Now What Happens?

Penguin Café Orchestra

2009-12-01T23:31:00.004Z

I've loved the Penguin Café Orchestra since I 'discovered' their 2nd album on CD in about 1987 or '88. Poor Simon Jeffes, founder and leader of the PCO, died 12 years ago this month, at the ridiculously young age of 48.

I just missed a 'reunion' concert at the South Bank a couple of days ago. Damn!

So, in lieu of that, I've dug up some of their bits on YouTube. Mostly from a BBC show they recorded in 1989.

If you've never heard of them, I would describe them as an avant-garde, classical, minimalist, pop, folk ensemble, with a sense of humour. Some of their music is reminiscent of Steve Reich, or Michael Nyman, but with added warmth and humanity. Some of it is like a hoedown in a barn full of drunk trombonists.

That should make you listen.

You'll have heard Perpetuum Mobile and Telephone and Rubber Band and other tunes as they've been on countless adverts, or backing tracks for nature documentaries.

PCO are by turns melancholy and joyous and I will love their music forever. Please treasure them.

Perpetuum Mobile - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FvbCV6E0Wro
Music For A Found Harmonium - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJg1NNyke2E
Air A Danser - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eU8IziD08t4
Salty Bean Fumble - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yfYdWPTLX-0&feature=channel (sheer genius from 1:25)
Paul's Dance - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IeZGXMeTKzw&feature=channel

Tom's Midnight Garden

2009-12-01T23:04:00.002Z

I've been spending the last couple of weeks putting together the sound design for Ottershaw Players' latest show, Tom's Midnight Garden.

I've done Sound for a show a couple of times, but usually either in our village hall, or a sound plot that's not too complicated.

So I volunteered to do the sound design for this show, thinking "how hard could it be". And then I read the script. And saw the list of over 60 cues in the back of the book. And then realised that there were a load of music cues and pre-recorded voices which weren't listed. Ouch!

Well, I chose some music (Penguin Café Orchestra, if you insist on asking) and gathered all the sound effects. Then I recorded myself doing the pre-recorded voices and treated them with various bits of magical trickery to make it seem like there were 5 versions of me with different voices.

Popped along to Sunday's double run-through with a laptop full of cues and hoped for the best. And, miraculously, though I say it myself, it didn't sound too bad at all! I'm going to have to spend a looong time at the theatre balancing all the volume levels of each individual effect - and I'm still struggling to figure out how I make the sounds of the grandfather clock come from the clock itself - but I think the sound plot I've come up with does complement the play and (I hope) will help it to flow along nicely.

And there are some lovely performances from our young (and much older) cast which will undoubtedly spring to life in the theatre.

And as I'm not actually on stage, it'll be even better!

All of which is just one long advert for our play, which I hope people will come along to see. It's on next week, 9th - 12th December at the Rhoda McGaw Theatre, Woking. For full details, see our website (or click the link at the top of this article) or call our Box Office at 07714 264010.

Stamps

2009-11-16T14:52:00.004Z

Dear Mr W.H. Smith,

[If indeed that is your real name and not a pseudonym]

At lunchtime today I found myself bereft of postage stamps and, as I had an un-stamped missive in need of posting I decided to give the Andover branch of your stationer's store the benefit of my custom.

I'm sure that you will be glad to hear that my initial transaction proceeded tolerably well. The store was bearably tidy and free of disagreeable olfactory emanations. The queue of customers was relatively short and was dealt with efficiently by the elderly assistant. When my turn came I asked for a book of 12 first-class stamps. These I was duly given and, once I had paid, the transaction complete, I left the premises.

[Why is it called a "book" of stamps. It's not really a book is it? OK, it's folded like a book, but it only has four pages. As a book it's even smaller than "The Wit and Wisdom of Nick Griffin"!]

A couple of hours passed. You don't need to know all the details of what happened during that time. Suffice it to say that a sandwich was bought and consumed, and a tricky problem resolved at work.

Two hours after buying the stamps I remembered my purchase and resolved to post my letter - hoping that it was now not too late to catch the last post collection in my office. I pulled open the "book" of stamps...

What, what, what?! There were only NINE stamps in the book. I looked again and re-counted in disbelief. Yes. Nine. Three stamps were missing. If these things matter to you, they were the three stamps on the upper-side of the left-hand page.

For a moment I considered leaving it. But then a colleague pointed out that stamps cost 39p each. Three of them is a total of £1.27. That's a lot of money in this day and age. Maybe it's a mere trifle to the likes of you, Mr Smith, but I could buy over one-third of a pint of real English Ale with that sort of cash.

So, with a heavy step and a trembling heart I headed back towards the Andover store, hoping that the staff would not demand see my receipt (which I had previously disposed of) or that they would not believe my sorry tale of woe.

Arriving at the store, I approached the same counter. This time it was manned (sorry - "personned") by a young lady of tender years. Presenting her with the 25% empty stamp repository, I asked her to replace it with a similar item, but with a full complement of sticky squares. This she did, after gazing at it, and me, momentarily with an expression of annoyed puzzlement. It was the sort of expression you might see if you walk up to a stranger and ask them if you might shave their hat for them.

Here's the full extent of her conversation with me: "Err", "Hmmm", "Yeah".

At no time did she offer an explanation (not that I would have cared), but neither did she offer an apology to me for having to come out in the rain for the 2nd time that afternoon.

On a more serious note, I think, Mr Smith, that you should be looking very carefully at that store for what the under-classes call "a tea-leaf". You or I would know him (or her) as a common felon. Rather than paying for their own stamps, they just help themselves to the goods straight from the til. By so doing they are not only stealing from you, but they are also depriving the Royal Mail of income and adding to the burden of the upright, traditional English postie who fears for his job on a daily basis.

And that concludes my sorry tale. I don't expect it to lead to a widespread re-organisation of your retail empire, but it would be nice if you could maybe think of training your staff to be polite and apologetic to customers.

Science in Buckets

2009-11-13T19:28:00.003Z

Here's a story from NASA about discovering water on the moon:

In it, there is this quote:

One researcher described this as the equivalent of "a dozen two-gallon buckets" of water.

So, that's 24 gallons then, is it? Now, to me, that's not very helpful. For a start, who imagines quantities of water in terms of two-gallon buckets? Not me. I've no idea of the capacity of any of the buckets in our household. Even if I did, the chances are that they would be measure in Imperial gallons (~4.5 litres) as that's what we use in the UK. American buckets (as used by NASA when carrying rocket fuel to the space shuttle) are measured in US gallons, which at around 3.8 litres are around 15% smaller.

I would have thought that it would have been sensible to have released these figures using an internationally recognised and agreed scale of measurements. If only there was one which the scientific community had agreed on which NASA could have used...

FFL Reborn

2009-10-09T10:38:00.005+01:00

It's odd, but I don't think I ever really talked about the Fantasy Film League on this blog.

The FFL was a site run by some friends that I first got involved with in around 2001 or 2002. I'm not sure exactly when, my memory is fuzzy. It was an online game, something like a fantasy sports league, where you pick a team (in this instance, a director and some actors) and their 'performance' (i.e. appearance in the box office ratings) would earn you virtual money. At the end of a season the winner of the league won a huge bunch of kudos.

It was Mr Birch and Mr Smith's big idea. Mr Wilson and Mr Estall helped them run it and after a while I came on board to help write articles and film reviews and to get up at 4am every few Saturdays to take part in Online Tonight, a San Francisco-based radio show hosted by David Lawrence (now best known as The Puppeteer in Heroes).

I love movies, but I've never been a real film geek and I certainly don't go often enough, but it was great fun writing DVD reviews and talking about the UK and US box office top ten on a nationally syndicated US radio show.

It all died in May 2006 when everyone's work commitments made it impossible to continue. I think that some tinkering with the format of the game also alienated some of the fans.

Well, now the FFL is being resurrected. The site is back up (along with a presence on Facebook and Twitter) and Mr Smith is working on a new, faster, shinier and (most importantly) more automated game engine. All the old team are back on board. I've already written a review which is up on the (as yet unfinished) site, and Mr Birch and I have recorded an inaugural podcast - very much a dry-run, pilot sort of affair. Hopefully, November's podcast will be available to the world on iTunes.

If nothing else this should act as a push to force me to go to the cinema more often; something that MLYW and I have been trying to do for ages.

Zealot, Heal Thyself

2009-10-07T12:47:00.004+01:00

Have I commented on this pair of morons before? Dale and Leilani Neumann, of Wisconsin, who let their daughter die because they thought that praying for her was more appropriate than seeking medical treatment.

Full story: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/8294225.stm

They appear to have got-off incredibly lightly.

What astonishes me is that their sentences have been spread out and staggered so they can continue to raise and 'care for' their poor, brain-washed kids.

The judge was right to point out that god (if 'he' exists) can maybe "work through other people, some of them doctors". But his comment that the sentence would give them time to "think about Kara and what God wants you to learn from this" is fatuous.

By their own selfish actions they should have already proven to themselves that either (a) god doesn't exist, or (b) his 'plan' for their daughter was for her to die.

So, the only logical punishment is to lock this pair of loons up for a year and take their kids away. If (a) is true, then this is an appropriate punishment for such cruel treatment of a sick child. If (b) is true then their god will surely look after them all.

They said that they:

"believed healing came from God, and that they had not expected their daughter to die as they prayed for her."

Reading on, I see that they've got the gall to appeal against the sentence! What?!?

Actually, screw it. Break their legs and dump them in a pit. They can carry on praying to their god to help them. I'm sure once he deems that they've been punished enough he will heal them and they can then climb out.

Lookee-Likee #102

2009-09-06T18:37:00.006+01:00

You never see Bob Dylan and Colonel Gadaffi in the same room, do you?

Thieves, Come To Sunny Andover

2009-08-14T15:00:00.003+01:00

A colleague had his bicycle stolen from the office car park a few weeks ago. By chance, he came across information identifying the thief. He reported this information to the local police, but they told him that as the information was 'second-hand' they were unable to investigate.

Since then there's been a mini crimewave of bike thefts. The thief has been brazenly stealing cycles from buildings in Andover (including on different premises owned by my employer) and has been seen on CCTV footage at least 3 times. The thief has been identified by another employee (also a theft victim) on the CCTV images.

One of the theft victims has been provided (anonymously) with the thief's temporary address and a description of his current hangouts.

So, with all this evidence what are the police doing? Yes, you've guessed it! They are dropping the case through "lack of manpower".

Meantime, the local newspaper invites you to take your push-bike along to the local police station where a friendly bobby will stamp your postcode on the frame and advise you on basic bicycle security...

So - if you want to steal stuff, come to Andover, where they won't bother to arrest you, even if they know who you are!

We're rich, I tell you. Rich!

2009-07-22T12:35:00.002+01:00

I've been in the new job for three days and already they've given me a paycheck for 10 days work. Result! If it carries on like this, I'll be able to retire by January.

Starting Over

2009-07-15T23:16:00.002+01:00

Yippee-do! I shall be starting work again on Monday, at HSA in Andover - just 7 (ish) short months after I left there - this time as a permanent employee, rather than a contractor.

That is all.

West Country Accent 2

2009-07-09T16:19:00.001+01:00

How do!

I've been cast as 'Oracle DBA' in my good friend Mike's team of Oracle gurus at Simplyhealth in Andover.

That is all.

Sorry to be so brief!

West Country Accent

2009-07-06T23:58:00.002+01:00

How do!

I've been cast as 'John' in Ottershaw Players' production of Blue Remembered Hills, by the fabulous (but sadly dead) Dennis Potter.

That is all.

Sorry to be so brief!

Omegle - On The Buses

2009-06-04T17:31:00.003+01:00

More fun and high-jinks messing about on Omegle.

Connecting to server...
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Any more fares please? Where to?
Stranger: hi
You: Any more fares please? Where to?
Stranger: what are you talking about that?
You: Hurry up please. If you get on the bus you must have the correct change ready.
Stranger: are you crazy?
You: I must be, to still be doing this job after 23 years.
You: Where to, guv?
Stranger: ha..
Stranger: texas
You: OK. That's £13,529.52 full fare.
Stranger: ok. here
You: Huh?
You: Are you paying or not?
You: I've got other passenger waiting to board you know.
You: If you've got an Oyster card you can use that.
Stranger: ok. here
You: Erm. Right. Hey, Sid - we've got a right one here!
Stranger: Let's start
You: Start what? I can't leave the stand until you've paid.
Stranger: I've paid
You: Oh. Why didn't you say?
You: Well, go and sit down then.
Stranger: yes
You: Not there - that's for handicapped people.
Stranger: oh sorry
You: Or Disableds, I think you have to say nowadays.
You: OK. Hold very tight please.
You: Off we go.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Omegle - Talk To Stranglers

2009-05-30T13:48:00.006+01:00

Hi there.

So I recently found this odd little site called Omegle. It's like a chat interface, but you are basically just hooked-up to a totally random (and completely anonymous) stranger to chat to. That's it.

So far, so boring. But I noticed that the banner on the site said "Omegle - Talk To Strangers!". And I thought it might be amusing to mis-read this instruction as "Talk To Stranglers". So I've been striking up strangling-related conversations with random members of the world and seeing where they've led to. I have one rule: Keep going until the Strangler disconnects.

Here's one of them ("You" is, erm, Me. "Stranger" is the other person):

Connecting to server...
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Hi. Are you a strangler?
Stranger: Strangler?
You: Yes.
Stranger: Are you?
Stranger: I dont have to strangle to kill :P
You: No. That is why I am here, looking for one.
You: I don't want someone to kill.
Stranger: No problem
Stranger: Where are you based?
You: In Wales. Where are you?
Stranger: Ausi?
Stranger: indai
Stranger: India
Stranger: Oops England?
You: I have heard of India. I think. It is near Africa?
Stranger: No
You: Yes. Wales is a town in England. Near Northampton.
Stranger: Good
You: Is India near Bombay?
Stranger: You know Bombay?
You: I used to. Then it became Mumbai and it's not as good as it was before.
Stranger: Bombay is IN India
You: Like Veet, or Starburst.
You: Ah. Sorry for confusion.
You: ...Or Cif
Stranger: Cif?
You: Yes. Cif. Which used to be called "Jif". It was much better at cleaning floors before.
Stranger: hmmm
You: Lots of towns in India have changed their names. Why is that?
Stranger: When British were here they changed names
Stranger: We are now changing them back
You: Ah. OK. I am British you know.
Stranger: Yeah
You: I hope you don't think I changed your towns?
Stranger: But I dont think you were here when British were here :P
You: No. I was in bed.
You: Hiding.
You: Which part of India are you from?
Stranger: Delhi
You: Ah. Delhi. Is that the same as New Delhi? Or is it the old Delhi?
Stranger: I am in what is called Delhi
Stranger: There is a New Delhi as well
You: In Britain we call it दिल्ली
Stranger: Yeah
You: We have always called it that here. Since Roman times.
Stranger: Were you alive then?
Stranger: Till you met the strangler?
Stranger: :D
You: Don't be silly! That would make me over 70 years old!
Stranger: ha ha
You: I'm talking about Roman Polanski, the movie director, who lived in Wales for some time.
You: Tell me an interesting fact about Delhi. And I will tell you one about Wales in return.
You: Then you can amaze your friends.
Stranger: hmmm
Stranger: I will have to think really hard
Stranger: :P
You: OK. I have 18 minutes to wait.
Stranger: What after that
Stranger: ?
Stranger: Battery would run out?
You: No.
You: Medication time.
You: OK - here is my fact about Wales.
You: In Wales there are FIVE different cinemas, but they all show the same films.
You: 16 minutes left...
You: How long have you been in Delhi?
Stranger: There have been no new releases in Delhi for last month or so
You: That is a damn-fool crying shame, as we say here.
You: Can you send me some spicy sausage and strong goat cheese?
Stranger: Sure
You: Good. Put it on your computer and press 'send'.
Stranger: I just couriered it to you
Stranger: Did not think of the computer route
You: Ah - but I think you are toying with me, mr cheeky monkey. You do not know my address, or my FedEx customer number. So how does that work?
You: I think you are trying to con me out of my money.
Stranger: lol
You: 12 minutes to go.
Stranger: Damn I did not get any money
You: I demand to know an interesting fact about Delhi. I have given you Wales fact.
You: Now I am one fact down in the deal.
You: If I don't get my Delhi fact soon, I will complan to the Ombudsman.
You: *complain
You: On the other hand, maybe the ombudsman would like some complan - if he's on a diet. Do they still sell it? Can you get Complan in Delhi? That would be an interesting fact!
You: Hello? Mr Cheeky Monkey? Are you still there?
You: I'm starting to think you aren't really in Delhi. I'm going now.
You: Bye
You: Bye-bye
You: See ya!
You: Ta-ra
Stranger: Yeah
Stranger: Complan is something you will find in Delhi
Stranger: For sure
You: Arrividerci
You: sayonara
Stranger: Au Revoir
You: hasta la vista
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

All Done and Dusted

2009-05-27T00:14:00.003+01:00

Well, not quite done and dusted, but, it was the dress rehearsal of On The Razzle tonight. The show looked great. I'm very proud of everyone involved and I'm sure that all who come to see it will enjoy it - hopefully on many levels.

The last couple of weeks (and the past 3 days in particular) have been very hard work, but it's all come together and when I look back I'm certain that I will think that it was all worth it.

Now though, I'm looking forward to getting my life back and spending some time with MLAIPYW [My Lovely And Incredibly Patient Young Wife].

Rains = Pours

2009-04-21T15:58:00.003+01:00

My car failed its MOT last week. Argh! The major problem (of four) was that the power steering had a leak somewhere. Hence the reason for the need for a top-up a couple of weeks ago. By the way, since that day, I've checked the owner's manual for the car. No mention of topping-up power steering fluids... Ha!

Anyway, took the car back to the garage for repairs and re-test today. The fix to the part that failed was going to cost £350. With the added complication that, more than likely, fixing the leaky hose would cause the other steering components to fail, under the increased fluid pressure, and that would set me back at least £1000. And then there were the other problems to fix too. So I'm looking at a bill of at least £400 and the likelihood that it would soon escalate to four figures...

Argh! The car only cost me £500 in Nov 2007.

So, chatting to the mechanic, it seemed it made more sense to send my old car away for scrap - bringing in the huge price of £93 - and to buy another used-car from the garage for £395. Overall, I'll end up saving £100 (at least) on what I would have paid to keep my old car on the road.

Which is a fairly positive outcome - though with no money coming in (apart from what I can beg, borrow, steal, or earn from pimping myself around the town centre) I'd have preferred not to have such a big bill right now.

And what are the four round, black things on the corners?

2009-04-06T19:05:00.002+01:00

All my attempts to look macho and manly are ultimately undermined by my unceasing ignorance about cars.

In the last week my motor has started making nasty grinding noises whenever I turn the wheel. Convinced that the bearings, suspension, dampers, axle or some other component was about to fail, I carried on driving regardless. Because, of course, a broken - or even crashed - car, is preferable to paying money to get it fixed.

Yes, I am a stupid twat.

Today I came to my senses. Partly because I don't want to die in awful crash, but mainly because my MOT is due this month and I thought it would be prudent to get any problems fixed in advance.

So, off I drove to my local garage. Luckily it's nearby, so I didn't have to turn the steering wheel too many times. As I pulled in the friendly mechanic said "Sounds like you've got a problem with your power-steering." Oh, balls! That sounds expensive. At which point he popped the bonnet, unscrewed a cap and poured in some special, magic, pink power-steering fluid.

"Looks like you let this run out", he said.

"I didn't know that there was anything that could run out", I replied.

I asked if it had run out because there was a problem. "Nope. You just have to keep it topped-up. Like the oil and the water."

He unscrewed the cap of the water reservoir.

"Hmmm. Your water's nearly empty too. Here - I'll fill it up for you."

"Oops!", said I, "It's twats like me that keep you in business."

"Yes", he said - fixing me with a look that confirmed that I was indeed a twat of the highest order. "See that?", he asked, pointing at a plastic loop. "That's the dipstick".

"Ha ha ha. Yes, I know", I replied, in a jaunty, look-at-us-grown-men-larking-about-with-cars manner.

In a bid to completely subvert the natural order of such things, the nice mechanic refused to take any payment in exchange for his advice, his fluids and his pointed remarks about my twattedness. Truly, this man is the nicest mechanic in the world. And I'm not telling you where his workshop is.

Recession Pointers

2009-04-02T13:34:00.002+01:00

I haven't purchased anything from Amazon in nearly 2 months! I think my account may have healed over...

DWP = Department of Woeful Pillocks

2009-03-31T16:47:00.006+01:00

I know that writing this here will not help my cause, but fuck it.

When I became unemployed on January 1st and signed-on, I made sure that I applied for mortgage interest payment relief. Because the lying-thieving-scum who work in the mortgage insurance industry didn't point out to me that I was no longer covered by any of their policies, even though they were happy to carry on taking £50 a month in premiums from me. Hey ho!

So, I signed-on, took all my mortgage details with me, filled-in all the forms. Hunky dory. Wait 13 weeks until they start paying out, but, hey that's OK, I won't be unemployed that long, will I?

A week later, I had another job. Hooray! Two weeks later the job was finished. Boo! Sign-on again.

This time when I signed-on I asked about the mortgage stuff. "That's OK", said the Job Centre man on the phone, "we've got all those details already from you."

This time though the job centre people realised that MLYW was also claiming and said that we needed to have a joint claim and we should be interviewed together. So I asked the man on the phone if all my previous claim details would be carried over.

"Of course", he said, "just make sure you take the paperwork along to your interview at the job centre to be on the safe side".

So I did. Any they didn't ask to look at any of it. "Oh, we've got all that already", said the slightly dim girl at the desk. So that's OK.

Except...

Flash forward, in a LOST style, to today. I ring up the incredibly-hard-to-contact job centre payments people [actually, I've been ringing them most days for the past week and a half. It's taken this long to get through to someone] to ask how our mortgage interest claim thingy is progressing. Because, with luck, we should be getting some money soon.

"Erm", says the man on the phone.

Oh, dear. Through bitter experience I have learned that "erm" is not usually a good thing.

"We have no record of you claiming for mortgage interest relief", quoth he. I tell him about my claim interviews in January and he says that, because we moved to a joint claim, which is now in MLYW's name, we should have re-claimed for the mortgage benefit.

Ah - so the girl at our 2nd interview wasn't dim-looking. She was actually sending us psychic waves of instructions as to how to proceed. You know, rather than actually TELLING us that we needed to do.

So I ask what we need to do now.

"Well, your wife needs to ask for a claim form".

Errr... Why does she have to ask for it?

"Because the claim is in her name".

Really? What about my claim? The one that I sign-on for every two weeks at the job centre. The one that the DWP send me money for, albeit into her bank account.

So, now we have to wait at home tomorrow for a call from the mortgage claim people. What time is the call? "Oh, sometime between 8am and 5pm". Nice!

What amazes me about the whole system is that the drug-addled masses can manage to weave their way through the maze of obfuscation, checks, balances and loopholes and can come out the other side with a decent packet. Despite my liberal leanings, I've always been suspicious and distrustful of dole scroungers and benefit cheats. But, as a genuine claimant, it appears that you need a Stephen-Fry-sized IQ and a Machiavellian mind for warped plots just to get £45 per week to buy baked beans - so anyone who manages to wangle more than that must be a genius and good luck to 'em.

Mystery Tour Revealed

2009-03-26T12:40:00.001Z

Well done to Jo. Yes, it was the British Museum. And yes, I was an idiot and forgot to disguise the file-name!

More photos of me and Dave's photo trip to the museum here.

Mystery Tour

2009-03-25T19:04:00.003Z

For a change, I left the house today. Here's a pictorial clue to its location. So - guess where we went.

[Mr Dave 'Delmonti' Dawson and MLYW are forbidden from entering this competition!]

Remembering Johnny

2009-03-10T22:57:00.004Z

Some more memories of Johnny and stuff I've come across while we've been sorting out the wheat from the chaff at the house he shared with my late Nan for over 35 years:

While I knew he was a keen rifleman, I didn't realise how good he was. For a spell in the 1970s he won at least 12 trophies at Epsom Rifle Club and was good enough to win free entries into three national newspapers' open championships.

I was wrong about the MG - he didn't prang it in the '60s. The car he crashed on the A23 (on a stretch of road now covered by Gatwick Airport) was written off. The MG was bought in 1962 (for £423) and used until the late '60s when it was put into storage in Tommy Crossley's garage. Tommy was Johnny's best friend and lived two doors down when they were kids.
He built a canoe (and "pinched" a pair of paddles) which he soon overturned in a deep part of the river, nearly drowining himself.
In the early 1950s he would go to the pictures, with his mates or alone, 4 or 5 times a week. But then, so did lots of people back then. There were more cinemas and more films back then!
Johnny was a good harmonica player and played in bands in his time. We've found 4 Hohner Chromonica harmonicas, in various states of repair - I'm sure that at least 2 of them are playable.
His work as a cartographer for the Overseas Development Administration demanded great accuracy and attention to detail. This spilled over to his love for graphic design, typefaces and cartooning. We found dozens, maybe a couple of hundred, sheets of paper and cardboard covered (sometimes literally) with doodles, sketches, designs and hand-drawn and painted lettering - most of it so well done that it would be taken for Letraset at first glance, but then you notice the construction lines underneath. Some sketches seem to indicate that he had a small sideline, maybe unpaid, in sign-writing and designing business cards or adverts for businesses.
For around 3 years in the mid-1960s, Johnny was a member of Lasham Gliding Club and he learned to fly gliders.
We uncovered a notebook with some handwritten notes that seem to read like a memoir. Some parts are obviously autobiographical. Some could be fictional. But they are written in an easy, almost informal style, but with a real sense of flair and poetry. It's impossible to tell when they were written, or if he ever intended to write more. If only he'd shown them to someone - the talent he had for writing shines through. I'll reproduce parts of it here soon.

This is all random stuff now, much of which I had no idea about before this sad week. The one thing I don't really know - and haven't found any clues about - is what sort of music he liked. I would have thought he'd be a rock'n'roller, but Dad doesn't seem to think so. All their records were stolen at a party, so there's no clues to go on - unless we manage to dig something up tomorrow.

Uncle Johnny

2009-03-03T20:06:00.002Z

My Uncle Johnny, my Dad's brother, was born on 26th January, 1935. He died this afternoon, aged 74.

When I was a kid he was my favourite relative. I looked forward to his visits with glee because he always brought us presents - sometimes more lavish than Mum & Dad would have liked. For my first (I think) birthday, he bought me a top-notch Scalextric kit. No matter that I wouldn't have the wherewithal to play with it for another 4 or 5 years, at least. With no wife or kids of his own, and after spending most of his life living at the family home, I guess he could afford to spoil all his nieces and nephews.

One glorious day, in the early 1980s I guess, he turned up driving a fantastic sports car, the like of which I'd never seen before. It was an MG TF, built in 1954. British racing green - as all sports cars should be. Imagine the thrill when he took me for a drive on the recently completed motorway round the corner. The car had been slowly and carefully rebuilt from scratch after it had a "prang" many years earlier (early '60s?), if I remember rightly. Johnny told my Dad that he wanted me to have the car someday. But some time ago he needed money to live on and sold the car to my other uncle. It sits in a garage now, waiting restoration one more time. I couldn't afford to store it anyway...

Johnny and Dad shared the same sense of humour and there was rarely a time when a joke wasn't far from his lips. In recent years, he "let himself go" as people like to say. His long, unkempt beard and habit of answering the door in his underwear could be off-putting, to say the least. And while he spent most of the last 10 or 15 years in the pub smoking his roll-ups, surely a factor in his demise, it never really dulled his intellect.

The last time I saw Johnny was not long after my Nan's funeral. Astonishingly and shamefully, that was nearly 3 years ago. I had 'planned' to go and visit him 'sometime'. To pick his still-sharp mind about the family history and the mysterious fate of his own uncle, their Dad's brother, while he was still around to do so. Too late now...

Johnny was a talented artist; a keen rifleman; and a kind, generous person. He was unique. I'll miss him.

Raymond John Moore, 1935 - 2009. RIP.

Meme and My iPod

2009-02-20T17:35:00.019Z

Here's a good game that we can all join in with, if you like.

Step 1: Put your music player on shuffle.
Step 2: Post the first line, or two, from the 1st 25 songs no matter how embarrassing/obscure. You can skip any instrumentals. If you see "____" below, then that bit is the title.
Step 3: Readers of the blog try and identify as many songs/artists as possible in the comments.
Step 4: Strike through once someone guesses both the artist and the track correctly.
Step 5: For those who are guessing, looking up the lyrics is CHEATING.
Step 6: If you like the game post your own.

Edit: OK - it's very tricky! So along with each lyric is a clue to the artist. I will allow people to use Google to cheat from Friday 6th March.

Here we go. Eyes down for a full house...

1. "I met this guy and he looked like he might have been a hat-check clerk at an ice rink. Which, in fact, he turned out to be." by Lou Reed's bird.
2. ~~"A friend in need's a friend indeed. A friend with weed is better."~~ Pure Morning by Placebo.
3. "I've been worried, man. Worried all day long." by a delta-blues 9-string guitarist.
4. ~~"Sometimes you're better off dead. There's a gun in your hand and it's pointed at your head."~~ West End Girls by Pet Shop Boys.
5. ~~"Wednesday. It's suppository time again. Ain't it grand?"~~ Cakewalk On Easy Street by Spock's Beard.
6. "Didn't mean to leave you hanging on. I didn't mean to leave you all alone." by an alt-rock band from Mesa, Arizona.
7. "I say this was no game of chicken. You were aiming for your best friend." by Chuck E.'s lady friend.
8. "Give it time. It takes time. It'll all come together." by a Radiohead sibling.
9. "I wake up in the morning just to work all through the day. That sun gets so hot that you can sweat your strength away." by Les Freres de Plage.
10. "Why __ __ dry? Why the empty eye?" by a large building in Rome.
11. "__, __. Somewhere, Someone. It's 2 o'clock in the morning and I just can't sleep." by the artist formerly known as a squiggle.
12. "'Tain't no big thing to wait for the bell to ring. 'Tain't no big thing, the toll of the bell." by Eno's old chums.
13. "__ __ __ __ __. All the world loves people in love. Don't Forget it." by Mr McAloon's band.
14. ~~"I looked across an empty land. I knew the pathway like the back of my hand."~~ Somewhere Only We Know by Keane
15. ~~"Got out of bed, wasn't feeling too good, with my wallet and my passport and a new pair of shoes."~~ Illegal Alien by Genesis.
16. "My heart was breaking 'til you started making me feel like a natural man." by the same band as number 9.
17. "You know I'm __ __ __ __ y'all, and that's a fact, y'all. And if you try to take what's mine I take it back y'all - it's like that." by Joseph Simmons, Daryl McDaniels and Jason Mizell.
18. "Well, early in the mornin' 'til late at night, I got a poison headache, but I feel all right." The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind.
19. "Wooaahhh. Baby, you can walk, you can talk, just like me." This one will stop making sense.
20. "Working from seven to eleven every night really makes life a drag. I don't think that's right." Not by an iron airship.
21. "First to fall over when the atmosphere is less than perfect, your sensibilities are shaken by the slightest defect." Recorded long after guitarist Henri Padovani had left the group.
22. "Hell above and heaven below. All the trees are gone." Oh, I thought you said 'time waits' for no man.
23. "I'll need tonight to sit and think about this. Think what to do. I'll take some strength to banish hollow sorrow." Kevin Rowland's mob.
24. ~~"Alone in a bar-room a young girl is sitting and smiliing at nothing at all and she stares now and then at the eyes of the men in the mirror that hangs on the wall."~~ ~~Rita Coolidge's ex~~ Somebody Nobody Knows by Kris Kristofferson.
25. ~~"Uhhh! Don't you like the way I move when you see me? Don't you like the things that I say?'"~~ Something Better Change by The Stranglers.

Blimey. They're difficult! Some them I'd forgotten. Some belong to MLYW, so I'd never heard them before. I'll be amazed if people manage to get ten of these without the help of Google...

One Word...

2009-02-13T17:27:00.003Z

Oh, go on - seeing as everyone else is doing it.

If you read this, and you haven't already (impossible, as I'm the last) then you're tagged:

Today at 17.30pm
1. Where is your cell phone? Hallway
2. Your significant other? Kitchen
3. Your hair? Dirty
4. Your mother? Busy
5. Your father? Generous
6. Your favourite thing? Cheese
7. Your dream last night? None
8. Your favorite drink? Ale
9. Your dream/goal? Contentment
10. What room you are in? Study
11. Your hobby? Theatre
12. Your fear? Reposession
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? xxxxx
14. Where were you last night? Rehearsal
16. Muffins? Choc-chip
17. Wish list item? Money
18. Last thing you did? Shopped
19. Favorite joke? xxxxx
20. Where you grew up? Chertsey
21. Your TV? Flat
22. Your pets? Dust-bunnies
23. Friends? Unseen
24. Your life? Fragmented
25. Your mood? Annoyed
26. Missing someone? Many
27. Car? Renault
28. Something you're not wearing? Basque
29. Your favourite store? Waterstones
30. Your favourite colour? Blue
33. When is the last time you laughed? Today
34. Last time you cried? Dunno
35. Who will resend this? No-one
36. No, really... who will resend this? NO-ONE!
37. One place that I go to over and over? Bed
38. One person who emails me regularly? B3ta
39. My favourite place to eat? Indian
40. My favourite state of mind? Planning
41. My favourite time of day? Night
42. My favourite place on earth? Loughborough
43. Why you participated in this survey? Inevitability
44. What are you doing tonight? Slouching