Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Further Advents: 25 DECEMBER (HAPPY CHRISTMAS!)

Right.

What fun! But that is it. After 25 days of continous (ish) blogging, I'm done, I'm spent, I'm finito.

There is nothing behind this blog post - because every Christmas is entirely your own. Enjoy!! Besides. Who's reading the t'internet today?

All that remains is for me to wish you a very merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year. Cheers for reading!

I shall be taking a blog-break until 2008.

Loads of love,

Boz


oooooo go on then. One more mince pie....

Monday, December 24, 2007

Futher Advents: 24 December (omg it's Christmas Eve I'm really excited is Santa coming is he is he is he is he? etc.)

T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring... except the madly energetic children high on cake and sugar and sweets.

Being locked in the house with an over-excited small child on Christmas Eve is like defusing a series of never-ending bombs. You know it's only a matter of time before calmness is snapped like a twig and panic and mayhem break out.

I actually found myself using the phrase, "...or Santa won't bring you any presents." Which frankly I thought would never happen. Oh dear me.

But I'm not Scrooge. It's still lovely!! :-) Especially as the over-excitement of a three year old makes it even more enjoyable for the rest of us.

NowshurrupcoztheChristmasEditionofTheGoodLifeison. S'the one where they all get sloshed and nearly end up swinging. Which is frankly, very Surbiton. Fabulous line from Margot (reading from a cracker joke): " 'The Oo-ar bird is so named because it lays square eggs'. I don't understand that at all."

My nephew is weeing noisily in the next room (which is luckily the bathroom) and talking to his genitalia. Ahhhh.

Anyway. Enough of this family nonsense. What have I for you today?

Well. T'is the season. But if you'll excuse a bit of guilt-inducing schmaltz, for a lot of people Christmas might be lonely, cold and a bit desperate.

I'm not going to make you feel bad! Just visit this cool site to build a city and help a few people out at the same time. Go on - it's a great way to spend the time while eating a mince pie. Or five. And Shelter will thank you.

Now. I'm so excited a little bit of wee might come out.

G&T on!

Sunday, December 23, 2007

Further Advents: 23 December (how the FRICK am I gonna get these presents home??)

Right. Madly rushing around today getting m'arse back home and sorting last minute things out. Ironing. IRONING!?

So, here's Lovely Lucy Mangan with a well-timed piece on Christmas Eve.

ARGH DON'T CRASH SAFARI YOU BASTARD.

Right. Calm. Little Book of Calm....

When next you hear from me, I shall be reporting live from the remote parental unit. We hope.

Nnnnng.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

Further Advents: 22 December (sticky fingers)

Behind today's window, portal, blog post thing is a tribute to the thing that I have used a LOT of today. Yes. Transparent, cellulose-based, pressure-sensitive adhesive tape:


Sellotape!

And who knew it woud have such a flashy site.

From which I learn..
"The name 'Sellotape' has been synonymous with adhesive tape for generations. The product even has its own entry in the Oxford English Dictionary. As a brand leader in the UK, Sellotape won Superbrands' Most Trustworthy Brand Award in 2003, beating the likes of Rolls Royce!"

Faskianating. Furthermore, Wikipedia tells me that it was first made in Acton. Which is probably the best thing ever to have come out of Acton.

(Note for those from overseas and other extra-terrestrial visitors. Acton is, well, how can I put this, a hole. Which probably means it's about ten years away from becoming the next hip place to live... no, sorry, I can't even type that with a straight face. I'm sure parts of it are lovely and many of its residents love living there. But basically it's the arse end of the District Line. Ithankyou.)

The website also has a remarkable amount of detail on how Sellotape is made. I'm not sure why you would need to know this, but I find it strangely reassuring that it's there.

My Gran pronounces it 'seal-o-tape'. Because she thinks the Queen would say it like that. Right. Like the Queen gets down on the floor with a 5m roll of sparkly paper from Woolies and the kitchen scissors, does she? To wrap Philips new pair of slippers and book tokens for the grandkids? Unlikely.

In short - Sellotape, we salute you! You are the un recognised Hero of Christmas! And also other celebration times! Including Birthdays!

Rip on, Angela!

Friday, December 21, 2007

Further Advents: 21 December (Awooga! Lolcats warning.)



Yes. Well. Last day in the office. Not. Doing. Much. It's all very end of term. So lots of LolCats. And any excuse not to do work.

So behind today's t'internet window is stuff that is being sent round the workplace.

Stuff like cool addictive games.

Stuff like funny cartoon captions.

Stuff like The Star Wars Last Supper. Which is just quite awesome.

And more cool perfectly timed pictures.

And finally, The LolCats Nativity:

"Then Joseph waked up, done wat teh angel frm Ceiling Cat tolded him to, and was all liek "U wit me now lol" at Mary. And dey didnt has teh HARBL GOES WHERE!?!? til affer dey gets a son and calleded him Jeezus. Ktnx."

Magnificent!

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Further Advents: 20 December ("sorbets that smell of uncles")

I done promised LaLa that this post would be a touch more UP TEMPO and FUN! (Exclamation mark: author's own).

Well for kick-off let's have the angel on top of everyone's tree, Nancy Banks-Smith on some Christmas food telly. The woman has lost none of her magic. Wit, vim and good typing whirl out from under her ever-ready fingertips:

"Their antlers were like a leafless forest against the great, golden skies."
and
"Give Rob Brydon a second helping of gruel, poor mite, before the rickets set in."

Then we'll have a dash of Geoff with some mildly perilous festive music, along the theme of high driving. The result being a Wham, one expects. (ker-chuckle).

Then we'll have EVEN MORE music suggestions from the brilliant Delrico Bandito.

Then take three ounces of Doris and her tips on festive decorations for historic homes. Along with possibly a fire blanket, to taste.

Not enough? What is it you're wanting? A side dish of choirs or something? Or Something?

Whistle on.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Further Advents: 19 December (bleak Facebook scrabble)


Sometimes, do you ever get the feeling the universe is trying to you something?

Monday, December 17, 2007

Further Advents: 17 December (things and stuff)

Right. Freeness ahoy.

The band Maps are amazing. Even more amazing is the timely free cover version of East 17's Stay Another Day. Dreary - but deliberately so, no? Like a drunk, who's lost a bet...* For all you Yuletidephobes out there in t'internet land.

Looky here! New trailers for the new Batman film. Ooooo.

I was sent this a few weeks ago by a mate. IT'S AMAZING:


"Fashion is something that can be acquired.. by looking at a lot of different fashions"

"I choose an orange lipstick, and wore my hair very simply. Ostrich feathers, anyone..? This is what I call originality in design..."


I know, I know, It's wrong to mock the past. Foreign countries, doing things differently etc etc.** But seriously give it a watch. S'brilliant. Jaw-droppingly brilliant. And just in time to give you some re-decoration tips for the festive period. Brenda's still around too.

I see Will Smith is doing well. I have to take the credit. The filming of that interupted my shopping in New York for all of 45 minutes. Tsk.

Finally, and randomly, free pictures from the Tube archives. Kewl.

* Mini Moviewang fo you there.
** IS THERE NO END TO THE CULTURAL REFERENCES.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Further Advents: 15 through 16 December (hic)

Weeeeeell. Obviously I'm a bad Advent blogger: I missed a day. Mostly because this time was spent on this project. What can I say? If it makes you feel any less neglected, I have also failed to do my Christmas cards, still have some way to go wth the shopping and ther Christmas tree has been standing on the landing for three days all wrapped up in its mesh stuff.

Oh Dear.

SO. Anyway. On with 'the show'. Day 16!

For all you retro gamers out there ("...hullooo...?") it's The Original Prince of Persia!

Enjoy! And time those key presses very very carefully. Ow I've been spiked. I've been spiked again. Damn those spikes. Spiked. Spiked. Spiked again. Floor gave way. Spikes. More spikes. Floor giving way... ahh. The memories...

Friday, December 14, 2007

Further Advents: 14 December (three pints in = at most fabulous)


Because this isn't just any old advent post. Oooooooooo nooooo. 'fraid not, funters.

THIS. This one here. RIGHT NOW. HERE. Is the THREE HUNDRETH post on Further Adventures. Yes! Can you believe it!? I can't. Really. I cannot believe I've kept this up this far. Gosh.

Before I get all 'motional, let's get on with the show. Apart from the first ever picture of me on this blog, what else have we behind door number 14?

Well. For starters, can I present to you, the hilarious but wonderful mother of Ms Emma Kennedy?

For those of you who haven't seen it; the mighty FunnyGood, mighty addictive stylings of the mighty warriors of Toy-Fu. "Steve?"

And this cool thing let's you design your own wrapping paper. Timely.
Hmmm. 300. So what else happens at 300?

Ahhh, I give up. Let's have some Christmas Cheese:


300 and onwards, funters!

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Further Advents: 12 December (literally awe inspiring)

How could I top Betty from yesterday?*

Well. Day Twelve. What do we have?


THE FUTURE OF OUR WORLD
.
Yeah! Brew up a tea, take a seat** and watch the fate of our planet. 'Mazing.



Those who know me will know that the line 'any life left on earth will by now have relocated' is going to be my clear favourite.

It's all very Hitchhiker's Guide. High praise indeed.

* For recent comers to Further Advents, panic not! Bloggercide is not forthcoming. You misunderstand me. Now read on.
** With a cushion if you so fancy, Go on. Spoil yourself. It's nearly Christmas.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Further Advents: 11 December (vital blogging tools)

So children, what's behind our Further Advent door on day eleven? What treasure, treat or triumph have we to feast upon today?

Why, it's Our Lady Betty of the Utility Room!

Specifically her blogger's guide to the perfect blog post. I really must take on board some of the advice she has been proffered by her commenters (Commenters? Commentators? Comment-leavers?). Specifically from this one, Tom.

Largely because Betty 'bigged-up' this blog in the comments and sent people this way. I am going through a phase of being a blog-traffic whore. I will literally do anything you ask of me.

(Has sinking feeling of a big mistake looming fast on the horizon).

Although, Frankly, if you've arrived here from The Legendary Utility Room - then what a f*cking let down. How could one possibly compete?

Blog on!

Monday, December 10, 2007

Further Advents: 10 December (by the roll of the die)

Okay. Either this is clever-clever compooter jiggery-pokery, or someone spent A LOT of time with A LOT of dice.

Either way - cracking video, stonking choon by Fujiya & Miyagi.



Big hats off to Mark for pointing me in their direction when we were relaxing in The Social and this song came on.

Tra la lah.

Yes. I will top using this Further Advents thing as a way of collating a bunch of YouTube clips soon, I promise.

Jazz mags on.

Saturday, December 08, 2007

Further Advents: 8 December (with added religion and church dancing)

Hooray for Sister Wendy! Here at Further Adventures we very much like people people with open minds. Especially when they are bit funky and glide around galleries getting all excited about renaissance artwork.

Right. I've started a church theme. Hmmm. Where can I go with this?

I know!! (spoilers if you haven't seen the end of the first series of Ugly Betty)



Amazing. Sister Wendy and Kelis covers in the same blog post. I continue to amaze myself.

And if anyone mentions the dates the last couple post went up then they'll be VERY STERN WORDS DADDY HAS ONE OF HIS HEADS ON.

Ithankyou.

Crashing on.

Quietly.

Shh.

Further Advents: 7 December (because anger is funny)

Further Advents: 6 December (quote of the day)

(As heard in the office. A colleague is on the phone to a friend who is trying to explain something to her)

Colleague: No. How? But how? But that's physics. I don't get physics, It's like magic. Can you explain it to me in Harry Potter?

Monday, December 03, 2007

Further Advents: 3 December (presented in association with the letter G)

Because They have gone and messed with perfection (ie made a new St. Trinians film*) I am reminded of wonderful Joyce.**

I'm tenuously going to pretend I'm not posting a clip from the first St. Trins film because she always slightly regretted doing them, butreallyit'sbecauseIcan'tfindanyclipsonYouTube.

Instead, here is another delightful classic Joyce moment from the film archives.***



Girls, Grenfell and Genevieve. The letter G.

* Incidentally made with Lottery Money. Does that mean we're paying for it twice? Not that I play the Lottery, but you get my drift. If only because I can't find anywhere stocking Dreft.

** Right. I promise the next few Advents will be a bit more cutting-edge, HipCool and counter-culture-tastic. I would like to reiterate that I am not a reader of The Daily Mail.

*** YouTube again. Obviously.

Sunday, December 02, 2007

Further Advents: 4 December (powering-up Christmas)

Computer games.

Yes, I like books. Yup, and telly and films. Even art'n'stuff too.

But computer games, from Mario to Sonic to Doom to Zelda to Kirby to Lemmings. I LOVE 'EM. And there is a generation of people my age who secretly bond over such things. I spent five minutes at a party on saturday trying to make the noise that happened if you played my Commodore Vic 20 tapes in the hifi.* And remembering when you had to blow on your Gameboy Cartridge to make it work. That isn't the euphemism it sounds like.

So peoples. How do YOU like your Mario theme music?

Duo-guitars?
Full orchestra?
Accordian?
Tuba?
In church?
Bassoons?
Beatboxing flute?
In metric and imperial measures?


For me, it has to be the full-on, blow out, performance art choral number:



It's just how I shake my snowglobe.

Power-up on!


* Damn but I'm cool. And who has a HiFi anymore?

Further Advents: 2 December (AKA a festive tale of WOE)

Hah! Bet you'd all think I'd fail at day two, didn't you. No such luck, feckers! Even after saturday night drinks we're still here and kicking bottom. AND what's more I've mad a significant dent on my Christmas shopping today (smug).

So - the dread question - what's behind the window of day two? Well, because we're a bit cultural here at Further Advents, behind the window is POETRY. Yes, that's right, you read write, don't choke on your mince pie you'll get crumbs on your keyboard, POETRY.

There is, of course, a context.

Last year, just before Christmas, I split up with my then bloke. It being Christmas, I had been very organised (sort of) and done my shopping. When the split happened, in a fit of peak I made bloke take one of the presents I had bought him when he left (blatantly because I was rather pleased with it and was in no mood to make it easy). But the other smaller gifts (yes, plural) were left sitting on my shelf - and in fact have been for most of the year. In a bag. Avoided.

One of them - a joke present for in-joke comedy purposes which made sense at the time - was a selected poetry of Pam Ayres*.

Picture if you will, the sad scene of me, freshly singled, in my flat one lonely December evening, reading through the selected poetry of Pam Ayres and crying manfully. Oh. Dear.

So, Ladies and Gentlemen, for your second piece of advent joy I give you the poetic stylings of Pam Ayres. (Over to you, Pam)



Goodwill To Men
- Give Us Your Money

by Pam Ayres

It was Christmas Eve on a Friday
The shops was full of cheer,
With tinsel in the windows,
And presents twice as dear.
A thousand Father Christmases,
Sat in their little huts,
And folk was buying crackers
And folk was buying nuts.

All up and down the country,
Before the light was snuffed,
Turkeys they get murdered,
And cockerels they got stuffed,
Christmas cakes got marzipanned,
And puddin's they got steamed
Mothers they got desperate
And tired kiddies screamed.

Hundredweight's of Christmas cards,
Went flying through the post,
With first class postage stamps on those,
You had to flatter most.
Within a million kitchens,
Mince pies was being made,
On everyone's radio,
"White Christmas", it was played.

Out in the frozen countryside
Men crept round on their own,
Hacking off the holly,
What other folks had grown,
Mistletoe on willow trees,
Was by a man wrenched clear,
So he could kiss his neighbour's wife,
He'd fancied all the year.

And out upon the hillside,
Where the Christmas trees had stood,
All was completely barren,
But for little stumps of wood,
The little trees that flourished
All the year were there no more,
But in a million houses,
Dropped their needles on the floor.

And out of every cranny, cupboard,
Hiding place and nook,
Little bikes and kiddies' trikes,
Were secretively took,
Yards of wrapping paper,
Was rustled round about,
And bikes were wheeled to bedrooms,
With the pedals sticking out.

Rolled up in Christmas paper
The Action Men were tensed,
All ready for the morning,
When their fighting life commenced,
With tommy guns and daggers,
All clustered round about,
"Peace on Earth - Goodwill to Men"
The figures seemed to shout.

The church was standing empty,
The pub was standing packed,
There came a yell, "Noel, Noel!"
And glasses they got cracked.
From up above the fireplace,
Christmas cards began to fall,
And trodden on the floor, said:
"Merry Christmas, to you all."


Thanks Pam!

I've cheated a bit because there wasn't anything on Christmas in the £5.99 book I bought**. I stole this from this website. Go and visit, buy the book etc. etc.

Which I suppose makes Our Pam the ghost of Christmas past. Which isn't very fair, is it? Poor Pam.

* Okay. Not that cultural. I mean I'm not being snobby about Pam - who certainly has a well-won place in British culture. But she's not in danger of winning the Turner Prize, is she? Bless her though.
** Last of the big spenders.

Saturday, December 01, 2007

Further Advents: Launch Day!

Now, I haven't stolen this idea or title from anywhere. Honest.

I must be insane, having seen first hand what blogging every day for a month can do to a blogger. But I'm keeping it simple, see...

THE FURTHER ADVENTS RULES OF ENGAGEMENT*

Every day in the run up to Christmas I will be bringing you, dear blog readers, little windows on the internet. Open these windows (or "blog posts" as the kids are calling them) and discover a bit of something wonderful, delightful, amusing and witty**.

These posts may comprise:

- Good blog posts on other blogs
- Photos (probably of me being silly***)
- Bits of YouTube silliness
- Things Christmas-related
- Sparkly stuff

Basically, I'm keeping the field as open as possible.

SO HOW WE KICKING THIS MADNESS OFF? WHAT AMAZINGNESS IS BEHIND THE WINDOW ON DAY ONE? Well, you'd think I'll pull something a bit spectacular out of the bag for the launch, wouldn't you? Oh yes. Drumroll please...



TWO CATS TALKING IN MEOWS. Amazing. What? More?? You want MORE? Okay then. Have a gander at this post from Popjustice, outlining the recent career progression of Leona 'it's just amazing to be here' Lewis. Honestly. It's hilarious.

Right. Advent on!

* AKA terms of endearment
** We can but hope, friends
*** AKA drunk. i wake this morning with a sore head and a collection of the worst ever photos of my workmates. At one point last night I found myself at the bar ordering two gin and slimline tonics, one vodka and diet coke, two vodka lime and sodas, one latte with a brandy on the side and a tia maria. How can I be so sure of the exact order? Because I woke up this morning with the order written on my hand:

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Look it's that time again already and look how the advertisers let us know it

Well. I don't care if he is in the Shrek films. He's no Dame Shirley, is he?

Although hats off, the advert is very well done. It makes you wonder how much all these things cost though. Have you seen the one for perfume where Kate Winslet hugs some chap on a bridge? How many suitcases of cash did they have to show her to do that then, eh? I could of done that. Hello! Hug. Smell nice. Easy. Although I bet I wouldn't shift as many bottles as Our Kate.

Still, it's all gravy. And turkey stuffing. If you can't go just a smidgen over the top at this time of year, then when can you. Although I should point out it is still November.

And of course, how else could they have spent the cash?

(HRRRNNKK!! Warning! Guilt-inducing seasonal celeb-fest ahead!)



Look at me being all "ethical" n stuff. I've off-set this post, you know. OkayIhaven'treallythat'salie.

But don't get me wrong. I properly LOVE this time of year, and think it's no bad thing we can let loose*, have some fun, splurge a bit and buy each other nice things. And legitimately turn up to work with hangovers. And dried vomit on our shirts. And wear bits of slightly forlorn looking tinsel. But karma, peoples, karma. All things in balance.

Oh dear. I do talk a lot of w*nk sometimes.

ANYWAY. So It's gonna be a bit quite on here** for the next week. Darhlings! Parties to go to. Family to see. Drinks to attend. Guests to make a complete tit of myself in front of. Scrabble to play. And don't get me started on the shopping... because I certainly haven't.

BUT. Only for a week or so, because then there's something a bit festive, a little bit spesh, a bit shiny (maybe) happening.

Watch this space...


PS: This post made me snort tea out of my nose. In a good way.

* Sorry. It's all the satsumas.
** Probably. I mean I can't promise that if I find something to rant about I won't get happy with the keyboard.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Ms Murphy: Bonkers, but we love her

Roisin, love. You're amazing. Too few people throw legendary moves like The Robot or The Running Man into their pop videos these days.





We salute you!

Saturday, November 10, 2007

HOLD THE PHONE

I saw Su Pollard yesterday. At the station.

Amazing.

That is all. Carry on.

Friday, November 09, 2007

IT'S FRIDAY MOVIEWANG - AGAIN!!

Right. I've had too much red wine in various parts of London this week to even consider going out this evening. Especially if I'm to have any kind of weekend.

So. Just about to get a takeaway...

...AND IT'S MOVIEWANG TIME!

I hope you peoples aren't using the t'internet to cheat. I really do. I would be sooooo disappointed.

Mystery Movie Quote of the Evening:

"I had just been dismissed from University after delivering a brilliant lecture on the aggressive influence of German philosophy on rock'n'roll entitled 'You, Kant, Always Get What You Want.' At 26, my academic career was over, I had never kissed a boy, and I was still sleeping with mom.".

Come on you grunters. Answers on a comment.

And a Shiney Bonus Point if you can tell me what one of the characters has hidden in their tooth....

I've been Chavved by Steve Jobs

I've just downloaded the newest version of iChoons.



WHAT THE MOTHERING CRUNCH IS THIS??

My puny PhotoShop skillz aside - HELLO!?? RINGTONES? What next - "cute" trading cards? Is Apple slowly turning iTunes into some kind of second Facebook?

Humph. I'm not happy. I can't imagine Penelope Keith or Emily Blunt or Alain de Botton downloading RINGTONES, so there's an end to it. Begone, Jobs. I love you, but BEGONE I say.

Talking of which, Arsebook looks quite cool. My my. I am getting curmudgeonly in my old age.

"An Ceiling Cat sayz, i can haz lite? An lite wuz. An Ceiling Cat sawed teh lite, to seez stuffs."

I knew one day I would become cornered by organised religion. All they had to do was put in wurds i understands...

I have found the Wurd. And the Wurd is "HAI!"

A- MAZING.

The ten commandments are now my guiding lights.

Friday, October 26, 2007

IT'S FRIDAY NIGHT MOVIEWANG!

Most people are on their second drink at this point, hmmm...

RIGHT. Mystery Movie Quote of the evening:

"Uh, is there a little girl's room in the hall?"
"Oui oui, Madame." [points]
"No, I just have to powder my nose."


Answers on a comment please...

Nil points in reality, but squillions in feeling

Aw shucks!

My site was nominated for Best Blog About Stuff!

What's a blogger to say!? Thanks LaLa! I'm welling up slightly...

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Things wot of Saturday daytime stuff

Farrrr too much wine, beer and spirits* last night - topped off with a baked potato to take the edge off the hangover - have meant I have not done very much today. In a blind panic I went shopping in Clapham.

The Grauniad has gone a 'things to make and do' on our asses. First it was stickers. Posters. Now models!


Amazing. It can only be a matter of time before thirteen year olds high on Sunny D** are swapping G2 sections in the playground. I'll give you my Guardian Society section for your film and music supplement...


AMAZING! I have a week off. I shall mostly be playing the new Zelda game on my DS. Wheee!

HASN'T GEOFFREY TWO GROWWWWN??? I've come up short in the old TLC department of late. Hence...


I might try and get a new plant for the flat on my week off too. No doubt I'll be blogging about inane and pointless stuff too WHICH WILL BE FUN WON"T IT.

Currently I am typing this post listening to dance remixes of james Bond theme tunes. This is what the world has come to.***

THAT IS ALL. Am off to the pub soon.

WEEKEND ON!

**UPDATE. Blogger was evil and lost the pictures that went with this post,. Making it surreal but unintresting. They should be back now (hand: model's own).**

* WhhhhOOOooooo!
** I am so five minutes ago.
*** Makes me feel sad for the rest.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Monday, October 15, 2007

HRRNNNKK!! HRRNNNKK!! HRRNNNKK!!


SECURITY BREACH! SECURITY BREACH!

The outer shield has been compromised. Automatic lock-down and quarentine procedure ten.

"They're... they're... THEY'RE COMING!"

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Bet the orginal lyric wasn't "though they tell me she's a witch"

Songs like this just don't really get made anymore, do they?

Under Attack

We are experiencing invasion. No, not the Nicole Kidman SLASH Daniel Craig remake*. A rather more genteel attack:

Ladybirds.


They are trying to get into the flat to hibernate. I find them everywhere and in the most unusual places. They are harmless enough - they're ladybirds, for crying out loud. But about an hour ago I looked up and jumped** when I saw six*** crawling across my bedroom window, inside and out.


I have a moral dilemma - I keep gently chucking them out of the window so they fly off, then feeling terribly guilty for about five minutes after, picturing them freezing slowly as winter approaches. It's unintentional murder. It's Ladyslaughter.

And there was one I didn't hold properly and now it's just sitting on the window ledge not moving. GUILT GUILT TREMBLING HEART GUILT.

I wouldn't go as far as to say I am a full-on Buddhist, but I am very Fotherington-Thomas and I do not like hurting or inflicting pain on other living things, big or small.****

Help. what do I do!? Do I let them in? Do I set up a little Ladybird Resting Home for them to rest in over winter? Are there instructions on t'internets for such a thing?? Did Blue Peter tell me how to do this when I was young and I have just totally forgotten??

In the meantime I am procuring emergency provisions and battening down all hatches. Roger. Wilco. Bunker Base Commander One receiving. Over and out (KSSHHH-typenoise).


* Oh dear.

** But not as much when staying at my parents recently and SHE-LOB wandered out from under my arm while I was blearily getting dressed one morning. 100% dignity failure combined with pathetic yelping puppy noise. And I fell over backwards in my haste to get away. The shame. Honestly, I let bees and wasps crawl over me, no worries. Spider? Wig out like Defcon One.

*** Six!

**** Even Daily Mail readers.

It's 360° appraisal time! WHOOOO!!

Constructive feedback forms are sprinkled across the office. A quiet mood of introspection falls. Boz idly hears the following interchange...

Colleague Three: "If you had to give me three constructive pieces of criticism what would they be?"

Colleague Four: "What?"

Colleague Three: "If you had to pick out three negative things to say about me at work – what would they be?"

Colleague Four: "I.. I don’t have anything negative to say about you."

Colleague Three: "But if you had to."

Colleague Four: "Can’t think of anything."

Colleague Three: "Nothing?!"

Colleague Four: "Nothing."

Colleague Three: "Nothing at all?"

Colleague Four: "No, nothing."

Colleague Three: "Oh come on, we’ve worked together for six years there must be something. The way I manage upwards, my communication technique, giving praise..."

Colleague Four: "Erm... I honestly can’t... really..."

Colleague Three: "Oh come on!! The hounds of hell are at the door, Lucifer has risen, humanity's salvation depends on your thought-provoking feedback to Hell's HR team, only moments before the wave of boiling lava and torment washes over the world and casts us into an eternal oblivion of pain and performance management..."

Colleague Four: "I really hate the way you curl the loops of your letter Ys around."

Colleague Three: "Fuck off, Julia."

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Quote of the day

Colleague One: "This music is so bad. It's so dreary."

Colleague Two: "Yeah. It's like the piped-in stuff I was forced to listen to all day when I worked at Tie Rack."

Colleague One: "Tie Rack. That sounds like a middle-eastern dictatorship. Tyraq."

Colleague Two, placing a hand on Colleague One's arm: "Oh the stories I could tell you of when the staff from McDonald's overthrew our overlords for us... "

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Very much here and with a tan (oooooo)

HELLO! He bellows, in the manner of a long-lost intrepid aunty. It's been a while, hasn't it?

But I am here and I am alive. I've just come back from a week of utter bliss; beach, bed and sea-bound fun. It was wonderful. I love a bit of adventurous traveling, but I do also love a bit of slobbing out by the beach. Amazing.

And well-timed too - work was getting mighty stressful. Still a relaxing break is nice. There was only one moment today when I looked across the office and considered feeding my own hair into the shredder. HEY HO.

To kick things off, here's a beatiful short film I saw on Channel 4's four minute wonder thing several years ago. It stuck and I've only just thought to look the thing up on You Tube.

Hurrah! Enjoy. It's ace.



The first time I looked I had real trouble finding it, eventaully tracking down the creator to some production company with a flash but unfriendly website. It seems to have gained a bit of popularity since then.

Such a wonderful mix of anime and 50s children's bookm illustrations. Sort of Lucienne Day meeting Tim Burton over a pre-dinner cocktail. And ooooo look I've just found this one from ages ago Aardman. Go on, see if you can name the plays as they come. I can only do most of the really obvious ones.

Worried today by the news that Keira Knightly is playing Georgiana Duchess of Devonshire in a film version of her life. Keira's alright n'all, but the character in question is one of my cultural and social heroes. And therefore NOT TO BE MESSED WITH. Find out how utterly mad as fish she and the rest of the Bon Ton were by reading this jolly good book. Insane levels of gambling. Not a patch on Tessa Jowell.

And YAY! Charlie Brooker is back for another glorious rommp of series of Screenwipe. Brilliant. I can't work out if I fancy him or his brain or both. Disturbing. So while you deliberate in mild horror, here's a good bit from a previous series: The 10 Biggest Cocks in Advertising.



Talking of telly about telly (pause, breath, comprehension), I'm still really enjoying Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. Sexy telly people making sexy telly YEAHHHH!!! Someone should do a British version. Behind the scenes of say, This Morning... except it would just be a bunch of people standing outside on fag breaks probably.

No. It's never gonna happen.

FINALLY. Spotted this on the Grauniad website today:


Aw bless....

Friday, August 24, 2007

A brief insight into the mind of Boz

So when I was a kid*, I once saw one of those really cool Peanut animations.

Well I thought they were cool, simply because you didn't see much else like them on TV. The had LENGTH. And slightly surreal humour. And DRAMA***. Possibly one of the few examples of cartoons for children where the main protagonist has a clear sense of existential depression. I think I had the one where they went to summer camp on VHS for ages****.

Anyway, I saw one once where they all had to do a book report as homework. The cross-pacific culture divide meant I don't think I fully understood what a book report was, but I got the general gist of it being a Hard Thing To Do.

This being a Peanuts animation, all of the characters spontaenously broke into a multi-part song about writing a book report while they each worked on it at home, in their own way. There was even - EVEN - a sort of montage-type thing happening where they each occupied a different fifth of the screen at the same time.

Very good, very good.

So there they were, each writing or typing away, pencil in mouth while they thought, singing merrily along while doing they're own work.

This, my friends, is how I picture the internet.

Are you singing along?

In othr news: I haven't been to the gym for weeks and weeks and weeks. Hooray?

* Smaller, less hair**, pale skin, probably collecting Garbage Pail Kid cards.
** Ker-razy.
*** Me and my sister had a Lucy/Linus thing going on, based mostly on her being more like Lucy.
**** IE it's still in a box somewhere in someone's loft, steadfastedly refusing to be 'sorted out'.

It's a sign


And a very funny one too.

More travel ones and full credits found here at the Grauniad. They have some religious ones too that deserve applause.

When it's not making us laugh the Guardian is also teaching us how to draw. Which is quite fun. I'm not going to show you my attempt. Let's just say my art teacher Mrs O'Hara was not suprised when I didn't take it as a GCSE.

And also news happened.

Sketch on!

Monday, August 20, 2007

Beware if easily offended

If I have to die, and despite enthusiastic experiments at the bottom of the garden as a child I think this is still quite likely, let it be something like this.

I hope, I do sincerely hope, the poor woman would have seen the funny side.

Sunday, August 19, 2007

Quest* of the week



Right. Who can give me a ballpark figure for the combined cost of all the cosmetic surgery work of the X Factor judges?

Answers on a postcard (or comment).



* 'Quest' being a tenuous pun on 'Adventure' and 'Question'.

Out with the hoover

I've had a bit of a tidy up of all the crap on the side bars, over there --------->

Weelllllllll it was getting cluttered full of rubbish. You'll not miss it.

I've also freshened up the list of other adventurers (but not with one of those fancy air freshener gadgets with melting wax, fans and a rotating arrray of scents. They seem to me a criminal waste of energy, plastic and common sense). Have a whizz through. Go on. They're all lovely and they won't bite.

My birthday treat to me was a digital camera (it's so shiny!) so expect pictures up forthwith.

Dust on!

Still alive and currently loving...

One: My new socks...


Two: Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip - almost to my own surprise. And it's quite nice knowing there is only a single series and it won't go tits up and start dragging out imporbable storylines. Yes Lost, I'm looking at you.

Three: That sometimes, when I'm drifting off to sleep and the roads are quiet and the wind is in the right direction, I can just hear the soft leaden circles of Big Ben's gentle bongs. Although time time is standing still somewhat at the moment.

Four: The fabulous-made-manifest Eltham Palace, which I went to visit with Lady D recently. We've been trying for about four years, including one occasion we turned up on the wrong day. Damn. But it was worth it in the end; it is beautiful.

Five: The aboslutely brilliant birthday presents I've had this year. Yippeeee!

More posts to follow. That's ominous, isn't it?

Sunday, July 22, 2007

Hooray for C and P

And you thought I might have forgotten? Na-uh. When I picked up my copy at about 4pm yesterday, they reckoned they would be able to donate between £500-£600 to the local primary school for books. Now that is not bad, eh?

Now ssshhhh. Reading.

Sunday, July 15, 2007

"What we have here is a 70 year old woman singing about rushing on ecstasy."



Having already talkied about this on this blog some time ago... I can't really do any better than the mighty Popjustice on the matter*.

"She does a very good job of looking as if she's having the time of her life but if you catch her just right there's a glint in her eyes which clearly says 'someone will hang for this'."

Well. Quite. But we loved the diamente studded wellies we saw in the papers when she was at Glasto. Rock on, gel.

I've just got back from my own Gran's, where I spent the weekend. She is over eighty and still rocking quite hard, in her own 'unique' way. I felt like a goose being force fed stuff to turn its liver into foix gras, only with fresh fruit and veg. I mean really.

* Yes. That's right. I'm still not really writing my own blog posts.

Friday, July 13, 2007

"...there’s a national shortage of wooden panels."

Okay this is getting really silly, as I'm just nicking blog posts off other people now - isn't that the intellectual democracy that is THE INTERNETS?

But... my darlings... nail down the loose fittings... Caroline Phillips is back, back, BACK!!

The woman is LEGEND.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Five billion years... AND COUNTING!

Well. Here’s a jolly 'to-do'.

Having just watched the latest Die Hard film (Explosions? Tick. Silly superbad guys? Tick. John MacLane musings on being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Tick. But disturbingly, long conversations during car journeys that take several hours? Also a tick. Hmm.) it’s quite interesting to think about what might happen when this all goes ‘tits up’ and mankind exits the planet stage left. Pursued by a bear.

James and his blue cat have pointed out this really cool timeline of what will happen if all the human bods vanish from New York city.

As per the Doctor Who season three finale – I love a good countdown, me. Half the battle in any drama I suppose – get a clock ticking. I love a nice big clock.*

Can’t help thinking they have missd a few crucial milestones though.

How long will the Statue of Liberty take to rust?
How long before the state is technically in another state?
How long until someone stumbles out of a underground gay club off their tits wondering if its just club ears making everything so quiet?
And when do the Daleks come to claim the earth?



*I have been using this lame joke for at least five years now and it must stop. Right here. Right now.

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Thread Revolution

Dress down Friday is dead. Long live dress down Friday!

The Management have declared that we can wear what we like to the office, so long as we have emergency kit to go to meetings etc. easily to hand. (They have good reason to be trying to engender a bit of positive atmosphere at the moment bless their dear littl hearts.)

This is good news for many reasons, one of which is that I was beginning to push it slightly with my clothes, largely along the lines of 'well if the ladies can get away the somethinng like this then why can’t I...'* Of course they’ll still have it easier for Big Serious Grown-Up meetings; I don’t care what you say but....

So what to wear?! I was thinking this:


Or this:


Although I’d quite like to go all-out and rock up in this just to see what would happen:


Whhhhheeeeeeeeee. You're a wonder, Wonder Woma-aaaan!

Hmmm. I would imagine the rules would be tightened up again pretty damn toot suite, 'Koim'. But being able to relax a bit at work is ace. It has improved the quality of my life considerably now that I don;t have to iron a shirt first thing on a Monday morning - always an arduous chore. Because after all. Feeling happier in the office makes us...


* I do mean like, you know, casual trousers. Not fishnets.

Sunday, July 01, 2007

Mini One

She slowed the car to a halt at the traffic lights. They seemed an age at red, yet the green roads were empty at this unforesaken Sunday hour. Nothing was happening.

The only sound was her fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel.

He broke the spoken silence. "You know, if this were a film we'd just have a montage of our journey. To keep them momentum up."

In her head, something went 'Ping!' like a microwave timer set to explosion.

"Will you stop underlining the filmic limitations of reality and concentrate on the bloody map you irritating arsehole of a husband! Contrary to all your expectations this is not a piece of cinematography. This is us going to my parents. With hangovers!"

Saturday, June 30, 2007

Obviously, this is all a very serious business indeed - if not one that London has ever been a stranger too.

But that's not to say there isn't anything delicious to be found; I love the fact that there is more than a bit of idiosyncratic Britishness about all this. And I quote:

"The second car, containing similar lethal materials, was given a parking ticket at 2.30am before being towed to a car park in Park Lane, central London"

I love the fact that the highly lethal exploding car was given a parking ticket and towed away. Thank buggery whichever brand of terrorist it was can't parallel park. Traffic wardens could be our best front line defence. Put two-fifths of an inch of tyre out of place in this town and they'll be a ticket on your windscreen faster than those scary angel things in the Doctor Who episode Blink*.

Not that I can drive.

Anyway - the real reason behind the imminent threat is much more reasonable. Oh those artistic types.

* Talking of which, saw a genuinely v creepy episode of The Avengers late last night called The Joker. We was well shitted up at one stage, let me tell you...

Friday, June 29, 2007

Adventures on YouTube: The last before the UK public smoking ban!

Students of Cambridge, you clearly have a LOT of time on your hands...


All Bad Touches (Come to an End) - by Norwegian Recycling


...and this one is good too:


Very clever. Take ten points.


On the 'mashup' theme, I would buy this:


I was soooo chuffed as a wee nipper when I got this on 7" single. Video budget? 34p. Brilliant.


Telebugs! Remeber they used to have a model robot one in Number 73...?

Thursday, June 28, 2007

French letters*

Hot. Damn.

The Times** had a feature this week misleading entitled 'The Greatest Letters of All Time'.

Hmmm. Bit dubious so far;*** the one from Oscar Wilde essentially boils down to 'thanks for the presensent. Ta v much. Say hi to hubby.' Not even very lyrically, elegantly nor wittily. Maybe he was having a bad day.

ANYWAY. The one that really caught my attention was from dear ol' Napoleon Bonaparte. I can't find it on their webiste (the fools!), but I copy it below. It's written to Joséphine after what must have been the mother of all rows during preparations for their marriage:

"So you thought that I did not love you for yourself! For what, then? Oh Madame, did you really think this? Could such an unworthy feeling have been conceived by such a pure spirit? I am still astonished at it, but less however than at the feeling which on my awakening brings me back to your feet, without resentment and without willpower. It is certainly impossible to be weaker or futher abased. What then is your strange power, incomparable Josephine? One of your thoughts poisons my life, tears my soul apart... but a stronger feeling, a less sensitive mood, takes hold of me, draws me back and rules me again as if I were guilty. I truly feel that if we quarrel I should close my heart.. And you mio dolce amor - Have you spared me even two thoughts?!!! I kiss you three times, once on your heart, once on your lips and once on your eyes."

PHWOAR! Just a little bit dead sexy!! Even if, like me, Bonaparte ggets a bit happy with the exclamation marks. But honestly:

"I kiss you three times, once on your heart, once on your lips and once on your eyes."

Cor blimey, we say. Shame about the divorce really.

I don't get nearly enough mail like this. I mean if they started this sort of stuff in my mobile phone bill I might pay the thing a damn sight quicker.

Pashing on!


* Fnar fnar fnar...
** We do sometimes do centre-right news media here on Further Adventures. Get us.
** I'm really into semi-colons at the moment. Bear with me.

Sunday, June 24, 2007

"Ta daaa."

Right then.

So I may have missed the two year annniversary of this blog last Thursday. Pants.

That's okay, you say, because you'll have something 'mazing up your sleeve, Boz, because this is also your 250th post. You wouldn't miss a double-whammy opportunity to pull something SuperSpesh out of the hat and wow us, would you?

Ahh. Bugger....

Well. Here's a mildly amusing piece of graffiti instead then.


I know, I know, I know... Boz is SuperLame. The plan was to take loads of pictures to mark the double party-type events and do a nice post with baloons and some cake (because everyone likes cake. Especially Boz.). But then that got a bit complicated - and The Move has been long, tedious and tiring. Luckily it's now OVER and we're doing stuff like moving bits of crap around to see what it looks like there, or on the mantlepiece, or on the table, or in the loft. Mostly in the loft.

The second plan was to then mark the anniversary with a picture of me. But then I thought, who actually wants to see a picture of me? Surely if this blog is still getting any kind of trafic (taps microphone. 'hullloooo...?'. Tumbleweed.) then surely they would appreciate some regular, better written and interesting regular posts.

Which lets face it loves, would be a first. Alas, like wot I have just done next door, this is anniversary number two.

(Hastily points out the room next door is in fact the bathroom.)

So now that the routine I've been beginning to crave is settling back in, I can hopefully get round to posting a bit more. I've developed an addiciton to Facecrack, I mean, Facebook though which is stealing a lot of time. A LOT.

To appease you I now give you something lovely. Or rather, what happens when you Google image search for 'something lovely'.



It's from here. No. I don't understand either.

Saturday, May 12, 2007

The Assistant (spoilers ahead)

Have you been watching this year's UK version of The Apprentice? Well you probably should, because it's brilliant. Largely because several of the contestants are borderline nut jobs; particularly my absolute favourite, the magnificent Katie.

SHE'S BONKERS! DON'T LOOK INTO HER EYES! DON'T LOOK INTO HER EYES!!

She is completely formidable and utterly hilarious. She is one of the few candidates to actually have her shit together, and has intelligence and wit in bucketloads. She stands for no sillyness, and is hilariously scathing about some of her fellow contestants. She is part army intelligence office, part businesswoman, part horsey lady and quite a lot of fearsomeness. I'm not really sure why she's doing this, but every week she comes out with some classic lines.

As ever, TV Guru Nancy Banks-Smith has it sussed.

The highlight so far has been Katie's merciless take-down of Adam - a man whose only personality trait appears to be being Northern. Oh and he likes cars. Adam has spent quite a lot of time in the boardroom in recent weeks, and wormed his way out of a firing last week but co-revealing the relationship Katie was having with fellow contestant Paul - an ex-Army walking lisp, bless him.

This was something viewers knew nothing about (well, me anyway) and I nearly bit the corner off a Habitat cushion in excitement. Which is funny as Shabbers appear to be sponsoring the contestans plush Notting Hill residence this year. I keep expecting to see a couple wandering around in the background asking if the rattan coffee table comes in any other colours.

Paul was fired (largely because he tried to sell rancid and cheap English cheese to the French) and Katie flushed red before going supernova and vowing revenge on Adam's hapless soul:
Katie: "I would like to be the person that secures Adam's exit and his route back to the north and his northern chums where, I do feel, he rather belongs."

Bizarrely, when the mud was flying, it turned out Adam was a wine drinker:
Katie: "If we're going to go personal, let's crack on, but I strongly advise you not to take me down the personal route. When your best friends are Mr Pinot and Mr Grigio, you want to watch it."

So that was the end of poor Ads. He was simply no match for the mighty mad Katie, who has GOT to be in the final three. Still, at least he's not bitter, hey? Oh.

Can't wait for next week. Katie to win!! Go Lady! Not least because even Sralan seems rather disconcerted by Katie.

We're mooting for further BBC 3 spin-off shows, beyond the post-sacking interview. Maybe a Big Brother style show with 24-hour footage entirely from within the contestants house. But better would be starring vehicles for the show's true stars:Managing with Margaret and Nick Negotiates. Brilliant.


Flathunting in progress! More to report later on, hopefully.

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Strange sightings in Clapham: Ooo-er.


Oh Matron.

The mind boggles. I'm so easily amused. Seen while shopping here.

Sunday, May 06, 2007

That's not how you sell a book.

This, dear readers, is how you sell a book.

Too bloody right.

Sorry - I have a bit of hardback on for independent booksellers at the moment. Specifically this one and also this one - which is fighting a disatrous rent increase that would herald another boring chain store of some description which would make Boz generically SAD.

...and we're back in the room.

Yes. I know. Bad Boz. I went away, but now I'm back back BACK.

Apologies for the lack of anything intersting up here - what's new, I hear you cry! Truth is there's just been a bit too much happening lately, and I can't see the wood for the carparks. Several looming deadlines at have combined with one of my LEAST favourite activities EVER; am currently mired in the misery of flathunting as our lovely landlord (he really is lovely*) is selling the flat.

I hate flathunting. I hate it. Ever since Uni when i was woken up by a phone call to say the house we were moving into had fallen through - in the case of the ceiling almost literally - I have this nerve-quaking fear of being homeless. Which is ridiculous - I have plenty of mates who would offer Boz a sofa and a bottle of wine at a moments notice. I suppose I'm just a bit obsessive about having somewhere to lay my hat. Or Hennes flat cap.

AM I WITTERING??

Too much coffee this morning, Vicar.

AND we had to put up with a typical estate agent penis** from hateful Foxtons coming round*** and telling us how much our rented flat was allegedly worth. I nearly cried. I will never ever ever be able to afford a place of my own. Ever.

ANYWAY. The point is I have had little time to do anything other than check in to some of my favourite blogs and drop the odd pithy, pointless, smug and badly spelt comments. In doing so, I notice I've been tagged by the delightful Cheeser. Fun ahoy. Hold on to your hairnets, and here we go.****

THE (current) TOP TEN FILMS OF THE BLOGGER BOZ (that's me)

Orphée - because it's French and fantastical and lyrical and wonderful.

Clue - because at heart I'm a bit daft and Madeline Kahn is much missed.

X Men 2 - because with the bangs and the noises and the shiny spesh effects and the flying and the mutations as social metaphors and the shinyness and the wheeee.

Oldboy - because it's beautiful. Violent, but beautiful.

The Royal Tenenbaums - because Wes Anderson is a bit of genius.

Orlando - because... I just do. It's what markleting executives call 'quirky'. Me and Virginia Woolf just think it's interesting, and not necessarily very serious.

Out of Sight - because I think it's quite sexy, and again not too serious.

The 39 Steps (The Hitchcock version) - because it's thrilling! And men were gentlemen who fried fish while still wearing their mac and smoking... we shall not see these days again.

Brief Encounter - because the very small can be the very huge. I need to get over this 40's thing though, don't I?

2001: A Space Odyssey - because it reminds me of my family. By association. Not because they are a bunch of chimps. At all.

And the Boz Bonus Film: Blow Up - because it's GroovyCool and far out man!

So there you then. That's my in DVD case. The truth is I can't possibly get it down to ten - but that should give you a flavour of the flickering behind my eyes.

DVD Commentary track onwards!



* Right up until the moment he doesn't give our deposit back.
** I am old and cranky enough now to admit to certain prejudices. Estate agents are one of them. I am continually delighted by letting agents though, who are almost universally lovely. And anyway - I am not alone in my vitriol.
*** I remembered just in time to pull down the two 'torsos of the week' from Heat magazine off the kitchen pinboard. Aha.
**** Again with the coffee.

Friday, April 27, 2007

From BBC News Online today...

Safety fears after Oxford St fire

"About 50 firefighters are tackling the blaze which started just before 1900 BST on Thursday above the New Look store, next door to Marks and Spencer.

About 150 firefighters fought to bring the blaze under control throughout the night and managed to stop it from spreading to other buildings. But there are now fears the damaged building is unsafe."



Well. That's synthetic fabrics for you.

Monday, April 23, 2007

Double take

I'm sorry, what?

Greggs?

Milla Jovovich?

Are we quite sure about the legitimacy of this news story?

Saturday, April 21, 2007

And while we're at it - how cool is the human body?

Answer: Very!

Thanks to James and the mighty Popjustice this is Feist with the poptastic video for one of their songs. Ahhh.

"Gran's results are back. 'Not human'."

Like most bloggers, I aspire to be some kind of writer or other. Tra-la-lah.

I have actual evidence of this thwarted daydream (thwarted entirely by my own laziness, I assure you). I took one of the local creative writing classes lastyear. It was extremely interesting! Having spent three years at University deconstructing the sweated and teared (and often torn) efforts of others*, slowly having the ability to just read a bloody book whittled out of me, it had been a long time since I actually considered the mechanics and methods behind writing a bit of fiction. Although the endless, self-appreciating white middle-class worthiness behind the whole endeavour creeps me out a bit.

The best bit about the class was the deaf and partially sighted octagenarian who intimidated the crap out of the rest of the class and the girl who only joined because the guitar class was full. Genius.

Anyway. I digress. The point being that inspiration comes at the most random times. Creativity is the love-child of crisis and pandemonium.

Family implosion? Have a triptych of novellas based on an amusing Chelsea family.
Health crisis? I'm just jotting down some casual haikus in the style of Walt Whitman.
Roof fallen in? Darling I can't talk I'm finishing this slim volume of goatskin bound verse.

Which of course would be lovely. But it's so unfair that the best ideas seem to come when there's bugger all time to do anything with them. Writing always looks so eaaaaasy. It's not. It's frickin hard work.

But all this is nonsense. As The Grauniad*** pointed out a few weeks ago, Ernest Hemingway had the right notion when he claimed his greastest story was made up of just six words: 'For sale: baby shoes, never worn.'

The Grauniad challenged a set of contemporary writers to use the same format. The results are really good.I think my favourite is from AS Byatt: 'They awaited sunrise. It never came.' Oooooo that's a bit good.

I think my flatmates has just coined a new word: fluckering.

Scribble on!



* I can't remember what programme it was, but there was a programme on telly years ago in which Imelda Staunton played an Oxbridge lecturer. I remember the snorted laugh my mother let rip when Imelda turned to her youthful group of students and intoned 'Right, you name it and I'll deconstruct it'.**
** It was Don't Leave Me This Way with the fabulous Janet McTeer. I heart IMDB.
*** I am quite literally not cool enough for Myspace. It shows.

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Telegrams from the edge: one

+ + + STILL ALIVE BUT WORLD HAS GONE TO POT STOP + + + DEVELOPED FACEBOOK ADDICTION STOP + + + NEW MARK RONSON LP IS SOMETHING FABULOUS STOP + + + WEATHER FINE STOP + + + MOTHER SENDS LOVE STOP + + + I DON'T KNOW HOW TO STOP + + +

Saturday, April 07, 2007

Adventures in Gym Land Three: Boz gets wet.

I am sitting in my living room having returned from the gym. I had a swim today. It was nice. No I did not use inflatable arm bands. I am furnished with a membership card and everything now, although I still haven't signed any bits of paper to say if I suffer a heart attack or manage to mangle my hand in a rowing machine then it's all my fault because I'm a big silly and not in any way the fault of the lovely gym owners.

Placed on the table before me is a sheet of A4 paper that also came home with me from the gym. At the top of this piece of paper is the word 'timetable'. That is about the only word I understand.

Body pump clinic - a jolly session to help clear out the systrems of those who have overdosed on muscle building powders and potions.
Dynamic yoga - meditation and stretching exercises for the upwardly mobile.
Total body conditioning - Timotei for yas pubes.
Mega-Hula - one big hoop, spun by a group of thirty. Bit boring for those in the middle.
Body balance - Balance corpses on bits on a selection of gym equipment. The winner is the one whose cadaver wilts last.
Group cycling - pedalling round France with The Beatles.
The Rock Star Workout - tone and build muscle by bashing up some music equipment with an air guitar. Followed up by the Rock Star Diet (biting the heads off whippets).

You know, this gym thing is a whole new world...

More Cant on the tellybox please

If I didn't all spend so much time farting in the wind and being so post-post-ironic then this blog would have a voice and, oh, for it to be Brian Cant's.

His calming tone has just been voted the best voice on children's TV. Make that all TV! Brian and Floella are responsible for a considerable bit of my early childhood and frankly they don't get the cultural recognition they deserve.

I hope everyone is having a really nice long weekend.

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

"I'm not Fergie-Ferg, I won't love you long time..."

...however I have just deconstructed the two foldy-uppy-outy-hangery clothes thingummys that have been in the kitchen for months, and discovered that the room is twice as big as I thought.

This matters because I spend a considerable amount of time dancing around it while cooking/washing up/undertaking kung fu laundry.

I pretend no one can see me through the window. Because then I would have been acting like a numpty for about a year. And that would make me a bit sad.

Don't ask about my London Bridge...

Sunday, April 01, 2007

Adventures in Gym Land Two: Boz does exist!

Well I have finally made it on to their shiny shiny database (thank you The God of All Finance). AND I went on a SUNDAY MORNING. Doesn't this earn me some kind of brownie point somewhere? No? You mean I don't automatically get more healthy because I went when I could have been lying in bed?? Oh, how unfair.

I still don't have a membership card yet though. I am collecting excuses:
"We'll do you one after your workout."
"Our system is down."
"We can do one next time you come."


On some deeply significant level, I am still being rejected by the gym.

I was terribly brave today though*. Not only did I do the usual running, rowing and ... what is that... skiing? Striding? The thing with the sticks and foot paddles. Makes you look like Kath from Kath and Kim. That thing. Anyway, I did that. But I also did some exercises on a Swiss ball (stop sniggering at the back). Oooooo. And I have blisters on my hands, so I must have been doing healthy things. Er...

Still far too intimidated by all the shiny staff with too much body muscle to use the free weights and complicated machinery though. I'll get there.

Am I obsessing about this too much?

RIGHT. It's far too nice a day to be sitting indoors. The world beckons. After I've done the washing up, obviously.


* By Brave, I mean Not Really Very Brave. I am 27, not 17. Alas.

Saturday, March 31, 2007

"Please try to remember we're hardly commercial travellers..."

(Glamorous spoilers ahead!!)

After spending the morning being blown around Clapham in sunshine and high winds, I came home, cooked lunch, and fell onto the sofa just as the wonderful Now, Voyager was starting.

I haven't seen it since studying it as part of a Uni course, NINE YEARS AGO. But it was a glorious few hours in monochrome. It's a complete piece of WWII propaganda, designed to reinforce some slightly dodgy messages around home and family to women while the blokes are off fighting johnny foreigner, and some decidedly dubious morality - a man almost literally gives away his daughter to his lover.

But who cares!? It's fabulous! Not least because Bette Davis spends the first twenty minutes of the film in full Ugly Betty-style frumpiness as spinster aunt, Charlotte Vale:


I mean, I know she is supposed be on the verge of a nervous breakdown, thanks to her overly oppressive mother, but still. Those eyebrows. Wow.

Luckily the audience knows she's not really Charlotte Vale. Really she's Bette Davis in a lumpy dress, which everyone knows is bound to be replaced with something svelte and lovely pretty damn quickly.

And to be fair, even as Almost Mad Aunt Vale she still manages to make the bitter clipped dialogue sound downright flirty. She clearly has the hots for the kind psychiatrist who takes an interest in her. "I think you're the least clumsy person I've ever met," she whispers from behind several inches of spectacles, before going back to dementedly carving ivory boxes in her bedroom.

Luckily, it's not long before she breaks out of her opulent film set of a home, and the 1940's glamour is cranked up several notches:

Apparently the best way to avoid a complete breakdown is to embark on an exotic round the world cruise by oneself. This was before the NHS. And it's not long before Our Bette is attracting all sorts of attention, although she's still doubting her team of make-up artists at this point:

Smooth-But-Troubled Man: "You made a striking figure by the door, looking for me."
Our Bette: "I probably put on too much lipstick."

That's what happens when a girl gets a bit happy with the Maybelline Nuclear Fission range of cosmetics ("Maybe she's born with it! Maybve it's Flunitrazepam!").

Clearly the scripwriters had enormous fun, and there are some quite shocking lines, including a reference to high-class abortion. Sex is never far off the agenda (much like the full string-backed orchestra, constantly just out of frame):

"Well, I'm not going to struggle with you."
"Who knows what sort of primal instincts you might arouse."


OOOOOOOOOHHHH! HE MEANS SEXING!! Mind you, even simple things like lighting a cigarette become fraught with meaning. Bette chuffs her way through Capstan Full Strengths for most of the movie, but never once sparks up her own (I suppose it's difficult when you're forever in gloves). She has but to wave her hand towards her handbag and about three Real Men do that thing of lighting two cigarettes at once and giving one to 'The Woman'. I'm sure they must have lost some footage of chaps competing at this - "Look! Look! I can light seventeen cigars at once! PLEASE LET ME LIGHT YOUR CIGARETTE!!"

But the glamour of it all is amazing. Spinster aunts in disguise. Exotic locations. Car crashes. And the HATS! How did women travel with less than fourteen types of hat, all requiring hat pins inserted through several layers of lacquered hair and straight into the skull!??

Eventually, Our Bette gets back from cruising (sshh at the back) and confronts Mother Dearest:

"I didn't want to be born! You didn't want me to be born! It's been a calamity on both sides!"

She stomps around her mother's bedroom. As their manor is rather roomy, she is able to get out several lines of cracking dialogue in the time it takes to cross the room and come back. Which is lucky, because when she finally makes it back to the dresser she discovers her mother croaked it at the first 'born'.

Unsuprisingly, this sets back Our Bette's recovery a touch. Only now she is able to dispatch herself off to the sanitorium, with the full set of hats, scarves, gloves and evening wear, of course. And not a little determination:

"I thought you came up here to have a nervous breakdown?"
"Well I've decided not to have one."


I shouldn't mock it though. Despite all the outdated fantasy and politics, I still think the film has one of the all time best melodramatic closing lines, as the whole thing shudders to a very untypical end that is neither traditional, neat, nor tidy, but all the better for it:

"Oh Jerry, don't let's ask for the moon, we have the stars..."

Mind you, it only works if you forget that on the other side of the library doors the rest of the uber-rich Bostonian clan are roasting weenies over the living room fire with the psychiatrist.

Even more fabulously, these days there is a gay and lesbian travel service called,Now, Voyafger.

Take ten bonus points for being brilliant. And someone telephone my milliner!