The end of the world

I thought I'd recount a conversation I had with my family over Christmas. We were sitting around the dinner table and talk turned to the big petrol depot explosion in Hertfordshire earlier this month. I was surprised when my parents said, "oh yes, we heard that." because they don't live particularly close - at least 25 miles away. It turns out that they were woken up on sunday morning by a big 'whump' accompanied by a flash and, not knowing what it was, crept downstairs and put the kettle on. My Dad told how some friends were woken from their sleep by the loft ladder crashing down - it seems this was a common occurrence, I guess due to the pressure wave from the explosion passing through the well-ventilated roof spaces.

And I think that's how the end of the world will be greeted in middle England; not with wailing or shrieking, but by couples lying in bed arguing over who was the last one to go into the loft.

One of our dinosaurs is missing

Well, I'm just back from Christmas with my family in London. Lovely, relaxing time as usual. I did very well on the present front this year - especially from my brother (pictured left) who not only gave me bike tools, a claw hammer and a book on U2 but also gave me a new pair of jeans that were too big for him and I also stole a pair of socks out of a mulitpack he was given.

My parents like to push the boundaries of what I can transport back on the plane. This year they brought me an electric saw - a jigsaw with a laser on the front so you can saw straight. Cool! I packed it at the bottom of my bag, in it's hard plastic case, and took it into London to get the bus to the airport. I intended to leave my bag in the left-luggage office at Victoria station so I could pop into the Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition at the Natural History Museum. This is a bit of an annual pilgrimage for me - I enjoy taking a friend along and trying to whittle down the many photos to a "best three". This year was good, but there was nothing to compare with last year's action photo of a penguin pooing.

It did not occur to me that whilst power tools are an acceptable deposit in a station left-luggage office, not everyone takes an electric saw to the Natural History Museum. They had some security blokes searching bags as I went in. The conversation went a bit like this ...

"Do you mind opening your bag sir."
"Sure, um, hang on a sec..." (I open the zip and underwear spills out)
"What's in this box?"
"Um, that's an electric saw," (the lady in the queue behind me lets out a gasp)
"Can you open it up? Mmmm, I see. And what's this?"
"That's a hammer. You see I was at my parent's for Christmas and..."
"And this?"
"... that's a bamboo steamer - I was taking my presents back home and I thought I'd pop in..."
"And this?"
"... half a Christmas cake - and see the Wildlife Photographer of the Year Exhibition"
"Would you come with me sir."

At this point I am clutching an armful of clothing and my deodorant falls to the ground and rolls away. The lady behind me actually let out a little shriek and backed away. She honestly did. I was led to the museum information desk where my hammer and saw were taken by kept for safe keeping and I was given a receipt ("one hammer, one power tool"). The otherwise tight security fell down a little bit on the way out. I presented my receipt and claimed back my rightful property from an amazed museum attendant, then found myself standing in the middle of the Great Hall, next to a huge dinosaur skeleton, clutching a large hammer on one hand and a power saw in the other. If only I'd had a little more presence of mind, and a small ladder, I could have claimed a little souvenir ...

Worship the King of Kongs

Last night I went with my friend, Chris, to see King Kong. Chris doesn't get out much, as he has a little daughter, so this was a big treat for him. As usual I was distracted before the film started: One of those daft adverts popped up offering 2-for-1 film tickets for Orange customers. As I was taking this in, it occurred to be that it was Wednesday, I was an Orange customer and I'd just wasted six quid. It took me until Ann Darrow reached Skull Island before I'd recovered from this financial truth.

Now, this is a long film. I was in the auditorium for three-and-a-half hours - but I was prepared for this. I had carefully regulated my fluid intake throughout the day having been caught out in Lord of the Rings. No caffeine after lunch, and a quick trip to the lavatory during what I had calculated to be the final trailer. Unfortunately not everyone had taken as much care as me over this issue. Throughout the movie there was a steady stream of folk passing back and forth through the exits. What amazed me was the timing of these comfort trips. Some people took advantage of the kissing scenes, which I approve of, but others chose to leave just as it was obvious to anyone with even the most basic understanding of cinematic tempo that something major was about to happen! The cinema audience was reasonably depleted during the first dinosaur fight, many of those who missed that one missed the second dinosaur fight, and the remainder chose to walk out as Kong stood on top of the Empire State Building. 'Nothing much can happen here, they're just looking at the sunset, I'm just popping to the loo' and behind them the biplanes roar overhead as they disappear down the tunnel. Unbelievable. I had to restrain myself from grabbing people's sleeves and hauling them back.

I don't do star ratings for films, but I do have a sweaty-palm rating - mainly linked to the amount of vertigo in a movie. King Kong got a ten; I have never ever had sweatier palms in a film - as I left I was in danger of electriculting myself with my bike lights.

Space Cadets

Why write about a TV show? Because I loved it, and I want my friends abroad to share in my joy. I don't think anyone watched it over here; I know one girl at work who was as in to it as I was, but other chums got bored quickly [sigh] and the press wrote it off as a failure. I'd better say that I don't usually watch much TV, but just occasionally something comes along that captures my imagination completely. This year it was Space Cadets and thank goodness it was only on for ten days and not ten weeks like rubbish Big Brother, cos otherwise my life would have been stuffed.

The premise was thus ... Channel 4 advertised for contestants for a new reality TV show. Though a series of (funny) psychological tests (which we got to see) they picked a dozen people who showed that a) they were highly 'suggestible' and b) they could take a joke. Unbeknownst to them, three of the dozen were actors. These twelve were then told that they would be sent to Russia to train as Britain's first 'Space Tourists'. Stunned, they boarded a plane which flew out over the North Sea, circled around for a few hours then dropped them off in 'Russia'. A helicopter met them on the runway and transported them to a disused army base which they were told was a Russian military base. Actually they were just outside Ipswich.

The group spent the following three weeks in a Big-Brother style house on the base training to be cosmonauts. They attended lectures on space travel and astrophysics taught by a mixture of actors and real experts, and worked out daily with a real Russian ex-KGB bear-man.

Why didn't they figure out that they were in Suffolk? Well, there were Russian guards, tanks, and big dogs everywhere to convince them they were in a real Russian military base. Lots of effort had gone in on the details too: for example, every plug socket had been changed to a Russian model, they ate Russian food served by Russians and were given Russian toothpaste and tampons. There was even Russian litter scattered artfully around the base. Every time a little doubt popped into someone's head, the actors amongst them steered them delicately away from reality.

After sitting exams, four of the cadets (including one of the actors) were chosen for a journey into space. For this mission they, the actor-cadet and two actor-pilots boarded a simulator - the same authentic space shuttle cabin that was used in the film 'Armageddon'. The cabin was mounted on pistons to shake it around, was surrounded by speakers blasting out rocket noise and faced a huge IMAX cinema screen showing the gently rotating earth. These weren't your typical reality TV contestants; these were lovely people who really wanted to be astronauts and after lift-off these three people really believed they were in space. Really.

While they were 'training' in Russia I watched because it was so funny; half of the lectures were purposefully fake and their confused diary-room musings were side-splitting. Once the few were chosen I watched because I was in awe at the challenge of convincing three very definitely earthbound folk that they were taking off in a rocket, and I was terrified of the let-down if they failed to be convinced. Once they were in orbit I watched because they wrote poetry about what it was like to look down at the planet from above, mused on the meaning of life and spoke on how the experience would change them. And I watched the final episode because I really cared how these people would cope with coming back to earth with such a bump. As it turned out they played them a little video of all their doubts and fears, then just as they grasped it was all fake they opened the airlock door to show them all their family and friends outside. It was stunning, moving, hilarious television.

I know you don't all share my enthusiasm here. But I got such pleasure from watching a program that was totally about people - not about space, or cars or food or sport or history, but about people and their hopes and wishes and how they cope, not with humiliation, but with privilege and honour. And awe. Yes it was all a joke, but they were so brave - they really believed they were blasting off into space with all the risks that entails. And they are now the only non-astronauts to have experienced space-travel - to totally be convinced they were in space. I will never have that, and so even though it's was all a con, I am a teeny bit jealous.

Operation Padlock (Pt 2)

Turned up this morning and someone had already stuck their name on it. Bum.

An Engineer's Dream

If you're an engineer you'll know that there is nothing more exciting than a crane building another crane. What could be more amazing than this going on outside your window on a Sunday morning!!!

Beer in Narnia

I went to see "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" last night. I hadn't been planning on going but after it was recommended to be by several non-typical Narnia fans i thought I'd give it a try. One friend said that she found it more spiritually challenging than Mel Gibson's Passion film, which intrigued me, so off i went
I rushed down after work to the big multiplex in town, and stumbled into the cinema as the adverts were starting. I joined my friend who was sitting in his seat drinking a beer. "I didn't know you could take beer into the cinema" i thought enviously. Then, in that pregnant pause between the trailer and the start of the film, a cinema employee walked into the theatre and shouted "where's the man who wanted a second beer?". My friend waved, and had a cold beer delivered into his hands as around him our jaws hit the floor. This was the coolest, most impressive move i have seen in ages, and rather overshadowed the rest of the film. But I liked the beavers.

Operation Padlock

Great day at work today. I've spotted a locker that looks empty. I plan to keep it under surveillance for a few days and if all goes well put a padlock on it on Monday. Then it will be mine [cue evil laughter].

Reindeer Ambitions

I had a little mince-pie and mulled-wine party on Saturday. Obviously for an occasion like this you need to think about decorating your flat. Last year I had an enormous tree, from which i am still finding needles (or do I need a better hoover?). It was living in a pot and lasted until april, although it had been dead since march and living in the stairwell since february. My neighbour had to resort to writing me a letter asking me to dispose of it. Anyway, this year I've downsized my tree. Whereas most people buy fake trees that look real - i've managed to find the only live tree that looks fake. So my flat needed additional decorations and i thought i had the best idea ever when i found this stuffed reindeer which i'd brought to give to a friend's new baby. £3 from Asda - bargain! (Oh, Rachel, ignore that please, Florence's reindeer was much more expensive. This is, um, a different reindeer.) I'd brought a few spares just in case of other imminent baby arrivals, but I thought I'd go back out to my local Asda and buy a sack of them and scatter them all over my home; in bunches and on doors and around the fireplace. So i returned, but the reindeers weren't where they had been. I spent friday ringing round various Asda stores with no joy, and i eventually managed to speak to Asda's 'head of reindeer' who informed me that they had no more stock. Devastated i wondered the streets for a bit and had to settle on these cool blue lights from Habitat. Which were reduced because they were blue (?!). They are so funky, they almost make up for the reindeer disapointment (but not quite).

The key to a good mince-pie and mulled-wine party is to invite a small child. Two friends dutifully brought their kid who killed the atmosphere stone-dead by standing in the middle of the lounge just staring at everyone. Eventually she chilled out a bit and was happy dusting mince-pies with icing sugar. It's amazing how many grown adults can be fooled into thinking mince-pies are homemade if you just sprinkle a little icing sugar and persuade a toddler to serve them.

How to compile a 'Best Of 2005' album

I have a friend who traditionally receives a compilation CD from me for Christmas and so I struggle with this issue around this time each year. But then I found an article online that served as the basis for my own advice, which I'm going to share with you. Hope you find it helpful. I'd love people to add to this is anyone wants to comment. PS i actually like Coldplay.

• Before you begin, make sure you pre-empt your list by mentioning that there weren't many great albums out this year and that music in general is rubbish right now. If you don't, people will assume that you derive pleasure out of making lists about your favourite things. And that's pretty uncool.
• Remember to include at least one (but no more than 3) hip hop tracks. This shows that you are receptive to all types of music and that you are "down." Don't get fancy, stick with what works, even if they didn't release an album this year.
• If you don't plan on naming a couple of tracks off Import albums that don't come out in this country until the Spring of next year then stop reading right now
• This should go without saying, but be sure to include one band that nobody's ever heard of. This is a good time to list your friend's 3 track EP that he gave you one night when you were out. Including his band's album on your list accomplishes two things: 1) it's a safe bet they're completely unknown, and 2) it makes him happy.
• Don't include your actual favourite track from the year. It may have been good when you started listening to it, but now it's cliche. Deal with it.
• If they recognise it, stuff from Jan-June will be so far back in people's memories that they will think it was actually from 2004 (aargh!). You want max two tracks from this period. Assuming a ten track album you can then safely use four tracks from July-October and four from November-December.
• Make sure to include something from an album that just came out. This will lead people to believe that you got an advanced copy months ago and had plenty of time to get into it. But WARNING- BE CAREFUL- make sure it's not something that will become popular or produce a radio-friendly single in the next couple of months. Nothing will kill your indie cred than including the next Coldplay on your next Hip List.
• Include one random way-out selection ie. A bit of speech or a kitsch christmas tune. Although it's there as padding it'll look as if you had so much you could have included that you thought 'sod it', didn't make the choice and threw this in instead.
• If you're including a track from a major release make sure you dig up the 'live' or 'acoustic' version.
• Space out bands with names that begin with "The" appropriately.
• Space out tracks with one-word titles appropriately. This is more important than arranging the order of the tracks according to mood/tempo etc.
• To really drive home the point that you're not mainstream, add a list of "Albums that just missed the cut." There-- and ONLY there-- do you include the bands that had a song on the radio in 2005.
• Sting did not release an album this year. It just felt like he did. Ditto Moby.
  
• Do not include a track because you liked the design on the packaging. This subtle point will be lost on the recipient.
  
• Final check to ensure that the recipient of the best-of didn't recommend anything on the best-of list to you cos that would be an admission of failure. This may entail different individualised 'best of' lists for each recipient.
• Remember that making a best-of compilation album for a girl (if you are a boy) is the 'root of all evil'. A complicated issue I won't go into here. ie. Usually ends in tears.

Mama Popcorn Debut

I might have kept it secret from some of you that I was in a choir. That's probably because I was a bit embarrassed by the name although I admit it's beginning to grow on me now. ("Mama Popcorn" sounds like a Spongebob Squarepants character.) I also might not have mentioned it because it seemed like a group without definition; monday night rehearsals were a guilty pleasure but we hadn't performed live - and it was almost as if playing in front of other people would define the group's identity. The identity being, of course, funky soul rocking gospel. Yeah whoo whoo!

Anyway, on a cold wet monday night in Edinburgh we crammed 100 people into the room below the Cannon's Gait pub on the Royal Mile. The venue reminded me of what it must be like to do a gig at a Beefeater restaurant - all plows, mangles and old pots around the walls. We could have asked "Have you been to a Harvester before?" as people came in. The only decoration was "Mama Popcorn" scribed on a blackboard and two sets of fairy lights; one in a big clump because I couldn't untangle them. The 'choir' consisted of about ten singers (three guys and about seven girls - I'm always confused as to the exact number of girls as they tend to move around a lot) and a four-piece band groove machine known as 'the band'.

The music was funked up workings of some soul classics (Marvin Gaye, Aretha Franklin, Sly and the Family Stone, Stevie Wonder), some gospel greats and some new originals. Actually one new original. Actually, not that new since I've sung "Hold On" in at least four previous concerts with four different choirs. Dave, who wrote it and leads the choir, is on the quest for the "perfect arrangement". One day you'll be happy with it Dave. We have always liked it.

The audience looked a bit shocked at times, but smiled a lot and took part in the best gig sing-along I think I've ever experienced. No-one rushed the stage but they were too squashed in really. If one person had stepped out of place the audience would have imploded.

Best moment? Not an obvious one; I love sopranos dearly - in my conducting experience they are a law unto themselves. There was a classic moment during the break-down of one song, where the tenors sing a phrase, then the altos loop it a bit, then when Dave pointed to the Sopranos they just starred at him as if to say "excuse me, we'll come in when we want, thank you" and didn't do anything. Classic soprano attitude.

Great gig. What a great way to end the year.

Advent: Day One

The church I used to go to in Leeds are having an advent blog. Each posting is done by a different member of the church and takes a character from the Christmas story as a point of reflection. Even though i've moved away from Leeds, i still feel part of the community and I'm proud to have submitted the first entry. Follow it at ... um I'll try and find the address.

Mother Goose

I got a call yesterday from friends who were going to the pantomime and wanted to invite me along. They have a little girl, so that made it okay. You can't really go unless you have kids (Is it illegal? It might be), so I seized the opportunity. It was my first panto since I was in short trousers. Considering that most of the cultural references were designed to appeal to 10 year olds, I think I did okay.

man dressed as woman ... check
man dressed as goose ... check
man dressed as woman dressed as dalek ... check
flying man ... check
flying goose ... check
flying dalek ... unfortunately not, cos they can you know as we found out this year
man stilt walking included for no obvious advancement of plot ... check
light-saber battle (ditto) ... check
dalek (ditto) ... check
"look behind you" moment ... check (but woefully under-used)
"boo" moment ... check (great fun)
cute tiny kid or live animal on stage (the "ahh" moment) ... strangely absent
bird flu joke ... check
X-Factor references (it's Chico time!) ... check
humiliation of audience member ... check (highlight!)
multiple marriages at finale ... check

The moral of the story was that fat people (i.e. mother goose) shouldn't try and become thin because they are beautiful the way they are (and the goose will stop laying golden eggs). Unfortunately this message would have had more impact had not the heroine, the fairy and the dozen dancing girls not been gorgeous and stick-thin.

The songs were good. We had "Show me the way to Portabello" (aka Peter Kay) and they updated the Proclaimers song:

I would walk 500 miles,
And I would walk 500 more,
Just to be the man who walked 1000 miles
To see that goose once more.

Lamb's Conduit Street

Yesterday morning I flew in from Montreal. I arrived in London and found myself with a few hours to spare before my train to Edinburgh, so I got off the tube a stop before Kings Cross and went for a coffee on Lamb's Conduit Street. This appealing (bizarre?) sounding road is near Russell Square; I know it well because I lived round the corner from it for a year and worked opposite it for almost three. It's pedestrianised and as it's near the financial district it's pretty quiet early on a saturday morning.

I took my large latte and sat in the window, totally jet lagged (my body was screaming "it's 4am, step slowly away from the coffee and put your head down"). I'd just spent two weeks in Canada, and a lot of that time was spent drinking coffee and looking out of windows, so I thought I knew what was involved - and that Canada was interesting and London was, you know, just normal. But I was surprised by how pleasant the whole London coffee-window thing was.

For a start the road sweeper in London was a complete nutter He actually began to beat up his sweeping trolley. He gave it a huge kick, which resounded around the buildings, then after a few minutes, just as I thought I'd imagined it, he whacked it hard with his broom. He was also singing at the time, but I couldn't hear what he was singing. And I can't guess. Probably something pretty epic. Maybe opera?

There was a security guard in a little hut, who emptied the bin from his hut into the sweeper's cart when he wasn't looking. Then there was the happy carpenter busy dismantling some wooded thing in front of the window. He was singing too. And there was a little girl who screamed "I don't want take off my skirt" and her mummy replied calmly that it was okay, she didn't want her to take off her skirt in public either. And there was a Dad and his daughter going to buy croissants. And a kiwi couple buying the paper. And the girl from the croissant shop standing in the doorway with a coffee catching a ray of sun while waiting for customers. And a little kid with a tracheotomy (we were opposite Great Ormond Street Hospital where a tracheotomy is almost compulsory) charging around on a tricycle while his mummy packed the car. And a hugely pregnant publican opening up the bar opposite. All in all pretty entertaining.

In Montreal people just wore thick coats and walked past looking cold. In London people were actually entertaining.

Let's see if this works ...

mmm. seems okay so far. what happens when i press this button? oops