Sunday, September 14, 2008

A series of observations


1) Sometimes it is good to meet your heroes as they will turn out to be unbelievably nice and you will have a long chat about all sorts of things including both losing members of your family to cancer and if you should keep their numbers in your phone. You should as a way of remembering them.

2) Male bonding is very special, you can go with a group of complete strangers to do something. After doing that thing for about fifteen minutes, unable to see the other people or talk to them you are firm friends. I've just realised that description makes it sound like I engaged in a depraved sex-act this weekend, I didn't.

3) It's not a proper weekend away unless some part of you aches afterwards. Again, sounds like a rude thing.

4) Sometimes when you are trying to make a series of observations just end up seemingly hinting that you did rude things with large groups of men.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Sleepless in Swansea

It's about 5am, I should be asleep getting as much rest as possible
ready for today activities. However I am so excited by what I am going
to do that I can't sleep.

Instead I'm pacing around my room and taking pointless photographs of
the tea making supplies.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Oh Happy Day!


I have had a spiffing day absolutely spiffing, but as a side effect I won't be going to London. I have an assignment, a dream assignment the sort that only comes along every now and then. It is so marvellous that I did a little celebration jig, and then another one. I'm still dancing around a little bit.

This assignment will involve an entirely new suit of clothes, two days of doing something marvellous and a trip to another country* and at the end of it all I'll get a certificate. I like adventures where you get a certificate at the end.

All this means that I'll be doing something my dad absolutely loved on the weekend of his death, I can think of no more fitting tribute to him than that.

*Admittedly Wales rather than somewhere hot.

Abe Lincoln and his amazing beard


I'm starting to get ready for my trip to London, a social calender is being put together, various meetings have been arranged and I've shaved off my silly Miami Vice beard.

While shaving I discovered that an Abe Lincoln beard rather suits me, so perhaps I should go and join a puritanical order in America for a bit. I don't think I'd get on with the religious aspect but the facial hair wouldn't be a problem.

Also I've just found out that my 'slot' for the stand-up is 25 minutes, that's erm about 20 minutes longer than any previous slots I've had so my options are:
a) Say everything five times.
b) Speak at 20% of normal speed.
c) Come up with some new stuff.

Currently A is winning, but B has potential too. The only way C is going to really work is if my journey up to London turns out to be hilarious in a 20 minute sort of way, not exactly likely but we shall see. Or, I could try and date four women in the next four days and try and squeeze five minutes of material out of each relationship. That might work...

Monday, September 08, 2008

Packing informal hats


I've got a gig in London this weekend and I completely forgot about it, yikes! Not only did I agree to do some stand-up I have a few fairly important parties that I really should attend. So perhaps a return to the capital is in order.

This means I'll have to shave my luxuriant beard which is shame; but probably for the greater good. And then think about what I'll take with me, I'll have a social engagement every night so I'll need a few looks but I really don't want to have to take a whole suitcase. Hmm, this will be tricky. Perhaps if I just take a couple of informal hats and only one or two changes of brogues.

Of course if I can co-ordinate my trip with some work stuff, well that would be excellent otherwise it will just be a jolly across the capital which will be fun but not a terribly good idea. Although, many a grand adventure has started off with something that could be described as 'not a terribly good idea'.

Saturday, September 06, 2008

Stupid Geese


It's been raining here a lot, I mean a lot. The fields have turned into swampland. The chickens aren't terribly amused by this, we have had to relocate all their houses so that they aren't submerged.

The ducks are okay with the swampy fields but they don't like all the raining - if it's sideways rain they tend to just hide. The only animals who don't seem to change their habits for the rain are the geese. They just stroll around honking about how it is raining.

'I just got hit by something wet'

'I another wet thing just landed on me'

Geese are really stupid, that special sort of stupid that would do really well working in local government. They are excellent at ignoring the facts and acting in a way that seems completely illogical - I'm amazed they haven't run for office yet.

Friday, September 05, 2008

The Iphone, a jolly late review


I've given in and got an Iphone. Now I should preface this with that I'm not an Apple sort of chap, we had Apples at the magazine I used to work at and they were a nightmare to deal with, everything was so expensive to replace and they were constantly doing weird things that made no sense - the weeks spent trying to make them talk to printers at the same time as PCs still makes me shiver with horror.

Anyway, as someone who would be seen in two different tweeds before he would buy an Apple computer buying an Iphone was a bit of a step for me. Admittedly I used to have an Ipod and it was marvellous, but on my first date with TP it got lightly crushed and the screen broke so it sadly is now retired.

I've had a Blackberry phone for over a year now and it's been terribly good. Since I'm a freelance journalist it's really useful to be plugged into my emails all the time - especially when an editor needs to check a couple of things at the last minute. I'm sure if I had a 9 to 5 job the idea of 'the man' being able to constantly email me would be less appealing but for me it's perfect. Sadly recently the Blackberry has started forgetting things, like emails, so it needed replacing and I made the move to an Iphone.

I've only had my new phone for about a week now but I'm completely sold on it. Rather annoyingly Googlemail doesn't 'push' to the Iphone (so it doesn't tell you when an email arrives, you have to check yourself) which I'm imformed will be sorted out soon but apart from that it's better in every way. The map system is frightningly good - it's a little alarming that it can tell my location with in meters without a GPS system. Having another Internet connection is extremely handy, especially when the land line broadband is constantly being interrupted and apart from a couple of niggling things (I can't work out how to cut and paste) it's an excellent bit of equipment.

It's even pleasantly slim so a chap can wear it with a fitted suit.

Thursday, September 04, 2008

Nerd talk in relationships


I know lots of people who would be described as geeks, they are good eggs. Well I suppose they are like normal people but they just happen to have extensive knowledge about fictional subjects and or languages that people don't really speak (C++ and C for example).

There is this long running geek 'joke' that you call your kids Version 2.0, as if they were a new iteration of a program. I use the quote marks because it's such an old joke even Shakespeare would have trouble slapping his knee over it and going 'Ha'.

Anyway, in the same line of thought I was thinking of other nerd terms that could be used to describe other things. I mean terms that less technologically aware people would understand.

For example, a program in Beta means it's an early version prone to crashing that everyone is testing out. If the program is good you put up with the problems because it could turn into something wonderful. This could be applied to all sorts of things.

Louche - 'I say Jeff old chap, how is your relationship going with Sarah?'
Jeff - 'Rather well, but it's still in Beta.'
Louche - 'Blimes.'

Actually I can't think of any other examples, blast.

An open letter to my immune system


Dear Chaps,

We've been through some good times and some tough times together, I feel we have a special bond. We've been through a lot and that makes people closer. Now I like hankies as much as the next chap, possibly more but I do feel the cold and various other aliments that has been with us for weeks now is getting a little excessive.

Perhaps like a house guest over staying it's welcome we should gently usher it towards the door and tell it that we look forward to seeing it soon. It's jolly exciting having new people and things to stay over in the old body but I think it's time we got rid of this once and for all.

I know the summer has been pretty rotten and all that but it's time we all pulled together, I mean it's just about to start being party season again and we'd all hate to miss out on some bashes because we were feeling a bit unwell.

Kindest regards,

Louche

Award time


Ah the GQ awards rumble around again and surprisingly people give a damn. It's a strange old world where the editor of GQ, Dylan Jones, is the only person who makes David Cameron look cool in comparison. GQ is a magazine that has completely and utterly jumped the shark and so in the spirit of that I've decided to announce my own awards to provide some balance.

The Dylan Jones Award for unpopularity while being in charge of something
Gordon Brown

The award for 'style icon' that no-one really wants to look like
Some chap a band where they wear really tight trousers

The Rolling Stones award for still being alive to the point when most people suspect Necromancy.
William Shatner

The Louche award for starting a list of things and then realising it's not quite as funny as you thought and that you really should be writing something a bit more productive, or failing that about motorbikes.
Me

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

R.I.P. A duck


One of our ducks was killed yesterday in an accident. It was reversed over by a van. It's not the drivers fault, the ducks are so tame the concept of anything being dangerous is utterly alien to them so the poor thing didn't have the brains to get out of the way.

I don't think the other ducks realised what had happened as they kept coming over to see the dead duck and standing near it so it could be part of the mass swarm of ducks again. I gave the duck a full viking burial last night, well I made a boat out of paper and rubbish and then burned that with it in it, we don't normally keep miniature longboats about just in case something like this happens.

It's not all sad here, one of the cats has discovered a false beard (from a Father Christmas costume) and he is attacking it with vigour. I had no idea cats were so anti facial hair, it might be wise for me to shave before I suffer the same fate.

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Miami Beard


A few days have passed since the party and yet I'm still sporting the silly slightly-crafted stubble beard.

I went for the Miami Vice look at the party, a character called Sonny Crockett gave me an excellent excuse to wear a white suit with the sleeves rolled up and a pale blue t-shirt. This look doesn't really go that well with a rural setting (white clothes and muddly fields don't get on) but it worked for the bash.

Right, I think it's time for a mid-morning coffee.

Sunday, August 31, 2008

Hay and parties

> We have had our Internet access removed in Devon by a passing
> tractor loaded high with hay. I didn't know about the tractor
> incident so I spent a whole morning fiddling with settings while
> frowning at my computer.
>
> So this is being posted by my new phone - the old one had started
> forgetting emails and so it was like using a forgetful telegram
> operator to communicate. Not ideal.
>
> I got a new phone and the lady in the shop informed me that in 48
> hours my old phone would be turned off and the new one would gamely
> spring into life. Fine, I thought I'll just take both with me to the
> S themed party and I will use the working one.
>
> Sadly it didn't work out like that and I was left, lost in Dorset
> without a phone or the handy map phone thing I had come to trust. My
> ditections were limited because I had lost the invite. Navigating by
> asking people in pubs is not advised, they can get you to roughly
> the right area but then they are no good.
>
> The party was okay but I just wasn't in the mood and so I left after
> only a few hours, still the drive home was excellent fun, and I now
> have silly 80s Miami Vice Stubble.

Saturday, August 30, 2008

High Performance Sports Brogue


The visit to the shop was a success. The Hitchcock Blonde had at least nine dresses to try on at one point but eventually brought a rather conservative two dresses and then regretted not buying at least one more by the time we had arrived home.

It was a fun day out, we strolled around the streets, engaged in some light but focused shopping (I tried on a range of things but sadly the god of sizes wasn't with me) and then ambled back to the car.

Today we have been playing tennis and then messing around in the pool. I've not played tennis for well over ten years, and my skills haven't suffered in the slightest in that I'm still terrible. I have an natural urge to hit the ball as hard as possible which is not terribly conductive to playing well. Perhaps I would be better suited to a variation with an entirely enclosed court, or maybe squash. Since I wasn't prepared for tennis I ended up playing in brogues and wellies before finally settling on barefoot.

Brogues are not high-performance sports shoes but even I can't use them as an excuse for my terrible playing. I was also wearing over-larges shorts co-ordinated with a lilac tie in the place of a belt (my belts have disappeared in the move) which I found rather becoming and I think will become a 'look'.

The pool was freezing so apart from a quick dip I spent most of the time trying to rescue a frog. The frog was saved after quite a lot of hunting around with nets and we retired with a rosy glow to our cheeks that comes from helping out hapless amphibians.

I've got to dash home now to find a suitable costume, I'm going to an 'S' themed party and the look is stumping me. Mostly because the party will require a sit-down meal and the only S costumes I have aren't really ideal for semi-formal dining.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

I feel the need, the need for tweed


Today is going to be a shopping day. I'm going to take the Hitchcock Blonde to my favourite vintage clothes shop. There will be some fairly intensive shopping, they have a whole rack of amazingly cheap vintage motorcycle jackets that I've never noticed before so I shall be examining them closely and possibly texting Piqued about how much he would like them. This isn't a terribly good plan (the shopping not the texting) as any spare cash is supposed to be saved up for a motorcycle, not spent on more motorcycle clothes.

The Hitchcock Blonde will be picking up a tweed jacket for her brother and then probably falling for the charms of one of the many 1950s dresses that bedeck the walls. This would be completely understandable as they really do have a lot of smashing dresses.

The picture was taken last week when my little brother and I visited the shop, we managed to resist buying anything but only just. This time I doubt I'll get away without buying something lovely that I don't really need.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

A second home in the city


The following blog entry is either news report from the future or a vague stab at satrical humour, only time will tell.

‘It used to be such a community’ remarked Crispin Huntington-Thorp ‘People knew each other, that’s gone now.’

Crispin lives in a very changed London, since the great recession of the late noughties people living in the cities have had their way of life slowly eroded. Things weren’t always like this, it used to be that well paid people in the towns would have second homes in the countryside but due to the financial crisis the situation has been reversed.

Now poor city bankers who just want to scrape a living and preserve their way of life are increasingly being forced to sell their houses to people from Cornwall and other rural areas to avoid bankruptcy. Humble traders and commodity brokers are being pushed out of family houses that have been in the family for perhaps up to a generation to make way for housing for cattle and land for food.

‘It’s disgusting how they are changing this area,’ continues Crispin ‘someone should do something before it’s too late. Second homes are destroying the character of Kensington.’

It’s a very different Kensington these days, The Chelsea Tractor has been replaced by a real Tractor and cows can often be seen being driven down the high street on the way to their milking sheds. Even the smell is different with the horrific fumes of freshly cut hay and clovers drifting across whole areas of South West London.

Some parts of the capital have suffered more than others, typically the areas where people were likely to have a second home in the countryside – the sort of people who overreached to have that bolt hole in Dorset are the ones paying the price now.

People like Amanda Chumley-Warner. ‘Once they get into an area they ruin it. First to go are the expensive delis, Farming people don’t want them and so they can’t stay in business. It’s impossible to get Parma ham on the Fulham Road now. If I want essentials like Avocado Oil I have to go for miles to get them. There used to be a little knickknack shop on every street corner where I could spend money on little expensive things when ever I wanted and that’s gone too. Farming people just want to by wellies and animal feed, most of their food is reasonably priced and locally sourced it’s disgusting.’

It’s not just the shops that are suffering as waves of new people come into the area who don’t want to buy Mongolian Carpets or Cath Kidston Yurts. The local wine bars are suffering as well. One owner, who declined to be named, said the following.

‘It used to be that you could expect to shift a few bottles of stupidly pricey red to the regulars when they would come in, but that’s gone now. All the wine bars are suffering. The local people can’t afford to come here anymore. Restaurants are in trouble too, the influx of rural types who don’t want our sort of food is forcing some people out of business. It’s all ploughman’s lunches and disgustingly simple food with fresh ingredients now, who wants to eat that?’

The outlook for the next generation is bleak too. Local children can’t afford to get on the property ladder because of the raised prices and all the houses being used to store grain and cattle. The young adults of London now all talk of moving out to the countryside to make some money, they don’t want to leave the city but, for them the only way of getting a living is to move to a rural area.

‘Whole areas of London are now ghost towns during the week.’ Said Sebastian, a bright fifteen year old ‘It’s those second home bastards, they don’t realise that their holiday home means that proper local people can’t get homes. Not that I want to stay in the city, there is no future for it. My family have lived in Notting Hill for generations working in PR and consultancy but there is no chance of that for me.’

‘People move to the city because they have this dream of an urban life with cars and smog and things but the moment they get here they change it. They idyllic view of living in somewhere like Maida Vale doesn’t match up to the reality – cars smell, but they don’t want that so they get them banned and it’s the locals that suffer. I hate everyone who has a second home in the city.’

Sebastian’s words echo down a Sloane Street that is forever changed, gone are the exciting clothes shops and fashion boutiques to be replaced by yet more places selling animal feed and post offices. The latter makes Sebastian spit with rage

‘Post offices? Why is it that every part of London has to have a post office? It’s disgusting, it seems almost every day another of our essential upmarket delicatessens is closed down to make way for yet another bloody Post office.’

With that Sebastian marches off towards Knightsbridge. We all have to wonder what sort of future people like him will have, and if the government will realise in time that this precious urban way of life needs to be preserved. Even the Cityside Alliance’s march didn’t make a difference, so what will?

For Sebastian’s sake I hope something is done soon.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Carry on Convalescing


I'm back, but I'm a bit broken. It appears that four, no five days of almost no sleep and large amounts of cocktails (we may have been camping but there is no excuse for a drop in standards) can make you a little bit unwell.

I do this every year and yet I never learn. Ho-hum. Luckily I've got a few things to catch up on while I convalesce, like the latest edition of Bike magazine. Huzzah!

Also I have decided that it's time for a new pocket watch so I've stopped using the mechanical one and now I'm going to be seen about with only the rather minimalist number with the white face. Or at least I will be seen about with it once I've managed to stop being so unentertainingly ill.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Minibreak


I'm off to a strange festival for a few days with my little brother so I'm not sure if I'll be doing any updates while I'm there. It's a very silly festival, but we went last year when my dad was very unwell and it was good so I suspect it may become a bit of a tradition.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Tulgey Wood


It's my Grandmother's Birthday today so we are off to visit the venerable matriarch in Dorset. Her house is excellent fun to visit, especially because she has a forest with a stream that could be very honestly described as a tulgey wood. Thankfully the chance of Jabberwocky attack is fairly minimal, although we have seen otters and kingfishers.

Right, I need to shave because Grandmothers don't approve of beards.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Rosé Regrets


The Hitchcock Blonde came to stay this weekend and met the geese. She arrived very late on the Friday and rather dangerously came with Rosé. I've not been drinking much while I've been down here so I've got rather out of practice, and for some reason it seemed like a terribly good idea to buy a bit more Rosé on the way back from the train station. I came to regret this for most of Saturday as we polished off three bottles of the stuff and I awoke at 6am feeling terribly unwell.

Saturday was pretty much a write-off, even watching films proved to be a trial and when I went out to chop some wood up with an axe I had to sit down for a bit afterwards and try not to think about being sick. It was a troubled day and so the plan of taking the Hitchcock Blonde to the best vintage clothes shop in Great Britain was shelved. I should point out that The Hitchcock Blonde was also in a bit of a state so I didn't suffer alone. Rosé is now banned as every time I drink it I give myself an injury.

Even though we were both ruined from booze we still managed to affect some introductions with the the poultry, the Geese were cantankerous as usual but the larger ducklings were awfully jovial and so proved a hit. One of the cats was being very friendly and he spent the entire time hunting us around the house.

Sunday was spent doing equally restful things, including a meal that involved home grown vegetables and home-shot game. After that I dropped The Hitchcock Blonde off at her mothers house and returned home. It was nice to have such a relaxing weekend, especially after all the weeks of shovelling.

I'm back to the hard labour again today, it's 10am and I've already been out for a run and dug out some more scrap as part of the on-going cleaning efforts. So it's a good, honest start to the week so I expect I'll be drinking Gin and trying to give myself gout by Tuesday.