Tuesday 30 December 2008

Time to Pretend

Back in England and back in Blogland. It feels like a long time and I guess it has been looking back at the date of my last post. I've returned to Blighty, Christmas has come and gone and now it's nearly the end of the year.

Although I generally tend to sneer cynically at all the new year resolutions and associated traditions (it's somehow not as wholesome and as heart warming as Christmas), I'll be trying to constructively reflect on what's been and what I plan for the future. Having said that, I won't be so naive as to make any resolutions. One year I resolved to learn to play guitar and run the marathon. I eventually did achieve both (although neither with style it has to be said) but it took me the best part of four years to do so.

Of course the plus point of New Year's Eve in particular is the carte blanche it gives people to get absolutely off their face. Yes, it is a plus point. For every boozy thug that sees it as an excuse to get hammered and cause a bust up with a bouncer, they'll be some genuinely hopeful that 2009 will bring a changing of the winds, an escape from tragedy or a reversal of fortunes.

Whatever the reason, I guess the true importance of the new year celebrations might be that for some it's an excuse to hope, a time to pretend, regardless of the reality that after all it is just another day come the 1st January.

It's still a precious pretense.

Friday 19 December 2008

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

I finish work today. Ahead are two whole weeks of annual leave and tomorrow I'll be jetting off to Cologne for three days, sampling the delights of their famous Christmas Markets before returning home just in time for Christmas Eve.

I'm not trying to brag, I'm just looking forward to it more than Noddy Holder to his annual Christmas royalties. It's funny, Germany seems to be something akin to the centre of my universe in recent times, what with this trip and the now legendary World Cup expedition back in 2006, it's becoming a regular haunt. Maybe my Aryan qualities stand me in good stead or perhaps more to the point, Boris Becker doppelgangers can't fail.

Auf Wiedersehen, pet.

Thursday 18 December 2008

Top 5 - Christmas Singles

Merry Xmas Everybody - Slade
Last Christmas - Wham!
Happy Christmas (War Is Over) - John Lennon
Mistletoe and Wine - Cliff Richard
White Christmas - Bing Crosby

Wednesday 17 December 2008

Mark and Mayo

I listened to "Mark Kermode and Simon Mayo's Film Reviews" podcast for the first time yesterday. Amazing! They sound like they hate each other.

Obviously I'd back Kermode over Mayo any day but the mix of the latters radio friendly timbre and the formers histrionic ranting make for a firecracker show - I do love a good rant.

That's all besides the content itself which was sharp, insightful and witty. I particularly enjoyed the review of "The Day the Earth Stood Still" - sounds like another Keanu masterclass!

Here's an example of their work. Kermode slags off Quantum of Solace. Just watch the first two minutes. Genius.

Friday 12 December 2008

Film Review - WALL-E

****
Pixar always manage to pull it out the bag. Ironically, it takes an animated film about robots to provide one of the most human and touching movies of the year.

The opening 45 mins is almost entirely without dialogue as WALL-E, a waste disposal robot, roams a deserted earth, abandoned by the human race amid mountains of waste. The film offers a bleak portent of doom for the future of our planet and it's apocalyptic theme is a bold step for a family-oriented film.

When WALL-E meets EVE, the love story begins. EVE is a probe sent by a space cruiser which is home to the remnants of the human race and eternally orbiting the planet. Fat and bloated from their over reliance on machines, they have come to accept their lot and it takes the discovery of new life on earth by WALL-E and EVE to wake them from their slumber.

It's clear that 2001: A Space Odyssey is a huge influence, from the computer auto pilot reminiscent of HAL, to the scene where WALL-E and EVE dance through space propelled by the foamy wake of a fire extinguisher.

Like 2001, the lines between humans and machines are blurred, but in this case, the robot characters re-humanise the zombie like passengers on board rather than ultimately bringing about their downfall. Maybe technology will save the human race after all!

As with most Pixar animations, the characters are instantly lovable, humorous and endearing and the overall effect leaves you feeling thoroughly entertained. If only "grown up" films could be quite so rewarding!

Wednesday 10 December 2008

Cluj it be magic?

Last night I went, with my old man, to see Chelsea take on CFR Cluj, a good old fashioned father and son outing.

Before the match, Dad took me for a slow stroll down the Kings Road showing off the sights (He was dismayed that the Old Chelsea Drugstore is now a McDonalds) and after a quick pre-match pint and some grub we made our way to the ground.

We picked up tickets at the last minute for £25 quid each (cheap by Chelsea's standards) and as a result we were sitting high up in the very top row of the upper tier of the new West Stand, an amazing view - of the roof that is, the pitch was bloomin' miles away! Still, having not been to a game for at least a year or so, we didn't grumble (it was surprisingly warm up there. After all heat rises).

It's strange the effect that watching a live game has on you. Before we entered the ground, Dad was telling me how he never feels quite as stressed watching a game as he used to back when he was a season ticket holder, that perhaps age had mellowed him out.

It made me think whether the same was true of me. Do I care as much as when I was a kid even? Maybe it's because we've tasted recent success, maybe it's just an acceptance that, as fans, there's little you can really do about it anyway - hope for the best but take the rough with the smooth.

Regardless, by the time we'd taken our seats and a lethargic Chelsea had squandered a 1-0 lead, we were anything but accepting. Suddenly, every challenge mattered, every lack of movement cursed. When you're sitting in a crowd at a stadium, the unified feelings of expectancy and nervous tension are multiplied by ten. Impulse simply takes over.

A sweeping move culminated in Drogba poking home the winner. You should have seen the old fella jump to his feet. Magic!

Sunday 7 December 2008

Virtual Estate

It's strange. I've come to think of the Internet as this great open access resource. You can blog, facebook, post music on myspace, post videos on youtube, get access to information - the possibilities are endless and it's all for free (well except for the Broadband payment and line rental of course). They used to call it the 'Information Superhighway', I've always liked that phrase.

However, when you really start to dig deeper, it's not quite as free and as all encompassing as you might think. For example, despite the academic world championing open access to research, most is published by a few massive organisations like Elsevier, responsible for about a third of all science, technology and medical publications worldwide. Yes, you can access it online, but not without paying a hefty license fee.

Can it be healthy for one company to have such a hold on this crucial research literature? It's like the STM publisher equivalent of Rupert Murdoch's News Corporation.

Having started to delve into the online world of podcasting, I've come across another bone of contention - file storage online costs money.

I guess I'm naive, but I never realised that to post a 40mb audio file online you might actually need to pay. Searching around for potential podcast hosts, I noticed that most of them require between $2-$50 per month dependent on the amount of space needed and even the size of individual files uploaded.

I can't quite wrap my head around the idea that something which I perceive as infinite, i.e. space on the Internet, would ever be costed in that way. Isn't there something inherently wrong about that?

The rise of social networking sites and youtube etc. is a wonderful thing which has opened up a wealth of possibilities to web users wanting to express themselves or inform themselves at the click of a button. Wikipedia and other open source sites are shining beacons of what can be achieved by mass collaboration and contribution.

I suppose we still have to remember though, that fundamentally, there are still hard drives and wires and physical infrastructures beneath it all and that all these elements will ultimately belong to a commercial business just like everything else.

Friday 5 December 2008

Fantasy Finance League

"It's a funny old game", Jimmy Greaves once said of football. He was right of course, it's weird and bizarre, whilst not a little humorous.

Perhaps though, it's trumped in the "funny old game" stakes by the funniest of all the old games - balancing the economy. Interest rates have dropped to an all time low of 2%, VAT is temporarily down to 15%, I expect Aldi are even discounting their cheaper than chips, chips!

The great edifice of capitalism is eating itself from within. Greed and unrealistic borrowing of money have eventually come home to roost, triggered by the US sub-prime sector biting back with a vengeance.

It's such a great injustice that most of the people who implemented these culpable banking models will have already fled with their money. Fat cats, retired on a fortune, on a Caribbean island no doubt, watching from afar as the rest squirm in the wake of their disastrous lending strategies. It almost makes you nostalgic for 80's yuppies....well maybe not.

Still, lets look on the bright side. Yes, we will probably end up being taxed more but fuel prices are dropping and repaying my student loan might not be as daunting a prospect as it once was. Anyway, we've always got our football to entertain us in the bad times haven't we?

Hmm....it's a funny old game.

Wednesday 3 December 2008

Top 5 - Extended Players (EP's)

New Art Riot - Manic Street Preachers
Who The Fuck Are Arctic Monkeys - Arctic Monkeys
The Modern Age - The Strokes
Magical Mystery Tour - The Beatles
The Cost of Living - The Clash




Integrity's Gone

I hate it when bands re-issue a recent album with an additional track/tracks. Not only is it the most obvious attempt to squeeze a few more unit sales out of an album, but it punishes real fans who, having gone out and bought the album on release, find they've lost out on new material.

I like Glasvegas, their album's a little hit and miss for me but the 'hits' are really quite something. Despite myself, 'Geraldine' bought a lump to my throat when I first heard that crunch line and 'It's My Own Cheating Heart That Makes Me Cry' is one of the best 'break-up' songs I've ever heard.

Why then do they have to go and spoil it by bringing out a new version with, count them, 6 new tracks?!! I've no problem with a Christmas mini-album per se, but release it as an independent EP not a tag-on to your album.

I guess every band lets you down but what happened to the likes of The Smiths and The Clash who refused to put any singles on their albums? That's Amazing!!

Kudos to the Arctic Monkey's who have at least bucked the trend by releasing EP's and stand alone singles in the past but, although it's an obvious thing to say, I can't get past the injustice of 'Deluxe' or 'DVD Extra discs' appearing just a couple of months after release. At least get them out at the same time so the fans have a choice.

I know bands can sometimes be slaves to their record company who go against their wishes, it happened to The Clash of course. However in that case, it inspired one of the bands most polemic songs in 'Complete Control'. With today's lot, you imagine a shrug of the shoulders masks a multitude of sins.

Monday 1 December 2008

Film Review - Mamma Mia

***
This is the very definition of a feel good, summer film. Set as it is, on a Greek island, amongst the white washed buildings, blue seas and sandy beaches, incorporating some of the greatest pop songs of all time in the form of Benny and Bjorn's handiwork, I defy even the greatest cynic (and I include myself in that category) not to be even slightly caught up in the wave of euphoria.

Of course the plot is nonsense. A single mother (Meryl Streep) and her daughter run a hotel of sorts. The daughter is to marry and guests of all shapes and sizes are gathering for the wedding. Those invited include three men, old flames of the mother, who arrive unbeknown to her, their last minute invitation a result of revelations discovered by the bride-to-be in her mother's diary. The daughter hopes that by inviting them, she can at last, on her wedding day, truly feel complete in the knowledge of her fathers identity.

The thing is, no matter how ridiculous the premise, so frivolous, energetic and zesty are the performances, that all sense of reality pails into insignificance (it is a musical after all). Streep is the jewel in the crown here. One minute full of sass, performing 'onstage' at the hen party, the next minute, authentically heartbroken when singing 'The Winner Takes It All' a top a cliff. Even those who can't quite hit the mark when it comes to vocals (Brosnan, Waters et al) seem to be having such a bloody good time acting this film, you're inclined to forgive them instantly.

Where the film might let itself down (and this may be true of the musical), is that it doesn't offer anything underneath all this feel good sense of freedom. It won't be a problem for most people, but where Baz Luhrmann brought a real sense of drama in Moulin Rouge's fight for revolution and, above all things, love, Mamma Mia never really manages to add any real sense of anticipation or suspense.

In truth, the film is really just one, big singalong and although the songs are weaved into the plot (sometimes more successfully than others) which does allow an appreciation of the lyrics of songs we've most likely only previously danced to, I do wonder whether the film really adds much spectacle other than the opportunity to goggle at some well known stars making a spectacle of themselves.

Having said that, there are some genuine moments of wonder and thrill in the more intricate set pieces, dancers adding a more valid cinematic experience. (I do worry about the portrayal of the Greek locals though, ignored for the most part by the lead characters or portrayed as a bit simple when they are addressed.)

You can't argue however, with the overall effect of the film. You'll be singing in the aisles on the way out the cinema, it might even tempt you to book a holiday given the current winter gloom. Either way, people will undoubtedly be returning to Mamma Mia for their carefree kicks for some time to come.

Friday 28 November 2008

Casting aspersions

So what do you do in the modern age when you want to be creative but are too inept (and possibly too old) to start a band, paint a masterpiece, write a novel or compose a sonnet?.....Well, try your hand at a comedy podcast of course.

It's exciting to be doing this kind of thing, especially when it's with a mate. Gareth, being a life-long learner with a shiny new PhD to his name, suggested we base our podcast around the concept of some form of self-learning, in this case, philosophy.

I've always been interested in philosophy so it seems like a good idea. We create a weekly podcast that's basically about us reading and trying to understand the concepts and it acts as a basis for some comedy (think Ricky Gervais in Animals/Politics/Fame). We're not only being creative (and hopefully funny) but maybe we learn a little about something interesting on the way.

I'm aware of the incredible self indulgence in this, and to be honest, that does make it a little hard for me. Ultimately, we're doing it for our own self righteous reasons, in our own little two man coterie and I do wonder whether it makes us a) arrogant b) pompous and c) pretentious wankers.

However, I'm game for the lark as they say, and as long as I keep these, lets call them danger areas, in mind I think it should be a good laugh and actually quite rewarding. After all we're self confessed 'dummies' on the subject so not exactly trying to prove anything to anyone.

Besides, if people let this kind of self wrangling get to them, they'd never achieve anything and ultimately, whatever the outcome/perception, there is something incredibly satisfying about being creative, even if only for creativity's sake.

Top 5 - Podcasts

Russell Brand BBC Radio 2 Podcast
Baddiel & Skinner's World Cup Podcasts
The Ricky Gervais Podcast
Guardian Football Weekly Podcast
Thinking Allowed BBC Radio 4 Podcast

Wednesday 26 November 2008

Richey Edwards


I hadn't realised until today that he's now officially been 'presumed dead' as opposed to 'missing'. There's a few obituaries in the papers and on the following websites. A sad moment really.

Guardian obituary
Telegraph obituary
BBC news piece
NME photographic tribute

His parents decided to declare him presumed dead on the 23rd November 2008.

Tuesday 25 November 2008

Film Review - Juno

****
A tale of a kooky 16 year old girl called Juno, living with her father and step-mum, who falls pregnant, is unable to go through with an abortion and decides to give the child up for adoption - I can hear the groans already. I know it sounds wearisome but out of this tired concept comes a really quite charming and insightful movie.

I couldn't help but think of the endless Judd Apatow films (Superbad, 40 Year Old Virgin etc. etc.), rolled off the production line in recent times, adept at showing mindless audiences young inadequates getting themselves into all sorts of 'hilariously' awkward social scrapes. There are similarities, but crucially Juno, whilst still presenting a similar goofy humour (check the scene where she narrates on a passing gaggle of adolescent male athletes in shorts), manages to convey something extra.

Witty rather than just plain dumb, intellectually active rather than simply 'knocked up', she's a pretty guttsy young lady. In fact, a number of her peers display a certain fortitude and integrity. Chief among them is the unexpecting father, Bleeker, who is more gentlemanly than you would ever expect, or Juno's best friend who is incredibly supportive, a valuable ally in the cut throat world of the high school corridor.

In contrast, the adults come across as somehow more childish, the husband of the adoptive couple deciding to leave his wife in order to live out his unfulfilled childhood fantasy of becoming a rock star. Even Juno, who unwittingly awakens this desire in him, is mortified by his irresponsibility, her vision of the perfect parents shattered by the revelation. Yet she is strong, posting a hastily scribbled note through the wife's letterbox, "If you're still in, I'm still in."

In the end, Juno realises her naivety in disregarding any feelings she might have for her baby, but despite the heartache, she stays true to her word. Loyal Bleeker is there to comfort her when she realises her true feelings towards her unborn child and towards him.

This might sound like a biased vision but, in fact, it's simply an accurate reflection of a difficult time for young adults. To champion the film as an insight into the true morals of young people is to be as patronising as any naysayer. However, there's probably a great deal more Juno's out there than people care to realise.

Monday 24 November 2008

Wishful thinking

It's that time of year again. Relatives, like cold callers on heat (if that's not an oxymoron), confront you when you least expect it with these 6 words: "What would you like for Christmas?"

I never have a wish list to hand! I don't mean to sound like an ungrateful little blighter, but it does strike fear into my heart.

"Erm...ah...well...vouchers? Maybe? I really don't mind." Normally, this is followed by a distinct expression of disappointment down the other end of the line. An "Oh okay", perhaps or an, "Are sure you don't want something more exciting?"

Am I being flippant in response to these generous requests? I don't mean to be. The problem is, if I did say what I really wanted, I'd get a slightly different reply, but an ultimately similar result.

-"Yes, now, what I'd really like is a pair of skinny jeans, faded, but not too much, no rips. Just the right side of distressed. Or a boxset of Reggie Perrin? - Of course you can't get that in HMV but it's on Amazon marketplace. Just be careful not to get the wrong region or it won't play. Or how about the lost episodes of Hancock's Half Hour? There's a box set out now."
-"Oh.... okay.....erm, shall I just get you some vouchers?"

No, it's no good. I do feel like an ungrateful little blighter - and now a pretencious so and so to boot. I'm going to have to come up with something and fast!!!....Where's that Argos catalogue?

Friday 21 November 2008

Seasons Greetings


This, believe it or not, is a Christmas card. The first I've received this year. A definite candidate for worst greeting card ever! Yes I know it's a corporate card, sent from one of the companies we do business with, that's not the point.

Just look at it! I say it's a Christmas card but there's no mention of Christmas, nor sight of any other element that might risk the merest knat's cock of a chance for controversy!! A blander piece of turd you'll never see!!!!

I'm a hypocrit of course. I could hardly call myself religious and yet I celebrate the birth of Christ every year. Still, with this kind of thing landing on my doorstep, I'll be starting to wonder if my atheism's well placed!!

If this is the kind of bitter fruit borne from from trying to please everybody, I think it might be time to start deliberately pissing people off.

Up yours!! The lot of yer!

Leonard Rossiter


Top 5 - British Sitcoms

The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin
Porridge
Fawlty Towers
Hancock's Half Hour
Blackadder

Wednesday 19 November 2008

Saturday Night Jungle Fever

Scene: Sounds of the jungle - birds squawk, etc etc. Two men, dressed in formal evening wear from the waist up and oversized khaki shorts and jungle boots from the waist down sit on logs in a clearing in the middle of the jungle. They're drinking brandy and smoking cigars.

(Both talk in mock well-to-do accent but can't help slipping back into their cockney leanings - Think Pete & Dud putting it on)

1st Man: - I say, frightful weather we're having.
2nd Man: (woken from his slumber) - eh, what's that dear boy? I must have taken a post banquet nap.
1st Man - I was just thinking how terribly depressing this weather is. Raining cats and dogs all day.
- Quite, quite.
- I was at the Kipling Theatre for the matinee peformance yesterday...
- Oh yes, what d'you see?
- The Lion King... Soaked on the way out just getting to the car.
- I know. Only yesterday, I was out with my driver in the Jaguar, you know, we were caught in a terrible downpour, terrible. Tropical it was!
- Ahh shame, where were you heading?
- The Lagoon
- The Lagoon? (Looking around sheepishly) Is that the eh... new...erm...gentlemens club I keep hearing about?
- No the lagoon, it was time for my evening soak!! As it was I only need step from under the canopy.
- Well do tell me, what's that new establishment I've heard so much about, opening near where the Oryx herd are, just left of the savannah?
- Well don't you know? It's a Spearmint Rhino's!
- Ah yes, well I hear it's the talk of the upper canopy.
- Awful denizen of harlotry, I suggest you stay away my dear boy. Animals, the lot of them. Filth!
- Well I must say, I'm terribly out of my depth when it comes to anatomy. You could say I don't know a Baboon's arse from my elbow.
- My dear fellow, there's your problem. You should find yourself a nice, quiet, young lady...... stop messing around with these ruddy Baboons!!!...You must know they have a terrible reputation among the indigenous tribes...and selfish lovers to boot!
- Well I've always found them quite charming!..... Well, well, it's been a fine evening. Thank you for the feast but I must be heading off now - Wilson does so love his 'I'm a Celebrity', he'll be fraught if I don't let him drive me back home to The Brambles.
- Don't you mean The Bamboo's?...Anyway, you shouldn't let him watch that tripe you know.
- Well why ever not?
- Well, I mean, they're in a world of their own those celebrities, don't even know they're born. I don't even think they're in the real jungle.
- Oh come on, you're just being cynical.
- Well have you seen them round here on a Saturday night? Mark my words. It's all a sham. Cheerio then old bean.
- Right...yes...toodlepip old boy....(to imagined waiting butler)...Wilson! Wilson!!

Monday 17 November 2008

Film Review - Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

***
I'm always dubious when it comes to these remakes. Their very existence confirms a lack of new ideas. However, being a massive fan of the original trilogy, I have to admit that, despite myself, I'd been rather looking forward to this film.

And does it disappoint? Well, yes and no. 'No' in the sense that it does nothing to taint past glories but 'yes' by way of not quite living up to those glories either.

Initially, the signs are good. It's 1957 and the Russians are led, by a suitably sinister Cate Blanchett, to find a mysterious artifact located in Area 51.

After Indy escapes the clutches of the 'Reds', and not before surviving an atom bomb test by taking refuge in a lead lined refrigerator (possibly the films most endearing moment), he's placed under suspicion by the FBI and suspended by the Dean of the School. Then, prompted by the arrival of Shia Laboeuf, who introduces the unsolved mystery which you just know Indy can't resist, it's off to discover a mythical city of gold using clues and riddles left by 'Ox', an eminent Professor and friend of Dr Jones, played by an underused John Hurt.

The foundations are laid firmly, but its at this point where things start to go a little awry. In the ensuing race between Indy and the Russians, all the initial charm seems to ebb away. What was an interesting FBI angle and a unique 1950's take on the ageing hero, is left almost completely behind and instead we start to get Indy by numbers.

In itself that need not be a problem, there being plenty to enjoy in the tomb raiding, jungle trailing and supernatural qualities of the enigmatic 'crystal' skull. However, we're met also by clumsy action sequences that feel more like filler than centre pieces.

For example, an extended military vehicle chase, mirroring 'Raiders of the Lost Ark' but more bloated, is free from any real sense of peril. By the time it culminates in an attack by super-sized, killer ants, you're left looking at your watch and wondering what silly circumstance might come next. Actually, the answer is promptly provided by a 3 tiered waterfall plunge. The problem is, having survived the 1st drop, there's no thrill in seeing it happen twice more!?

Having said all this, the climax of the film is genuinely thrilling and the extraterrestrial element adds an interesting new slant on things too. It's good, clean fun then, has all the ingredients required and it's great to see Ford excel revisiting a much loved character. I just wish I'd been more spellbound.

Saturday 15 November 2008

Wogan Worry

After a pleasant after work drink or two with the new Dr Watts in Covent Garden, I arrived home about 8 o'clock and settled down with Laura for an evening of Children in Need. It was full of the usual guff - singing newsreaders, dancing Eastenders etc, etc. but one thing struck me amongst all the goodwill and generous donating - Sir Terry.

Is it me or has he turned into the loosest canon since Bobby Ball's sidekick last paid a visit to his local? I know it was live telly, but if people think Brucie's doddery, they should have seen Wogan!! Either he's really lost it or he just simply doesn't give a toss anymore. Frequently, he would be openly unaware of to whom he was supposed to be linking, what item was next on the agenda and, at one point, was in completely the wrong place in the audience to meet a particular group of fundraisers. At this realisation, he comically looked to those seated around him, "This lot know less about why I'm here than I do!"

It was great to watch him snipe and snide his way through an evening supposed to be given over to goodwill, criticising celebrities for being unable to read out the donation telephone number correctly - somewhat hypocritically in the circumstances - and talking over co-presenters as they tried to hold it all together. At one point, I'm sure Terry had simply had enough and walked off. Hilarious, but it won't do him any favours.

Regardless of whether this was rebellious eccentricity or woeful incapability, I salute you Terry Wogan. It takes a lot to make Bruce Forsyth look slick!!! Still, I'd take either of those ageing masters over the awful Patrick Kielty or BBC golden boy Graham Norton.

Over our post work pint, Gaz mentioned his high regard for Jimmy Carr, suggesting he was the most likely of the current crop of comics to take over the mantle of the Monkhouse, Wogan, Forsyth generation. I hope so. Some are gone and others won't be around for much longer. I, for one, will miss them.

Thursday 13 November 2008

Electricityscape

Yesterday evening, being a Wednesday, was 5-a-side football night. As it was a 19:00 kick off I arranged, as usual, to meet Chris at Waterloo Station for 18:00 where we jump on a train direct to the footy. He doesn't finish until 17:30 and has just enough time to get from Old Street to Waterloo on the tube.

Meanwhile, I have an hour to kill, so usually take a slow stroll across town. When the weather's good it really is the most amazing of walks. I go past the Guildhall and on towards St Paul's Cathedral, which when lit up looks really imposing. I realise just how big it is.

Then down to the Thames and over the Millennium Bridge for great views of the river, Tower Bridge, The Globe Theatre and of course the Tate Modern. All that history and culture in such a small section of the city!!!

Once on the South Bank, I head away from the old power station past Gabriel's Wharf, it's muralled wall overlooking restaurants and boutiques, full of tourists and city dwellers sipping at continental beers and wines.

Before long, I reach the Royal National Theatre and the South Bank Centre with their sombre 50's style concrete. Here, there's a great collection of 2nd hand books on sale outside, laid out on rows of tables, a brilliant place to pick up the odd cheap novel or two.

Walking away from the river and past the London Studios I can see the London Eye up on high, the IMAX theatre through the gaps in the office blocks and then it's Waterloo Bridge and into the station.

Sometimes I'm amazed by how exciting and electric London can seem. Even though I've worked here for four years and lived in the city's shadow most of my life, I guess I'm still a little in awe of it. I've only ever been inside a handful of the places I've just described, a shame really, but I guess for some reason it's all a little intimidating. All that sensory overload!!! Yet that's what I love about London too - the infinite possibilities!!

Wednesday 12 November 2008

Monday 10 November 2008

Chris Kamara




Film Review - Quantum of Solace

****
I remember leaving the cinema after watching Casino Royale. I felt mixed emotions. I knew I'd just seen an amazing film, one that had redefined the oldest of movie franchises and ensured its continued existence, at least for the foreseeable future. I also knew that in Daniel Craig, I'd seen the most physical, most intense and yes, most emotional 007 ever. Somehow though, I still had this pang of regret.....it just wasn't Bond was it?

After the fallout, the dust settling on the most successful box office return of any Bond instalment, I could see through my nostalgia. This was necessary, this was a good thing and despite my initial misgivings, this was a very good movie. Besides, I could always go back to 'View to a Kill' for my grey leather jacketed, eye brow raised kicks!!

As many critics have suggested, Quantum of Solace is not as good as Casino Royale (although you have to qualify that statement by asking, "what other Bond film is that good?") However, it's still brimming with all the elements that made us swoon before. There's the heartbroken Bond, seething and remorseful, the realistic action scenes pleasingly devoid of CGI, there's the plot, twisting and turning at all the right moments. There is humour too, although now it's pleasantly understated rather than preceded by imaginary drum rolls.

The mysterious 'Quantum' group provide intrigue as MI6 struggles to ascertain exactly who they are and what they're up to, but perhaps most enjoyable of all, is the relationship between Bond and M. On more than one occasion, allusion is made to M's maternal instincts and Craig and Judy Dench's scenes together are essential in adding depth. Dench is a revelation as M and the decision to keep her on from the Brosnan era is a masterstroke. It's almost as if M is Bond's one, true love!! Freud would have a field day!!

Ironically, I found I enjoyed Quantum of Solace far more than its superior predecessor, relaxing into this new era and reveling in the smouldering cool of Daniel Craig - He almost defies comparison with previous Bond's, his take on the character being so skewed from the historic portrayal.

Quite where 007 goes in the next film, I'm really not sure. There's only so long you can maintain the lovers revenge plot line and I do worry that, this being tied up by the end of 'Quantum', he may lose some of his raison d'etre. Still, that's for a couple of years down the line. For now I'll sit back and enjoy. I may even get 'Royale' out from Blockbuster. Perhaps it deserves another chance!

Sunday 9 November 2008

Who do I think I am?

My Dad is heavily into his genealogy. Before he began, he knew very little about our family, even relatively little of his own Grandparents.

However, gradually, piece by piece and like a modern, non-drug taking Sherlock Holmes without the deer stalker, Dad has filled in the blanks with census data and old photos uncovered. It's all stored in a massive lever arch file, rapidly gaining something akin to Family Bible status.

Yesterday, the old man and I went to the National Archives at Kew. Ultimately, to meet a chap researching unsung racing heroes from the early part of the last century, although as a librarian I thought the place might be interesting too. He had come across Reginald Calvert-Empson (the great grandad mentioned in an earlier blog) and was amazed to hear my Dad was his only Grandchild.

Notes were duly swapped and more info was gathered by the erstwhile 'Holmes' (I guess that makes me Dr Watson!) Anyway, not only a racer but also a Captain in WW1, he was subject to an attack by gas resulting in hospitalisation. We saw his medical records from the time and even a hand written letter requesting leave due to his 8 year old daughter (my Nan) being injured when run down by a car!!!! Incredible!

***

I'd never felt particularly attached to my heritage (apart from the odd bit of sympathy for the Scottish national football team) but, as Dad's gradually unearthed the names and the places over the years, it's slowly started to seep through me. Turns out my Great Grandfather, John McRae, was a dairy farmer and that his Dad was Alexander McRae from a small village in the West Highlands called Balmacara. The McRae clan even have their own castle nearby called Eilean Donan.

A couple of years ago, Laura and I were on holiday in Scotland. We drove the hire car for 3 hours up through the amazing scenery of the highlands to find it. I hate those moments in shows like "Who Do you Think You Are?" - the money shot - where the celeb breaks down in tears at some pseudo grandiose revelation. However, although I didn't go so far as to shed a tear, there was a substantial lump in my throat at the sight of the castle.


It really is beautiful and nestles at the foot of the mountains, on a small island in the Loch. Walking around it made me feel immensely proud and most moving of all was the memorial listing McRae's lost in the world wars. Thinking about it, 'old Reggie" could so easily have ended up on one of these.

Balmacara, a hamlet, has a "McRae" grocers store among the tiny collection of buildings. Finally, my name up in lights!! I always knew this was my spiritual home!

Thursday 6 November 2008

Joe Strummer



Came across this photo again on the web. I've always loved it so thought I'd post it. He really looks the nuts!

Wednesday 5 November 2008

The Big 'O' (Reprise)

You do wonder whether it will end up being one of those, "Where were you when..." moments. Watching Obama's acceptance speech, it definitely felt like the start of a new period in world history. Were Noel Gallagher in attendance he'd have probably shouted, "Right here! Right now!" to the onlooking crowds.

Ironically, the last time I felt this sense of era shift was watching the attack on the World Trade Center. You knew things would never be the same again. In that case, of course, it wasn't for the better, and yes, I do remember where I was at the time - Watching TV in the staff room of WHSmith's. (I knew something major must have happened to interrupt the afternoon showing of Neighbours.)

Time will tell, but lets all hope Obama can live up to the great expectations! In the meantime, I'm just going to enjoy the fact he's the most eloquent and down right cool President I've ever seen. In other words, he's not George W Bush!!

Tuesday 4 November 2008

The Big 'O'

Election day is finally upon us!! I'm pretty relieved, it's been quite a build up. I do hope the swinging voters don't lose their nerve and Obama gets in. According to the polls, McCain should have had his chips, yet you do wonder if, when push comes to shove, middle America won't fall back on familiar ground.

There is an overwhelming hope that this could be a new dawn, not just for the U.S., but by association, the whole world. Could this be the moment that defines our future civilisation? The crises of global warming particularly seem to encapture the sentiment, "last chance saloon".

It's so frustrating that the lives of so many rest on the votes of, the relatively, so few. US citizenship? - Surely such a frivolous factor in deciding eligibility to vote!!!

US Citizenship? Frivolous? Tell that to the Mexicans.

Monday 3 November 2008

Phewis Hamilton

People hate Formula 1 motor racing. I can understand why, it has its issues.

In my case, my great-grandad raced on the banked circuit of Brooklands in the thirties. I'd be betraying my lineage not to pay at least a passing interest.

And what a ding-dong it was yesterday. Brilliant to see Hamilton scrape through to win the title and a big shout out to Mr Glock for geniously staying on slick tyres when things were getting a little bit moist.

Thankfully, Hamilton's too error prone to 'do a Schumacher' and dominate the sport for years (plus Alonso's still the best there is for my money), so here's to many more last lap title deciders.

p.s. Farewell David Coulthard. I'll never forget him waving his middle finger at Schumacher when chasing him down for the lead a few years back. Brilliant!!

Friday 31 October 2008

SAD light

It's a strange time of year. The clocks have changed, meaning lighter mornings but dark, dark afternoons, the most beautiful of the seasons, autumn, is giving way rapidly to the harsh cold of winter and to top it all off there's a bus replacement service between Merstham and Purley on my rail line to work.

Needless to say, I'm having trouble adapting to these developments. I've become acutely aware of the passing of time. I'm only 26!! Yet, whether it be the limbo I find myself in at work whilst awaiting the relocation of the library, or the constant reminders that after three years of marriage it might just be time to consider having a baby, I feel like there's a clock ticking away at the back of my mind.

Of course this is all nonsense. I'd love a little ginger fella or fellaress to be wondering around the house, bashing into things and causing sheer panic as he or she approaches the ironing board, and after all, work is just work, so in the words of Joe Strummer, "...shut your mouth and pretend you enjoy it..."

Perhaps I'm more of a control freak than I realised. It's flipping hard to let go of your destiny and just give it up to fate, chance, God, whatever. That cliched old line from Kipling's poem has just entered my mind, "If you can keep your head, yada, yada, yada".

Maybe next week I'll learn to let go a little more. At least by then the engineering works will have finished!!

Thursday 30 October 2008

Bross

Hooray for the Great British public!!! Once again those shining bastions of good taste and decency, the upholders of our moral and ethical standards, have come to rid us of all things unsavoury. In this case "sicko's", Messrs Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand.

They say sarcasm's the lowest form of wit, but in this case, a base form of expression is probably most apt to summise the ongoings of the past few days.

'Silly', 'puerile', 'insensitive'; all words I'd be happy to use to describe leaving prank answerphone messages for Andrew Sachs, but 'sick'? Ironically, both Ross and Brand owe their fame to the constant undermining of taboos. They are vocal, particularly in Brand's case, on their none too minor flaws.

Having heard, not read, the dialogue of the show, it's obvious that something has been lost in translation. Of course, what was said was cowardly, cruel even, but there was one vital thing missing - malice. It was akin to immature schoolboys up to mischief rather than a focused, pre-meditated attack.

Two complaints received after the airing of the show (not live might I add but pre-recorded) escalates to tens of thousands following belated coverage in the British tabloids.

Now we have the resignation of Brand, who lets face it can afford to drop his Radio 2 show with other considerable irons in the Hollywood fire, and the possibility that the excellent 'Friday Night with Jonathan Ross' may be no more.

Is the loss of these ground breaking shows, cultural melting pots no less, really a justifiable result of such an incident? Are apologies and a slap on the wrist simply not enough? Have I taken leave of my moral conscience in the defence of two of my favourite comics?

Barry Norman must be on tenterhooks!!

Wednesday 29 October 2008

You Shall Be Born

"Sheer experience had already taught her that, in some circumstances, there was one thing better than to lead a good life, and that was to be saved from leading any life whatever. Like all who have been previsioned by suffering, she could, in the words of M. Sully-Prudhomme, hear a penal sentence in the fiat, `You shall be born....." - Tess of the D'urbervilles, Thomas Hardy

"You shall be born"
Echoes like a penal sentence.
The perfect circle of your eye
Warped with every tear you cry.

Arbus, Emin tear
The truths from the pretty canvas lent.
Forbidden fruit to propriety
This seedy scene of reality.

Marilyn scratch it out.
The celluloid sucked upon your soul.
Left nothing of the real you
Just an image too good to be true.

Sylvia cut down cold
Intelligence as a disease.
Conscience slave to perfection
An unforgiving companion.

Hardy rip through youth.
Your maidens doomed to their amour.
Trapped in precious, pallid skin.
Cursed to beckon unto men.

Caged flesh and mind an awkward pill
So paint on a vulgar pretence.
"You shall be born" yet still
Echoes like a penal sentence.

An Ungainly Sham

A gurning face hides a truth about me.
Can I persist in this pretence of reverie?
Laugh at the coarse but yet what hypocrits!
- Sex is just for all those hopeless misfits.
Just leave me indoors with familiar things,
Order of objects, sterile surroundings.
Don't unwrap the plastic, keep off the carpets
Or else I might die of emotional fits.
"Parkinson's calling" but I don't want to feel.
Yet that northern nit seems my only hope now.
I'll carry the weight, I'll carry the can;
I can't carry on with this ungainly sham.
I'll die as I lived, ashamed and alone.
- "Oh Kenneth you cad, that joke's too close to home."

Idol/Ideal

Cigarette smoke cooly caresses air
As steel sparks perform pirouettes.
Tannoy talk drifts through departure board dreams
As you sink into sepia moments.

Watch a man pace platform seventeen
The night train his escape from fear.
Those romantic hopes and far aspirations
To your heart are held so, so dear.

The carriage careers into the inky black
Into dark cinematic fantasy.
You watch the TV from your tear stained pillow
Next to plastered collages of fancy.

Idol/Ideal
He'll be your sweetened pill
An escape from the boredom/the bedroom.

Idol/Ideal
Flings himself on the rails
Knowing well, you will immortalise him.

I'd rather be anywhere else but here
Rather rock with the railway cradle.
I live for the celluloid, polished veneer
Of a fresh faced matinee idol.

Autothysis

The sun gives light,
But gaze into it's fire too long
And it will burn out your eyes

In God we trust,
But only you can know the truth
Of revolution over lies

Internal euthanasia
Our nature's hypocrisy
Everything has gone but for
The certainty of your goodness

Death brings despair,
But only in its wake
Will you accept this life

Boy loves his girl,
He'll never ask for more
Until she becomes his wife

Internal euthanasia
Nature's hypocrisy
Everything has gone but for
The certainty of your goodness

-------------------------------------
Only war can bring peace
Only ignorance a release.
-------------------------------------
Even God thought the Devil beautiful
Before he fell from Heaven to Hell.
-------------------------------------
Lennon, Luther, Mahatma Gandhi
Why must pacifists die violently?
--------------------------------------

No more games
No more bombs

No more games
No more bombs

No more games
No more bombs

No more games
No more bombs

Affluenza

Ikea riot
Bedlam and spite
In the name of all faux furnished chic.

Consumer delight
For the price of a night
Amid the detached and the weak.

Disposable cash
Makes slaves of the rash
Forsaking all sense of self knowledge.

Latest modern design
Keeps the masses in line.
Meanwhile Edmonton seeks a new solace.

But what to expect?
You and I can't neglect
Our chance at a heightened persona.

A need to pretend.
A DIY weekend.
Dreams come true for a few extra Krona.

Resolution

Sometimes my eyes are wide open
As if I can see every detail.
From the outline of the passing clouds
To a speck of dirt on my shoe.

I breathe and taste every bead of dew.
Hear pin drops in the prattling streets
As buildings cut into the crisp morning sky
Full of flocking birds and possibilities.

I must ignore all hostilities
Where conscience is fighting for a place.
Realise that there is no meaning grand or morose.
Shut out all voices of dissent once heard

And heed these words
"Alive. You are alive my friend."
There is a certain solace in the dawn
That make me cherish its sharpened view.

Just one single moment to cling to.

The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin

Reggie, Reggie
Ask, "does the world still feel for you?"
Your eyes flick from the crossword
To the window carriage view

Reggie, Reggie
Four across and twenty-seven down
Words used to come with ease
But now the clues furrow your brow

The fall and the rise
All the inward cries
Reggie, does the world still feel for you?

Reggie, Reggie
Yet again the five-past-eight is late
Delayed by leaves upon the line
Approaching New Cross Gate

Reggie, Reggie
Secretary waiting for the word
You love your wife yet
Still you fantasise of the absurd

The fall and the rise
The wandering eyes
Reggie, does the world still feel for you?

Sanctuary
On soothing, sandy shores
Your mind is set upon the surf
The end's the only cure

Sanctuary
The sombre waves still lure
Lifes'twinge within reminds you yet
You've too much to live for

Reggie, Reggie
Polished shoes pace upon frozen ground
Hear umbrella point tap
Such a secure, routine sound

The fall and the rise
The audible sighs
Reggie, Does the world still feel for you?

A Race Against Time

Terrify
Terrify

Clarke you called for the thought police
And so gave rise to a prejudice
The fingers point, and the English press
Cry "What democracy is this?"

Terrify - More race agression
Shut them out and lock the gates
Ridicule - Into concession
Opress, opress - Breed ingrained hate.

Ridicule
Ridicule

In Oakington the abusive scum
Will claim a Garnett/Minstrel fun
From "comic" to repatration
Is this your Global Solution (Ltd)

Opress
Opress

In Brixton, Burnley see the light
A third of rioters were white
Such helplessness ignites the fight
The eternal inner city plight

Terrify - More race agression
Shut them out and lock the gates
Ridicule - Into concession
Opress, opress - Breed ingrained hate.

Terrify
Ridicule
Opress

Bill us for our right to mind
Condemn before commited crime
Ministerial power, no judicial line
Means Orwell's vision in our time

Shun the BNP we all agree
skinhead thug, evil Nazi
Shun the BNP we all agree
Yet Kilroy-Silk's still on TV

"Blat"

Scrawl with biro upon the wood
That stands at graves where stone should stand
The enfant names of the Beslan dead
Form inky stains on splintered hands

Gross death of youth yet still no shock
Putin usurped by filthy whores
"Blat" to blame all you business men
Give new meaning to term "cold war".

Murder is still murder
Under any name
Murder is still murder
No excuse just shame

Sibneft Tsar in Abramovich
Russia ruled by its patronage
Oligarchs the super bourgois
Capital slicks slay sufferage

Read red graffitied underpass
"Mashkadov - our president, our choice"
$10m price put upon his head
Zachistika - supress their voice

Murder is still murder
Under any name
Murder is still murder
No excuse just shame

And in the rain, newspaper print
Runs fast as memory washed forgets
But siblings skin is stained for life
The curse is cast, the future sets

Chechynan rebels ignored now riled
Chechnyan rebels like any child