JULY 2002

Who dares wins

This is what happens when you don't wuss out of getting a dramatically different haircut when you fancy it. I have such cool friends.

July 29, 2002

The Queen* Commands

It's nice to feel wanted :-) .... even if I failed abjectly by not being available.

* Queen of the Fuckin Universe, in fact. She doesn't suck, she rocks. Especially this week when she's had to deal with Mt. Bigasspileofhealthanddeeplytryingfamilycrap whilst missing her baby who's been away in sunny Seattle. Oh, and the Marlins won, too. 3-2 at Montréal.

July 15, 2002

Another Penelope Pitstop impression

Heeeeeyyyeeeeellllppppp!!! I'm trying to find a t-shirt for a friend, one of these. Can you anyone help? Please let me know.

July 15, 2002

And then she was three

Today, July 9, Hope Miliani, Princess of the Fuckin Universe, has reached the grand old age of three. And what do we do on such occasions, children? That's right! Now then, Curtis, Edward, Carly, Katy - all together please....

Thank you, kids. That was heartfelt, if entirely tuneless.

July 10, 2002

Up yours, Observer (and Ridsdale)

It's so nice to see that, once again, a story printed in the Guardian/Observer turns out to be complete eyewash. I wonder if next time they lead with such a story, they might consider consulting any of the parties involved; perhaps the man himself, his employer or his potential employer? Just a thought, like.

It's also very nice to see another manager tell Leeds United to get stuffed. And unlike Martin O'Neill, our manager sounds like he's planning to hang around more than another year. What are you going to do when Terry Venables says no, Ridsdale? Oh hey, I hear Bryan Robson's looking for a job...

July 8, 2002

Penelope Pitstop impression

Heeeeeyyyeeeeellllppppp!!! This is driving me insane. I am trying to unearth mp3s of two songs I have on vinyl, but not on CD: "Storms" by Fleetwood Mac, from Tusk and "Spike" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, from Southern Accents or the 12" single of "So You Want To Be A Rock And Roll Star". If anyone out there has either CD and is willing to encode them for me (or indeed any of either album), please let know. I'll be very grateful.

July 7, 2002

Encode the world

When I got my Mac back a couple of months or so ago from having its hard drive replaced, I set about a seemingly monumental project: to encode all of my CDs; not a trivial matter if you've ever seen my shelves. I wanted everything to be available in iTunes as well as on the living room wall. Well, I've finally finished all the full length CDs. Disk space prevents me from attacking the singles. But when I get that 120GB FireWire hard drive.....

July 6, 2002

Dankbar, sei dankbar

Just a quick note. Big thanks to John Barry, who sent me a long email this afternoon answering most of the questions I would have thought of off the top of my head and some I wouldn't have. I don't know if I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm getting a better idea of where to start.

July 3, 2002

Of hobgoblins and Germans

I was out with Nick W most of Sunday. We met up in a pub in Reading to watch the World Cup Final. I was missed the first 20 minutes of the match, to my considerable irritation, because I didn't know the match was the only evening kick-off in the entire tournament which started at 8pm, local time, instead of 8.30. Sigh. Never mind, I didn't miss much, apart from some early German pressure.

The match didn't exactly go the way I was hoping. Unlike the vast majority of people in the pub (and in the country at large) I was supporting Germany. Partly this was because I would have done so anyway, given my liking for Germany, Germans and German football, but I was also of the view that "anybody but Brazil". Yes, they were the best team, but Jesus, what a shower of cheats and time-wasters. That said, I've no real complaints; although there was the usual gratuitous time-wasting, it wouldn't have altered the result if clamped down upon. It was a good final and the better team won; they won fair and square and the best outfield in the tournament scored both the goals. If any Brazilian player was going to win the game I would have wanted it to be Ronaldo; he's a fabulous footballer, he seems a nice enough guy and plays the game fairly and properly, unlike that unspeakable shit Rivaldo or that time-wasting, gamesmanship-indulging tosser Ronaldinho. I'm happy that Juninho got a run out and got a winner's medal, especially as he was kicked out of a chance of playing in France in 1998. It doesn't give me any pleasure to say so, but I guess it's good for the game that the best team won the thing. Just a pity they wouldn't do so without cheating as well.

After the match had finished we hung around in the pub and had something to eat, then went to see Star Wars Episode II: Attack Of The Clones. I must say I was pleasantly surprised. I really enjoyed it, much more so than Episode I: The Phantom Plot. The dialog between Amidala and Anakin was not as putrid as I was expecting, and Natalie Portman was not bad. Hayden Christensen, however, was absolutely diabolical. Jesus. Looked like a deeply irritating over-privileged pouting American teenager, not a Jedi Knight. You'd never tire of punching him. However, that aspect didn't spoil it. This time the effects didn't let up, where I felt most of the best stuff from Episode I was wasted in the trailer, and the story was much more engaging. May go see it again. Will probably buy the DVD when it comes out.

Afterwards we went back to the pub, the Hobgoblin this time and stayed 'til it shut. I love the Hobgoblin. It's a great little pub, smoky and with great little snugs in the back. And I've got to say it did my soul good to be getting out of the house, what with everything that's going on at the moment. But on this occasion I found it very much a reminder of everything I've lost in the last two years, of how everything's changed and nothing for the better. We used to come to the Hobgoblin at lunchtime all the time three or four years ago, Nick B and I, and then Nick W too when he showed up in Reading. Tasha and I used to go there a lot in the evenings when we lived in Reading still, and we'd meet the Nicks and others from work quite often. That was probably the point at which I was as happy and fulfilled as I've ever been. I was living with a girl I loved and I had a job I really liked, was good at and was very involved in and was good friends with the people I worked mostly closely, like Nick B, Stuart and then Nick W.

Since then of course, everything's gone tits up. Tasha left without warning in November 2000; I lost basically my three closest friends in her, Nick B (because she left me for him) and Nick W (for a long time, because he was in the middle and just wanted not to be involved, which is fair enough). Nick and Tasha are married now and have long seemed incapable (or unwilling, more likely) of remaining friends with me, despite the great lengths to which I've gone to be "adult" about this; regardless of how I feel about being dumped, I still like them both greatly as individuals; they're still the same people I became friends with in the first place. We've all gone our separate ways to a greater or lesser extent: Stuart left the company a long time ago; Nick W quit over a year ago when it became clear he was basically being expected to make himself redundant; Nick B for the same reasons last September; Tasha, who joined the company in August 2000, quit a couple of weeks ago; I am now under notice of redundancy and will be officially unemployed in six weeks.

Pretty soon none of us will be around. Nick W has given notice on his flat because he was planning to move away, back to Bristol probably, but ironically, after several months not working, he's just got a job in Reading, though he's planning to find a new place to live somewhere away from Reading, like Banbury or Oxford; Stuart has long since moved to Southampton; Tasha and Nick are moving away to the West Country. That just leaves me, back on my Jack again, just as I was when I first started working in Reading eight years ago, only without a job anymore. There's a certain symmetry, I concede; I was living in Wallingford then, too.

So I've had enough now. I've never liked Reading that much; it's okay, not a bad place, but not somewhere anyone would aspire to live. It's like the Rainmakers sang: "everyone from Texas is from someplace else". I'm thinking it's time to get away. Someplace different. And not many places here in England appeal to me, regardless of the small matter of finding a job, certainly not more than where I already live; I like Oxfordshire greatly; only Cambridge appeals more. Guess I wouldn't mind moving back to London. I've no desire to return north, though it would be attractive from the point of view of living costs since I could buy a house dramatically cheaper than down here; if I wanted to do that I could have moved to Warrington a year ago. So maybe now's the time not to get away, but to get out. I've wanted to live in Germany for a long time and never had the chance. But now I do, so I'm increasingly thinking this is fate telling me "Go east, young man" (even if I'm not so young anymore). And if you're moved to wonder why, here's a good partial summary of why. From my point of view the quality of life is better, the place and the people are more civilised and the infrastructure is significantly better; ever used a German train or driven on German roads?

So if anyone out there has any advice for me on the logistics of relocating to a foreign country, I'd be more than interested. Better still, if you've any advice on getting a job in Germany, I'd be extremely grateful. Please mail me if you can help; my CV is available upon request and I'll be working on a German version shortly.

July 2, 2002

awake

insomnia

candle-burning

contact

caffeine