Pynchon

I am struggling here for something to write about... Hang on a minute... I did watch some of the extras on my... er... "Extras" DVD. Very good.

Anything else?

Germany beat Argentina. That was good. I want Germany in the final. The fight on the pitch afterwards wasn't so good, though.

Anything else?

I had sausage and chips for tea. I have successfully managed to live off the contents of the fridge and the freezer all week without buying anything fresh. Lorraine will be disgusted.

Anything else?

I had a discussion with Larry Skin at work as to the top 5 girls in the office we would knob (not at the same time, mind), given the chance.

Anything else?

No.

Busy day tomorrow. Dispatching my CD in the Swiss Toni shuffleathon to the States (I have been reading some of the reviews of ones already received, and I tell you, frankly I feel like an old man), cleaning the house before Lorraine returns, collecting dry cleaning, food shopping, watching England demolish Portugal in the Quarter Final of the World Cup, collecting Lorraine from New Street station, watching "Doctor Who" on Teleport (I won't be able to see it as it goes out as I will be collecting Lorraine) and, hopefully, groping Lorraine's buttocks at the end of the evening. It's all go around here.

Have a good weekend, people.

Sitting together on a train, traveling through the Swiss Alps, were an English guy, a Scottish bloke, a little old Greek lady, and a young blonde Swiss girl with large breasts.

The Train goes into a dark tunnel and a few seconds later there is the sound of a loud slap.

When the train emerges from the tunnel, the English guy has a bright red hand print on his cheek. No one speaks.

The old lady thinks: The English guy must have groped the blonde in the dark, and she slapped his cheek.

The blonde Swiss girl thinks: That English guy must have tried to grope me in the dark, but missed and fondled the old lady and she slapped his cheek.

The English guy thinks: That Scottish bloke must have groped the blonde in the dark - she tried to slap him but missed and got me instead.

And the Scottish guy thinks: I can't wait for another tunnel, just so I can smack that English c*nt again.....

----

OK. It's been a quiet day.

Lorraine phoned. She is definitely coming home on Saturday. It looks like Len's heart op went OK, Renee is cool and things are mellow.

After a few marathon sessions last night and tonight I have finally finished watching "Timeslip" on DVD. It was broadcast in 1970/71, production wise is extremely primitive by today's standards, features some of the worst acting ever seen on British TV, but... is full of good and interesting ideas about time travel, alternate futures, genetic and planetary manipulation, global warming and the destructive elements of future science. I enjoyed it immensely. I last watched that series at my Gran's house on her new colour TV, 35 years ago. I was 8.

And Cheryl Burfield was hot...



(She was 18 years old playing 15. Sue me.)

I once met Spencer Banks and Cheryl Burfield at a memorabilia fair. Of course I got their autographs. Lovely people.

Conversation overheard in the canteen, while I was eating lunch. (Pork and stuffing on a brown baguette, spread with a little butter, seasoned with a little salt and pepper and botulism.)

(Two girls are sitting at a table. Girl Two is suntanned. She has obviously just come back from a holiday.)

Girl One: You look well.

Girl Two: You mean I look fat?

Girl One: No.

Girl Two: Well, I have put some weight on.

Girl One: Oh, yes?

Girl Two: Yes. I was 7, 7. Now I'm 7, 10.

(Pynchon nearly chokes on his sandwich. He looks at the thin, bony and emaciated looking girls at the table next to him. He considers buying them a Mars Bar to help fatten them up, but remembers the Rolling Stones drug bust story and thinks better of it.)

7 stone, 10 pounds! Fat Cow!

... How can anybody think that at 7 stone 10 pounds they are fat? I think one of my forearms weighs 7 stone, 10 pounds. (I am 12 stone, 3 pounds. I eat too much. Sue me.) Hell, if you are naturally thin, well done, but I won't fancy you. I like curves. I like tits. I like bottoms. I like women who look like women and not teenage boys.

Be happy, be healthy and be diverse! Y'all, give yourselves a round of applause, now!

(Today's lifestyle lecture was given by the genius self help guru John Pynchon. John thanks you for your time and would like to remind you that modestly priced books and tapes are available in the foyer. Please don't forget to visit his website www.fatisonlytwolettersawayfromfun.com.)

Oh, yes...

I need to add links to my last post. It was written in a bit of a hurry. Sloppy.

I have suddenly become very tired. Perhaps it was watching Switzerland versus Ukraine. (Yawn, but I am glad that Ukraine went through.) Also, while watching the match I did a lot of ironing. The excitement never ceases in the Pynchon household.

A quick summary of what entertained Pynchon over the weekend.

Whole Lotta Led on Friday night.

I enjoyed it a lot. The lead singer did a fair impression of the Plant wail, the musicians were good (especially the guitarist who was brilliant) and mainly it was a good night. I say mainly because although some of the songs they played came out fantastically well ("No Quarter", "Black Dog", "Kashmir", "Misty Mountain Hop") they threw away arguably Led Zeppelin's two most popular songs ("Stairway To Heaven" and "Whole Lotta Love") with sloppy playing and showing off to the crowd. Still, I would see Whole Lotta Led again. They said that they are coming back to the Carling Academy next year with a different set. (On Friday night they played the Knebworth '79' set.)

Interesting to note that the bass player was the spitting image of Chris Langham, who recently was arrested on child pornography charges. Perhaps he is moonlighting to make some money prior to the court case?

"Thank You For Smoking" on Saturday afternoon.



I suppose that it was OK. Funny in parts, but it wasn't as good as I had hoped it would be. The targets were all a bit obvious and a bit boring. Perhaps they should have kept in Katie Holmes' nude scene to liven it up. Shame. It could have been great. That is, the movie could have been great, not Katie Holmes naked. Not to say that Katie Holmes naked wouldn't have been great. I wouldn't have complained about Katie Holmes being naked in this film. If Katie Holmes wanted to get naked, who am I to stop her? In fact, Katie Holmes naked...

Shall we move on, John? Yes, we shall.

"Doctor Who" on Saturday evening.

Entertaining, but frankly toss. Next week's episode looks pretty rocking, though.

"The Pacifier" on Saturday evening.

Lorraine wanted to watch it. I didn't mind. I like Vin Diesel. I have seen "The Pacifier" before with my nephew. "The Pacifier" is a perfectly OK kids film and as such normal critical rules do not apply. See Vin attacked by a comedy duck. See Vin deal with baby poo. See Vin drive like a maniac. See Vin challenged to a wrestling match by the comedy gym teacher. See Vin get it on with the foxy (female) school principal. See Vin being gruff and tough.

Yes. "The Pacifier" is crap. I laughed a lot.

"Red Eye" on DVD on Saturday evening.

We bought "Red Eye" for Sister 2 for her birthday. It turned up last week, but we haven't taken it around to her yet. I have seen "Red Eye" before and thought that it was a brilliant little B-movie. Lorraine hadn't seen it, and as we had the DVD in the house it would have been just wrong not to let Lorraine watch it. Lorraine said that "Red Eye" was obvious from start to end, but she enjoyed it anyway.

TV night tomorrow night ("C.S.I. Crime Scene Investigation" and "Lost"). Back on Wednesday.

Except for Moon The Cat, I am all alone in the house. Lorraine has gone to stay with her cousin Renee for a week. It was a planned trip. Renee's birthday is on Tuesday, and totally coincidentally, Renee's husband Len is going into hospital for a heart operation on the same day. Lorraine has gone to show her support, be a shoulder to cry on and so on and so forth. If things go OK, Lorraine should be back on Saturday.

It is horrible being in this house on my own. I am aware of every noise, every creak of the floorboards and every groan of the hot water pipes. I have already checked that I have locked the front and back doors and that the gas/water has not been left, on a couple of times. Every sound made by my neighbours, or by somebody passing by outside the house, makes me think that burglars are trying to break it or that somebody is trying to damage the house. It is horrible. It really is a crap way to be. I don't do this when Lorraine is in the house. Ridiculous.

So, I have tried to take my mind off this torture by keeping myself busy.

I went to have my hair cut (the lovely Ashlyn has now left the hairdresser's, so I was seen by a very nice Jennifer Lopez lookalike with a large chest). I went shopping, came home, did hoovering and cleaning and then gardening (front and back). I stopped to watch the football (England 1, Ecuador 0 - say what you like about David Beckham, but that was a killer free kick). Then I went onto the computer to do a cover for my entry into Swiss Toni's CD shuffleathon. Then I made a CD of MP3 versions of the same tracks, just in case the standard CD version will not play on the recipient's equipment. Cooked some bacon sandwiches, ate them, watched "24" and back on here.

I feel quite sick. Better go to bed. Tomorrow I will share some thoughts on Whole Lotta Led, "Thank You For Smoking", "Doctor Who", "The Pacifier" and "Red Eye". Lucky people. You don't have to thank me.

Ah... "Resident Evil: Apocalypse" is shit, isn't it? Beyond shit. Very, very bad...

Let's not even talk about it. I don't know why I bothered. (Because you had never seen it before! That's why!) 90 minutes of my life that I will never get back.

In better news

"The Greatest Compilation Album In The World"

is ready to go. I even have a cover planned. There will be no tracklisting until the recipient has had a chance to listen, but you know me, I can never keep my mouth shut. Lyrical clues...

"New York, America, Winterland..."
"Why do we have to carry on?"
"A simple thought will occur to you..."
"Julie and Johnny..."
"Hold on..."
"I could be safe forever..."
"There's no easy way out..."
"I'm flying..."
"... bloom at night..."
"She's just complaining"
"She comes in colours..."
"Are you sleeping?"

I am off to see Whole Lotta Led tomorrow. I may be here tomorrow night. I may not.

Have a wicked weekend, friends.

Bastard!

The first attempt to produce

"The Greatest Compilation Album In The World"

failed because I had an output disk error.

Oh, well. I will try again tomorrow. I am off to watch "Resident Evil: Apocalypse".

(For those who have no idea what I am talking about, click here.)

So, I lied about not being back until Wednesday. Turns out that in their wisdom Channel 4 decided to shift "Lost" until 11pm to make way for "Big Brother" , so I was able to be here, briefly, after all. Good for them. Pray, did something interesting happen on "Big Brother" today? (Actually I am in no position to comment on "Big Brother" as I am hardly a regular viewer. It does not float my boat in the slightest. Perhaps I am missing out? Perhaps it is the greatest TV show of all time? Is it?)

Congratulations England. Through to the next round. The banana skin that might be Ecuador awaits.

Nothing else. In my unexpected free 1 hour I have washed up and cleaned the fridge. Lorraine is snoring loudly in the next room.

Quick look around and I am gone.

So, "Hard Candy".



It is an incredibly difficult film to write about without giving away spoilers, and as I most definitely do not want to do that, I will be necessarily vague.

Two people meet in an Internet chatroom. They indulge in mild flirting and innuendo. The two people agree to meet. We discover that the two people are a 14 year old schoolgirl (Hayley) and a thirtysomething male photographer (Jeff). More innuendo. Then Hayley agrees to go back to Jeff's house to listen to a Goldfrapp bootleg. Then... Good God!

That is practically all you are going to get from me. See it for yourself.

I thought that "Hard Candy" is an incredibly provocative, horrifying, gut wrenching, sickening and brilliant piece of work. It is practically a two hander (Ellen Page and Patrick Wilson are both fantastic), and would have worked brilliantly as a stage play, which perhaps explains why sometimes the script drifts into wordiness. Or is that just me picking hairs? I like the way that the sympathies of the audience drift between the two protagonists. Well, it did for me. It works as a horror film. It works as a commentary on the whole Internet chatroom phenomena and the dangers thereof. It is just a brilliant film and I want to see it again.

That was difficult to write. I am not feeling too well. I went back to work today. I think that is the reason.

I am going to bed. I will not be here tomorrow. England versus Sweden, then "Lost". Got to be done.

Back Wednesday.

Another day, another birthday. My Brother was 36 years old today.

First thing today was a trip to the cemetery to put some flowers on my Dad's grave. (It is also Father's Day in the UK. Is Father's Day a worldwide thing? I don't know.) Attending were my Brother, Sister's 1 and 2 and my Niece. Sister 3 and my Nephew had better things to do, and my Mom never goes to my Dad's grave. The last time she went she worked herself up so much that she collapsed.

Weirdly enough, it is never a sad occasion for the rest of us to visit my Dad. My Dad was a happy person. There was no time for misery in his life. When his older Brother died my Dad held a party. It was a proper wake. When it had finished my Dad spent the night in the front garden, much to my Mom's disgust.

When I go to the cemetery I never think that He is lying under that headstone and under that grass and earth. Yes, there is a nice suit (he had some wicked suits) and some bones down there, but He is not there. He is somewhere else, maybe. A couple of years ago, we trooped up to the cemetery in Sister 1's car. She had a tape of Soul To Soul playing. We did the business, got back into the car and drove off to the sound of "Back To Life" playing. My Dad would have liked that. Another time, my Brother and I watched two young ladies in very loose tops filling jugs full of water. They were bending over. The view of creamy bosoms was overwhelming. My Brother turned to me.

"Would Dad have approved?"

"Fucking right, he would have" said I.

Today my Niece was wearing a pink denim hat. She bet me that I would not wear it. I did, all the way throughout the visit to the cemetery. She took a picture of me on her mobile phone. With the sunglasses I look very... Gay.

Am I showing enough respect in a place full of dead bodies? Perhaps not, but it is not as if we deliberately go out to bother anybody else. The Pynchon's idea of how to behave does not suit everybody.

After the cemetery we spent a happy afternoon at Frankie & Benny's at Five Ways. Another steak and chips shithole, to be honest, but better than the Harvester we have frequented the last couple of birthday meals. My Brother paid, although I gave him a tenner towards my scoff (the full mixed grill - yummy!) There was much alcohol ingested. We were very loud. Sister 1 worried that the food might be fattening. Sister 2 did not give a toss about whether the food was fattening. Sister 3 talked about the holiday that her and my Nephew are going on tomorrow. My Nephew talked about going to cadets. My Niece showed me all of the pictures on her mobile phone. My Brother told me all about the girl he is now seeing. (I've mentioned her before. She was the stalker who sent him pornographic pictures. So, if this turns out to be a relationship of any length, I can say that I have seen my Brother's Girlfriend naked. Actually, she ain't bad.) My Brother says that this girl is lonely and craves company. I hope that my Brother is not just using her. I can never be sure with my Brother. My Aunt ate with her mouth open. My Mom beamed at us.

Dining Pynchon style!

My Brother did not leave a tip on principle. There had been long delays. Leaving, Sister 1 went to the toilet and when she was coming out said that she heard the waitress who served us, saying to another waitress as we left, that we were "tight bastards". Yes, I suppose that is certainly possible. My Brother wanted to go back in to brace them, but we talked him out of it.

I came home. Lorraine was still at the hairdressers. I put on Brazil versus Australia. (Bad luck Australia. You gave Brazil a fight.) Lorraine came home. (Her hair looked nice.) I fell asleep in front of the TV. I am a pisshead.

I have just watched "24". I think that there are 4 episodes to go. It's gets better and better.

I will write about "Hard Candy" tomorrow. I have some thoughts about it. It is a good film.

My stomach is feeling a bit dicky. It is my own fault. Last night I cooked M&S jalapeno burgers. We ate them even though they looked a little bit raw in the middle. (I hadn't actually read the cooking instructions, but Lorraine doesn't know that.) Lorraine is OK, but I have been having problems on and off all day. Still, gives me another reason to clean the toilet I suppose.

Where was I? Oh, yes. Keep up. It's Thursday morning. (Bear with me. Not much more to write.)

I cooked sausages, bacon and scrambled eggs for breakfast. I think that Hen and Oz really enjoyed that. I know that I did. We went into town. Someone (not me!) suggested that we have a look to see what was on the cinema. While Oz purchased a chocolate milkshakey thing from Coffee Republic, we checked the cinema times at the Cineworld on Broad Street. We chose "The Omen" at 11am.

There was time, so we wandered down to Nostalgia and Comics. Hen purchased a Jack Skellington T-shirt and I bought Oz the "Watchmen" graphic novel. Spreading culture and all that. Then, after checking out the height of the Radission hotel by standing at the very bottom and looking up (Oz and Hen were not impressed - Australia has taller buildings), we walked up to Broad Street and got the bus to the cinema.

We saw "The Omen" starring the Goddess Julia Stiles.



"The Omen" has had pretty bad reviews. I thought it was OK and a perfectly adequate horror film. Not great, but I have seen worse films this year. There are some good jump out of seat moments. I would say though that as far as remakes go making the film was pretty pointless as it seems to follow the plot, and structure of the scenes of the original film (and it has been years since I saw the original "The Omen", so correct me if I am wrong), almost exactly. But, I don't agree that the leads were miscast and it was also nice to see the cream of British character actors (Michael Gambon, Pete Posthewaite and David Thewlis) getting the opportunity to pay their mortgages this year.

After the film we went home. I cooked the remaining sausages, bacon and eggs and we had them as sandwiches. Afterwards we watched the remaining "Extras" episodes and Hen finished packing while Oz and I watched the first half of England versus Trinidad and Tobago. Lorraine phoned and had a goodbye chat with Oz and Hen and recommended that they visit Betty's Tea Rooms in York. Apparently it is a fine establishment. I saw Oz and Hen to their jeep. (Was it a jeep? No idea, but it was a big bastard!) I shook Oz's hand. I got a hug from Hen. They got into their car. The car started up. There was waving. They were gone.

... And immediately I felt deflated. Back to being a recluse, I suppose. They were wonderful people. Really nice people. I hope that somehow, somewhere outside of the Internet we can meet up again. I think that I would like that very much.

Friday morning I went to see "Hard Candy". It was very good, but I will write about that tomorrow. The toilet calls.

I'm a back!

Wednesday.

I got up before Oz and Hen. There was no way I was going to do my normal thing which is to wander around the house in my casual wear. (M&S special, if you must know. Lounge wear. England T-shirt and soft shorts; a gift from Lorraine last Saturday. How old does she think I am? 6 years old. I do love 'em, though.) Shave, wash face, into the shower, out of the shower. Skip silently down the hallway. Dress and downstairs.

There was a note waiting for me.

"Don't forget. Moon needs to go the vet today to be monitored. I will pick him up later. Also, don't forget to inject him."

Oh, fuck. How the hell was I going to get him into his box? Moon the Cat does not like his box. Moon makes noises when he has to go into his box. Moon looks at me in a severe way. Moon hisses. Moon scratches. Pynchon has never put Moon into his box. Pynchon does not want to put Moon in this box.

Perhaps I could somehow knock Moon unconscious and then get him into his box? No. Impossible. Cold sweat moment. My cool in front of my guests was about to depart.

Hen and Oz appeared. I offered them drinks. I think Oz had tea. I said that I would buy them breakfast at Asterias in town (perveyour of fine baguettes of all descriptions). I said that I needed to inject Moon and then somehow get him into his box and could I, pray, beg a lift to the vet? I made my eyes very wide and sad (I have seen "Shrek 2") and then Hen said, "Sure we can give you a lift. Do you want me to do the injection and Moon in the box for you?".

Er... Yes!

Hen disappeared with the hypodermic needle and the bottle of insulin and returned a couple of seconds later.

"All done."

I followed Hen out to the living room. She got behind Moon, did some kind of Ninja maneuver, followed by a yelp of surprise from Moon, and then he was in the box. Moon looked at Hen with respect. Moon looked at me like I was a wassock.

Fair enough.

Oz and Hen gave Moon and I a lift to the vet and then dropped the car back at the house. We went into town on the bus. The weather looked very changeable and gray, but we had taken jackets. I pointed out Villa Park from the bus. It looked very unimpressive. Bit like the team, eh?

Off the bus and into Asterias. The place was empty, but it was nearly 10am. We ordered some very nice breakfast sandwiches and baguettes. Sausage, bacon, eggs. Oz had cheese on a sausage, bacon and egg baguette. (WTF?) Oz and Hen both tried brown sauce. I think it was HP. (Keep the HP Sauce factory in Birmingham!) I like HP Brown Sauce.

From Asterias it was into the Oasis indoor market. I don't think that I have been in the Oasis indoor market in 15 years, and even then it was just to buy jeans. It's a great place. A true treasure trove. I will go back again. We went upstairs and downstairs. I think that Hen and Oz liked it a great deal. Oz purchased some great, punk tartan trousers with lots of zips. He said that they would be his football-going trousers of choice.

From Oasis it was into the comic shop Forbidden Planet (I don't think we did much in there) and then onto the Bull Ring. Oz asked if it was OK to sit on the bull (not real) outside. I said that it was OK. Oz tried to climb onto the bull and fell off. A very nice security man told us that sitting on the bull was not allowed. (I didn't know. I swear it.) We wandered around the Bull Ring for about 10 seconds. Shops, shops and more shops. Nice if you like shops, but I think Hen and Oz were not that excited by seeing shops.

From the Bull Ring we walked to the Mailbox shopping centre. Hen and Oz were not bothered about seeing the shops, but we did end up in the BBC shop where we took advantage of the virtual reality penalty taking machine in the foyer. I kept England's end up. I scored first time. (Come on England!) Oz didn't. (Hah!)

We went through the Mailbox and out the canal side (or is it the Caynal side?) We stopped at a bar for a drink. The bar was manned by two very young, very nice Eastern European ladies. It was a very strange bar as it did not appear to have any beer whatsoever on tap. Also, the bottles were sabotaged. One of the very young, very nice Eastern European ladies attempted to open a bottle and the top of the bottle got stuck in the bottle opener. She said that she had never seen that happen before.

We sat outside and drank and considered next moves. After resting we walked down the canal and Hen took photos of ducks and buildings. We considered and rejected going to the Sea Life Centre and trying to get tickets for Rik Mayall in the stage adaptation of "The New Statesman" (we saw a poster). Disgracefully Hen thinks that Rik Malawi is vile and disgusting.

We went to the Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery; another establishment that I had not been into in decades. (Actually I think that I last went into that place when I was 10 years old - 32 years ago!) It was interesting to me (they have a real life Mummy in a case!), but I think that Hen really loved it. I know that she loves all kinds of art. You might know that she is an artist herself. Some of us are lucky enough to own a Suburban Hen original. Our picture is beautiful and, embarrassingly enough, was not on a wall when she was in our house. Sorry Hen.

We backtracked to the Walkabout Inn on Broad Street (perversely Hen and Oz's choice - I think that they were interested in what Australian cliches a themed bar could come up with) and had some lunch. Cheesey chips for Hen (yuck!). I don't know what Oz had, but I had a Kangaroo burger. I didn't know it was legal to eat Kangaroo. Oz said that Kangaroo had quite a nice taste. It would have been rude not to try it, so I did. It was nice. In the Walkabout Inn we watched Football and Rugby simultaneously. Then we went home.

Hen was very tired (and red in the face) and went to have a lie down. This was at about 5pm. We didn't see Hen again until 8am the next day. (Oz did check that she was OK a couple of times.) Perhaps it is a ladies thing. Lorraine has been know to do similar things. I suppose when you have to sleep, you have to sleep.

Oz and I watched the footie. Lorraine came home and cooked herself something. Lorraine and Oz talked about Japanese animated films. Oz had noticed "Howl's Moving Castle" on our DVD shelf and commented that he was waiting for it to come out in Australia. Lorraine asked him if he would like to watch it and he did.

I really enjoyed "Howl's Moving Castle". It looks beautiful and the plot is a bit less obscure than some of the others that Lorraine has made me sit through. Unlike Lorraine, I am not the greatest fan of Japanese animation. I don't think that she has seen one that she has not liked.

After "Howl's Moving Castle" we flicked through the cable channels and ended up watching Ricky Gervais in an episode of "The Office". Oz said that that series had been broadcast in Australia. I asked him if he had ever seen the Ricky Gervais follow up, "Extras". Oz hadn't and that is how we ended up watching most of "Extras" until 2am. I think that Oz enjoyed it a lot; even the ones starring people he had never heard of (take a bow Ross Kemp and Les Dennis - I did tell Oz who both of you were).

Phew. I am tired myself now. Final chapter tomorrow. I need to go to bed.

It's very strange. In the immediate aftermath of Hen and Oz leaving I was thinking to myself that there was actually very little to write about. They stayed with us for two nights, we wandered around Birmingham, they did a (little) bit of shopping, we saw a film (Yay!), Hen slept, Oz watched DVD's and some football with me and then they left. But it's not true. I started scribbling down some things last night, to write up today, and the list got bigger and bigger.

So, here we go, before my memory starts playing tricks on me.

Tuesday.

During the morning I went to see "Secuestro Express" .



It is a thriller, set in Caracas, about the improvised kidnapping of a young, wealthy couple for money and the events that unfold (in real-time) after that. There was a review in the free Metro newspaper that said that "Secuestro Express" is overly stylised, nasty and exploitive. Yes, I would agree with that, but it also good, fast and relentless like a juggernaut. You get a real feeling for the conditions in a society that creates extreme wealth and extreme poverty, and how it would breed this kind of extreme behaviour by some people just to survive. I thought that it was marvelous and I was gripped by it from beginning to end.

After that I went home to be greeted by a couple of phone calls.

The first was an anonymous call telling me to ring "Your Bank" on what seemed suspiciously like a mobile number, so I deleted that. Bullshit. If it is legit and they really want me, they will call again.

The second call was from Hen asking if we could put them up on Tuesday evening (we originally expected them on Wednesday). I tried to call back, but the number was coming up as not recognised.

The next call was from Lorraine asking me to give her a call. I did. Hen had called my work number, spoke to Lorraine and had got basic directions on how to get to us. They were on their way.

Panic!

I finished tidying the front room. I redusted. I put the clean sheets on the bed. I picked up stuff. I ran around the house. Moon the Cat looked at me like I was crazy. I had a shower. I checked the answer phone in case somebody had called while I was in the shower. (They hadn't.) I put on my Hawaiian shirt, to show off.

It started to rain. Typical. The previous two days had been sunny and warm. I think I read that June 12th had been the hottest June 12th on record in Birmingham.

The phone rang. It was Hen. They had arrived in my area of Brum and were lost. I gave them basic directions. They seemed OK with that. I said that if they looked to the left, when coming up my road, that they would see a man in a Hawaiian shirt waving. I went to stand on the doorstep.

And they arrived. And, yes, I did wave.

I have been reading Hen's blog for a couple of years; Oz's less than that (and he has more or less stopped now anyway.) I have been very lucky in that the handful of Blogger's that I have met (Mark, Graham, Swiss, LB) have all been good people and pretty much what I have expected. Regarding really knowing people, Oz was always a bit of an enigma, but I did feel I knew Hen pretty well. We had corresponded outside of the blog and she had been very helpful and constructive with advice on some things. I won't go into those here.

I am glad to say that meeting them totally lived up to my good expectations. Hen was exactly what I thought she would be like. Warm and friendly. Oz is not enigmatic or standoffish at all. One of the good guys. Open.

I gave them the quick tour and let them settle in. We had a drink. Oz was determined to drink tea, when not on beer, while in the UK. Hen had to wait for a coke to cool down. (I only had diet stuff in the fridge.) We chatted about lots of things. We talked a lot. It's a cliche, but it was like meeting old friends that had corresponded but not seen each other for a while. How weird. Perhaps this happens a lot, now that people all over the world are talking to each other on the Internet. We all become friends that correspond and rarely meet.

Lorraine arrived home. We agreed to go out to eat.

We went to Celebrity Balti on Broad Street. I suppose that the Balti connoisseur would say that Celebrity Balti is not a true, traditional balti as it not part of the Balti triangle, but we have always liked it. Good food, good prices and easy to get to on public transport. On this visit, the food was good (Oz was very impressed by the table naan, that was so big it had to be folded to fit on the table), but the service was not great. When we arrived, we were shown to our table and left for ages before we could get any attention to order a drink. (Indian Beer is nice.) The food came quick enough (I cannot remember the starters, but the mains were two Korma Chicken Balti's, a Chicken and Mushroom Balti and a Masala Chicken Balti), but again we could not get any attention when we wanted to pay and leave.

Home by taxi. The bus would have been a long wait. Lot's of water (the Balti's had dehydrated us) and then it was time for bed.

I will carry on later. Real life intrudes.

Hells bells, it's Thursday! Where has the week gone? I have lost a couple of days somewhere. There are reasons.

I did intend to blog throughout the week, but we have been busy entertaining Suburban Hen and Ozbhoy during their sojourn in Brum. It was a vile chore. They are appalling people. Australian, of course. Small of stature and loud of gob. They upset Moon the Cat dreadfully. He hissed at them every time he saw them. Horrible. Just horrible. Frankly, I am glad that they are gone...

Of course, I jest. They are lovely and nice people and it has been a good couple of days (for us and them, I hope). I will go into details tomorrow. I have a few things to catch up with and am getting very tired.

Sadly, due to copyright restrictions, there will be no pictures. However, I have managed to obtain the services of lookalikes to recreate certain events.

So, here's me in my garden...



... and Lorraine feeding Moon the Cat...



... and Suburban Hen's reaction at seeing our house for the first time...



... and the mighty Ozbhoy taking on some England fans on Broad Street, who said that Australia cheated during their 3-1 victory over Japan.



Back tomorrow. It might be a big 'un. (Ooo, err!)

I am knackered. Other than a quick trip out to pick up a couple of things, I have been cleaning, tidying up and dusting all day. If I ever win the lottery I will hire a cleaner. No, I will hire two cleaners. (Remember those two guys on Eurotrash who used to clean houses in their underwear? I will hire female versions of them.)

The only room I have not touched is the front bedroom. Lorraine said that she would do that one as she knows what she wants to do. Lorraine is in there as I write. Occasionally I hear the odd curse. I am letting her get on with it. The best thing for a quiet life.

Yesterday I went to see "36 Quai des Orfèvres" starring Daniel Auteuil and Gerard Depardieu.



It is part hard boiled thriller (think, in tone, a gallic "Heat") and part soapy melodrama. I liked it a lot. It is really good. Also it reminds, if we needed reminding, that there is more to Gerard Depardieu than playing a comedy Frenchman in American movies. It's just scandalous the way his American career panned out. Of course Daniel Auteuil is also brilliant. He seems to have been great in every great French film that I have seen in the last couple of years.

I would expect "36 Quai des Orfèvres" to be remade in an (inferior) English language version and hitting a multiplex near you sometime within the next couple of years. Don't wait for that. Go and see it now. With subtitles. You can read and watch! Enjoy.

Perhaps it's me, but I don't think that a 1-0 victory by means of an own goal, albeit from a brilliant David Beckham free kick, is that fantastic a start to the England campaign. It was a good, commanding first half, but a less than impressive second half. Then again, don't England always start slowly? The good news is that all we need is to beat Trinidad and Tobago on Thursday and we go through to the next round.

Other than that, it has been a busy day. Work in the morning. Nothing of interest happened. Afterwards, Lorraine headed into town. I headed home. Watched the football. Briefly went into Sutton Coldfield to buy a present for my Brother's birthday on Sunday next week. (I got him a money pot. He asked for one.) Got home, and as Lorraine was nowhere in sight, started dusting. I successfully removed all of the cobwebs that had been accumulating in nearly 5 years in this house, except for all of the ones that Lorraine pointed out when she returned home. Cow!

Lorraine got me presents. She had gone a bit football mental. She got me England boxer shorts and a bottle opener which plays "The Great Escape" when you open a bottle. (She has already bought me an England bath towel, which I used this morning.) She had also bought drink coasters' for the team at work. The coasters' also play "The Great Escape" when you put a drink on them. They are ridiculous and brilliant.

We watched "Doctor Who" , which I liked a lot despite it being a kind of greatest hits of "Aliens", "Event Horizon" and a smidgen of "Spawn" in a compact, convenient package. Then we watched "Shall We Dance" in which Richard Gere and Jennifer Lopez were kind of... gulp!... good.

That is all. Cleaning and tidying up starts in earnest tomorrow.

Lorraine was in work very early this morning so that she could take Moon The Cat to the Vet for a check up this afternoon. When she got home to collect him, she found Moon practically unconscious on the upstairs landing. She revived him, gave him food and then called me.

"Did you give him his insulin?"

"Yes, of course I gave him his fucking insulin!"

Then she said, "I need to make a decision" and then she hung up.

I was expecting to come home to a dead Cat. I didn't.

Lorraine gave Moon some food. (He ate 4 pouches of cat food.) She took him to the Vet. The Vet did some tests and said... wait for it... that Moon's results were the best he had seen for ages.

What do you think? Was Moon having a laugh? Perhaps he felt a bit warm and just fell asleep in the coolest area of the house?

Anyway...

It has been a bit frosty in the house tonight. After Lorraine had ignored me for a few hours I asked her if she fancied a fumble tonight? Sadly she didn't.

We will be on speaking terms by the time our visitors arrive. (Fucking hell, I hope so!)

I need to go to bed. Work tomorrow and then...

Come On England!

Oooh... Is Blogger working? It might be.

Quick, quick, quick...

It is 07:08am in the UK. I am on the Internet very early, as I am a wild and crazy guy. I am sitting au naturel in the back room, having just showered. There is no curtain in my back room, and sadly no sign of my foxy neighbour Keren, who I imagine would be delighted to take a look at my godlike physique. True, to do so she would have to be standing at the very back of her garden, standing on a chair and holding a pair of binoculars, but it would be worth it.

I suppose I had better write something, then?

Actually, the whole write up of the Pynchon Birthday meal has lost all meaning. It was nearly a week ago and lots of brain cells have died since then. So, a quick summary.

Lorraine didn't want to go. Then she did. We arrived at the Harvester at 7pm. The rest of the family arrived en masse at 7:45pm. (My Mom had said that we should arrive for 7:15pm.) We did not get a table until 8:45pm, but the manager let us choose from the Early Bird menu, which meant we had a 1/3 off the cost of the meal. Top man. My Brother has been growing his hair and beard and now bears a passing resemblance to the star of Grizzly Adams. My Brother got drunker and drunker and took the piss out of Sister 2 all night. Sister 2 retaliated all night. I have no idea what that was about. For some reason Sister 1 was in a sulk. My Niece was having early teenage-strop problems, despite the fact that she is only 9 years old. My Nephew wore his new Ben Sherman shirt and looked very cool. My Aunt looked very old. My Mom looked great. I had gammon. Lorraine had tuna. Lorraine looked suitably surprised when my Aunt, Sister 1 and Sister 2 paid for the meal. I did not drink any alcohol.

It was a good night.

Now, "United 93".



I think that it is a brilliant piece of work. Really powerful and moving. It is an incredibly tense and nerve wracking experience. I felt totally drained coming out of that cinema. It is a difficult film to write about, because the normal rules of film watching do not really apply. Also strange, because we all know what finally happened, but you still get sucked into the mechanics of a director manipulating the hopes of the audience. There is a drawn out moment, just before the passengers attack, where the terrorist knows something is about to happen. He looks at the passengers, they look at him, and I was in my seat was saying to myself, "Get the fucker!". Ridiculous, or what?

Two criticisms.

It seems very convenient that the only passenger that they chose as the naysayer; the one that wanted to sit quietly in his seat and let events take their course, was the German passenger. The actor has said that the family of that guy described him as quiet and thoughtful and a man who would consider every option before acting. True, but other than mobile phone and cockpit transcripts, nobody really knows who did what. Perhaps he considered and thought about it, picked up a knife from the galley, and led the attack. Who knows? Nobody knows.

The guy playing Bill Sliney was very wooden. Er... That was Ben Sliney. Oh, well. If I was playing myself in a movie, especially during a crisis situation, I would probably be wooden as well.

I think that "United 93" may well win Best Picture next year at the Oscars. If films are supposed to move you, it succeeded.

Still here!

It looks like Blogger might be on the verge of self destructing again, so I am getting in quick.

Blogger did me a favour last night. I was very tired after watching hours of TV late into the night on Tuesday, so if I had have written anything last night, it would have been drivel. (No change there then, you say?)

Lets leave it at that. Assuming we are still here tomorrow night, I will go over the Pynchon Birthday meal and "United 93" at that time. (I know. You can hardly wait. My opinion matters that much.)

Sometimes you can get so tired that you just crash, and that is exactly what happened last night. I did intend to post, but you know how it goes? Too many late nights, too much stress at work, too much fretting about visitors, too much food, sit down, turn on TV... ZZZZZZZZZZZ.

Anyway, now I'm back. For a short time, at least. ("C.S.I. : Crime Scene Investigation" and the "Lost" double bill commence in 24 minutes.) I will be brief.

Saturday.

Work. Went very well. I was on shift with The Gnome. (He's a nice guy. Very focused, very quiet and... Er... very short. I can't say anything. I am only 5 foot 5 inches myself, but I am taller than Napoleon, so fuck you, guy!) Ostensibly we were in the office to supply out of hours phone support, but I think we took maybe 2 phone calls all day. Oh... It was heaven. Just joy. It is amazing just how much work you can finish without arsehole customers ringing up constantly saying that they had forgotten their own name.

Lorraine also came into work. No surprise there as she cannot leave it alone. She had convinced Kevin Callow and Tina Noir to also come in. We got a shitload of work done.

Afterwards, Kevin Callow offered us a list home. We took it. In the car we got talking about music. Kevin told us about how a friend, who is somebody high-up in the music industry, got him tickets to see U2 on the last tour and how he ended up in an executive box sitting next to Lionel Ritchie. Kevin asked me what the last gig was that I attended. I told him The Streets. He was gobsmacked by that.

"You saw The Streets? But that stuff's for the 12 year old kids!"

"But in my head I am a 12 year old kid", said I. And I am. Then I asked him what sort of music he thought I would be listening to at nearly 43 years of age and he said... wait for it... "Deep Purple, Black Sabbath and David Gray".

Now... you could write on a postage stamp what I know about those three artistes. I know maybe a couple of Deep Purple tracks ("Smoke On The Water" and "Black Night"), one Black Sabbath track ("Paranoid") and a handful of David Gray songs ("This Years Love", "Babylon" and his cover of "Say Hello, Wave Goodbye"), but they are certainly not my preferred listening. I won't slag those artistes off. I don't know enough about them.

I am definitely not on the cutting edge of what is new in music these days, and I really love my old pop music, but I certainly hope that my tastes have not crystallized and become frozen in time. It can happen. The mighty John Peel once said that he was terrified that one day it would happen to him. Luckily it never did.

Is it embarrassing for a middle aged man to want to get on down with the kids? Frankly, I would rather be Keith Richards than Cliff Richard, although I hope to avoid falling out of any palm trees.

I have run out of time. Pynchon family birthday meal and some quick thoughts on "United 93" to come.

I have 15 minutes. Lorraine has ordered me to be off the computer by 11pm. She has a report that she needs to complete for work before tomorrow. I will be nice. For one night only I will do as she requests.

Sadly, this means that I will be unable to go into great details this evening about

1. Work.
2. Birthday.
3. "United 93".

What I will do instead is to answer a few comments.

Stef seemed surprised that Voice Of The Beehive had a mosh-pit. They sure did. It was very frantic during a song called "There's A Barbarian In The Back Of My Car" (co-written with Zodiac Mindwarp, fact fans). But the best mosh-pit was R.E.M. at Leicester De Monfort hall in 1989. I ended up collapsed, on the stage, with Mike Mills looking down at me. He looked concerned.

Ginny's only comment on the "Lost" finale, recently shown in the Canada, was "Wow!" I don't doubt it.

Stef (again) seemed impressed that I own a Hawaiian shirt. I actually have three of them. A banana yellow shirt with a landscape of palm trees and other desert island stuff, a tasteful blue number and a shirt that I will only wear on the occasion of an invasion of the British Isles by some foreign force, because the colours on that shirt are so loud they give off dangerous radiation that would repel any foreign invader.

threelights said that I am like Einstein. I think.

fuff, daisy mae and threelights all gave sympathies about Moon The Cat. Thank you for that. You know that it is much appreciated. Moon has been bathed today and looks a lot more comfortable. I also gave him some more ham. (The vet has said that considering the stage he is at, we may as well give him anything that he likes.) Lorraine also insisted that I start taking turns to inject him with his insulin. I did my first injection today. Very stressful. I could never be a junkie. Needles? Fuck off! Moon The Cat looked mighty suspicious, but he stood still for me and didn't appear to feel a thing.

stef (again) commented on Lorraine and my family. Well, Lorraine did go to the family meal. She didn't enjoy it much as she thought that she was being snubbed by a couple of people, but it went well enough. I think they were surprised to see her there. I was surprised to see her there.

Lorraine is on the stairs. Time to go before she shouts at me.

Lorraine took Moon The Cat to the Vet for his check up. It wasn't good news. The Vet tidied him up, took samples and the readings were off the chart. Lorraine had to tell the Vet that we have not been feeding Moon the diabetic cat food all of the time, because Moon doesn't like it and he won't eat it. Sometimes we trick him, but he gets wise to that pretty quickly.

Moon may not be with us for much longer. Lorraine has got the make the final decision. I cannot. I have looked after Moon for the past 10 years, but he is not my cat. Moon was on the scene before me.

Lorraine was upset tonight. Of course.

I have written about Moon in the past. Most of it has been irritable and nasty and moaning about cat shit, piss, hair, smell and horror, but make no mistake. I love that cat. Lorraine says that I am his Dad and I am.

I gave Moon ham slices tonight. He gobbled them up. He complained when I put the packet in the fridge and glared at me. He has a magnificent glare.

It will be a busy weekend. I have got work tomorrow until lunchtime (same again next week, sadly). Then shopping and then we have a massive birthday dinner to attend with my family. It is my Aunt's birthday tomorrow, Sister 1's on Monday and Sister 2's on Wednesday. We are getting the whole thing out of the way all at once.

I will probably not be posting tomorrow, so have a nice Saturday, all.

At work... Month End Madness.

"My Month End didn't run!" Did you schedule your Month End? "Er... No."

Or how about

"My Backup didn't run!" Did you put the tape in the drive? "Er... No."

I had lots of those.

I would write more, but I have had two late nights in a row and I need to go to bed.

I put on my Hawaiian shirt this evening to cheer me up. When I put the rubbish out my neighbour smiled at me. Philistine!