tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66726955322363493942024-03-13T11:02:12.945+00:00Tinsel EffectComment is free, but facts are sacred. C P Scott (1872)hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.comBlogger80125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-87916766694976366492008-09-30T13:53:00.004+00:002008-09-30T14:20:25.859+00:00Just a wee bit intimidatingI've joined a gym and have been going most days for the past month. It's a nice way of starting my day since little bit is in nursery school five mornings a week and other than burying my head in a load of textbooks - exams in two weeks (!) - having a go on the stair-stepper is how I've been filling my mornings.<br /><br />I only have one complaint about the gym, which may signal my prudish, American/Puritan values. I'm not sure whether to voice my complaint to the management or whether to keep shtum about my concerns. Lemme 'splain. My discomfort involves a young woman who, like me, finishes her workout around the same time. We both head up to the dressing room and shower at about the same time, too. Problem is, while I'm at the locker changing into my street clothes I can hear one of the hair dryers going and I KNOW what I'll find when I turn around to approach 'my' area of the bank of blow dryers and wooden stools. Said young woman does not put on a stitch of clothing (nay, not even knicketies) before she sits down (sometimes on a towel, sometimes not) in front of the mirrored wall and blow-dries her very long, flowing tresses. Those of you who know me might say, "Why are YOU griping?" I have to say, I'm not sure though I think it has to do with the fact that I have no where to 'put' my gaze. I cannot seem to stare straight at my own reflection for the entire five minutes it takes for me to blow-dry my own hair and sort out my face. It just feels unnatural to look elsewhere. I don't fixate on the fact that it's probably a bit unhygienic for her to sit naked on a surface that others will probably use, it's just that I don't know where to put my eyes.<br /><br />I think it was Michel Foucault who really nailed home the point that it's not what we see or encounter but the value we attach to what we see or encounter. I am not offended by this woman's nakedness - it does nothing FOR me but it also does nothing TO me - I have not stopped attending the gym because I am worried that this woman might, again, be naked. I could lie and say that it's a bit gross to me that she sits naked on a wooden stool, but I'm made of hardier stuff than that - I KNOW what kind of body fluids we ALL have. What does get me a bit riled is my own reaction in that I do not know where to fix my gaze whilst she's next to me in the mirror. Will I get labeled a 'voyeur' by this woman if she catches me glancing about in a normal (not shifty) way? What could I say about her - she very nonchalantly tosses her hair this way and seems absolutely unconcerned about her state of dress. I do think it has not occurred to her that she might be committing some breach of decorum - at least in all the other locker rooms I've ever been in - and I would hate to impose my neurosis on her. On the other hand, what if she's getting some strange pleasure from my discomfort? Ah, I don't even want to think about that, it's too much and I'd be even more intimidated by that. At least I think I would.<br /><br />Hmm.hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-74047633407777522862008-05-03T13:26:00.000+00:002008-09-30T14:21:34.737+00:00The Soundtrack of Your Life, Part Na'kiiRight then, songs 7-12. Shall we begin?<br /><br />7. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Little Bird</span>: Goldfrapp. It's the newest song on the list. It has bits of Cocteau Twins, Joni Mitchell and a good dose of dry wit in it. How can it not when you have a promotional video like <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/mpd/permalink/m3O6EH89SWB1N7:m2WURXJCKA46OF ">this</a>?<br /><br />8. <span style="font-weight:bold;">I am an Astronaut</span>: Ricky Wilde/Snow Patrol. This song reminds me of Tendy. He sits in his carseat just behind me and we sing this while driving down the road. He loves this song and gets a pout on his face if I sing the wrong lyrics, which I NEVER do on purpose, nooo...<object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZLDEfysyPDo"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZLDEfysyPDo" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br /><br />9. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Heroes</span>: David Bowie. There's such hopeful desire in the lyrics: <br /><blockquote>I, I can remember (I remember)<br />Standing, by the wall (by the wall)<br />And the guns shot above our heads<br />(over our heads)<br />And we kissed, <br />as though nothing could fall<br />(nothing could fall)<br />And the shame was on the other side<br />Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever<br />Then we could be Heroes, <br />just for one day</blockquote><br /><br />This sort of encapsulates the group dynamic of one day of gay pride. Enough said.<br /><br />10.<span style="font-weight:bold;">Foundations</span>: Kate Nash. If you've ever been in a relationship that went down the plughole you will probably relate to this song. It's sucky and despite her relative youth, she nails the anger, the hurt, the desperation of clinging onto the last strands of hair that are swirling towards...the plughole. Kate captures the rawness of this event.<br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/w9XA5Xb-ALk"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/w9XA5Xb-ALk" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br /><br />11.<span style="font-weight:bold;">Skating Away</span>: Jethro Tull. Most people laugh when I tell them that prog rock saved my soul. It was in the early 90's when a friend of mine turned me on to JT. I heard this song and <span style="font-weight:bold;">really<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span> identified with the lyrics. The words are poetry set to music:<br /><br />Here are the lyrics. I suggest a trip over to youtube to listen to the song if you've never heard it before:<br /><br /><blockquote><br />Meanwhile back in the year One --- when you belonged to no-one ---<br />you didn't stand a chance son, if your pants were undone.<br />`Cause you were bred for humanity and sold to society ---<br />one day you'll wake up in the Present Day ---<br />a million generations removed from expectations<br />of being who you really want to be.<br /><br />Skating away ---<br />skating away ---<br />skating away on the thin ice of the New Day.<br /><br />So as you push off from the shore,<br />won't you turn your head once more --- and make your peace with everyone?<br />For those who choose to stay,<br />will live just one more day ---<br />to do the things they should have done.<br />And as you cross the wilderness, spinning in your emptiness:<br />you feel you have to pray.<br />Looking for a sign<br />that the Universal Mind (!) has written you into the Passion Play.<br /><br />Skating away on the thin ice of the New Day.<br /><br />And as you cross the circle line, the ice-wall creaks behind ---<br />you're a rabbit on the run.<br />And the silver splinters fly in the corner of your eye ---<br />shining in the setting sun.<br />Well, do you ever get the feeling that the story's<br />too damn real and in the present tense?<br />Or that everybody's on the stage, and it seems like<br />you're the only person sitting in the audience?<br /><br />Skating away on the thin ice of the New Day.</blockquote><br /><br />12. Finally, the last track I'd have on my personal soundtrack:<br /> <span style="font-weight:bold;">Losing My Religion</span>: REM. Okay, it seems a bit contrived, I know. The issue with me and organized religion, especially Mo'ism, makes this song quite poignant. I don't think I ever gave much thought to how deep the hurt of not living up to expectations ran, until a few years ago. I've got some decisions to make about my life, my relationships and I'm not really looking forward to "choosing my confessions, trying to keep an eye on you..." I might have a different song for position 12 in a few weeks' time.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><br />You know, it's not really cool to end on such a downer. How about if I chuck in song 13? (drumroll, please) <br /><span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span><br />13. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Let's Dance to Joy Division</span>: The Wombats. What can I say? I love this song. It reminds me of listening to early 'Pushstars'. Bit of a 'let's watch Rome burn' attitude. I admire that. Enjoy this vid, be careful that you don't get a bit motion sick.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/gyCi4CMD29w"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/gyCi4CMD29w" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br /><br />xxAitchhm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-10703069075329138002008-02-25T15:45:00.002+00:002008-02-25T15:47:21.908+00:00Carol Burnett or Dawn French?I missed having this question on the meme I filled in the other day. It's very difficult to choose between two very talented women, so I'll just leave you with my favourite Dawn French sketch, accompanied by Jennifer Saunders (and some other people who may or may not be famous...who knows?)<br /><br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DQYgFw7RgEQ&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DQYgFw7RgEQ&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object>hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-59038663679882828272008-02-23T10:14:00.004+00:002008-03-11T08:06:48.334+00:00Time to EdditWell, you caught me. I'm one of those bloggers who throws up a post only to go back and change the wording, punctuation or syntax at a later time. It's a shame I don't edit my posts beforehand, because it likely shows that I have a cavalier attitude, which isn't true, or perhaps it indicates a tendency to say things that later need clarification, which is true. Either way isn't good, and I can only hope to improve my writing in the coming years. <br /><br />I read more blogs these days than is sensible, really. I fret at times because I'm not one to really post about my deeper, darker secrets, though I admire those who can and are able to infuse a sense of humility through their writings. I think that shows a talent for cutting to the heart of a common, human vulnerability and we all have that, whether we show it or not.<br /><br />I haven't got a clue as to posts in the pipeline. I think that the ideas I have will have to wait for a while. Maybe I'll finish the list of musical influences (I left off at number seven), maybe I'll have another pub quiz. Any ideas?hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-78604153348836899202008-02-20T11:43:00.004+00:002008-02-23T09:02:58.873+00:00Goodbye Katy...I just got word this past weekend that my paternal grandmother has died. I do not feel sad at this occasion but rather a great relief for her and my family (immediate and extended), who have been unwavering in their care for her and support of each other. Her last decade of life was filled with so many changes that were out of her control: the necessary move from her home and constant companionship of her sister, the eventual diagnosis of Alzheimer's Disease and its cruel and rapid removal of all of her memories, language and ability to care for herself and finally the heart failure that brought her death, early on Sunday morning.<br /><br />She was a feisty and independent woman and I am sad to say that I never grew to appreciate that side of her as much as I should have, and my early interactions with her were ones of fear of knocking over glass vases and pricey trinkets that sat on special shelves and in display cases around her sitting room. She had a good eye for design and some of her furniture, purchased in the 1950's, would not look out of place in the design showrooms in London, today. <br /><br />By the time I grew up and was no longer scared of her, she was already in quite poor health, and so I never had the types of easy adult discussions with her that I had with my maternal grandmother, who had died over a decade ago. I would like to think that other people can remember Kathryn for the true character she was and celebrate her life. <br /> <br />What I do know is that my father, the only man in my life that I love and trust implicitly has lost his mother. I know that my grandmother adored her sons, but it was evident that my father held a special place in her heart - he could do no wrong in her eyes. In his efforts to do things for his mother, she often lashed out at others, blaming them for the actions of my father. I don't blame her, though, she was abandoned by every man in her life, and she really didn't want to alienate any others, I think. For her to be able to love my father without reserve makes me love her more than fear her. The last time I saw my grandmother was about a year ago. My father drove me to the care home where she was living out her last days. There was no recognition of me, nor of my father. However, she did smile when we held her hands and brushed the wispy, cottony hair off her brow. The eyes that twinkled with mischief were cloudy and tired. I wished so many things for her, but mostly that she didn't have to die this way - slowly and very much alone in her head.<br /><br />It's over. Sadly, gratefully, and wistfully I say goodbye to Katy.hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-59308432076594615272008-02-09T20:00:00.000+00:002008-02-09T20:33:05.149+00:00Silly Ol' MemeThis meme ends with the question that really should start it off, so I've simply cut and pasted the final question to the beginning...this doesn't seem so abrupt, does it?<br /><br />46. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Ooooo-klahomawherethewindcomessweepindowntheplain...<br /><br />1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? A very precocious little girl featured in LIFE magazine the month before my birth. <br /><br />2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? During the last scene of BBC's 'The Choir', just now. I love hearing kids singing. <br /><br />3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? It's okay but it's rather inconsistent.<br /><br />4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Tuna. <br /><br />5. HAVE YOU ANY CHILDREN? Yes, non-biological but I gladly claim them.<br /><br />6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Yes, but I would bitch about me behind my back. I know I would.<br /><br />7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Not a lot. I prefer irony.<br /><br />8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? Yes.<br /><br />9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Yes, feet first from a height of two stories where there is a huge pile of sand below me. I've got it all planned out!<br /><br />10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Grape Nuts or oatmeal. <br /><br />11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? No.<br /><br />12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? Yes. <br /><br />13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Pistachio.<br /><br />14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Eyes, smile.<br /><br />15. RED OR PINK? I like pink, I do. <br /><br />16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? I snore. It annoys me.<br /><br />18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE YOU KNOW TO DO THIS MEME? Sure, what the hell.<br /><br />19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? Black and blacker.<br /><br />20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? Veggie shepherd's pie.<br /><br />21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? The sound of a fireworks display at a nearby park.<br /><br />22. IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Black.<br /><br />23. FAVORITE SMELLS? SO's neck, freshly shampoo'd Wonder Pup, line-dried laundry and clean sheets, magic marker, baking brownies. <br /><br />24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU SPOKE TO ON THE PHONE? SO, this afternoon.<br /><br />25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO MADE YOU DO THIS STUPID MEME? Aw. Yeah.<br /><br />26. WHICH SPORT DO YOU ENJOY WATCHING MOST? Cricket. I haven't a clue how it's scored though.<br /><br />27. HAIR COLOR? Reddish-brown.<br /><br />28. EYE COLOR? Hazel.<br /><br />29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACT LENSES? Daily.<br /><br />30. FAVORITE FOOD? Baguette dipped in hot Camembert cheese, salad with rocket and mustard vinaigrette, <br /><br />31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Neither.<br /><br />32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? Blade Runner.<br /><br />33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? Black.<br /><br />34. SUMMER OR WINTER? Both.<br /><br />35. HUGS OR KISSES? Either, especially when caught off guard. <br /><br />36. FAVORITE DESSERT? Queen of Puddings or Sticky Toffee Pudding<br /><br />39. WHAT BOOK(S) ARE YOU READING NOW? Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie <br /><br />40. WHAT’S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? Don't do mouse. Don't do pad. <br /><br />41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? No TV last night. Watched movie (No. 32) instead. <br /><br />42. FAVORITE SOUND? Tide coming in on Brighton Beach. The sound of water moving all those stones back and forth is fantastic!!<br /><br />43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Stones, definitely. <br /><br />44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Whilst living in Boston I travelled to Munich, Germany and Florence, Italy. Whilst living in London I travelled to Krakow, Poland. Whilst growing up in New Mexico I travelled to Calgary, Canada. You do the mileage... <br /><br />45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? I pretty much know when to stop...hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-30959441258325252422008-01-30T15:03:00.000+00:002008-01-30T15:04:36.583+00:00Bully Pulpit baby<object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PI42LSbwc8E&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PI42LSbwc8E&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object>hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-71692731427900889872008-01-24T08:55:00.000+00:002008-01-24T10:05:01.441+00:00Why Quitters Sometimes Win, Part 2Throughout my time in the M*rmon church, there were other incidents that led me to question the truthfulness of the doctrine that was presented to me. I thought that I could eventually reconcile the unsettling beliefs generated by the church - the racist doctrine and mythology that taught the creator of all things might play favourites with one skin colour, the sexist dogma that insisted that women were equal to men in positions of subservience and had no choice in the matter within the organization, the pressure to procreate beyond a family's financial or emotional means, a lack of desire to engage with the wider world (in the world but not 'of' the world) except in the context of proselytizing and the competitive righteousness that was firmly ingrained in the congregations' collective understanding of heaven, hell and every level in between. I knew by the time I was twelve what kinds of offenses would get you into which level or kingdom of heaven, and which ones would get you banished into outer darkness for time and all eternity. <br />Growing up in the 80's and having the horrors of World War II pounded into us, we all assumed that Ad*lph H*tler would have had his boots, jodhpurs and mustache fixed firmly in hell, but a quick check on a few Google sites, yesterday, assured me that, indeed, Mr *itler had had all his temple endowments done for him and would have the opportunity to enjoy the highest kingdom of heaven, at some stage. Whether this was a hoax perpetuated by anti-M*rmon sources, or whether the documentation was, indeed, generated by the London temple still gives me pause for thought. Would I really want to belong to an organization that has so overtly given the option of salvation to a mass murderer, when I cannot even hope to attain the same? If the Hitler temple documentation is not really true and anti-M*rmon sources have created a hoax to discredit the church then shame on them, the church has enough controversy to bring it to its knees. The racism I experienced as a youth and young adult against my friends was enough to seal the deal for me. I grew up among the Lamanites and counted them as my friends. I couldn't understand why they had such a raw deal on the reservations until I learned that they were constantly being punished by god for their iniquitous history. Hey, that makes sense and absolves me of any guilt or responsibility! Their darkened skin was a result of rebellion shortly after they arrived in the Americas, from the Middle East. Cough, cough. They would have a series of chances to 'lighten up' if they turned towards god and gave the Nephites a chance to save them with the only true gospel and a sweet little program called Indian Placement. Seriously folks, I learned that my friends were inferior not only in the eyes of the government, but also in the eyes of god. Problem was, in my head most of the Navajo actually had their sh*t together a lot more than I did. The Navajo friends I had gone to primary school with who had the missionaries around to convert them almost always did a few years away in Arizona or Utah with a white M*rmon family. The idea was that their education would have been supplemented by living in an English-speaking family and that their salvation would have been overseen by a priesthood-holding bunch of M*rmons. The reality was that they often returned to the reservation having forgotten their language and had been left out of important family events. I don't know if their education improved as a result, but I seriously doubt it. The doctrine taught to the white seminary students who remained behind was that our Lamanite friends would return whiter and more delightsome in the eyes of god. Who needs to know that H*tler is hanging out with Jesus now? If the N*zi connection with M*rmonism bears out as truth then the wider world will know what I've been convinced of, for years.hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-89189367409610204272008-01-12T03:02:00.000+00:002008-01-25T08:47:19.567+00:00The Soundtrack of Your LifeOne of the things in common that my SO and I share is our love for music. About six weeks ago J took an introductory filmmaking course and it was during that time that I confessed that I composed 'soundtracks' in my head, to accompany my daily events - like walking Tendy down to the shops in Brixton or looking out the window whilst riding on a train. I hear a song and 'see' potential camera shots in my head. I can only assume that others do it too. SO and I agreed that there were certain songs that defined periods in our lives, by bringing back poignant memories and emotions. Songs that we listened to over and again whilst playing, eating, rollerskating/rollerblading/skateboarding (this dates me, I'm sure), songs that were playing while we were having a bit of a teenaged grope at dances or clubs, or just hanging out with mates and turning up the volume to 11...<br />Some of my earliest memories of enjoying music came from listening with my parents, who owned quite an interesting mix of folk, country, classical and pop records (again, my parents' music also dates me). Cat Stevens, Carole King, Earth, Wind and Fire, Kingston Trio and Bach gave me a foundation to enjoy the sounds of lyrics and notes from a variety of musical genres. I cannot go a day without listening to music and my house is often filled with impromptu sessions when J and I break out the CDs or plug in the ipod and lend our ears to each other's new favourite songs.<br /><br />I'm sure you see a pattern emerging on my blog; I have a tendency to fill the gaps with music videos when I'm grasping for something to say, where others might use a meme. The music I put on my blog isn't meant to bore the reader - I'm happy to do that with my writing alone. I've been reluctant to share too many details online, but I hope that by listening to a bit of my world that, somehow, you will get to know bits of the real me at the end of this computer.<br /><br />I know that musical tastes can vary from person to person but I would really love to know what your 'life soundtrack' would have on it. Say you limit it to 10 or 12 songs that reflect your personality or experiences at various times in your life. If that seems too complicated, then just pick a CDful (yes, that's a word I made up just now, and I'm keeping it) of your favourites and list them with your comments or blog post, if you feel so inspired. I'm sure this counts as a meme, somehow, but I think that the music that moves and shapes gives as much insight into the personality as any confession could.<br /><br />Here are mine:<br /><br />1. <font style="font-weight:bold;">Peace Train - Cat Stevens</font> : ages 5-10. My parents had Teaser and the Firecat and I adored every track on this album, but a cover of this song, done by Natalie Merchant before she knew that CS had converted to Islam, sealed this as my favourite. I remember doing cartwheels down the hallway while this record was playing on the stereo, in the middle of summer and I especially love the intonation of "Peace train, ho-ly roll-er, everyone jumpuponthepeacetrain"...you get the drift? <br />2. <font style="font-weight:bold;">Kids in America - Kim Wilde</font> : Junior High. What can I say about this song? I loved it and I had a huge crush on KW (though I would have never admitted it at age 13). It was great to dance to and it had a good beat, Dick. I'm giving this song an 8 outta 10!<br />3. <font style="font-weight:bold;">Big Time - Peter Gabriel</font> : High school. I obviously had ideas above my station to identify with the <a href="http://www.lyricsfreak.com/p/peter+gabriel/big+time_20107492.html">lyrics</a>... I wish I had been one of those kids who took all the energy she had in feeling displaced and misunderstood and had done something spectacular with it. I've been living a bit of an insular life for the past twenty years, which is mostly okay but difficult to get out of when you really want to do something that requires the belief of others standing behind you. When I hear this song, however, I think there were a few key opportunities that I didn't take because I was scared and feeling unworthy and I wish I had disregarded that angst and really been "on my way" and "making it". I still love this song because it's a youthful, two-fingered salute to the entropy of small town life.<br />4. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Over the Hills and Far Away - Led Zepplin</span> : High school/college. The melodic beginning turns into a dervish of vocal, guitar and drum genius by Plant, Page and Bonham. It's just a brilliant song that brings back memories of finding my feet as a young adult, and speaks to a romantic and nomadic nature I thought I possessed.<br />5. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Down In It - Nine Inch Nails</span> : early Boston years. I think I fancied myself a tortured soul. There were a few years where my behaviour was a bit sketchy and I found myself in some situations that seemed quite remarkable, at the time. However, looking back I feel more lucky to have weathered them with few or no consequences. Some of my friends weren't so lucky.<br />6. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Mother, Mother - Tracy Bonham</span>: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LaMaVTQKXjc">This video</a>is worth a watch. In the same vein as NIN, it encapsulates the feelings of youth simultaneously trying to break away and be independent whilst still struggling to find their next meal. I remember working in a train station from 6am to 2pm, making minimum wage and blowing most of my paycheck down at the pub, trying to forget that my life was a bit miserable. Oh, and the fact that I think most daughters have strained and strange relationships with their mother, makes TB's song a must-have on my life sountrack.<br />7. Are you getting bored, yet? I'm thinking that I'll save the last six for another day. Enjoy this last vid - it's the English subtitles that I dig. It's saying what I think most of us are saying through our blogs... <br /> <br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lsTO8e-e0rY&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lsTO8e-e0rY&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object>hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-65832360218377118102008-01-10T14:26:00.000+00:002008-01-10T16:18:09.618+00:00This One's for Wry...I have a preference for somewhat thrashy music. I love a good guitar intro and hook. This song has both, I believe, and everytime I hear it, the title reminds me of my favourite Shwissy ex-pat<br /><br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/RmmH5kaYnMA&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/RmmH5kaYnMA&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br /><br />The song is called, "Am I Wry? No." It's by a band called Mew Frengers, who are Danish/Swedish/Norwegian...well, Scandanavian. I bought the CD based on the cover, which has a young girl dressed in a matador costume...it's got a few good songs on it. This one is good to clean house to - the vacuuming gets done lickety-split with thrashy-esque music. Notice the especially pouty lead singer; love him, he's gorgeous.hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-3475965041050594212008-01-08T19:46:00.000+00:002008-01-08T20:59:21.572+00:00A New Year, Same Ol' MeHere I am. Feeling quite good about 2008. I've loved the number eight since I was eight years old. I tell myself that it's because the first letter of my first name is the eighth letter of the alphabet: H (Aitch). Before that time, I had picked the number six and held firmly onto it through my seventh birthday (in case you were wondering whether I was fickle and picked successive numbers according to my year), I loved 'six' until the summer's day when my dear cousin informed me that it was, indeed, the favourite number of Beelzebub. Shock. Horror. Those Southern Baptists ground their truth into me sure enough as the Mormons did. I promptly dropped six and I've been running with eight as my lucky number since that time.<br /><br />I've not got any resolutions, at least not any that haven't been made and broken before. I've got a determination, if you will, to be mindful. I'm going to be mindful of how much I eat, drink and have sex. I'm determined to do less of some and more of others and mind less that others may or may not be able to do more or less of what I've been mindfully determined to do...or not do. Ehem.<br /><br />Roll on 2008, let's see what you've got.hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-70305318849468183362008-01-07T09:48:00.000+00:002008-01-07T09:53:19.384+00:00Free From FearSister Mary Lisa has had some guest posts on her blog as of late, writing about what they would do if only they were free from fear. I thought I would share one of my favourite songs of the moment, aptly titled 'F.E.A.R.', by the singer that put 'man' in Manchester, Ian Brown. Here is 4:05 minutes' worth of another perspective of fear - <br /><br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/V75ybmmoGMs&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/V75ybmmoGMs&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object>hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-62564162408858127842007-12-14T10:06:00.000+00:002007-12-14T13:35:12.304+00:00Hairspray was Divine...I've been lazy. I've been busy lurking on other people's blogs. I've been away with the fairies and a touch ill. Whatever you call it, I've not touched this blog in over a week and I thought I would just touch base and leave a quick note that Jay and I traveled up to the West End on Tuesday for a bit of a birthday show. We saw 'Hairspray' a la stage musical incarnation. I think Jon Waters would have been mildly pleased that his movie has been turned into a show that seems to rank with the 1990's version of 'Rent' and the current touring phenomenon, 'Mamma Mia', in terms of crowd pleasers and interactivity. I doubt, however, it would have <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">interested</span> Waters. The candy-coated stage adaptation of the movie (which starred the late-great, faeces-scoffing Divine) only had a few bright moments - the duet between Edna and Wilbur Turnblatt (Michael Ball and Mel Smith) and the closing number of the first act were top notch. All the rest was predictable and silly. Perhaps you will think that musical theatre is supposed to be light and easy on the ear, but I think that the storyline, as it was written for the stage, was actually too complicated. Trying to address the issues of integration, fat-phobia, juvenile delinquency, classism and dead-end extistences by reducing it to a few 'fat misguided girl makes good and leads the march for change on a segregated show' numbers, meant it felt old and tired quite quickly. I don't blame the stage actors - renewed general interest in Waters' work may mean that there <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">is</span> room for quirky and odd in the big money business of theatre and movie remakes.<br />Overall, I have to give the production two and a half stars. I hope that doesn't deter anyone from seeing it, in principle. It's an honourable attempt at recreating the wackiness that is Jon Waters, it just failed to hit its mark consistently and fluently. It was (as my writing has often been described) awkward. Awkward is okay if you don't charge money to see a production, like I did with my early childhood, neighbourhood shows. It's really not okay if you have to pay £60 for two hours of it...hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-63360508356010906512007-12-05T15:25:00.000+00:002007-12-06T14:22:12.434+00:00Happy Birthday, Tendy!Today you are two. Your day started off a bit shaky and in the last twenty-four hours you have been asserting your will in a way I have never before seen. It is, in equal measures, thrilling and frustrating for you are no longer content to follow me blindly. You have things you want to do and places you want go to and all the menial tasks like brushing your hair and teeth and putting on clothes are completely useless exercises.<br /><br />I have been fortunate to know you like no other child. We are together for ten hours a day, five days a week and even though I am not your mother, you are like my child. I wish for you a life full of experience. I want you to know what it is like to hurt, to feel joy, to have the confidence to make mistakes and the humility to recognize your failings. I want you to try to be patient with others and with yourself - life is full of repetition and is often mundane. I will try to show you the beauty in boredom and the glory in watching the world go past.<br /><br />I want for you to be as honest with others and yourself as you can possibly be - you will be able to build a more authentic self when you know what your reality truly is. I hope you always take the opportunity to make someone else's day brighter with your beautiful smile - it's one of the unsung perks of my job to watch your face light up.<br /><br />Today you are two. Happy Birthday.hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-18610405115100772692007-11-16T13:47:00.000+00:002007-11-16T13:50:28.294+00:00When the words don't come so easily...Unfortunately the 's' sound is a bit difficult for him at the moment.<br /><br />"Tendy, say box."<br />"Bock..."<br />"Tendy, say socks."<br />"Sock..."<br />"Tendy, what is that animal?"<br />"Fock..."hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-81727626923585439302007-11-15T09:53:00.000+00:002007-11-15T13:41:45.489+00:00This is Paris..<span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic">This</span> past weekend I had the opportunity to visit Paris and she did not disappoint. I have come away enchanted and enamoured, once more. I have always thought of Paris as the lover that I was slightly unworthy of touching and so I ignored her beauty, preferring instead to wax lyrical about my current life in London or my previous lives in Massachusetts, or New Mexico, my childhood home. I know that after three visits that suppressing your desire for Paris is like holding your breath indefinitely: it cannot be done.<br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic">Paris</span> does not have the finest restaurants in the world, unless you are in the know. I believe that most in the centre of Paris are overpriced and lacking in culinary imagination – I’ve had more value for money from Pizza Express in East Dulwich. However, even in the most average of brasseries along the banks of the Seine, there is a feeling that you are stepping into a timeless culture of civility, intelligentsia and decorum, and I certainly believe that ambience overrules food, in this instance.<br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic">People</span> watching opportunities abound and the cafés encourage it – facing the outdoor chairs to the pavement. There is intensity in the Gallic body language, which infected our party of American ex-pats; after two bottles of Pinot Blanc and another bottle of dry white, we discussed even the most trivial issues with fervour. Legs crossed, elbows on tables holding imaginary cigarettes and sipping cups of coffee and snifters of grappa, we only lacked berets (except Chanson who very wisely brought hers) and polo neck sweaters. We joined the leagues of world travellers who, momentarily, believed they were part of the French Revolution, the egalitarian dreams of Socialism, Marxism and the Republic, and the joie de vivre of inhabiting such a vibrant city with its natives, even for a few short days.<br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic">With</span> the construction of faster rails in the UK and the opening of St Pancras station as Eurostar's new London home, the train ride from the UK to Paris Gare du Nord has been cut to just over two hours, which, as I heard on the radio the other morning, means that it is quicker to ride to Paris than it is to the north of England. I will not wait as long to visit her next time, and I hope that she will let me love her a bit more.<br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic">This</span> is Paris, and she is a lady. She is savvy, well-dressed, discrete, and smart. She was everything beautiful last weekend. Any flaws she has only perfect her. I am in love again.hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-17125884647439572532007-11-06T11:55:00.000+00:002007-11-06T12:04:30.723+00:00What I've been contemplating...A quote from Czesław Miłosz's book, 'The Captive Mind'.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><blockquote>When someone is honestly 55% right, that's very good and there's no use wrangling. And if someone is 60% right, it's wonderful, it's great luck, and let him thank God. But what's to be said about 75% right? Wise people say this is suspicious. Well, and what about 100% right? Whoever says he's 100% right is a fanatic, a thug, and the worst kind of rascal. <span style="font-style: italic;"> -</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">An old Jew of Galicia</span></span></blockquote></span><br /></div><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span>hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-58846903154078373702007-10-07T09:44:00.000+00:002007-10-07T10:32:40.113+00:00Today's MenuFinding a simple balance in life is difficult, at best. We live in an age that is complicated by the choices we have before us. Never before, have so many people had so many options. Our time is measured in the hours, minutes and seconds taken reading a label on a tin of kidney beans to find out the sodium content, figuring the gas mileage of the car on a recent road trip, digesting the thoughts behind an opinion page of our local paper or running an all-important errand. From these actions spring other options - no one thing is ever finite or closed and, generally, I find that in performing a primary action, at least two other secondary actions or options snake off the side and I end up performing or contemplate performing those, as well. For instance, I am writing this entry but also warming my feet by sitting cross-legged and tucking my toes in the crooks of my knees. I will, at some point, be inspired to put some socks on simply because it's difficult to warm one's feet from the heat coming off nylon jogging bottoms (or maybe I just don't have my toes tucked in the correct crooks). Anyway, the dog will follow me to the sock drawer and because getting dressed is a signal to her that there is a possible w-a-l-k in store for her, she will whine until she steers my actions to exchange my slobby jogging attire for jeans, boots, a fleece and a hat (today is not a hairwashing day) and take her to the park (why can't she just use the back garden like other dogs?).<br />Which park? The options are endless in London. Most likely, it will be the local park up the hill, and it will be a good, long walk around the circuitous path that outlines the vast green lawns and clusters of trees. At any point we might cut across the lawn, walk through the Victorian maze, visit the dinosaurs* or stroll along the avenue of oak and chestnut trees near the cafe. I suppose what I'm getting at in the long-winded post is that even in a simple action such as taking a dog for a walk I am presented with a myriad of options, opportunities to make choices and decisions to take along the way. I will often make a move only out of necessity (dog needs a walk, my knees are stiffening up hence I am no longer sitting cross-legged and my need for socks is now greater) and in my life I would much rather make decisions and consider my options because of a choice I've made beforehand than out of necessity. Rarely do the big decisions come down to that, though. We need something drastically and we must therefore make a series of moves that takes us there. Honestly. The kidney bean thing may be the only thing we really can control.hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-21959459527152433862007-10-04T18:27:00.000+00:002007-10-04T18:29:34.963+00:00September, October, whatever...Because Rageh Omar digs EW&F, and I dig Rageh Omar<br /><br /><object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ilNtkZmWCQM"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ilNtkZmWCQM" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object>hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-19048295563791818832007-10-03T13:23:00.000+00:002007-10-03T13:40:50.322+00:00Phobia, phobiaDid I mention a few weeks ago that the wasps were dying and that the autumn makes them lazy and prone to stinging? Have I ever filled in a meme describing my greatest (irrational) fear? Two words, beginning with 'b' and 'w' and rhyming with 'fee' and 'posp'. I hate the bloody things and my irrational fear of them has caused me to perform feats of strength and speed in an attempt to overpower or outrun the little critters. I've never been stung, repeat: never been stung. Nonetheless, I am a complete sissy when it comes to dealing with bees and wasps and those around me have had to put up with my arm waving and screeching for almost four decades. I'm at a loss. Why does it cause me such distress? Well, today I managed to frighten a dog and a boy with my antics whilst walking with them in the woods behind my house. A 'lazy' wasp got lodged in my hair, right behind my ear and then flew into the collar of my shirt and was gzzzing around my neck and head for ages. Thankfully there were no other people (except little boy and dog) in the woods when I decided to start flailing and keening (I don't don't scream for some reason), ripping off my jacket and shirt to dislodge the wasp from my most important body parts. I think the sight of a half-dressed, grown woman standing in the woods with a dog trying to dodge waving arms and a toddler crying in distress is enough to make anyone phone for social services. I need help. Anyone know of a good hypnotherapist? Wry?hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-17941411109756736162007-09-27T08:40:00.000+00:002007-09-27T08:47:23.169+00:00I've got ten minutes.I've got ten minutes to construct a lucid post before I have to jet out of here with a toddler-in-tow to playgroup. Can I do it? Doubtful. It's been one week since last I've posted on this blog. I've been flitting around and commenting on others' blogs (some nice comments, some silly comments, and some rather bizarre comments) - sorry if you were on the receiving end of one of my silly/bizarre comments. I'm up for blaming something else entirely, namely the water, the acupuncture treatment I've been receiving, the change of the seasons, the lack of inspiration for my own writing, my upcoming exams, the upcoming trip to Poland/France/the Maudsley, etc.<br /><br />Right, I've now used up two minutes - I've got eight minutes left. Actually, I don't have eight minutes left because I do have to load the dishwasher, tidy up the toys, brush one youngster's teeth and hair. I'll sign off now.hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-52253502247365002122007-09-21T07:36:00.000+00:002007-09-21T13:06:31.640+00:00A Healthy Dose of Reality<blockquote></blockquote>This week marks the third anniversary of my SO's father's death. He had battled non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, living with it for 15 years (!) and knowing that he would eventually die from it. He had a brilliant oncologist who was able to give him a decent quality of life for as long as possible. Credit to John, he was an active man who enjoyed bellringing, golf, the internet, the Guardian crossword, reading, Elgar and a multitude of other interests. He was honest in his dealings with people and always spoke to me in a manner that suggested he saw me as an equal. We spoke of science and politics and he was curious to know my viewpoint, as an American citizen, and as a woman. I miss John in the same way I miss my maternal grandmother. They were people who allowed me inside and spoke with me on a level, shared a joke with me and asked me questions. It's small things like that that keep them alive in my memory, and I guess I try to occasionally remember them - I think it's all they would have wanted from me.<br /><br />This leads me to the next thought, which is that I no longer believe in anything beyond this life. It can be a depressing thought for some that this is all there is to life; that it ends when it ends. It was a bit of a corner-turning moment for me when the cogs in my head clicked into a lower gear, and I started thinking about all the ramifications of not having to answer to a higher being from beyond. I stopped lying to myself and stopped lying to others (for the most part). What was the point? I didn't have to answer to anyone except myself and if I looked like a fool for trying to fool others, then it was me who had to live with that. I started valuing life for what it was. For some people life is horrible. Religion tries to give people personal pat answers about what life should mean and convince them of a reality that asks, in my opinion, far too much and changes with the weather. I wasn't going to try and convince others of a reality that no longer existed, for me, nor was I going to try and keep up with another edict, another commandment, another interpretation of holy text.<br /><br />John's honesty was a mainstay in my life and quite instrumental in a shift in my thinking. He never tried to enforce his reality upon me, but his reality never changed whereas my thinking shifted all over the place. He knew his was a life cut shorter than average. He never cursed nor praised God, that I heard. He just got on with it* and tried to live as long as he could.<br /><br />Yesterday, I listened to a programmed called 'Word of Mouth', on BBC's Radio 4. A guest speaker, his name escapes me, mentioned that religious phrases have crept into politics, both in the US and the UK, and that the apocalyptic rhetoric is being used more and more to convince people to vote out of fear. Emotional responses to difficult decisions always seem to yield poor results. Our emotions change; I believe that they are the key things that shape our reality. <span style="font-style: italic;">I have an adverse reaction to something and so my whole life is built upon avoidance of that thing.</span> Can you imagine what our world would be like if we based our decisions on practicality and logic, rather than emotions? It may not be practical, after all, but it would be an interesting change from the highly-charged reactions, that may be appropriate in the short term, but devastating for the long term.<br /><br />That's it for today. It's just a thought. What do you think?hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-55357217253101611002007-09-18T13:22:00.000+00:002007-09-18T13:45:21.024+00:00Congratulations Pub Quiz No. 1Well, the results for the first ever blog pub quiz are in and I am happy to say that Pub Club Foot has a winner with Mabel and Team Sunset Zamboni. Congratulations Mabel and thank you so much for playing along! For those of you interested in the answers to the pub quiz questions then read below.<br /><br />Mabel, I will send your <a href="http://www.librarything.com/work/2765148&book=17998465">prize</a> in the post and you should get it in the next few weeks.<br /><br />Pub Quiz No. 1 Answers<br /><br />ROUND 1<br />1. What is the relatively uncommon disease caused by consumption or contact with Fava Beans called? <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Favism!</span></span><br />2. If you perform 'hana giri' to a radish, what are you doing? <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Cutting it into the shape of a flower.</span></span><br />3. How many pints of ale are normally imbibed before the Quizmaster must excuse herself and nip to the toilet?<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Usually 1 and a half. On my way back from the toilet I get another round of drinks for the table. TMI?</span></span><br />4. What happens upon consumption of either a Fly Agaric or a Yellow Stainer?<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> DEATH! They are poisonous mushrooms.</span></span><br />5. What is the Quizmaster's favourite restaurant?<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Terre a terre, in Brighton.</span></span><br />6. Finish this limerick by filling in the blanks:<br /> "There was an old ______________ of Crediton <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">gourmet</span><br /> Who ate ___________________ having spread it on <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">pate fois gras</span></span><br /> A chocolate biscuit<br /> He boomed 'Hell, I'll risk it!'<br /> His _____________ bears the date that he said it on." <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">tomb</span></span><br />7. What does the 'Scoville Scale' measure? <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Heat in chillies.</span></span><br />8. The 'zucchini' is also called a ________________ in the UK. <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Courgette</span></span><br />9 Which food could the Quizmaster eat 3 x daily for the rest of her life? <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Cold cereal, oddly enough.</span></span><br />10. In the UK, which food is generally eaten on Shrove Tuesday? <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Pancakes, in a bid to eat up all the prohibited foodstuffs just before Lent.</span></span><br /><br />ROUND 2<br />1. In poetry, who was the famous son of Weno'nah? <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Hiawatha. Sorry, I misspelled the name the first time.</span></span><br />2. What occupation practices 'maquillage'? <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Make-up artist.</span></span><br />3. What is the chemical formulation for carbon monoxide?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> CO</span></span><br />4. What is the Quizmaster's favourite pastime? <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Slacking!</span></span><br />5. What was Miss Piggy's character name in 'Muppet Treasure Island'?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> Benjamina Gunn</span></span><br />6. Who has the sauciest avatar of the Quizmaster's readership? <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">SML</span></span><br />7. Which future saint took part in the stoning of St Stephen? <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">St. Paul</span></span><br />8. Which African country is closest to Italy? <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Tunisia.</span></span><br />9. What is the name of the Quizmaster's dog? <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Wonder Pup</span></span><br />10. What breed of dog is the Quizmaster's dog? <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Part dog, part baby.</span></span>hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-60733408720592724292007-09-17T11:51:00.000+00:002007-09-17T12:36:15.899+00:00Why it's impossible to live life without sometimes looking like a titThe good thing about arriving in Paris a day ahead of meeting up with SML, Wry and Chanson is that I will get a chance to finally visit the Pompidou Centre, which houses a few floors of contemporary art and is situated near the Les Halles area. I cannot automatically assume that anyone else will be remotely interested in modern art when Paris has the granddaddy and grandmammy of all museums, the Louvre and Musee d'Orsay filled to the brim with Renaissance and Impressionist masterpieces, and so I will try to get my fill of abstract impressionism, fauvism and cubism on the Saturday afternoon. I say try. I will try to make it through the door of the Pompidou Centre, this time. The last time J and I went to Paris, I stubbornly got into a queue filled with a few uniformed groups of kids, a bunch of Japanese 20-something tourists and a German or two. J motioned to me to read the sign she had just found but I shot her a smug (and probably rather ugly) look that said, 'See, I can find the fastest moving queue. Now, hop up here beside me.' The two groups of schoolkids were accompanied by two adults who managed to herd them through the ropes, past the security guard and into the treasure trove of spattered, squiggled and globular painted canvasses and sculpture. I was salivating and a wee bit sweaty from the anticipation.<br />"Ecole?" the guard asked looking from me to J to the Japanese tourists. The Germans had, by that time, left the queue and were wandering around taking pictures of the outside of the building.<br />My eyebrows shot up. Again, he asked, "Ecole?" I paused. J paused.<br />Finally, I blurted out, "Je m'appelle Aitch..." F*ck! Why did I tell him my name?<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">His</span> eyebrows shot up. My face turned hot and a droplet of sweat ran down the side of my face.<br />The guard, probably very nicely, explained to us that we were standing at the entrance for the schools but in my head it sounded like the French version of, "YOU are a supreme idiot!"<br />I was too mortified to look for the other entrance and so J and I found a McDonalds and got a coffee (I know, I know but I was traumatized by the experience and I needed the comfort of familiarity found in the face of a capitalist clown...sue me.).<br /><br />I'm looking forward to a Saturday in Paris. I know where the main entrance for the Pompidou Centre is located. If you see me on Sunday and I've got a red face, just go with my explanation that it's sunburn.hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6672695532236349394.post-48711152479461711842007-09-14T12:44:00.000+00:002007-09-14T12:51:50.745+00:00Stone Roses fan?Just thought you might be interested in a brilliant new song from former Stone Roses' frontman, Ian Brown.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/pqfBH1IJkWo"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/pqfBH1IJkWo" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="350"></embed></object>hm-ukhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15123301692688850355noreply@blogger.com0