Secret Screen

So the week begins again. Had a pretty quiet weekend, though did manage at least one cultural excursion. The local cinema was taking part in the London Film Festival's 50 Secret Screenings. Basically, you pay your money and go and see what they show you, without a clue as to what it might be. Lovely idea, we thought, as we sat dreading some dreary Dogme film, or Jacque Truffle's four-hour sitting-round-a-table-not-talking odyssey...

But instead we got "Starter for Ten", a new British film about a working-class bloke going to University in the 80s, and trying to get on University Challenge. It's a very sweet tale, and features some pitch-perfect acting from James McAvoy amongst others. From the moment he walks into a hideous half-empty freshers party, attempting a smooth dance move, you experience every embarrassing minutiae of growing up... it might send shivers down your spine it's so cringeworthy, but it is also extremely funny, so I thoroughly recommend it...

Humdinger Old Boys

Me and Schwesty have been having an intelligent discussion today, about which 'Ding old boys still hold a place in our hearts. So I present to you Mr Darius Henderson (now of Watford) and Mr Jamie Ashdown (on loan at Norwich). Two rather talented individuals, all cheekbones. Bless 'em!

For the benefit of Troy

Thinking of you (after your excited email today!). Here is a picture of the 'one'. I'm worried that this is fast becoming a Seth Lakeman appreciation page. Not so worried that it'll stop me posting lovely pictures though!

When an Irresistable Force Meets a Movable Object...

The Mighty 'Ding get beaten 0-4. Ouch! Utmost respect to Arsenal though, who simply outclassed us, without getting out of first gear. I knew it was a bad omen, when I reached my seat, and found some naughty bird had shitted on it! Oh and the goal after 58 seconds from Henry...

Seth - One Day in History

Hmmm, slightly over-dramatic blog title there, but it will make sense I promise...

Firstly, went to see Seth Lakeman on Tuesday. Splendido! Not a very technical review, but appropriate. I've got to give credit to Schwesty, who the first time she saw this fellow, immediately looked glazed, and started declaring how great he was... well he's been growing on me, and I'm happy to declare I now totally agree! Not only is he quite presentable, but he's a real musician, and when you hear his "new-folk" (or whatever the term is) live, it sends a buzz through you. He and his band take an obvious pleasure from challenging themselves, and the massive showing off (lightning fiddle-work during the rendition of 'Kitty Jay' and the furious hoe-down 'Blood Upon Copper') was not unjustified. It's nice to see a self-satisfied musician, who actually deserves to be that way!

Anyway a good evening all round, which leads me to 'One Day in History'. I heard about this project of the radio. It's been set up to to record the daily lives of the British people, on one day - the 17th October 2006. It's like a mass blog, but it'll be preserved in the national archive for future generations to read. I think it's a great idea. I mean even if that day seemed boring as hell, it's sure to contain some interest to the fat little pygmies and 7 foot freaks of the future (for this is apparently what we'll all become). I'm already enjoying browsing the entries, and finding out about what normal and abnormal lives we are living in 2006. My diary of the day has been duly dispatched, and naturally includes my night of Seth, as well as the odd reference to the mighty 'ding. Well, the fact that my average day contains many-a-thought towards men, music and football, will surprise no-one that knows me!

Anyway get blogging on: www.historymatters.org.uk

Feeling Like a Festival....

Well my last couple of posts were succinct [sic?] but to the point. Thought I should add, though, that I wouldn't wish that injury on anybody. I hope your head is feeling considerably better soon, Mr Cech. You are one of the few Chelski players whom I actually admire (the list gets shorter every day).

Onto more positive things. Me, Choc Chip and Schwesty are off to see the Devon nerd-boy tomorrow (for the fourth time this year ahem...) which should be fun. Which officially means that the festival season hasn't ended yet (seeing as all my gigs have been Cambridge Folk Festival related, so far). Which reminds me, Choc Chip and I made the highlights of CFF on BBC4 last Friday. Me wearing hideous 80's sunglasses, Choc Chip looking very glamourous, as I poured champagne over her head (okay not champagne, actually very cheap perry, well a perry bottle filled with water). Still it all looked good, hence getting filmed I believe.

Apparently everybody gets their five minutes of fame. That's mine up then!

Cock...

Innocent...

They Return ... And They Lose

After what seemed like an eternal international break, finally the beloved 'Ding return. And lose. They were playing those bastions of boring football, Chelsea, who to be fair are pretty good at what they do. All in all, 0-1 is no disgrace, and, boy, was it eventful - a sending off each, both of Chelsea's goalkeepers stretchered off unconscious, after their head's connected with various body parts of the 'Ding, and a fair few running battles on the pitch. Unusually, the 'Ding seemed to lose their discipline a little, and the "special one" is already ranting about how Stephen Hunt has nearly killed Peter Cech. Well I didn't see the whole shabang, so I await Shwesty's report... it may be interesting!

Things that have Cheered Me Up Since the Weekend...

1) Completing my first ever machine embroidery sample. A small triumph maybe, but me and the sewing machine have a tempestuous relationship that involves a lot of cursing, breaking of needles, sewing my samples to my own clothing, sewing myself to my own clothing, and more cursing. In fact it is a major miracle - a small and highly stylised picture of Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge in Antrim, that doesn't look completely shoddy. Yes!!

2) Seeing a clip of Seth Lakeman's latest video (the White Hare) on TV. First it was smoke machines... now he has graduated to a wind-machine, and a (supposedly sexy I presume) flapping shirt. I would like to berate the advertising people for coming up with such total tosh, but in fact you have brightened up my rather shit week, so thank you, you overpaid idiots!!

Soggy Weekend

Something very bad happened this morning... I came into work and was pleased to be here. Worse of all, I was pleased the weekend was over. Which says it all about my weekend, really.

I was left to my own devices, which usually pleases me quite a bit. So I thought of some constructive plans - cleaning, shopping, visit to museum, embroidery - and then laid in bed and/or laid on the sofa and felt sorry for myself instead. The soggy autumn feeling of the shortening days, the sheer lack of human company, and suddenly I am feeling very maudlin and lonely indeed. To wallow in self-pity is not a very pretty thing, but sometimes it just hits you like that. I put on some comfy old trousers, and realised I am nearly too fat to fit in them now. This of course led to a prolonged study of myself in the mirror, involving poking my stomach to see how much 'bounce' there was, and analysing the dark circles under my eyes (I actually quite like them... they're not too pronounced, but make me look a little bruised somehow... which strangely I like... measure my state of mind off that Doctor!).

Oh dearie dearie dear.

Creative Corner #4

Man in Heels

I saw a man in heels today,
His face full of pain
As he stumbled down the Arkwright Road.
Rain pouring off the Hampstead roofs,
Splashing in dark gutters and gullies
As he walked. He looked young,
But not so young that he could not have lived
Many lives in that short time;
And he looked bare, in his flimsy attire,
And his cropped brown hair;
His face full of pain, as he navigated
The wealthy north, in heels.

Take off your heels. No man
Should have to walk the streets in heels.
I don’t know where you’re going
Or who you’ve got to meet
This night, this rainy Autumn night,
But take off those heels. The ground
Is wet and cold, but walk
On your own bare feet. Let your soles
Lie flat on the dirty street.
For un-arching your bones, letting go,
Will bring you such pleasure
When you are so full of pain.

Bad Cheese

Well what a load of old arse! Me and Shaggy made the trek down to the Forest of Dean, to attend the Great British Cheese Festival, and what would you know, the fecking place flash-flooded and they closed it down. No cheese for me, not one crumb of rotten stinking slimy stilton for my birthday belly. Boo.

Not that the weekend was a dead loss. We enjoyed the hospitality of "My Future Husband", firstly attending a party in a giant barge moored on the Severn, then staying the night at his very rustic cottage in the rolling hills of the Severn Valley. When I say "My Future Husband" this is Shaggy's notion, convinced that this Cider-making hulk of West-Country goodness is destined for me, being as I'm so "earthy" and clearly in need of getting thrown over the shoulder of some peasant type and spanked to within an inch of my life. He certainly was good company, and it was difficult not to be sucked in by his rather enchanting country ways, but the reality check was the noticeable absence of spark. I fear my life as a country wife is not getting any nearer people!!