The end is nigh!
Well, of 2009, anyway. As for the world, who knows, but hopefully there's plenty of life in the old dog yet as I'm having a great time.
Since I last put fingers to plastic and left something here life has been busy, but satisfying.
We saw Numan do his 30th anniversary Pleasure Principle show at the Indigo2, and it was one of the best (of more than thirty) shows I've seen him do. Ever. Hell even got chilly for a moment when the self-professed King Loather of nostalgia even admitted to having enjoyed the tour greatly! Stranger things, my friends, stranger things.....
Caught up with Dad again for the second time this year, which was great as always, and celebrated Tav's 17th and Kez's 15th birthdays. In the three years I've known them they've both grown so much, and my life is a much richer place for having them in it (and, of course, their wonderful mother!)
As the year draws to a close, it doesn't feel like 10 years since we celebrated the turn of the millennium, and the old cliche about life speeding up as your get older seems to be holding some grain of truth, as the last 12 months have sped by faster than a speeding speedy thing.
I have just 4 more working days left this year (though, sadly, about 10 days worth of work to do!) and then I settle into 10 days of catching up with friends, family and all the other pleasures that I seem to have so little time for these days.
I resolve to write at least one more blog before the end of the year, so it's not quite farewell (unlike Terry Wogan, who hung up his Breakfast Show gloves for the last time today), but if the year has been a party, then I'm about to head to the cloakroom for my hat and coat.
I'll see you at the exit.....
Tuesday 22 December 2009
Saturday 31 October 2009
Dead Good
Ahhh, Halloween, how I love thee.
Easily my favourite holiday (though thanks to Deborah I am learning to lvoe Xmas too), tonight we're having a small gathering with our friends Dave and Ros for games, beer and hopefully to scare the bejeezuz out of any trick or treaters!
Leatherface is on duty in the front window, my Jason costume is ready to go, and we've got an eight foot spider hanging from the living room ceiling.
Right, time to go be weird and scary (so no change there then) :-)
Have a frightful evening one and all, and if you come calling at a certain house with Leatherface in the window, beware the dark carport, there might just be something lurking in there........
Easily my favourite holiday (though thanks to Deborah I am learning to lvoe Xmas too), tonight we're having a small gathering with our friends Dave and Ros for games, beer and hopefully to scare the bejeezuz out of any trick or treaters!
Leatherface is on duty in the front window, my Jason costume is ready to go, and we've got an eight foot spider hanging from the living room ceiling.
Right, time to go be weird and scary (so no change there then) :-)
Have a frightful evening one and all, and if you come calling at a certain house with Leatherface in the window, beware the dark carport, there might just be something lurking in there........
Wednesday 23 September 2009
Quiet On Set, Please
This past weekend we headed up to a small hamlet on the north eastern coast of Norfolk to visit a film set.
Not Alone, an upcoming British psychological horror movie, is lensing on location in Happisburgh, which proved to be a devil to find, but the experience of interviewing the crew and director was fantastic.
Though you think you can imagine what it's like, you're never going to be prepared for the amount of waiting around on set between takes. Not that it's boring, not at all, especially when it's a friendly crew who make you feel welcome.
Director Tristan Versluis was a true gent, inviting me to have pretty much free run of the location and sitting down for a lengthy interview at the end of the afternoon's shooting.
Likewise Production Designer Mel Light, camera team member Martyn Chalk, and Gaffer cum everything Al Montgomery proved to be a very kindred spirit in his love of the genre.
Deborah shot some great pics, andnow all I need to do is write up the article, which I'm having great fun doing.
The best thing about the day? It all came about because of wheels that I had put in motion many months ago, proving that if you really want to do something, to achieve your goals, then you can do yourself favour by making some of your own luck.
Big thanks to all on Not Alone, and looking forward to seeing the finished movie in due course.
Not Alone, an upcoming British psychological horror movie, is lensing on location in Happisburgh, which proved to be a devil to find, but the experience of interviewing the crew and director was fantastic.
Though you think you can imagine what it's like, you're never going to be prepared for the amount of waiting around on set between takes. Not that it's boring, not at all, especially when it's a friendly crew who make you feel welcome.
Director Tristan Versluis was a true gent, inviting me to have pretty much free run of the location and sitting down for a lengthy interview at the end of the afternoon's shooting.
Likewise Production Designer Mel Light, camera team member Martyn Chalk, and Gaffer cum everything Al Montgomery proved to be a very kindred spirit in his love of the genre.
Deborah shot some great pics, andnow all I need to do is write up the article, which I'm having great fun doing.
The best thing about the day? It all came about because of wheels that I had put in motion many months ago, proving that if you really want to do something, to achieve your goals, then you can do yourself favour by making some of your own luck.
Big thanks to all on Not Alone, and looking forward to seeing the finished movie in due course.
Wednesday 12 August 2009
Waving Goodbye
As Steve Miller once astutely noted, "Time keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking, ticking into the future," and once more I find almost a month has passed since my last entry.
One momentous event that is disappearing into the rear view mirror of my life is the final headlining performance in this country of one my alltime favourite bands, Nine Inch Nails. Almost twenty years have passed since I first discovered Trent Reznor and he has kept me entertained, sane, and alive in varying degrees ever since.
So it came to pass that we all went to the Wave Goodbye gig at the O2 (which grows on me more and more as a venue despite my dislike of big venues) to hear a varied and fan-pleasing set that was crowned by an appearance by one of Reznor's influences, and the man who I have to thank for a lifetime of music and inspiration, Gary Numan.
Numan was greeted by raptuous applause, much as he was twenty six years previously when he became the first gig I saw at Nottingham's Royal Concert Hall on his 'comeback' tour in support of 1983's Warriors album.
Seeing two of musical heroes on the same stage was nothing short of breathtaking and with NIN retiring from the live arena I can think of no beter way to wave goodbye to them.
Numan was in fine form a week or so later, too, when we saw him in the much more intimate surroundings of Shepherd's Bush Empire. Come December we're returning, together, to the Indigo2 for a third time to see the classic Pleasure Principle album played from front to back, a gig we're already anticipating with some excitement.
On the immediate horizon, I'm having my first two week block off work for some four years kicking off on Friday, and I can't wait to spend some quality, relaxing time with the family, both at home and down in Cornwall, where my trigger finger is itching to shoot many, many pictures.
One momentous event that is disappearing into the rear view mirror of my life is the final headlining performance in this country of one my alltime favourite bands, Nine Inch Nails. Almost twenty years have passed since I first discovered Trent Reznor and he has kept me entertained, sane, and alive in varying degrees ever since.
So it came to pass that we all went to the Wave Goodbye gig at the O2 (which grows on me more and more as a venue despite my dislike of big venues) to hear a varied and fan-pleasing set that was crowned by an appearance by one of Reznor's influences, and the man who I have to thank for a lifetime of music and inspiration, Gary Numan.
Numan was greeted by raptuous applause, much as he was twenty six years previously when he became the first gig I saw at Nottingham's Royal Concert Hall on his 'comeback' tour in support of 1983's Warriors album.
Seeing two of musical heroes on the same stage was nothing short of breathtaking and with NIN retiring from the live arena I can think of no beter way to wave goodbye to them.
Numan was in fine form a week or so later, too, when we saw him in the much more intimate surroundings of Shepherd's Bush Empire. Come December we're returning, together, to the Indigo2 for a third time to see the classic Pleasure Principle album played from front to back, a gig we're already anticipating with some excitement.
On the immediate horizon, I'm having my first two week block off work for some four years kicking off on Friday, and I can't wait to spend some quality, relaxing time with the family, both at home and down in Cornwall, where my trigger finger is itching to shoot many, many pictures.
Monday 27 July 2009
Straight Up!
In all my time on this planet I've never been up in a helicopter. Until today, that is.
We met up with a friend of ours and his young lady for a sumptuous three course lunch at Hintlesham Hall in Suffolk, and Peter being Peter decided to eschew public transport and instead helicopter down from the wilds of Yorkshire where he is sometimes based to his work premises in London. Handily this meant he could drop out of the sky a few miles from us, giving me an excuse to take a day off and for us all to meet him for lunch.
It's always great catching up - the last time we saw each other was at a villa in Portugal in February, but his suggestion that the pilot, Steve, take us up for a quick buzz of our house was an unexpected bonus, and so we found ourselves crossing the Suffolk/Essex border at 900 feet to look down on where we live.
The ride itself was fantastic. We hardly knew that we had taken off, such was the smooth ascent (though the ground rapidly moving away was something of a giveaway), and hurtling through the air, watching the cars crawl like ants along the ribbon thin roads, trying to spot familiar sights from a whole new angle was exhilarating.
I must admit I had a slight trepidation about asecnding in a metal dragonfly, but once strapped in and filled with confidence by the fact that Steve was ex-RAF and had flown a few of these things in his time, the experience was one of the better ones I've had in recent years.
The pseudo freedom of hurtling through the air with only a glass screen to protect us from the elements was unlike anything I've ever been party to. Sat in the body of an airliner you barely know you're airborne, but here, strapped into the front seat I could see everything.
All too soon the ride was over, and we engaged in our delightful lunch, but it's definitely an experience that I want to repeat.
We met up with a friend of ours and his young lady for a sumptuous three course lunch at Hintlesham Hall in Suffolk, and Peter being Peter decided to eschew public transport and instead helicopter down from the wilds of Yorkshire where he is sometimes based to his work premises in London. Handily this meant he could drop out of the sky a few miles from us, giving me an excuse to take a day off and for us all to meet him for lunch.
It's always great catching up - the last time we saw each other was at a villa in Portugal in February, but his suggestion that the pilot, Steve, take us up for a quick buzz of our house was an unexpected bonus, and so we found ourselves crossing the Suffolk/Essex border at 900 feet to look down on where we live.
The ride itself was fantastic. We hardly knew that we had taken off, such was the smooth ascent (though the ground rapidly moving away was something of a giveaway), and hurtling through the air, watching the cars crawl like ants along the ribbon thin roads, trying to spot familiar sights from a whole new angle was exhilarating.
I must admit I had a slight trepidation about asecnding in a metal dragonfly, but once strapped in and filled with confidence by the fact that Steve was ex-RAF and had flown a few of these things in his time, the experience was one of the better ones I've had in recent years.
The pseudo freedom of hurtling through the air with only a glass screen to protect us from the elements was unlike anything I've ever been party to. Sat in the body of an airliner you barely know you're airborne, but here, strapped into the front seat I could see everything.
All too soon the ride was over, and we engaged in our delightful lunch, but it's definitely an experience that I want to repeat.
Wednesday 1 July 2009
The K-erching! of Pop
I suppose it was inevitable, but even so, it causes the bile to rise at the back of my throat.
Michael Jackson, as you might have heard, is dead. The King of Pop has moonwalked his way to the great gig in the sky and now the real business has begun of selling his death to the masses.
It’s nothing new, of course. Ever since The King (no assignation needed) checked out of Heartbreak Hotel the money makers have been quick to cash in and milk the grieving fans for all they are worth. The same thing happened with Cobain, Mercury, Lennon and lest we forget the Queen of our Hearts, Diana Spencer.
Somehow, though, and perhaps because no entertainer since Elvis has permeated society and culture in the way the Jackson did, the frenzy surrounding his death seems particularly distasteful.
Here in the UK a popular ‘chat’ magazine called OK! Has produced its version of a Jackson tribute issue and to show their love and admiration for one of the greatest entertainers of recent times they’ve not gone with the obvious picture from his finest years, nor one of him as a doting father, nor even one of his recent visit to London to announce his record breaking run of shows at the O2.
No, instead they’ve gone with a close up shot of him on a stretcher, oxygen mask strapped to his gaunt face, being wheeled into an ambulance, and if reports are to be believed that he had stopped breathing some time before that, technically dead. Yep, OK magazine really love and respect him.
The other notable cynical ply to tap into the grief of the hardcore Jackson fans comes from the promoter, AEG Live, who have come up with a ruse to attempt to minimise their losses from refunding upwards of £50 million in ticket sales that would be laughable if it weren’t so sickening.
Knowing that the ‘true’ Jackson fans will want some final memento to remember their hero by, they are making the kind offer of allowing the fans to be sent the original tickets for the gig, a hologram encased in plastic designed by Jackson himself, in return for waiving their right to a refund.
Now, given that the average ticket price was somewhere between £50 and £75, and that the tickets themselves must have cost all of a pound at most to produce (and probably considerably less given that there will have been approximately one million of them produced), this is nothing but a shameless ploy to play on the emotions of the diehard fans who will want to have something to remember the night they never saw their hero.
These examples are but two of many that I’m sure we’ll see over the next few weeks, the most obvious being the currently in production DVD of the tour rehearsals that will no doubt be released ‘because the fans demanded it’, but the one saving grace is that Jackson himself, whatever you thought of him, is not around to suffer anymore at the hands of those who seek nothing more than to exploit him.
Michael Jackson, as you might have heard, is dead. The King of Pop has moonwalked his way to the great gig in the sky and now the real business has begun of selling his death to the masses.
It’s nothing new, of course. Ever since The King (no assignation needed) checked out of Heartbreak Hotel the money makers have been quick to cash in and milk the grieving fans for all they are worth. The same thing happened with Cobain, Mercury, Lennon and lest we forget the Queen of our Hearts, Diana Spencer.
Somehow, though, and perhaps because no entertainer since Elvis has permeated society and culture in the way the Jackson did, the frenzy surrounding his death seems particularly distasteful.
Here in the UK a popular ‘chat’ magazine called OK! Has produced its version of a Jackson tribute issue and to show their love and admiration for one of the greatest entertainers of recent times they’ve not gone with the obvious picture from his finest years, nor one of him as a doting father, nor even one of his recent visit to London to announce his record breaking run of shows at the O2.
No, instead they’ve gone with a close up shot of him on a stretcher, oxygen mask strapped to his gaunt face, being wheeled into an ambulance, and if reports are to be believed that he had stopped breathing some time before that, technically dead. Yep, OK magazine really love and respect him.
The other notable cynical ply to tap into the grief of the hardcore Jackson fans comes from the promoter, AEG Live, who have come up with a ruse to attempt to minimise their losses from refunding upwards of £50 million in ticket sales that would be laughable if it weren’t so sickening.
Knowing that the ‘true’ Jackson fans will want some final memento to remember their hero by, they are making the kind offer of allowing the fans to be sent the original tickets for the gig, a hologram encased in plastic designed by Jackson himself, in return for waiving their right to a refund.
Now, given that the average ticket price was somewhere between £50 and £75, and that the tickets themselves must have cost all of a pound at most to produce (and probably considerably less given that there will have been approximately one million of them produced), this is nothing but a shameless ploy to play on the emotions of the diehard fans who will want to have something to remember the night they never saw their hero.
These examples are but two of many that I’m sure we’ll see over the next few weeks, the most obvious being the currently in production DVD of the tour rehearsals that will no doubt be released ‘because the fans demanded it’, but the one saving grace is that Jackson himself, whatever you thought of him, is not around to suffer anymore at the hands of those who seek nothing more than to exploit him.
Monday 22 June 2009
Red Rumps and Red Planets
It was a weekend of sadness and joy, of loss and of sharing.
Friday brought the terrible news that our beloved red rump parakeet Ruby had reached the point where her chest infection, which had seen her spend three days in an oxygen tent at the beginning of the week, had reached the end of the line, and so with very heavy hearts we agreed to the vet's advice that the kindest thing would be to have her put down.
Those of you who have or have ever owned pets will no doubt feel the same pang of loss, of sorrow that descended on us, and those who never have will wonder what all the fuss is about, but the fact remains that we will miss Ruby's unique character, her personality, her look of absolute hatred at me whenever it was time to capture her and clip her nails, and her melodious tones that used to serenade us from dawn until dusk.
Spark, her partner, is doing a grand job of filling in the missing notes, and has set about adopting us as his flock now that he's on his own in the cage. We're only too happy to oblige.
Saturday brought smiles as we ventured up to the O2 arena to see Jeff Wayne's The War of the Worlds in all its live glory. It was my third time, and the best yet, not only because of the enhanced special effects, but because I got to share it with the people who mean the most to me, Deborah, Kez and Tav.
Such is life, though, the ups and the downs, the peaks and the troughs, the deaths and the martian invasions, all of which make it a wonderful experience, best shared with loved ones.
Friday brought the terrible news that our beloved red rump parakeet Ruby had reached the point where her chest infection, which had seen her spend three days in an oxygen tent at the beginning of the week, had reached the end of the line, and so with very heavy hearts we agreed to the vet's advice that the kindest thing would be to have her put down.
Those of you who have or have ever owned pets will no doubt feel the same pang of loss, of sorrow that descended on us, and those who never have will wonder what all the fuss is about, but the fact remains that we will miss Ruby's unique character, her personality, her look of absolute hatred at me whenever it was time to capture her and clip her nails, and her melodious tones that used to serenade us from dawn until dusk.
Spark, her partner, is doing a grand job of filling in the missing notes, and has set about adopting us as his flock now that he's on his own in the cage. We're only too happy to oblige.
Saturday brought smiles as we ventured up to the O2 arena to see Jeff Wayne's The War of the Worlds in all its live glory. It was my third time, and the best yet, not only because of the enhanced special effects, but because I got to share it with the people who mean the most to me, Deborah, Kez and Tav.
Such is life, though, the ups and the downs, the peaks and the troughs, the deaths and the martian invasions, all of which make it a wonderful experience, best shared with loved ones.
Wednesday 17 June 2009
Good Times
Time, once again, flies by at an unfeasible rate of knots.
The last four weeks have seen a myriad of great things happen. We spent the weekend in London with friends from LA, Fangoria turned 30, Tav has had his final day of compulsory schooling, I've finished the second revision of the book, and we are all off to see Jeff Wayne's War of the Worlds live at the O2 Arena this Saturday.
Good times.
Since the last entry I've found myself writing entries in my head, but I must discipline myself to actually translate these thoughts to the screen rather than keep them to myself.
I have flashes of memories that seem relevant. Like discovering issue 49 of Fango in a dark and dingy newagents in Nottingham in 1984, or standing staring at the sea in the darkness listening to yearzero for the first time, or the first time I fell asleep with Deborah in my arms.
All things that are forever resident in my mind, and that make me what and who I am.
Good times. And may there be many more to make many more memories.
The last four weeks have seen a myriad of great things happen. We spent the weekend in London with friends from LA, Fangoria turned 30, Tav has had his final day of compulsory schooling, I've finished the second revision of the book, and we are all off to see Jeff Wayne's War of the Worlds live at the O2 Arena this Saturday.
Good times.
Since the last entry I've found myself writing entries in my head, but I must discipline myself to actually translate these thoughts to the screen rather than keep them to myself.
I have flashes of memories that seem relevant. Like discovering issue 49 of Fango in a dark and dingy newagents in Nottingham in 1984, or standing staring at the sea in the darkness listening to yearzero for the first time, or the first time I fell asleep with Deborah in my arms.
All things that are forever resident in my mind, and that make me what and who I am.
Good times. And may there be many more to make many more memories.
Friday 8 May 2009
Thank You....
.... for believing in me
.... for accepting that my faults and flaws are part of what make me me
.... for understanding that behind this man mask there is a playful, shy, loving little boy
.... for helping me to change the things I can and live with the things I can't
.... for making me happy, content and secure
.... for being patient when I am infuriating
.... for forgiving me when I am thoughtless and selfish
.... for making this life a wonderful thing to live through
.... for filling the .dark. shaped hole that I never realised was in my heart
.... but most of all ....
Thank you for being you, with me.
.... for accepting that my faults and flaws are part of what make me me
.... for understanding that behind this man mask there is a playful, shy, loving little boy
.... for helping me to change the things I can and live with the things I can't
.... for making me happy, content and secure
.... for being patient when I am infuriating
.... for forgiving me when I am thoughtless and selfish
.... for making this life a wonderful thing to live through
.... for filling the .dark. shaped hole that I never realised was in my heart
.... but most of all ....
Thank you for being you, with me.
Thursday 30 April 2009
That Was April That Was
Amazing, isn't it, how time flies when you're under the weather!
In the middle of April I travelled over to Holland to board a container ship for a voyage from Rotterdam to Tilbury. For two nights and two days myself and a colleague were given free reign of the huge ship, but even though the Captain and crew were very friendly and willingly showed us the workings of the vessel, after about twelve hours it felt like being in prison, with Julien and I confined to the passenger recreation quarters watching endless DVDs and smoking too many cigars.
All in all a great experience, but not one I'm in a hurry to repeat.
Much better was my birthday. I was totally surprised to receive a Nintendo DSi and so for the last week or so have been playing Brain Training and GTA Chinatown Wars. Great fun.
I also got taken out for a meal, which just happened to be one of my favourites - a huge rack of smoky BBQ ribs! Absolute heaven!
So, as April draws to a close and I enter the final year of my thirties, I'm also entering the final stretch of editing for the book, and to top it all we're off to see the awesome Dan Reed again next week in London.
So, until May......
In the middle of April I travelled over to Holland to board a container ship for a voyage from Rotterdam to Tilbury. For two nights and two days myself and a colleague were given free reign of the huge ship, but even though the Captain and crew were very friendly and willingly showed us the workings of the vessel, after about twelve hours it felt like being in prison, with Julien and I confined to the passenger recreation quarters watching endless DVDs and smoking too many cigars.
All in all a great experience, but not one I'm in a hurry to repeat.
Much better was my birthday. I was totally surprised to receive a Nintendo DSi and so for the last week or so have been playing Brain Training and GTA Chinatown Wars. Great fun.
I also got taken out for a meal, which just happened to be one of my favourites - a huge rack of smoky BBQ ribs! Absolute heaven!
So, as April draws to a close and I enter the final year of my thirties, I'm also entering the final stretch of editing for the book, and to top it all we're off to see the awesome Dan Reed again next week in London.
So, until May......
Tuesday 24 March 2009
What It Says On The Tin
If there's one thing that I really dislike it's false people.
This is especially true of the ever growing legion of 'non-celebrities' that are vomited from the bellies of the X-Factor, Britain's Got Talent (though judging from the program it's hiding it well) and the mother of all Z-list generators, Big Brother.
Almost without exception, every single one of the 'stars' who have emerged from the house have been false, pretentious, dull, and one-dimensional. They have their bad points, too.
However, the exception to this rule is the late Jade Goody.
I have to admit, when I first became aware of her I didn't much like her. I thought she was stupid, loud, obnoxious and a waste of skin and air. However, over the last half decade that she'e been in the public eye, and particularly in the last six months, I have developed a very real admiration for the woman, and it's all down to one quality that she possessed - she was genuine.
She never adopted any of the airs and graces that some celebrities do, thinking that just because there are column inches being written about them that they're any better than the rest of the population. Instead she just got on with doing what she did best, being Jade Goody.
In doing so, she changed in my mind from being another celebrity clinging to their fifteen minutes of fame by whatever means necessary (see pretty much every other ex-BB housemate) and instead devoted her energies to doing what she wanted, not what people told her.
I get the feeling that if we'd ever met, and shared a pint or two, that I'd have got on with her very well indeed. The courage and determination to do whatever she could to secure a bright future for her boys is something that scores very highly in my book, and I think that by doing so she has been an inspiration to a great many young women by somehow managing to retain her dignity while the cancer that killed her was doing its best to strip it from her.
At the end of the day she was my kind of person - what you saw was what you got, and if you didn't like what you saw then, frankly, she couldn't care less.
She wasn't perfect, but then she never claimed to be (but which of us is, if we're honest), but now that she's left this life behind, I can't help but think there's one less decent person among us.
My thoughts are with her family, and particularly her two boys, who as they grow up and understand who their mother was will see that she was genuine, she was funny, she was a much smarter cookie than people gave her credit for, and most of all, she was loved by a great many people.
Rest in peace, Jade.
This is especially true of the ever growing legion of 'non-celebrities' that are vomited from the bellies of the X-Factor, Britain's Got Talent (though judging from the program it's hiding it well) and the mother of all Z-list generators, Big Brother.
Almost without exception, every single one of the 'stars' who have emerged from the house have been false, pretentious, dull, and one-dimensional. They have their bad points, too.
However, the exception to this rule is the late Jade Goody.
I have to admit, when I first became aware of her I didn't much like her. I thought she was stupid, loud, obnoxious and a waste of skin and air. However, over the last half decade that she'e been in the public eye, and particularly in the last six months, I have developed a very real admiration for the woman, and it's all down to one quality that she possessed - she was genuine.
She never adopted any of the airs and graces that some celebrities do, thinking that just because there are column inches being written about them that they're any better than the rest of the population. Instead she just got on with doing what she did best, being Jade Goody.
In doing so, she changed in my mind from being another celebrity clinging to their fifteen minutes of fame by whatever means necessary (see pretty much every other ex-BB housemate) and instead devoted her energies to doing what she wanted, not what people told her.
I get the feeling that if we'd ever met, and shared a pint or two, that I'd have got on with her very well indeed. The courage and determination to do whatever she could to secure a bright future for her boys is something that scores very highly in my book, and I think that by doing so she has been an inspiration to a great many young women by somehow managing to retain her dignity while the cancer that killed her was doing its best to strip it from her.
At the end of the day she was my kind of person - what you saw was what you got, and if you didn't like what you saw then, frankly, she couldn't care less.
She wasn't perfect, but then she never claimed to be (but which of us is, if we're honest), but now that she's left this life behind, I can't help but think there's one less decent person among us.
My thoughts are with her family, and particularly her two boys, who as they grow up and understand who their mother was will see that she was genuine, she was funny, she was a much smarter cookie than people gave her credit for, and most of all, she was loved by a great many people.
Rest in peace, Jade.
Tuesday 17 February 2009
Far Faro Away
We've just come back from a few days in sunny Portugal, spending some time with a couple of friends, so we're still acclimatising back into everyday life at the moment, but feeling very refreshed.
Myself aside, none of us had flown before, so it was a whole new experience for the rest of the tribe to encounter and negotiate the gamut of airport security before boarding the medium sized metal bird that was to propel us south for two and a half hours to sunnier climes.
The villa we were staying in was nothing short of stunning, with our bedroom being larger than the entire ground floor space of our house here in the UK, and that's before even considering the games room and a cinema that I could quite happily move into and never leave again.
Portugal itself was stunning - hot and dry, but not stifling, it is such a departure from the landscape and sights of the UK, complete with stray dogs, stucco villas, blue, blue sea and the best fish that I have tasted in a long, long time.
With our friends we go-carted, we golfed, we drank wine and smoked cigars (well, I did anyway), and played in the pool (which was ice cold thanks to the heating being on the fritz but strangely refreshing and vital because of it) and the jacuzzi.
We ate barbecue, chicken curry and I even cooked one of my famous, huge full English breakfasts which rose from my plate like a bacon, egg, friend bread and bean version of the mashed potato Devil's Mountain from Close Encounters.
Feeliing much relaxed and rested, we reluctantly returned to the UK on Sunday to find that I had matched five numbers on the lottery! Sadly, though, so had six hundred or so other people, so I'm writing this from the usual place, rather than in retirement!
Myself aside, none of us had flown before, so it was a whole new experience for the rest of the tribe to encounter and negotiate the gamut of airport security before boarding the medium sized metal bird that was to propel us south for two and a half hours to sunnier climes.
The villa we were staying in was nothing short of stunning, with our bedroom being larger than the entire ground floor space of our house here in the UK, and that's before even considering the games room and a cinema that I could quite happily move into and never leave again.
Portugal itself was stunning - hot and dry, but not stifling, it is such a departure from the landscape and sights of the UK, complete with stray dogs, stucco villas, blue, blue sea and the best fish that I have tasted in a long, long time.
With our friends we go-carted, we golfed, we drank wine and smoked cigars (well, I did anyway), and played in the pool (which was ice cold thanks to the heating being on the fritz but strangely refreshing and vital because of it) and the jacuzzi.
We ate barbecue, chicken curry and I even cooked one of my famous, huge full English breakfasts which rose from my plate like a bacon, egg, friend bread and bean version of the mashed potato Devil's Mountain from Close Encounters.
Feeliing much relaxed and rested, we reluctantly returned to the UK on Sunday to find that I had matched five numbers on the lottery! Sadly, though, so had six hundred or so other people, so I'm writing this from the usual place, rather than in retirement!
Saturday 31 January 2009
Bloody Valentines and Hotel Heiresses
A couple of things for this entry, and they couldn't be more different.
First up, I went to see the remake of the eighties slasher movie My Bloody Valentine with my friend Nick last week. I love the original, although it was unfortunately a victim of the censors on its release, with 9 minutes of gore being excised, and which have only just been reinstated into a recent DVD release, so I was curious to see what the current fad for remaking classic movies woudl do with this.
One major factor in the right direction was the fact that this was in 3D, which I have to admit I had reservations with before I saw it as the last 3D movie I saw in theatres was Jaws 3D which was, frankly, rubbish.
I'm happy to report, though, that MBV3D (as I shall refer to it) scored on just about every level. The obvious draw, being the 3D, was awesome. It was a far cry from the 'point a stick at the screen' 3D of years gone by, and instead felt much more immersive, almost as if I was standing just to stage left of the actual shoot itself.
3D aside, it was a welcome return to the feel of the 80s slasher movies - gore, gratuitous nudity, outrageous kills and a left of field ending. Stupid, yes, but immensely enjoyable. If I want Citizen Kane, I'll watch Orsen Welles, but though the classic 80s horror movies are flawed in terms of character and morality, they are - above all - fun, and that's all I want from a kill-by-numbers flick. (Oh, and the fact that it had Supernatural's Jensen Ackles in it didn't hurt, as I think he's a talent to watch and keeps me very entertained in the TV series.)
Secondly, I want to discuss Paris.
Hilton, that is. Yes, socialite and porn star Paris Hilton (who I have to grudgingly admit was OK in the recent House Of Wax remake) has come to London to find her (and try not to gag) British Best Friend (or 'BFF' as they nauseatingly refer to it throughout the programme.)
I can't help but feel sorry for the desperate individuals who are vying to be best friends with Paris, but not for the reasons you might think. Though I really (really) (no, really) want to hate this woman, I find myself thinking that if she was away from the spotlight, the papparazi, and all the fake showbiz crap that she might actually be a decent human being.
I have to point out, that even if I were a single man and had come across her in a bar I wouldn't find her to be my type, and so I can say this with the usual sexual tension omitted, that I kind of think that she might be fun to hang out with.
However, we're never going to find out, so I'll let her humiliate her potential BFFs until she finds her girl (or maybe the single, very gay, man) and happily continue in my very happy life.
First up, I went to see the remake of the eighties slasher movie My Bloody Valentine with my friend Nick last week. I love the original, although it was unfortunately a victim of the censors on its release, with 9 minutes of gore being excised, and which have only just been reinstated into a recent DVD release, so I was curious to see what the current fad for remaking classic movies woudl do with this.
One major factor in the right direction was the fact that this was in 3D, which I have to admit I had reservations with before I saw it as the last 3D movie I saw in theatres was Jaws 3D which was, frankly, rubbish.
I'm happy to report, though, that MBV3D (as I shall refer to it) scored on just about every level. The obvious draw, being the 3D, was awesome. It was a far cry from the 'point a stick at the screen' 3D of years gone by, and instead felt much more immersive, almost as if I was standing just to stage left of the actual shoot itself.
3D aside, it was a welcome return to the feel of the 80s slasher movies - gore, gratuitous nudity, outrageous kills and a left of field ending. Stupid, yes, but immensely enjoyable. If I want Citizen Kane, I'll watch Orsen Welles, but though the classic 80s horror movies are flawed in terms of character and morality, they are - above all - fun, and that's all I want from a kill-by-numbers flick. (Oh, and the fact that it had Supernatural's Jensen Ackles in it didn't hurt, as I think he's a talent to watch and keeps me very entertained in the TV series.)
Secondly, I want to discuss Paris.
Hilton, that is. Yes, socialite and porn star Paris Hilton (who I have to grudgingly admit was OK in the recent House Of Wax remake) has come to London to find her (and try not to gag) British Best Friend (or 'BFF' as they nauseatingly refer to it throughout the programme.)
I can't help but feel sorry for the desperate individuals who are vying to be best friends with Paris, but not for the reasons you might think. Though I really (really) (no, really) want to hate this woman, I find myself thinking that if she was away from the spotlight, the papparazi, and all the fake showbiz crap that she might actually be a decent human being.
I have to point out, that even if I were a single man and had come across her in a bar I wouldn't find her to be my type, and so I can say this with the usual sexual tension omitted, that I kind of think that she might be fun to hang out with.
However, we're never going to find out, so I'll let her humiliate her potential BFFs until she finds her girl (or maybe the single, very gay, man) and happily continue in my very happy life.
Tuesday 20 January 2009
Cometh The Donkey
It was a little over a year ago that I wrote about the complicated American system of electing their Presidents, and now, finally, the new PUSA is moving into 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
As we bid farewell to Bush the second, we are standing on the brink of a world of hope, of promise, and of possibilities, and for all the money in Bill Gates' bank account I wouldn't want to be in Barack Obama's shoes.
Never before, and certainly never in my lifetime, has so much anticipation been place on the back of a humble Donkey (the Democratic mascot, you see) - the last time was perhaps when another such beast was ferrying a certain expectant mother to a stable in the Holy Lands.
From where I'm standing, Obama certainly has the right feel abut him, and he seeme to have the vision, the dream, and above all and most vital, the integrity to actually do what he says he will do.
The task ahead of him is a mighty tall order, with security threats and economic meltdown, but even if he doesn't manage to pull off his minor miracle, then the one thing I ask of Mrs Obama's little boy, is that no matter how bad it gets, how desperate the stakes become, and however much he might be tempted to stray to the dark side, as his predecessor did, all I want, and I suspect the American people do to, if for him to tell the truth.
That's it. Simple, no?
By doing this one simple thing, this new inaugurated Donkey will prove that he is no ass.
As we bid farewell to Bush the second, we are standing on the brink of a world of hope, of promise, and of possibilities, and for all the money in Bill Gates' bank account I wouldn't want to be in Barack Obama's shoes.
Never before, and certainly never in my lifetime, has so much anticipation been place on the back of a humble Donkey (the Democratic mascot, you see) - the last time was perhaps when another such beast was ferrying a certain expectant mother to a stable in the Holy Lands.
From where I'm standing, Obama certainly has the right feel abut him, and he seeme to have the vision, the dream, and above all and most vital, the integrity to actually do what he says he will do.
The task ahead of him is a mighty tall order, with security threats and economic meltdown, but even if he doesn't manage to pull off his minor miracle, then the one thing I ask of Mrs Obama's little boy, is that no matter how bad it gets, how desperate the stakes become, and however much he might be tempted to stray to the dark side, as his predecessor did, all I want, and I suspect the American people do to, if for him to tell the truth.
That's it. Simple, no?
By doing this one simple thing, this new inaugurated Donkey will prove that he is no ass.
Thursday 8 January 2009
And Your Point Was....?
As we settle down into this new year (yeah, another one - seems they happen on an almost annual basis these days), we've been having our year end here at work, which has meant some stupidly long hours and a little more stress than usual. (Ironically this is the second blog in two days despite this heavy schedule - how come I can't manage this when I'm less busy?)
What it has made me think about, though, is that ultimately what I do - pushing numbers around - is not going to make a jot of difference once I'm dead and gone.
That's not to say that my life is pointless - far from it - or that I leave no legacy - after all, I've published two books, written a movie soundtrack etc etc - but when compared to some of the people that I know, their professions will leave a lasting effect, whereas mine will make no difference whatsoever.
I have friend who is a nurse - she saves lives, and there are people no doubt walking around today as a result of some of her actions. I have another friend who is a teacher - there are children who have listened to her wise words and who in years to come will remember her as not only a great teacher, but also as their first crush. And I have my beloved .dark. whose profession is to be mother and mentor to her two offspring, and who have grown up into fine specimens of this race we call human.
The point of this missive? Well, nothing really. Just wanted to share.
As you were.....
What it has made me think about, though, is that ultimately what I do - pushing numbers around - is not going to make a jot of difference once I'm dead and gone.
That's not to say that my life is pointless - far from it - or that I leave no legacy - after all, I've published two books, written a movie soundtrack etc etc - but when compared to some of the people that I know, their professions will leave a lasting effect, whereas mine will make no difference whatsoever.
I have friend who is a nurse - she saves lives, and there are people no doubt walking around today as a result of some of her actions. I have another friend who is a teacher - there are children who have listened to her wise words and who in years to come will remember her as not only a great teacher, but also as their first crush. And I have my beloved .dark. whose profession is to be mother and mentor to her two offspring, and who have grown up into fine specimens of this race we call human.
The point of this missive? Well, nothing really. Just wanted to share.
As you were.....
Wednesday 7 January 2009
7 Down, 358 To Go*
First of all, a very Happy New Year to any and all of you who may be reading these little missives that I fire off from time to time. Hard to believe I've been doing this for a year now, but it's interesting to look back at the things that have amused, enraged, and made me think over the last twelve months.
So, here we are a week into 2009 and things are very different than they were when I started these notes from the funny farm.
For a start I'm in Essex, I'm working in London again, and I'm happily settled into the family unit that I have inherited, and I couldn't be happier.
As far as new year resolutions go, well I haven't made any. I have a couple of goals -finish the edit of the book by the end of February, get stuck into my first novel, and develop a couple of screenplays that I've had on hold while I've been doing the last three non-fiction books, set up our new website - but no firm dates or anything, because I know that outside of my 'proper' job I'm rubbish with deadlines.
There are some things, unfortunately, that will be changing this year - the Astoria is being pulled down to make way for the new Tottenham Court Road tube station, and will be sorely missed. I saw some great bands there - Foo Fighters, Ash, Martin Gore, Vain, and most recently Ace Frehley - and consider it one of the finest venues in London (second only to Brixton Academy, which itself is second only in my all time favourite venues to Nottingham Rock City, where I spent much of my teenage years, and which brings me back to the book!)
I am happy, though, and healthy, and looking forward very much to my first full calendar year with the wonderful people that I share my life, and our house, with.
Here's raising a glass of red to each of you, and I hope that you're all as happy and content as I am.
Oh, and here's to another year of these outpourings - a drop in the ocean in the grand scheme of things, but they make me happy, and hopeful entertain you for a brief moment every now and again.
See you next time.....
(*days of the year, in case you were wondering)
So, here we are a week into 2009 and things are very different than they were when I started these notes from the funny farm.
For a start I'm in Essex, I'm working in London again, and I'm happily settled into the family unit that I have inherited, and I couldn't be happier.
As far as new year resolutions go, well I haven't made any. I have a couple of goals -finish the edit of the book by the end of February, get stuck into my first novel, and develop a couple of screenplays that I've had on hold while I've been doing the last three non-fiction books, set up our new website - but no firm dates or anything, because I know that outside of my 'proper' job I'm rubbish with deadlines.
There are some things, unfortunately, that will be changing this year - the Astoria is being pulled down to make way for the new Tottenham Court Road tube station, and will be sorely missed. I saw some great bands there - Foo Fighters, Ash, Martin Gore, Vain, and most recently Ace Frehley - and consider it one of the finest venues in London (second only to Brixton Academy, which itself is second only in my all time favourite venues to Nottingham Rock City, where I spent much of my teenage years, and which brings me back to the book!)
I am happy, though, and healthy, and looking forward very much to my first full calendar year with the wonderful people that I share my life, and our house, with.
Here's raising a glass of red to each of you, and I hope that you're all as happy and content as I am.
Oh, and here's to another year of these outpourings - a drop in the ocean in the grand scheme of things, but they make me happy, and hopeful entertain you for a brief moment every now and again.
See you next time.....
(*days of the year, in case you were wondering)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)