February 13, 2006
Ian's blog has moved
I'm not here any more, I've gone over here. There will be no more posts on "ianbee.blogspot.com" okay? See you over there ...
Sunday changes
Yesterday was a big day for me, marking a significant break in my sunday routine. For the last few years I have had a steady stream of Sunday Times vouchers from my Mum - my parents subscribe to The Times newspaper by getting a sheet of daily vouchers. They found that come the weekend they still had a pile of papers left over from the week to read, so they would always send me the sunday vouchers.
Most sundays I have undertaken a little ritual which involved wondering around (picking up buns and milk on the way) looking for a newsagent that would accept the voucher. Many don't, because it's too much hassle I guess, some stare at it for so long I consider putting the paper back because the news will have become out of date. Often I'm asked why the voucher is made out to Mrs C Braithwaite, and I mumble something about my sick bedridden mother/neighbour. When the newsagent man says "alright" it's like a little spark of triumph in my chest. If he says "I'm sorry we don't accept these" I feel a kick of defeat.
Anyway, my parents are giving up on the subscription and are going to buy the paper as and when they feel like it. I guess now they don't have a dog there's less need for newspaper to stand muddy boots on. So my sunday voucher supply has dried up, yesterday was the last one, and next week I will have to hand over cash and will loose the pre-breakfast thrill of the mental tussle.
Most sundays I have undertaken a little ritual which involved wondering around (picking up buns and milk on the way) looking for a newsagent that would accept the voucher. Many don't, because it's too much hassle I guess, some stare at it for so long I consider putting the paper back because the news will have become out of date. Often I'm asked why the voucher is made out to Mrs C Braithwaite, and I mumble something about my sick bedridden mother/neighbour. When the newsagent man says "alright" it's like a little spark of triumph in my chest. If he says "I'm sorry we don't accept these" I feel a kick of defeat.
Anyway, my parents are giving up on the subscription and are going to buy the paper as and when they feel like it. I guess now they don't have a dog there's less need for newspaper to stand muddy boots on. So my sunday voucher supply has dried up, yesterday was the last one, and next week I will have to hand over cash and will loose the pre-breakfast thrill of the mental tussle.
February 09, 2006
The story of an uncommonly gentle man
Tim Burton's 'Edward Scissorhands' (starring Johnny Depp) is not an obvious choice of film to be reimagined as a ballet. I can't believe it's beaten 'Alien', 'The Godfather' and 'Free Willy 2: The Adventure Home' in the race to be transferred to the stage.
I'd set my heart on seeing this show (mainly due to the 'mild-peril' potential of having a load of scissors whirling around in an uncontrolled manner) but I was dogged by the inability of any of my friends to be free on a thursday night. I guess it's not helpful when the show you're trying to sell to them is a contemporary reworking in dance of a 90s cult gothic classic about an artificial man with scissors for hands. I thought I'd finally found someone lovely and amusing to accompany me, but in the afternoon she texted saying how disappointed she was but she'd "have to take a rain check" because she really should go to her alpha course. I was turned down for an alpha course - gutted. And I still don't really know what a 'rain check' is. In the end my geographically-close friend Mark saved the day, although he was not impressed to find out that he was 'back-up-buddy'.
As usual with my outings there is a lot to say before the main event begins. I was minding my own business in the foyer when a message came over the PA - "Would Mr Ian Braithwaite please come to the box office." I confirmed with Mark that they had indeed called my name, and headed off wondering what services they were going to expect me to perform.* At the box office a couple were pointed out and I was told they were looking for me. I introduced myself to the pair who looked a bit taken aback and after some cross-purpose chat they explained that it was a different Ian Braithwaite they were looking for. Bemused, I hung around the foyer keeping the couple in the corner of my eye. No-one else went up to them. I was called again over the PA, or at least my impersonator was. No-one appeared. Mark got bored and wondered off, I decided to try again so I walked up to them and asked if they were absolutely sure it wasn't me they wanted. They looked at me strangely and I'm sure the bloke was thinking "what has this man done with the real Ian Braithwaite?", and the woman was thinking "has he murdered him and now he's trying to steal his identity?" So I backed away and left them waiting. It's not like Braithwaite is a particularly common name (outside of the Lake District and a housing estate near Keithley in Yorkshire) so I'm a bit freaked out.
Anyway, about the show. The dancing hedges were a highlight, and I loved the onstage topiary. And there was a great bit when a bean-bag fell from the ceiling. Ummm ... to be honest I found it very difficult to focus on the plot, despite my best intentions. I've discovered that, when watching someone dance who has scissors for hands, there is a constant little commentary at the back of my mind: "careful, ooh that was close ... don't wave them there ... you'll have someone's eye out!" Still, the dancing was amazing - there was some great characterisation and wonderful set-pieces (such as the ice-sculpture scene). The representation of small-town America was genius, with very clever forced-perspective staging which you'll have to ask me to describe another time. I did enjoy it, I just discovered I get nervous when people run with scissors.
* I have this recurring daydream/fantasy that I will be at a gig or a show and someone will come on stage and say that they deeply regret canceling the evening but the bass player has been taken ill and they can't possibly continue without a bass player - unless maybe there is someone present who could step in and take over? And I would go forward and everyone would cheer.
I'd set my heart on seeing this show (mainly due to the 'mild-peril' potential of having a load of scissors whirling around in an uncontrolled manner) but I was dogged by the inability of any of my friends to be free on a thursday night. I guess it's not helpful when the show you're trying to sell to them is a contemporary reworking in dance of a 90s cult gothic classic about an artificial man with scissors for hands. I thought I'd finally found someone lovely and amusing to accompany me, but in the afternoon she texted saying how disappointed she was but she'd "have to take a rain check" because she really should go to her alpha course. I was turned down for an alpha course - gutted. And I still don't really know what a 'rain check' is. In the end my geographically-close friend Mark saved the day, although he was not impressed to find out that he was 'back-up-buddy'.As usual with my outings there is a lot to say before the main event begins. I was minding my own business in the foyer when a message came over the PA - "Would Mr Ian Braithwaite please come to the box office." I confirmed with Mark that they had indeed called my name, and headed off wondering what services they were going to expect me to perform.* At the box office a couple were pointed out and I was told they were looking for me. I introduced myself to the pair who looked a bit taken aback and after some cross-purpose chat they explained that it was a different Ian Braithwaite they were looking for. Bemused, I hung around the foyer keeping the couple in the corner of my eye. No-one else went up to them. I was called again over the PA, or at least my impersonator was. No-one appeared. Mark got bored and wondered off, I decided to try again so I walked up to them and asked if they were absolutely sure it wasn't me they wanted. They looked at me strangely and I'm sure the bloke was thinking "what has this man done with the real Ian Braithwaite?", and the woman was thinking "has he murdered him and now he's trying to steal his identity?" So I backed away and left them waiting. It's not like Braithwaite is a particularly common name (outside of the Lake District and a housing estate near Keithley in Yorkshire) so I'm a bit freaked out.
Anyway, about the show. The dancing hedges were a highlight, and I loved the onstage topiary. And there was a great bit when a bean-bag fell from the ceiling. Ummm ... to be honest I found it very difficult to focus on the plot, despite my best intentions. I've discovered that, when watching someone dance who has scissors for hands, there is a constant little commentary at the back of my mind: "careful, ooh that was close ... don't wave them there ... you'll have someone's eye out!" Still, the dancing was amazing - there was some great characterisation and wonderful set-pieces (such as the ice-sculpture scene). The representation of small-town America was genius, with very clever forced-perspective staging which you'll have to ask me to describe another time. I did enjoy it, I just discovered I get nervous when people run with scissors.
* I have this recurring daydream/fantasy that I will be at a gig or a show and someone will come on stage and say that they deeply regret canceling the evening but the bass player has been taken ill and they can't possibly continue without a bass player - unless maybe there is someone present who could step in and take over? And I would go forward and everyone would cheer.
February 08, 2006
Mr fix it (2)
Well. This was the week I broke my toilet roll holder (don't ask how), so I popped into IKEA to buy a new one. The old one was a funny wire thing with a smiley face, which had sentimental value as it was a flat warming present. So I chose a new wooden toilet roll holder and I drilled a hole into it and fixed in the smiley face which I had salvaged from the old one. Voila.
(I spent ages trying to get this photo just right, but gave up because life is too short to spend it taking photos of your toilet roll holder.)
One of my other purchases was some new dinner plates, which I paid for but left at the till in a fit of customer generosity. A nice girl called Angela saved them for me, and I get to pick them up on friday.
I got the new bowls back safe though. The thing about new bowls, which I'd forgotten, is that there is a period of adjustment as you get used to the new capacity and dimensions. I've been feeling short changed on my cereal the last few days and have been slowly working out that these bowls taper at the base more, so the bran flakes need to come further up the side for the same full-tum experience.
(I spent ages trying to get this photo just right, but gave up because life is too short to spend it taking photos of your toilet roll holder.)
One of my other purchases was some new dinner plates, which I paid for but left at the till in a fit of customer generosity. A nice girl called Angela saved them for me, and I get to pick them up on friday.
I got the new bowls back safe though. The thing about new bowls, which I'd forgotten, is that there is a period of adjustment as you get used to the new capacity and dimensions. I've been feeling short changed on my cereal the last few days and have been slowly working out that these bowls taper at the base more, so the bran flakes need to come further up the side for the same full-tum experience.
February 05, 2006
Mr fix it
My neighbour has been complaining of a noisy extractor fan in her bathroom, so I went round today to try and sort it out. I turned all the power off, unscrewed it from the ceiling, cleaned it of fluff, took it apart and oiled it, then put it all back together again. Now it sounds much, much worse.
January 30, 2006
Kitchen thermometer idea
I've had a great idea for a kitchen thermometer. I've got a bottle of olive oil that says on the label it turns cloudy at temperatures below 10 degrees (does not affect taste, will revert to normal when warmed up, etc etc). I've also got a bottle of ground-nut oil which, according to the bottle, goes cloudy at 7 degrees. So if both bottles are cloudy it's below 7 degrees, if just the ground-nut oil is cloudy it's between 7 and 10 degrees and if neither is cloudy it's over 10 degrees! Brilliant! Needless to say, in my chilly Scottish kitchen, both are permanently cloudy at the moment. I'm going to Asda later in the week to research the cloudy characteristics of other oils, hopefully I can broaden the temperature spread a bit.
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