Last Saturday night

Two grainy images taken from the middle rows of a darkened theatre in the backstreets of Norwich.

The tall gentleman wearing a suit is hosting an evening of acoustic music.

As well as introducing the bands he let rip a couple of times with some banter and the odd funny line. One reviewer commented "A perfect blend of the BBC and Basil Fawlty".

The band in the bottom picture are the rather wonderful 'The Thinking Men'. Think Tom Waits/Modest Mouse and a lot of loving what they do.

It was tremendous fun and yes, I am available for future bookings.

The MacBook is dead, Long live the MacBook Pro.

Messing about on my new laptop.

Searching the LBJ library photo archive.

Bliss

Cooking.
Listening to a superb Billy Bragg interview on 6music.
Drinking beer.
FRD tolerating my tuneless renditions.

The cloth of kings

I'm slowly emerging from the bunker.
The bunker that was suddenly becoming the father of three.
The bunker that was moving house and saying goodbye to the neighbour from hell.
The bunker that is work.
The bunker that is life at the start of the twenty first century.

2011 will be a big year for corduroy. At a rough guess there will be at least four official days of cord.

1/1/11
11/1/11
1/11/11
11/11/11

That last one will be the biggie. It only comes along once in 100 years. Trouble is, one always has to be a bit respectful of Armistice day, that's why I'm excited about the other three.

Neighbourhood watch

Has my nextdoor neighbour just been arrested?

Watch this space (cos I sure as hell am!!)

2016

So how does this seven years bad luck thing work?

Is it all disaster from now on?

Are there some light moments thrown in? Just to make me feel safe again?

Has anyone out there been through this and come out the other side?

Doesn't seven years seem a bit of a weighty punishment for simply moving a wash bag too hastily?

Postscript: In the two days since i broke that mirror my carburettor died and I've had to handle real poo three times.

July 4th.

The big question?

What's Henry to wear on July 4th?

I've decided that every Independence Day until he reaches his age of majority (or hopefully his mid sixties) he will dress as a US President. Last year he was George Washington.
Accordingly, following the logic (but not the precedent) he should be John Adams, right? In my experience of US history he has slipped through the net and I have yet to see the biopic so I might need some support for this idea.



Or should I jump to Thomas Jefferson?



Or just go back to a winning formula?



If I decide to follow the President a year idea it could be an interesting future. Polk? Cleveland? I'll certainly have something to look forward to in 2043.
I'm worried that by the time he's 7 or 15 or 24 he'll grow tired of the idea and reject it completely, thus failing me as a son ans I'll have to stop loving him.

Should I try Chief Justices of the Supreme Court instead?

What's wrong with me?

I've become obsessed with shackles.
I mean, I want to base a society on them, people should wear them and honour each other with the presentation of shackles.
I've even decided that when Henry gets his grown up Viking* name he will wear a shackle around his neck on a chain.

*After plunging into the North sea fully clothed a few weeks ago he has already got his juvenile Viking name ,
Crikey Thorsvaldsson.

Because of all the doom and gloom I've decided to list a few things that make me smile, but not the obvious things like my wife or my little boy.

In no particular order...

Flight of the conchords

American history, in particular the book I'm reading right now. In fact I might just go straight upstairs and read some now.

The real prospect of some sailing this year (the boats are booked, the crew is ready and the beer will be drunk)

The flaming gorgeous spring weather.

I've borrowed my dad's flash new car for a few days even though I'm not a car person I'm still happy to be driving about in a flash new car for a day or two.

Thinking about what I'll be thinking about once this painful footy season is finally over and I'll know the future and what it will hold.

Facebook has thrown up a couple of really good old uni chums, that's nice.

Acupuncture.

The mini pretend vacation we'll be on in a week or so from now (house sitting rocks!)

Stopping the world and getting off.

Which beach to visit on Sunday.

There's more...

Bullet points

It's an old concept but one that suits my needs right now.

I've been using bullet points to communicate withListmaker since the arrival of double trouble. I've also found that work pressures have been increased by waffling, waffling, waffling and a certain degree of smalltalk mixed in with a level of social anxiety and professional nervousness.

I like bullet points and, outside of genuine social engagement or courtship, we should use them more often.

* Easter is here! How I long for separation of Church and State in this funny old country. Still, two weeks off in the springtime.

* City still need to battle to stay up. Raise a glass to our heroes in yellow and green.

* It was nice to see President Obama in London town this week. Of course, the Michelle Obama/HMQ hug was a damned near thing. As a modern day republican I shall accept New England in return for the faux pas. Count yourself lucky, when that Aussie twat grabbed her arse in 1991 we almost went to war.

* We tell Henry that everybody poos, even Michelle Obama, but not the Queen.

*That's bout it, sprung is springin and there's ale to be drunk.

Facebook voyeurism

Search that kid you taught 15 years ago, the one with the unforgettable and unusual name.

Then discover he's Facebooked almost every other kid you taught at that school except that they are now all in their mid twenties.

Amused to see one or two of them have used images from their primary years.

It's one way of whiling away an hour.

The Grand fantastic Simon is 40 Subbuteo tournament!

My brother is about to turn 40. It was time to turn back the clock, return to our parent's kitchen, gather some old friends on a Friday night and play some serious subbuteo. I organised a subbuteo tournament just like the ones we used to have thirty years ago.
Two groups of four, semi finals and a final. Ten minutes each way. A table in the kitchen (Wembley) and one in the living room (Goodison Park).

The tournament had it all, a nervous start, concerns about the pitches and the lack of goals, some outstanding performances from all concerned as well as some controversial moments. The best match of the tournament was probably the semi final between Silver Fox and Birthday Boy (see the action shot below). The eventual winner was a bit of a dark horse but thoroughly deserved (well, he beat me anyway). All in all a top night of beer, banter and small plastic footballers.




We had the trophy, a magnificent thing borrowed from another time and place. I like to think she polished up rather well and no doubt thoroughly enjoyed being the centre of attention for the evening.



Proper man food for a proper evening of man sport. Beer, Scotch eggs and pork pies.



Tom ponders his defence at Goodison Park.



The only known real time action shot ever taken during a subbuteo match. The Silver Fox concedes an absolute cracker during the semi final against his elder son.



Pete was somewhat surprised to make it to the final. Simon was the firm favourite. Everyone was surprised and excited when the game went to extra time and then penalties.



We all knew that an Englishman would end up losing a penalty shoot out. I present the trophy to the victor, Pete.



"Eeh Aye Addio, I've gone and won the cup!"

Well done Pete, a surprising, yet deserving winner.

Zeitgeist

Behind me the telly is telling me that something awful is happening to a bank somewhere.
I just heard the phrase "an extraordinary day" for about the twelfth "extraordinary day" in a row.
I just heard the phrase "financial armageddon".

And I've tried.

I've tried to understand.

I've looked on the bright side.

I think I've worked out that we might not be too badly screwed (medium sized public sector income, small mortgage, minimal extra curricular debt)

I just wish I could have heard more of Sarah Vowell on the Daily Show (GLOBAL EDITION) I loved her bit about the fireside chats. Darn, I think i need a fireside chat right now.
I think I'll make do with another glass of wine.

Another glass of wine and a big run in the morning.

Tomorrow is my bi-weekly 'work from home' day. We call it PPA.
This means a day at home in my jammies, plus a run, throw in a haircut and a not school related meeting with a man about some stuff.
I like to think my PPA days feel like it will feel when I've got my book published and I'm all famous and shit.

This is all truly random, stream of conciousness. Not drunk. Not yet.

I decided that I like Gordon Brown and will almost certainly vote for him in a couple of years out of solidarity. I just can't see any other option.

Conflict resolution

Paddy's a kid in my class.
We disagree about chocolate bars.
He loves Mars bars.
I love Snickers.
He wants to settle this.
Once and for all.
I've offered him a debate, a vote, some fisticuffs.
I've even told him that my people could talk to his people, that he and I could remain civil.
He told me "You haven't got any people".
I told him "Yes I have".
He said "No you haven't"

This went on for a while.

I told him that I would vow to destroy him and everything he stood for.
He told me he didn't really understand the last bit but was ready to take me on, he told me that he had 'forces'.

I asked him what he meant by 'forces'.

He told me that if he explained what he meant by 'forces' he might as well just tell me to my face exactly what he planned to do to me and where and when so what's the point of trying to maintain any kind of element of surprise? After all, the element of surprise is key.

I asked if he could just possibly give me a timeframe, is this going to happen next week? Or do I have to wait years for the hiding at the hands of his 'forces'?

He said I should be careful on Tuesday.

Oh, the things you find when tidying up the classroom. Part Two in a series of two.

Theo has opted for the old favourite, putting the 'F' into 'art'. A classic move I'm sure you'll agree.

J ' Gagne!

I won the Teacher's section of the school Easter bonnet competition!!!!!!!!

I have no pictures of my splendid creation but imagine if you will, a Napoleonic style hat covered in brightly painted cardboard bunny rabbits (I've had a thing about bunnies since reading Watership Down)

The children had to vote by a show of hands in front of loads of parents and all the other teachers.

A public vote.

And I won!

It was like being a Communist Dictator and I loved it!

Yeah!

In the children's section the kid in my class who treats school as an optional debating club won. He's a practising Pagan, intensely competitive about religion and was delighted to win "the Christian Easter thing" adding "I'm only here today because I know there's chocolate somewhere". In another category two other Pagan kids won! It's a church school but, like, whatever!

Oh did I tell you?

I won!

And I had an acceptance speech in my pocket.

Christmas cards

After a lengthy series of negotiations, arguments, reconcilliations, visits to card shops, post offices, photocopiers, blood, sweat and tears, red wine, single malt, baileys irish cream and some late night candle burning our 2007 Christmas cards are done.

They lack something this year ( we meant to do a cheesy circular note but couldn't be bothered).

If I like you, look out for an underwhelming yuletide note soon.

We'll keep the Singing Postman busy!

We're all Daves now.

I was chatting to a dear friend called Dave (not that Dave).

I asked him if he was annoyed that 'Dave' was now synonymous for irresistable, smug, born again, neo liberal conservatives who will quite possibly take over the country at the next election.

He said "yes, it annoys me a lot".

Later on, I was brewing up some tea. In our house we call normal tea "Dave tea". It's a good honest working man's name for a good, honest working man's brew. All the other stuff (Darjeeling, Earl Grey, Lapsan Souchong etc) we call 'fancy tea'.

I asked Dave what he calls "Dave tea". He said "I call it normal tea, all the tea in my house is Dave's tea".

Gretna 0 Inverness Caledonian Thistle 4

One of the most utterly forgettable things about English life?
The media reporting of Scottish football.

Why?

Who cares?

(and I'm not drunk)

Cor bloody 'ell

It's Saturday night, The wee fella has been playing up all afternoon.
The missus has gone out with her brothers and I'm wearing my new football boots around the place to wear them in a bit.
I just found an open bottle of Chardonnay in the back of the fridge.
There's a nice new couple living upstairs.
This is turing into an episode of Spaced, with me as Marsha.