Monthly Archives: October 2006

The yoof of today.

So there we are in Pizza Express on Notting Hill Gate tucking into wholesome doughy goodness after a long day and an evening meeting when at 10.15pm the waiter has to rush to the inner door to hold it closed against three small boys, 10 minutes later they returned and the waiter wasn’t quite so quick to hold the door shut; as they burst into the restaurant they went straight for the people at the tables, “trick or treat” they cried, their lack of costumes and cups rattling under your nose showed they weren’t out for harmless fun, but cold hard cash: I felt like picking them up and throwing them in front of the 94, or even better the Oxford Tube (it’s got an extra set of wheels you know, for that extra level of squishiness that you just don’t get with an LT bus…), but the waiter once again shooed them away before they were able to wreak any further havoc on our quiet evening meals to high pitched cries of “don’t touch me”.

They couldn’t have been much more than 12, one looked morbidly obese, and it made me think just how much the world’s changed, being almost ancient (26 on Thursday *sob*) I can remember back when I was that age that you just wouldn’t have dared do something like that. To be honest I wasn’t even allowed to trick or treat, and frankly if I’d have spoken to any adult like they did to the waiter and diners yesterday evening that my parents would have booted me firmly into the middle of next year with a size 11 up my arse… it certainly left Dave and I wondering, has the world really changed that much in just a few years? And if it has where are the kids of today going to end up?

How rock & roll

What a week: I didn’t think it was ever going to finish, and here it is on a Saturday evening and I’m still working, although this time on something that we’ve put off for long enough, and it’s in house which means the pressure isn’t their and it’s actually quite a laugh to do. Off to a meeting tomorrow morning, then off to see some flats, what a very rock and roll way to spend your last weekend on the bright side of 25.

Yep… 26 in only a few days, the wishlist is at the bottom… that’s a hint, buy me something nice! *grins*

Media Guardian is not trying…

Capital FMSpotted this in Media Guardian today, headlining a story about how Capital is hemorrhaging listeners, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the photo, I mean how long is it since the radio cafe closed? When did capital last use that logo? Are we actually using a photo that’s about 10 years old? – Come on Media Guardian, do try harder!

Random phone photos

Some more random phone photos:

Above, two things you don’t see very often, an honestly badged chav car, and being undertaken by a house… and below, images from yesterday’s escape from the downpour.

Round Up

You’ll have to excuse me, as I know I’ve not blogged for decades: I have, as the the generic excuse of every lazy blogger goes, been busy.

I’ve been running all over the place doing all sorts of things, including, directing and shooting a fashion shoot for a well known tailor, attending endless meetings discussing everything from the details and minutia of an innovative start-up to bowels and bloating with another (and there really is a reason for this…), doing another shoot taking photos of bus lanes, buildings and traffic islands for later digital play and many other things. I’ve also been feverishly picking up new camera parts, searching for a new HD-DV cam (thinking of the Canon XH1) and preparing several pitches for several new and interesting potentials.

Alongside all of this the house hunt is once again picking up pace, with everything above and more it’s been a slow process, we’ve also done some (shock horror) socialising, coffee, films and galleries.

I really must whinge about the new Tate Modern exhibition, having made the effort to cross the river eariler this week, meeting dave mid-way across the Millennium Bridge (very Spooks), to go and see the much talked about “Slides”, we were very disappointed to find only two were open, and both of these were filled with devil spawn and their pushy-mummies while the others, gated and guarded by a surly looking Tate modern attendant were apparently ‘fully booked’ – and fuck me they looked it, not. So miffed at not getting to have a go on the slides, we were ultra critical of the installation which seemed even more pointless when you can’t get the endorphin hit they’re supposed to provide on the way down… to us they seemed badly lit, poorly constructed (horrid welding… if you’re into that sort of thing), and just a little uninviting: they certainly weren’t embracing like the Weather Project was, so disappointed at Tate.

However I really must enthuse about The Devil Wears Prada, which is wickedly funny; well shot, beautifully styled and strangely true to life in many of it’s nuances, anyone that’s worked in or around the fashion industry will be able to see someone they know in any one of the main characters. Meryl Streep as Anna Wintour ahem, Miranda Priestly is stunning whilst Anne Hathaway puts in a sterling performance as ugly duckling turned swan. Whilst on the subject of movies I must also say that since Odeon took over the UCI at Whiteleys the seats are now so much more comfy, avoiding that horrid mid-movie-numb-bum, that used to be a danger whenever visiting that particular cinema.

I must also positively drool over Notting Hell, Rachel Johnson’s new book all about the trials and tribulations of life on the communal garden in my favourite part of London, again if you live, or have ever lived in W11 this book will give you deep deep joy, and it’s hilariously accurate, although I’ve yet to come across any reference to Dutch neighbours who fake orgasms every saturday morning – so I’m guessing that that’s just one of our personal experiences.

So it’s Monday morning, admittedly a long time before work is to start, but Monday none the less – I’m promising myself that I’ll do more blogging this week, I’ve got a phone full of more tube fashion disasters and I’ve got tales of a conversation overheard in Starbucks Notting Hill Gate which I’m just too tired to explain the utter ridiculousness of right now, but I promise I’ll do that some time this week!

It’s cold ‘tup north

Well this weekend’s been a short one, Saturday was a work day, which is the first for a while; and it started in the fog, crashing up the M1 avoiding people who don’t look in their mirrors before changing lanes, we ended up at MeadowHall in Sheffield to pick up a mini-dv to DV connecter for my powerbook which was an interesting experience before zooming off to a business meeting in central Sheffield.

Sheffield’s an interesting place, I’ve not been for years; and it’s looking a little worse for wear in places, it’s still that odd mix of swanky new flats and crumbling buildings, a bit like the Docklands of 10 years ago, there are a million great urbex sites, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get up there with that in mind without prior commitments for business, but you never know, with some forward planning it might happen. Meeting successfully concluded it was time to bimble down memory lane, both with family ties in South Yorks we tore around the back roads before eventually hitting the A1 again for the trip back down south, calling in on the parents briefly to find a strange transposition as I find myself and my brother talking about work, while my parents (although both gainfully employed) talking about being students, dad doing a degree and mum doing an optician’s assistant course.

And so to Sunday, spent mainly in bed, catching up on all the sleep we’d missed during the week and saturday, browsing the net for houses and catching up on the papers, spooks and some other stuff the media server had caught for us during the week, and so the weekend ended… back to the grindstone for another week, and a busy one it’s going to be too, so that’s my weekend, how was yours?

Bullying Fuckwits

And so the rise of Christian Fundamentalism continues apace as Catholic Truth set out to ‘out’ people based only on hearsay and rumour e-mailed to them. Let’s hope the libel solicitors have a field day, not to mention the police; as this nest of vipers is stirring shit based on nothing more than words put in a pointless book that was written thousands of years ago by politicians and the mentally ill.

So don’t forget to go online and tell these fuckwits that we’re not living in the age of the spanish inquisition any more: or None of these links by the way are important enough to warrant hyperlinks.

Jackie O-D

You’ve heard of Jackie O specs? Well here’s what happens when you OD on Jackie O.

Winter Urges

As the nights are drawing in I’m finding myself going into winter mode, I find myself being drawn to books, finding an urge to cook again and looking forward to the joys of cold grey days, brisk winter walks and all the things that remind me why I love winter so much more than summer.

I’ve got a definite hankering to get things out of storage, which we’ll hopefully be able to do in the not too distant future, it’ll be nice to have my books, big sofa and all my gadgets back, it’s amazing how such simple things as curling up on a sunday morning to flick through a recipe book or just unwinding with a faithful old friend of a book can be. All being well things should be in a state where we can take stuff out of storage in the next 4 or 5 weeks, all fingers crossed – if they’re not I may have to just go out and buy more books to satisfy my urges; it’s all very well having the internet to read things with, but it’s not the same tactile experience as a book.

I’ve also got the urge to do some more urbexing, there’s an old air force base beckoning and I’d love to go and take a peeky around a certain asylum before Prescott & Co. get their way and let the place crumble to the ground making way for “much needed key worker housing”.


Well here we are in October: the seasons are changing, the nights are drawing in, and as we stood on a bridge looking over the boaters on the river yesterday afternoon the leaves were starting to turn and fall from the trees. Autumn is here.