1. Birmingham for a gig

    March 6, 2012 by admin

    Funny old thing friends, at least the good ones.

    My mates who I saw in Brum a couple of weekends ago have benn firends for years.

    Sometimes a whole year will go by and I won’t see them.

    We’ll just exchange a text now and then, usually when drunk. Perhaps if drunk enough we’ll even call each other at stupid o’clock at night and slur away for half an hour then not speak again for months.

    As I said, I went up there just last weekend, and now I’ve booked to go again next week to go to see Mark Lanegan of Queens of the Stone Age fame in concert.

    He’s a giant growly bear of a man who does a beautiful love song turn with Isobell Campbell and then kicks ares big time with Queens and on his own.

    I just hope I catch a fairly late train. I remember a few years back doing a similar thing to go to see rock god Led Zep superstar Robert Plant with enough of the old band to call themselves Zeppelin but caught a really early train up from London to Brum, got to town at 3.00 and we were so pissed by the time he came on that I can’t remember  thing about it.

    Well, I was there, so at least I can say that.

     

    Category Music | Tags: | No Comments

  2. Paypal. Again

    March 5, 2012 by admin

    A few weeks ago I had a bit of a rant about Paypal. I use it quite a lot for buying stuff online, although in actual fact I don’t understand why, it’s easier in that it’s a quick password and we’re away, but other than that isn’t it just another stage in financial stuff that we don’t actually need?

    Anyway, that aside, a few weeks ago I got a debt collection from an agency working for Paypal threatening to come around and break down the door if I don’t stop chewing my toast and get the amount paid that I owe them immediately.

    I hate that kind of shit, and you know immediately that you’ll have ages of phone calls that will drive you to distraction as you try to prove your innocence. Aren’t we supposed to be innocent until proven guilty in this country?

    I’ve called more than ten times so far and got ever more frustrated until today I spoke to Anthony, an irish guy, who simply said in his wonderful accent “Ah, don’t worry Mr Evans, this stuff happens, but we won’t be actually chasing you, it costs more than you owe and so we just try to scare you into paying.” To an extent this was OK, but I couldn’t get him off the patter that insisted that I owe them money. Now I’m not sure whether to leave it or pursue. I think I’ll keep going or some time in the future I might find out I’ve got a ccj registered against me and I’ll not be able to borrow or something.

    Category About me | Tags: | No Comments

  3. The four warmings of wood

    March 4, 2012 by admin

    I came over all philosophical earlier at the breakfast table.

    I’ve been with sis all weekend and yesterday I spent time chopping back some serious tree growth in her garden that had started to block the light a bit too much.

    Even with a chain saw it’s hot work, especially given the gorgeous sunshine yesterday.

    Then I set about chopping the branches up into burnable sized chunks, and even stacked them neatly where they’ll sit for a year or so to dry out a bit. All rather helpful and country like for a city boy I thought.

    And I thought I was being deep and meaningful when I said this morning about the many times our wondrous trees warm us, the cutting, the chopping, the stacking and then the burning. But she just put me down in teh way only a sibling could and pointed out that the idea was many hundreds of years old.

    Ah well. At least she cooked up a storm for breakfast.

    Off back to town in an hour, on the train this time. Quite looking forward to it.

    Category Endurance, Family | Tags: | No Comments

  4. Open your eyes!

    March 2, 2012 by admin

    I try not to rant as I find it somewhat tedious when people moan on about stuff, but today is getting on my tits!

    Having had a great day yesterday playing photographer’s assistant today has truly turned to shit so far.

    I took the day off to get a load of boring domestic shit sorted out.

    Nick was coming to fix a door that doesn’t close and do something about the draft that howls through the flat when the wind is in the right direction, or wrong direction I guess. Nick was supposed to be here at eight o’clock. It’s now one o’clock and no Nick, no call and no answer on his phone.

    Dominic was to be here at nine o’clock. He’s coming but now here yet.

    I left a note on the post box asking the postie to ring my bell as I’ve left the box key at work. I just saw him. He moved the note so he could drop the parcel that I absolutely need today into the box that I can’t open. He’s not even foreign! I read the note, he said. Well why the fook didn’t you do the simple thing that I asked I wanted to scream at him. But always always keep in with the postie. I smiled swwetly and muttered how it didn’t matter and how he should have a good day.

    Now I’m too wound up to enjoy a day of no work. What a fookin’ waste!

    Category My thoughts | Tags: | No Comments

  5. Photographer’s assistant

    March 1, 2012 by admin

    Funny old thing work.

    Today I’m working for one of the bosses mates again, but today as a photographer’s assistant. We’re in a gorgeous house where they’ve just finished a huge extension and the architect has commissioned the photo shoot for his portfolio.

    All I’m doing is running around, moving stuff, putting flowers here. then shifting them there, taking a daffodil out, putting some green in. It’s hardly brain work, but it is a nice way to make some money.

    There’s even a lady coming in a bit with food. She came and took our orders a while ago and has nipped home to cook it.

    What a funny world the photographer lives in. People running around after him, tending to his every need.

    If it weren’t for the fact that a proper assistant doesn’t get paid much I think I’d like to do this for a while, but then I suppose  I’d get bored of being at someone else’s command all the time.

    Hard decision. Pretty girls, great food laid on, coffee on tap. It can’t be bad. But £25k in London? You’re not going to be able to afford a flat let alone a life.

    Well, it’ll all just be another storey after the end of the week. But I’m sure if I do a good job I’ll be offered more opportunities.

    Category Work | Tags: | No Comments

  6. Market forces

    February 29, 2012 by admin

    Don’t worry, I’m not about to get all philosophical on you, or even turn into some kind of economist, but the last few days working on the filming job has just got me thinking about what people are paid.

    The ‘star’ of the work was a footballer.

    He was paid more to appear for three hours than I’m paid for a week, in fact for three weeks. Now I don’t mind that really as I can’t play football, but it’s quite interesting to me that there can be such demand for players, and yet clubs nearly always have financial problems. This morning on the radio they were saying that Rangers are about to go into administration with debts of over £50m.

    So how does it work then? Does there need to be something put in place that will allow teams like Swansea, or Stoke or whoever to remain in competition with Manchester’s teams?

    Look, I’m not going to worry my head over this, but I’m looking at it all and wondering how on earth the sport can sustain itself. Will all the teams have to be owned by Arabs next? That might be the only answer to paying the wages of the players.

    Mind you. Our man who was on film

    Category Work | Tags: | No Comments

  7. Birmingham

    February 27, 2012 by admin

    Blimey. i was a bit rough on Saturday morning and i wasn’t looking forward to travelling to Birmingham one little bit, but a good sleep on the train on my favourite seat (I might let you know which it is if you’re really nice to me) meant that I was on pretty good form an hour or so later when we pulled into International. I was properly awake by New Street and had a good wander around the new end of town where the Bullring Market used to be. It’s so smart compared to what I remember of the centre.

    Then a bus to Moseley. I hoped to catch the 35 from Stephenson Street and show off (if only to myself) what a well informed fellow I am, but then spotted a 50 and hopped on that instead.

    Straight to the Fighting Cocks and met an old friend for a swift one or two, then walked out to the friends I’d stay with.

    I was the hero uncle Chris carrying and throwing and catching kids for an hour until I was knackered, then back to the Cocks for a few ales and a curry across the road. All quite simple really, but by the time I got back on the train yesterday I felt like I’d had a truly top weekend. A few friends, a few beers, not too much money blown, a mild hangover for the train back but nothing incapacitating. Quite an achievement I think. Times were when I couldn’t contemplate the train home for depth of hangover.

    Strewth. Maybe Mum’s right.

    Category Drinking, People | Tags: | No Comments

  8. Not looking forward to the train!

    February 25, 2012 by admin

    Whoa! What on earth did we get up to last night?

    It was supposed to be a couple of swift bevvies after work. We went to some little Belgium bar in Clerkenwell that has been there for ever. Trouble is they sell magnificent tasting but stupidly strong beer that just slips down, but then knocks you sideways.

    I hadn’t even realised that I was getting drunk until about eight when I went for a pee, and getting up for the first time in ages was a funny experience, in that I didn’t really experience what was happening. Mind and body in perfect disharmony.

    Dad rang looking for a jeweller he could speak to in Sheffield to buy a present for an aunt up there, I sent him to the City Visitor site where you can find pretty much anything – dentist in Liverpool sir? Solicitor in Bristol? It’s all there, and once you’ve found something like the site you tend to just keep going back to it. Father will love that, and so will City Visitor as he’ll tell everyone he knows. I was even tempted to invite him up to Brum with us as he knows the gang. But in the end I was a bit too strained by holding the conversation together.

    Birmingham here we come, and I hope the train is quiet. I need more sleep!

    Category Drinking, Endurance | Tags: | No Comments

  9. Still got it!

    February 24, 2012 by admin

    Right then Mum.

    You would have been proud of your boy last night!

    I wrote in the afternoon that I should find myself a little french m’elle.

    So I did.

    OK. It wasn’t quite that spontaneous. I knew her already, but we haven’t been out before.

    We had dinner on Upper Street. Bantered until the restaurant closed. I walked her to her flat on Essex Road, then I left. Honest I did. And it was good, good enough to want to see her at the weekend, but I won’t. I’ll give it a few days and ask again sometime next week. Not that I’ve got anything planned.

    I loved her final drink. She called it a diluted Baileys, but she dilutes it with whiskey. Brilliant! It makes an otherwise quite sickly drink into something really nice.

    Anyway I can’t go chasing girls this weekend. I’m off up to Birmingham tomorrow for drinks and a curry, or a balti as they call them. We’ll drink special brew and get a bit wasted I expect. Love it. Jay and Anna are both kids I went to college with and we get together a couple of times a year, spend an afternoon having god conversation on every subject under the sun, then start slowly at six ish so as not to be too larey when the baby sitter comes. Taxi to Moseley. And we’re off.

    Category Women | Tags: | No Comments

  10. M’elle

    February 23, 2012 by admin

    I heard this morning that the French government is going to outlaw use of Mademoiselle on official forms.

    OK. So far so good.

    But on the grounds that it makes the woman in question appear available!

    What a beauty!

    I thought that in the minds of any self respecting French man every woman on the planet is available, it’s just a case of whether or not he chooses to take advantage of that availability.

    I also think of every elegant French woman as seeing herself the eternal miss, whether married or not.

    That’s kind of what makes the French French.

    Or have I missed the point?

    Surely M’elle is better than the British Ms which immediately conjures visions of old spinsters or feminists trying to exaggerate their point.

    Anyway I had a good old chuckle at the subject and vowed to go search for a m’elle for me, and I may even nip into Fopp on my way home from wor to see if they have any Serge Gainsburgh.

    Category France | Tags: | No Comments

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