24 June 2004
I've been secretly hoarding diary updates. Here's the first batch!
Life note: Cold - 24 May 2004
The heating is broken in my office at the moment - it broke about a month ago, and since they plan to pull the building down later in the year they simply haven't bothered to fix it. This means I'm sitting chilled to the bone, fingers white at the tips, peering out at people swanning around in the streets in shorts. At this rate I will be changed on a deeper structural level like Arnold Schwarzaneggar in Batman Forever, doomed to spend my last days stealing diamonds, ordering around my army of demonic snowman and making extremely weak thermometer-themed puns to my adversaries.
Life note: Chimes - 23 May 2004
Spim treated us all to dinner at Chimes in Pimlico, to thank us for saving his soul from the deeper bowels of France. Chimes is an English restaurant (or 'restaurant', as they call them in England) serving hearty tucker like game pies, cold cuts, roast lamb and shepherd's pie. Spim had made much ado about the splendid range of ciders served at the restaurant, but in the event we didn't try any of them, sampling instead some splendid plum rose, and then a rather unpleasant gooseberry white. The gooseberry wine may have made a better dessert wine, and by jingo there were plenty of splendid desserts to choose between - from the thick and rich treacle tart, to thick and rich chocolate mousse, to thick and rich bread and butter pudding. Yum.
Life note: On with summer - 21-23 May 2004
A lovely weekend - Bots spent Saturday on Hampstead heath, tucking into a hearty picnic and playing with a very small frisbee (or rather, chasing after the frisbee whenever it caught a breeze and went sauntering off across the meadow, as it was a very small frisbee and a very strong breeze). We got good exercise too throwing remnants of picnic into the tree with the hope of dislodging the frisbee from its branches - it was just like in Flatliners when they're trying to kill that kid.
We were all rather hungover from Dan's birthday party from the night before, so nobody wanted to drink very much. Thus we ended up at the splendid Freemason's Arms in Hamstead and had a bottle of wine each. Yum.
Gig review: Dylan Moran - 19 May 2004
I love Dylan Moran in Black Books, and it seems Bernard Black was largely based on Moran's stand-up persona, which itself is largely based on a misanthropic version of Eddie Izzard. Still, Izzard's own talent shrivelled and died about three years ago so it's good to have a Dylan to see in his place.
Few things annoy me more than people who go to stand-up shows and laugh at everything. I mean, seriously: Dylan had only to say a sentence and the wailing banshees around me would cackhool with laughter. He wasn't that good. But anyway, he said a few good things about the Today Programme, and a splendid touch on John Peel's Home Truths ("Have you ever licked the underside of an ice-cube?"), as well as good-old curmudgeonly alcoholism. Still. If I want amusing nonsense I talk to Arkansas, if I want alcoholism I talk to Darien, if I want misanthopy I stay at home and if I want Irishness I speak with Seamus. So, given I might spend £16 on a night out with those three, it was pretty much the same as going out with friends.
Movie review: Zatoichi
This is the first Japanese samurai movie I've ever seen, and it's supposed to be one of the best. I now realise Kill Bill Vol 1 was a rather better Samurai movie than the films it was trying to emulate. This is slow, silly and boring. The one highlight was the finale, in which the entire cast returned for a half hour of line-dancing to camera. If I ever make a film - ideally a tragic period piece about Victorian England - this is how I'll end my movie.
Movie review: Cypher
This is one of those movies that you like in retrospect much more than you like upon first viewing. In fact, it was only after watching the DVD commentary, and then talking about it with Arkansas, that I realised it was actually quite a good movie.
Anyway, as Arkansas and I concluded, it's sort of like Fight Club mixed with Gattica, with a splendid wig for Lucy Liu. My only problems with it are that it is so slow to get started, and I didn't like any of the characters for the first hour or more.
Life note: Summertime - 14 May 2004
You can't trust that it's summer in Britain until there has been an entire week of non-stop sunshine, and even then that will normally be it for the year. However Saturday was as close as we've got to a real summer's day, and so the Tongs made their annual pilgrimmage to Hampstead Heath. We met with Lucy and her aerobie playing friends and spent the afternoon lazing on the grass and grazing on cheeses and quince, before decamping for a walk around the park, a brisk bout of al fresco urination, the pole walking game, a very noisy pub, and then to a dim sum restaurant where, unfortunately, the waiter served me two meals before seemingly resorting to guessing what was the right one.
I had decided to be teetotal for the next ten years (a pact which lasted almost 24 hours), and so only drank water - litres and litres of the stuff. At the end of the day, before I went to bed, I still drank the habitual three pints of water before realising there was no need on this rare occasion.
On Sunday we headed up to Arkansas's splendid house in Bounds Green for a barbecue. He'd improvised the bbq by pouring charcoal into the raised flower-beds. As with all barbecues, it took an agonisingly long time to get started before suddenly taking off and producing a giant mountain of food that everyone was too full to eat. Stop, magic porridge pot, stop.
We utterly failed to mingle with Hannah's friends, although we played a few games with some of them, and they generally got angry because our questions were too hard (I admit, "What number house is this?" was specialist knowledge, but they couldn't even answer the question, "England is now part of the EU; name another country in the EU".)
Book review: The Most Beautiful Woman in the World by Charles Bukowski
Bukowksi is often described as a "great writer" and "one of the best beat poets of his generation", although only ever by Bukowksi himself. This book was an anthology of his short stories, primarily autobiographical. I found myself utterly unenchanted by the pathetic creature that Bukowski was. Any toss-pot can write at length about the things he did drunk (see this diary, passim), and Bukowski doesn't even do so particularly eloquently. I have read no greater validation of the temperance movement than this book. Bukowski was an ugly, stupid man who pursued empty dreams that ended in the bottom of a bottle. Utterly vile throughout.
Life note: 14 May 2004
It being a sunny Friday evening, we met up at the Thameside Inn to drink cheap wine and talk bollocks. It went like clockwork: Arkansas stole a trampoline, Sara talked about her wedding, Fraser didn't say much, Lani was quietly wry, Darien threw bottles into the river, Olivia did that shrieking thing she always does, and I woke up very hungover the next day.
Life note: Cold - 24 May 2004
The heating is broken in my office at the moment - it broke about a month ago, and since they plan to pull the building down later in the year they simply haven't bothered to fix it. This means I'm sitting chilled to the bone, fingers white at the tips, peering out at people swanning around in the streets in shorts. At this rate I will be changed on a deeper structural level like Arnold Schwarzaneggar in Batman Forever, doomed to spend my last days stealing diamonds, ordering around my army of demonic snowman and making extremely weak thermometer-themed puns to my adversaries.
Life note: Chimes - 23 May 2004
Spim treated us all to dinner at Chimes in Pimlico, to thank us for saving his soul from the deeper bowels of France. Chimes is an English restaurant (or 'restaurant', as they call them in England) serving hearty tucker like game pies, cold cuts, roast lamb and shepherd's pie. Spim had made much ado about the splendid range of ciders served at the restaurant, but in the event we didn't try any of them, sampling instead some splendid plum rose, and then a rather unpleasant gooseberry white. The gooseberry wine may have made a better dessert wine, and by jingo there were plenty of splendid desserts to choose between - from the thick and rich treacle tart, to thick and rich chocolate mousse, to thick and rich bread and butter pudding. Yum.
Life note: On with summer - 21-23 May 2004
A lovely weekend - Bots spent Saturday on Hampstead heath, tucking into a hearty picnic and playing with a very small frisbee (or rather, chasing after the frisbee whenever it caught a breeze and went sauntering off across the meadow, as it was a very small frisbee and a very strong breeze). We got good exercise too throwing remnants of picnic into the tree with the hope of dislodging the frisbee from its branches - it was just like in Flatliners when they're trying to kill that kid.
We were all rather hungover from Dan's birthday party from the night before, so nobody wanted to drink very much. Thus we ended up at the splendid Freemason's Arms in Hamstead and had a bottle of wine each. Yum.
Gig review: Dylan Moran - 19 May 2004
I love Dylan Moran in Black Books, and it seems Bernard Black was largely based on Moran's stand-up persona, which itself is largely based on a misanthropic version of Eddie Izzard. Still, Izzard's own talent shrivelled and died about three years ago so it's good to have a Dylan to see in his place.
Few things annoy me more than people who go to stand-up shows and laugh at everything. I mean, seriously: Dylan had only to say a sentence and the wailing banshees around me would cackhool with laughter. He wasn't that good. But anyway, he said a few good things about the Today Programme, and a splendid touch on John Peel's Home Truths ("Have you ever licked the underside of an ice-cube?"), as well as good-old curmudgeonly alcoholism. Still. If I want amusing nonsense I talk to Arkansas, if I want alcoholism I talk to Darien, if I want misanthopy I stay at home and if I want Irishness I speak with Seamus. So, given I might spend £16 on a night out with those three, it was pretty much the same as going out with friends.
Movie review: Zatoichi
This is the first Japanese samurai movie I've ever seen, and it's supposed to be one of the best. I now realise Kill Bill Vol 1 was a rather better Samurai movie than the films it was trying to emulate. This is slow, silly and boring. The one highlight was the finale, in which the entire cast returned for a half hour of line-dancing to camera. If I ever make a film - ideally a tragic period piece about Victorian England - this is how I'll end my movie.
Movie review: Cypher
This is one of those movies that you like in retrospect much more than you like upon first viewing. In fact, it was only after watching the DVD commentary, and then talking about it with Arkansas, that I realised it was actually quite a good movie.
Anyway, as Arkansas and I concluded, it's sort of like Fight Club mixed with Gattica, with a splendid wig for Lucy Liu. My only problems with it are that it is so slow to get started, and I didn't like any of the characters for the first hour or more.
Life note: Summertime - 14 May 2004
You can't trust that it's summer in Britain until there has been an entire week of non-stop sunshine, and even then that will normally be it for the year. However Saturday was as close as we've got to a real summer's day, and so the Tongs made their annual pilgrimmage to Hampstead Heath. We met with Lucy and her aerobie playing friends and spent the afternoon lazing on the grass and grazing on cheeses and quince, before decamping for a walk around the park, a brisk bout of al fresco urination, the pole walking game, a very noisy pub, and then to a dim sum restaurant where, unfortunately, the waiter served me two meals before seemingly resorting to guessing what was the right one.
I had decided to be teetotal for the next ten years (a pact which lasted almost 24 hours), and so only drank water - litres and litres of the stuff. At the end of the day, before I went to bed, I still drank the habitual three pints of water before realising there was no need on this rare occasion.
On Sunday we headed up to Arkansas's splendid house in Bounds Green for a barbecue. He'd improvised the bbq by pouring charcoal into the raised flower-beds. As with all barbecues, it took an agonisingly long time to get started before suddenly taking off and producing a giant mountain of food that everyone was too full to eat. Stop, magic porridge pot, stop.
We utterly failed to mingle with Hannah's friends, although we played a few games with some of them, and they generally got angry because our questions were too hard (I admit, "What number house is this?" was specialist knowledge, but they couldn't even answer the question, "England is now part of the EU; name another country in the EU".)
Book review: The Most Beautiful Woman in the World by Charles Bukowski
Bukowksi is often described as a "great writer" and "one of the best beat poets of his generation", although only ever by Bukowksi himself. This book was an anthology of his short stories, primarily autobiographical. I found myself utterly unenchanted by the pathetic creature that Bukowski was. Any toss-pot can write at length about the things he did drunk (see this diary, passim), and Bukowski doesn't even do so particularly eloquently. I have read no greater validation of the temperance movement than this book. Bukowski was an ugly, stupid man who pursued empty dreams that ended in the bottom of a bottle. Utterly vile throughout.
Life note: 14 May 2004
It being a sunny Friday evening, we met up at the Thameside Inn to drink cheap wine and talk bollocks. It went like clockwork: Arkansas stole a trampoline, Sara talked about her wedding, Fraser didn't say much, Lani was quietly wry, Darien threw bottles into the river, Olivia did that shrieking thing she always does, and I woke up very hungover the next day.
