europeans about.
Well, it simply seems that I have been running to stand still. So much going on, so many people to see and events to go to and yet on the achievement front, or more accurately figuring out what I'm going to do to earn some beans and where I'm going to do it, I have achieved a fat lot of zip. Hey ho.
But (and I know starting a sentence with 'But' would have my old English teacher Chris Nicholson spinning in his velvet smoking jacket) but, let's not dwell on that for now.
What have I been up to (apart from almost freezing to death daily, especially as I've been insisting on continued flip flop foot attire)?
Well, first up there was a swift visit to Brighton to say 'Hello there' to Christina and have a fun if strange evening of cocktail making tuition in a rather glitzy members club where, provided you made cocktails with vodka, the tuition, the ingredients and indeed the downing of said knee-kickers was all free! Not sure if the proprietor had been reading Clive Sinclair's 20 Hot Tips on Running a Business but I feel the model was fundamentally flawed. Of course that didn't stop Christina and me from trying to bankrupt them and teach them a harsh lesson...free of charge!
L: Christina shaking her lemon squeezer and R: me about to redecorate the bar in Ile Blanc Martini (sorry Jeff, distinctly vodka based martini...I'll leave the gin martini education to when I next see ya).
Then a quick dash back to see Ma in Bucks...and also collect my bike so I could once again spin free as a bird and unfettered around London's traffic choked streets. Feels great to have my own 'wheels' once again although it became apparent very quickly that my rear was as unused to sitting on a narrow saddle as my legs were out of practice at spinning the cranks. My butt's only just been broken in to the bike and stopped aching after nearly two weeks.
My provisional London base is with JoBole in Camden. Jo has pretty much played the role of London HQ support staff for my year's expedition and so I am repaying her by crashing in her spare room, raiding her fridge and being a general house irritant. That's gratitude, huh? Still, there's an upside of having me stay - my new found desire to bake CaKe (not such an upside if you're looking to lose weight).
Jo & her friend Jane at the CaKe sacrifice ceremony.
Being back in Camden is a bit odd for its over familiarity and cycling to and from the Borough Bunker (still trying to rent it out, a story I shan't go into for fear of raising my blood pressure) is far too reminiscent of my previous years' commute to & from work. Grim (although the cycle ride is dramatic and actually pleasant).
And of course there was the cricket. The first game on the evening of Thurs Aug 23 was sadly rained off. Cycling from Camden to Kew where we now play our cricket, the rain reminded me of the stair rod style precipitation of Franz Josef on the west coast of NZ. Ridiculous. In fact at 17:30 when we were meant to commence the game the pitch was under an inch of water. Booo!
It was at this time that my London host, sponsor and all round wonderwoman, Jo Bole, unfortunately was struck down with a nasty kidney infection and ended up in University College Hospital for three nights, which was a scare but thankfully she survived. Planet Organic off Tottenham Court Road experienced a trebling of profits over that period!
Then there was the cricket match proper: the 14th annual fixture of ADWorld XI vs Lackademicals XI playing for the Regents Cup, a game that started out amongst a bunch of friendly wastrel misfits back in the early 90s as a way of getting together to fill a bank holiday Sunday cheaply by playing cricket in Regents Park with ill fitting and inadequate kit whilst drinking vast quantities of cheap cider. Since the inaugural match all those years ago the fixture has transformed immeasurably. Wives, partners and a menagerie of nippers pack out the boundary, people fly in for the fixture from around the globe (me & Justin from Hong Kong; Dan, Ros & Ruby from Bangkok), fizzy wine has replaced cider (for some) and gourmet picnic hampers have usurped a bag of Frazzles and late night kebab. We're still all friends and vast quantities of booze are still drunk, so some things never change.
Fortunately the weather had improved since Thursday:
L: The two teams in group shot. R: Justin (from Hong Kong) & I feign amazement at having won the Regents Cup. As usual, Justin did a stirling job of providing team shirts from his tailor in Hong Kong. They were certainly more tasteful than the rain cloud grey and baby puke yellow ones we had one year!
Captain Rik awards Captain Dan the Captain's pint and then Captain Dan does the same to Captian Rik. Captainly stuff.
L: I down my prize pint, whilst the Honeychurches look on, awarded not for cricketing prowess of course but for distance travelled to play in the game. R: Ian did a capital job manning the BBQ until he fell over a low fence, hurt his back and got glass in his foot. I suspect more wine went in Ian than in the steak marinades.
What else, what else? Well, a face from my travels, Leo from Darwin, was passing through London and I managed to meet up with him for a picnic in Hyde Park. Good to see you again Leo and good luck with the move to Tasmania.
And between meeting old friends and fast growing additions such as Seb & Gail's daughter, Iona Biggins, and eventually savouring a pint of oft dreamt of nutty brown Harvey's Best Bitter at the Royal Oak, Tabard Street...
Let's GO!!
So, what has been going on since the smoke belched off the wheels of a landing Air New Zealand flight from Hong Kong and deposited me wide eyed and bewildered into the hub-bub of 'home', the weird combination of the frenetic, new and yet familiar? As an aside, I have to say seeing so many European faces has oddly freaked me out, a bit like when I came back after a previous period in the States where, on the cat front, I had been used to seeing an ex-girlfriend's Burmese pug faced wee beastie and on seeing 'normal' cats, I cringed as they all seemed to have a massive and grotesque muzzle. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that Caucasians have massive and grotesque muzzles, just I'm more used to seeing Asian faces and it still feels odd that there are so many Europeans about.
Well, it simply seems that I have been running to stand still. So much going on, so many people to see and events to go to and yet on the achievement front, or more accurately figuring out what I'm going to do to earn some beans and where I'm going to do it, I have achieved a fat lot of zip. Hey ho.But (and I know starting a sentence with 'But' would have my old English teacher Chris Nicholson spinning in his velvet smoking jacket) but, let's not dwell on that for now.
What have I been up to (apart from almost freezing to death daily, especially as I've been insisting on continued flip flop foot attire)?Well, first up there was a swift visit to Brighton to say 'Hello there' to Christina and have a fun if strange evening of cocktail making tuition in a rather glitzy members club where, provided you made cocktails with vodka, the tuition, the ingredients and indeed the downing of said knee-kickers was all free! Not sure if the proprietor had been reading Clive Sinclair's 20 Hot Tips on Running a Business but I feel the model was fundamentally flawed. Of course that didn't stop Christina and me from trying to bankrupt them and teach them a harsh lesson...free of charge!
L: Christina shaking her lemon squeezer and R: me about to redecorate the bar in Ile Blanc Martini (sorry Jeff, distinctly vodka based martini...I'll leave the gin martini education to when I next see ya).
Then a quick dash back to see Ma in Bucks...and also collect my bike so I could once again spin free as a bird and unfettered around London's traffic choked streets. Feels great to have my own 'wheels' once again although it became apparent very quickly that my rear was as unused to sitting on a narrow saddle as my legs were out of practice at spinning the cranks. My butt's only just been broken in to the bike and stopped aching after nearly two weeks.
My provisional London base is with JoBole in Camden. Jo has pretty much played the role of London HQ support staff for my year's expedition and so I am repaying her by crashing in her spare room, raiding her fridge and being a general house irritant. That's gratitude, huh? Still, there's an upside of having me stay - my new found desire to bake CaKe (not such an upside if you're looking to lose weight).
Jo & her friend Jane at the CaKe sacrifice ceremony.
Being back in Camden is a bit odd for its over familiarity and cycling to and from the Borough Bunker (still trying to rent it out, a story I shan't go into for fear of raising my blood pressure) is far too reminiscent of my previous years' commute to & from work. Grim (although the cycle ride is dramatic and actually pleasant).
And of course there was the cricket. The first game on the evening of Thurs Aug 23 was sadly rained off. Cycling from Camden to Kew where we now play our cricket, the rain reminded me of the stair rod style precipitation of Franz Josef on the west coast of NZ. Ridiculous. In fact at 17:30 when we were meant to commence the game the pitch was under an inch of water. Booo!
It was at this time that my London host, sponsor and all round wonderwoman, Jo Bole, unfortunately was struck down with a nasty kidney infection and ended up in University College Hospital for three nights, which was a scare but thankfully she survived. Planet Organic off Tottenham Court Road experienced a trebling of profits over that period!
Then there was the cricket match proper: the 14th annual fixture of ADWorld XI vs Lackademicals XI playing for the Regents Cup, a game that started out amongst a bunch of friendly wastrel misfits back in the early 90s as a way of getting together to fill a bank holiday Sunday cheaply by playing cricket in Regents Park with ill fitting and inadequate kit whilst drinking vast quantities of cheap cider. Since the inaugural match all those years ago the fixture has transformed immeasurably. Wives, partners and a menagerie of nippers pack out the boundary, people fly in for the fixture from around the globe (me & Justin from Hong Kong; Dan, Ros & Ruby from Bangkok), fizzy wine has replaced cider (for some) and gourmet picnic hampers have usurped a bag of Frazzles and late night kebab. We're still all friends and vast quantities of booze are still drunk, so some things never change.
Fortunately the weather had improved since Thursday:
L: The two teams in group shot. R: Justin (from Hong Kong) & I feign amazement at having won the Regents Cup. As usual, Justin did a stirling job of providing team shirts from his tailor in Hong Kong. They were certainly more tasteful than the rain cloud grey and baby puke yellow ones we had one year!
Captain Rik awards Captain Dan the Captain's pint and then Captain Dan does the same to Captian Rik. Captainly stuff.
L: I down my prize pint, whilst the Honeychurches look on, awarded not for cricketing prowess of course but for distance travelled to play in the game. R: Ian did a capital job manning the BBQ until he fell over a low fence, hurt his back and got glass in his foot. I suspect more wine went in Ian than in the steak marinades.
What else, what else? Well, a face from my travels, Leo from Darwin, was passing through London and I managed to meet up with him for a picnic in Hyde Park. Good to see you again Leo and good luck with the move to Tasmania.
And between meeting old friends and fast growing additions such as Seb & Gail's daughter, Iona Biggins, and eventually savouring a pint of oft dreamt of nutty brown Harvey's Best Bitter at the Royal Oak, Tabard Street...
...I managed to fall off my bike and have badly sprained my ankle. ARSE!!
Life's never frikking dull is it!!?? And to prove that point, I've got to hobble off as there's the Chappel Beer Festival in Essex to visit this evening, a beautiful way of drawing the circle on my year away as it was one of the last things I went to in this country before I fled these shores!
Life's never frikking dull is it!!?? And to prove that point, I've got to hobble off as there's the Chappel Beer Festival in Essex to visit this evening, a beautiful way of drawing the circle on my year away as it was one of the last things I went to in this country before I fled these shores!
Let's GO!!
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