Yesterday at work, I took a bit of chance by sending the following email to my new workmates;
Hi gang,

Some of you will know that it's my birthday tomorrow (it's going to be pretty weird not to be a teenager anymore, but I'm sure I'll get used to it), sadly I won't be in work to celebrate with you all!

Consequently, today has become my unofficial birthday in this, our exciting new workplace. Traditionally this would be the time for me to bring in mountains of cakes and other delicious sweet and sticky things for us all to make pigs of ourselves. However, I may not be alone in feeling that I may have already topped the EEC quota for mince pies and other pastry and sugar rich delights. The clincher for me was seeing the team from The Guinness Book of Records in the car park yesterday (only 1 more box and we've beaten a 60 year old record apparently).

So, in the biggest breach of office protocol since David Blunkett helped that visa request on it's way, I've decided to forego the traditional gut busting, spot inducing delights and bring in a variety of fruit for you all to nibble on. I'm sorry if this disappoints anyone, I'm sure that normal service will be resumed at the next birthday.

Wishing you all health, wealth and happiness over Christmas and the new year,

Tom

PS. Fruit is not a toy and can potentially be dangerous, so please keep the Banana skins away from Mark!

Right now, I have to say that I'm in New Yorker heaven. The winter fiction double issue came thudding through the letterbox late last week, ensuring many hours of engaging reading over the Xmas period. Over the years, I've had many periods happy engagement with magazines and periodicals, however I'm struggling to think of any others which have so consistently enthralled me.


My first memories of a regular reading habit was not with any of the classic children's Comics, it was the local weekly sports paper "The Green'un". Every Saturday evening I would wait with mounting impatience for the driver to drop the paper off at our local newsagent. Once the paper had arrived my dad would hand over the cash and before we were out of the door, I would be eagerly scanning the match reports, which dominated the front page. For the next couple of hours, I would be lost to the fascinating world sports news. My mother swears that I learnt to read from this suggest journal, I sure that the hours spent pouring over the football league tables helped my knowledge of maths as well. I was plotting prospective variations in my team’s point’s totals and working out goal differences at a very early age. The summer gave me even more chances for mathematical fun, with all those lovely cricket averages to check.

The next regular read was again football focused. Shoot, was a weekly football magazine, which gave me all the information I needed to keep update with the world of football. The regular highlight of the year with Shoot was the fantastic pop out cardboard league table, which came free in August to mark the start of the forthcoming season. The idea was that after each round of games, you could spend hours moving you little cardboard team names, within the framework of their respective leagues. Of course in reality, this just resulted in Bristol City making rapid progress to the top my league, rather than their more traditional role of mid-table obscurity.

Cricket provided the next major magazine obsession, with two different magazines. The Cricketer was a very ground up journal which, gave me a comprehensive overview of the world game. Rather stranger was my subscription to the quarterly journal of the cricket statistician association. For some reason, I became obsessed with knowing every conceivable statistic associated with this amazingly numerically focused game.

In my later teenage years and onwards, NME and The Face dominated my reading world. Both eventually fell from grace, firstly The Face became swallowed by it’s own pretensions, the NME on the other hand gave up on any semblance of pretension or thought and turned into picture filled scandal sheet it is today.

My time as a young fogey coincided nicely with the launch of The Oldie magazine. Great fun for a few years, it finally became too curmudgeonly for it’s own good and I jumped ship.

Through it all the New Yorker has ruled supreme, brilliant factual journalism, outstanding fiction, wonderfully witty cartoons and articles, all topped of by those fantastic covers. Where would I be without it?

Here we are in the last few days before Xmas, what a treat to wake up to an
unexpected covering of snow on Sunday morning. It managed to hang around for
quite a long time, without making too much of a menace of itself.

We had a top time at the Invada party on Friday, lot's of friends were out
and about. Enjoyed my first sighting of Aspen Woods, their brooding,
atmospheric music was compelling stuff. It's difficult to be subjective when
quite a few of your friends are in the band, but this lot have bags of
potential.

Ian Green played a short set, which seemed a little more focused than his
recent support gig with Gravenhurst. Gonga made their normal powerful
impact, despite the fact that singer Joe was not functioning at 100%. The
Metropol itself could be a great addition to the live music scene in
Bristol. Nicely sized and spaced, it even has more posts holding up the
ceiling than even The Fleece - quite an achievement.

Despite the icy weather we managed to squeeze in a game of football last
night. Our normal pitch was deemed to be too dangerous to use, and the sight
of one poor chap being carried away in obvious pain as we arrived, due to a
nasty slip, made us all aware that this was not the time to be flying around
making last ditch tackles. Consequently the game was less manic than normal,
I'd like to think that it would have suited my rather sedentary playing
style, sad to say my lack of basic skill was exposed even more than usual by
the lighting fast surface! Two causes for celebrations amongst my team
mates, Scott won the DJ of year award in Venue magazine and Geoff became a
dad yesterday. Good to know that we are good at something.

We’ve been out to a couple of excellent things over recent evenings. On Wednesday we finally went to a performance at the Tobacco Factory Theatre, where we saw a lovely performance of The Secret Garden. Although it’s a show, which is primarily aimed at children, we both found much to enjoy, maybe we are not as old as we think we are?

Last night we had another first time visit, this time it was to cinema 3 at The Watershed. Very impressed with the room, it’s a welcome addition to the facilities at this splendid place. We saw “Garden State”, what a great film! It’s a wonderfully understated piece, on being out of step with those around you. Subtly humorous and quietly wise, it was a real joy from start to finish. For a variety of reasons we haven’t seen as many films as usual this year, this one has to up there with the best of the bunch.

My knowledge of Zach Braff before seeing this film was pretty limited, I only caught a couple of episodes of Scrubs and to be honest I found him and the show pretty annoying. However after seeing this film, he has shot up in my estimation. How do these young guys get to write and direct (let alone star) in such wonderful things? The answer is obviously down to talent –pure and simple.

Another thing that made me love the film was the often inspired soundtrack. As anyone who used to shop in Imperial will know, the staff were always encouraged to attach post-it notes to CD’s, hoping to encourage customers to take a chance on our recommendations on stuff they may not have known about. I would always attach a particular one to the first album by The Shins – Oh, Inverted World. It said simply “Is “New Slang” the greatest song ever written?” It provoked quite a few comments from customers and fellow staff members, so I was delighted to hear it being used as the track that the Natalie Portman character plays to Zach Braff as the song that will change his life. With it’s fantastic melody line, how could it fail? How wonderful to hear a tune such as that, coming out loud and clear from that expensive new cinema sound system. Perfection.

Tonight we are off to the Invada Xmas party, where our friend Ian Green is playing, also looking forward to catching Aspen Woods, who feature another couple of mates in their line up. Headlining the whole thing are local riff kings Gonga, it will be interesting to see how much of their set Orynthia can cope with!

So the social whirl of Xmas is well and truly with us. Over the last week, I’ve had three very different social functions to attend.

Firstly, last Monday saw the Oxfam gathering on Carmen Miranda’s on Chandos Road. It was a nice chance to say a proper goodbye to managers Ray & Liz plus the vast multitude of volunteers, who keep the place open. I’m still amazed at the number of people who give their time, I was still meeting people who were new to me on Monday, after a couple of months helping out in the shop. As is often the case with these sorts of events, the food was merely average, but the company was great. They are a really good crowd; hopefully I’ll manage to keep in touch with some of them.

Next up was the festive gathering of the Monday (and occasional Sundays) football gang. Numbers were a bit depleted, for various reasons, but it turned into another enjoyable evening out. Most of the chaps I play with are involved in music or TV, with some fascinating tails to tell. We had a long and free ranging debate about the current state of both industries, whilst enjoying the obligatory food of any football team night out – curry. It was also a good chance to catch up with a bit of detail on each other’s background; most of conversations when we see each are, inevitably dominated by football. So it was interesting to hear that one of my team-mates is a B.A.F.T.A judge. Whilst another had interesting schoolboy memories of one of my wife’s relatives! Sadly this additional team bonding exercise could not stop us was slipping to another defeat on Sunday. We lost 2-1, in a match that we really should have got something from.

Saturday saw one of the traditional pre-cursers of Xmas, Teresa’s birthday gathering. On this occasion, the humorous country band “Wilma”, featuring her boyfriend Steve were playing a gig at The Old Fox on Gloucester Road. Despite the relative proximity of the pub to our house, The Old Fox is not a place which I have visited for around 20 years, my only knowledge of the place these days, was from seeing the massed ranks of gleaming motor bikes standing proudly outside of an evening. The prospect of a country band playing a bikers pub was interesting to say the least and initially, Teresa and her friends stayed well to the back of the pub, trying hard not to get in the way of the eager pool players and the steady stream of punters trying to get to the toilets. As they evening wore on and drink went down, the approval for the band rose throughout the pub, turning the potentially tricky fixture into a good away win for the boys from Wilma.

We ended the weekend with a trip to Bath to see the lovely Jeremy Hardy chatting away for a couple of hours. Really rather splendid.

Orynthia’s mum should be coming out of hospital today and over the weekend my sister called my mum and spoke to her for the first time in three years! So for once things with our respective families are looking pretty good!!

Hard to believe but another good gig has been announced for next February. I’m most excited about the news that The Go! Team will be playing at The Fleece on Feb 20th. In addition to that, we also have gigs from Elvis Costello, Nick Cave and Adam Green booked in. We are also hoping to go to London for a week around the start of the month, so it’s going to be pretty busy.

I’m still getting used to driving to and from work. Most of the journey is pretty quick, but the last 1/4 mile on the outbound journey takes about as long as the previous 3 miles, which is pretty frustrating. The last time I did regular commuting by car was just before we got married, almost 18 years ago. I had sold my car, to help fund the purchase of our flat and was making the seemingly endless journey to Trowbridge in Orynthia’s little Fiat 126. That poor car would shake and rattle it’s way through the little villages of Somerset and Wiltshire, though thankfully it never rolled! The humble little car did it’s best for me, but it could hardly be called an easy ride.

At work, our group of 18 new recruits is gelling nicely. We all feel slightly daunted by the amount of information we are taking on but everyone is really supportive of each other, which is great to see. As with all new ventures, it’s easy feel as though you don’t have a clue about what is going on and indeed for some issues that will be true for a while. In a few months time, I’m sure that we will be amazed at the knowledge we have absorbed.

Well, here I am, back in the world of gainful (paid!) employment. As ever with first days, a lot of information was passed across, some of which will hopefully have stuck. It’s actually quite a strange situation as 18 of us started today. It’s going to be quite a challenge for the small existing team over the next few months, as I imagine we are all going to be asking lots of questions. Still they were all very friendly, so the omens are good.

Lunchtime is one thing, which is going to be strange for me. Over the past 20 years I’ve been used to working in or near to the centre of town. This gave me loads of scope for interesting options when it came to filling my break time. I know that often that would just mean a piece of cake, a coffee and a good book in a local café, but it could also be wandering around the old dock area, checking out the record and book shops, going to a gallery or sometimes the luxury of a lunchtime concert. Sadly, my new place of work is in the middle of nowhere, so nothing to walk to at lunchtime and a with a canteen serving scrummy looking food at subsidised prices, if I ‘m not careful, I could see the pounds pilling on!

Our Sunday team were on the end of a pretty comprehensive 7-2 thrashing yesterday morning. Strangely though, I rather enjoyed the game. I was playing in central defence and saw lots (and lots!) of the ball, as the opposition laid siege to our goal for huge chunks of the match. Although they had a much higher average age than us, they used the ball really well and at times had us chasing shadows. This gave me plenty of chances to throw myself into tackles, some of which I even managed to win!

On Saturday evening we made our second visit in a fortnight to the Showcase Cinema. Last week we went to see the Bobby Darin bio-pic Beyond The Sea (Orynthia has always been a fan his work), This week we took my mum to see the excellent Ladies In Lavender, which features the brilliant duo of Judi Dench and Maggie Smith.

Orynthia’s mum is making progress in hospital, although she has been having problems with her eating since the operation. The general signs are good, but the sooner she can start to get some proper nourishment into her the better she (and we) will feel.

It looks as though everything went well for Orynthia’s mum yesterday. She had a double heart bypass, along with some valve work. We were with her in the hospital yesterday morning as she was being sedated; she looked so small on that huge bed.

They were going to use a replacement valve from a cow on her, as she was drifting away she had us in stitches as she mumbled about having a cow valve and what would happen if she started mooing when she came round. We also had to promise that we would not try to milk her! In a lovely silly way, it took all the tension out of the day.

We have certainly spent enough time in hospitals during 2004, let’s hope that 2005 is a bit more peaceful for our families.

I’m off to Oxfam now for my last shift before starting the new job on Monday.

There is much futility involved in the life of a football fan, especially when you support an average team, playing at a below average level.

You waste lots of time and money, watching poor football, in cold and miserable conditions. Yet occasionally that moment comes along when something wonderfully exciting and enthralling takes you and your fellow sufferers to something approaching nirvana, or as close as we will ever get to it. Those moments live long in the memory. Most of the time we take our pleasures from the small insignificant amusements, which come our way. We all realise the futility of what we are doing, yet somehow that almost becomes the point of doing it, today was a marvellous case in point for me.

For the first time since my leisure period began a couple of months ago, Bristol City reserves were playing a midweek home match, giving me the chance to sample the deliciously ridiculous atmosphere of a meaningless match. The crowd, such as it was, mainly consisted of gentlemen of a certain age, taking enormous pleasure from berating the match officials after every slightly dubious decision, whilst trying to encourage the very young team on display. I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed it!

The conversations were thick with references to players and events of a previous, simpler age. Good players were revered, whilst the mention of some of our lesser talents would bring forward gales of laughter. It was great to be part of one huge collective memory, where individual identities almost ceased to matter, the club and it’s fortunes (or misfortunes) were the thing that mattered. Along with a couple of friends, I chatted with several people I have never met before, discussing events from 35 years ago, in much the same way that you would do with a family member, when knowledge of issues is taken as read.

What a brilliant way to spend a cold afternoon. The match itself served as a mere facilitator for this splendid social club. The final score was 1-1, not that that mattered to anyone.

I know that I’m a bit late picking up on this, better late than never though. Today I finally got round to buying the wonderful “Thunder, Lightning, Strike” album by The Go! Team.

A few people, notably my former Imperial colleague RLF had been telling me what good thing it was, boy are they right. It’s a brilliant collision of sounds, reminiscent of The Avalanches, but with a much harder edge. Really punchy rhythms, combine with frenetic guitar playing, great samples and old school rap to make this record a party all on it’s own.

No sign of any live dates from them in this neck of the woods at the moment, they have built up a great reputation for their live work, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed that they make it here soon.

Whilst I was out and about, I made another fine purchase and it only cost me 16p! During our last Sunday league match, I lost one of my screw-in studs, from the base of my boot. The heydays of the independent sports shop are long gone and I was worried that I might not be able to pick up a new one. Most places which sell football boots these days, don’t exactly stock a full range of sporting goods, being more interested in selling training shoes to people who’s idea of good workout is the walk from the fridge to the sofa. So, I was delighted to find that the sports shop in Clifton Down, did indeed sell individual studs. In fact they even had a range to choose from and best of all it was only 16p. What else could I buy for such a small sum of money, which could be so useful?

In all the Tom Waits excitement, I forgot to say how amazing Joanna Newsome was at her recent Cube gig. A stunning performance, with THAT voice and her beautiful harp playing bringing a capacity crowd to a level of hushed intensity which is seldom seen. My only slight gripe was that as I was sitting stage left, quite near the front, I had to watch her, through the harp. Which was rather like watching a football match through fencing, which of course we had to do, back in the 1980’s. Still, her exquisite performance was head and shoulders above most of the games I remember from that period.

So I’ve only got one more week to go before the new job starts. It’s strange to think that I’ve been out of work for two months, even stranger to think that I’ve been unemployed at a time when the unemployment is at it’s lowest record figure ever! Quite an achievement, then again I’ve been in constant employment since leaving school 26 years ago, so I guess that I was due a break.

The time gone really fast and often I’ve found myself running around like crazy trying to get things done. I can certainly understand why people say that they can’t understand how they found time to go to work, once they retire. In the same way that most people spend what they earn, no matter how many pay rises they get, I think the same is true of time. No mater how much free time you have and in theory I have had quite a bit over recent months, you just find more and more things to fill your time.

It’s strange, I did have an idea that I would have read a lot more than I have, watched more old films than I have, wandered around Bristol taking photo’s and generally lived the life if a man of leisure. Somehow that hasn’t happened, I guess that often self-imposed guilt has stopped me doing these things. How could I tell Orynthia that I had been lounging around all day when she came home from a hard day at work?

With reading, I think that I’ve discovered that I need to have a defined time to do my reading in. I used to really enjoy nipping off to a café at lunchtime and squeezing in around an hour with a book; the same was true of my short train journey to work. Well with the new job, I won’t be able to read whilst I commute, but I should get back in the swing of lunchtime reading, so expect to see a lot more updates on my reading habits here.

I also have enjoyed the whole house-husband thing, washing, shopping, cooking and the like it has been really good fun. I’ll miss my regular trips to the shops, and the oddly pleasing sight of an empty laundry basket.

Anyway this last week could well be pretty busy. I’ve got quite a lot of time lined up with Oxfam and Orynthia’s mum is having a large operation later in the week, so we will both be spending a lot of time with her.

Here I am back home after yesterdays trip to London to see the magnificent Tom Waits gig at the Hammersmith Apollo. How do you review the gig of the year?

After all the excitement of getting hold of one of the 3,400 tickets for his fist and only UK gig for 17 years, I was slightly worried that the show may be an anti climax – well it wasn’t!

The air was thick with anticipation as Mr Waits and his wonderful band walked onto the stage at around 8:30. Two hours later the crowd were still howling for more as the band departed for the final time on a memorable evening.

The show started with a raucous version of “Hoist That Rag” from his latest album “Real Gone”, that brilliant album formed the backbone of the 2-hour set. Time and again the clanking, clattering, jittery, funky blues of the record set the hall alight. Blistering versions of “Make It Rain”, “Sins Of The Father”, “Top Of The Hill” and most stridently “Don’t Go Into That Barn” with wonderful call and response section – “Did you bury your fire?” “YES SIR!”-“Did you cover your tracks?” “YES SIR!”- “Did you bring your knife?” “YES SIR!”- “Did they see your face?” “NO SIR!” being chanted by the exuberant crowd, set a tingle up the spine.

The biggest tingle factor for me however came from a very different song from that album. The wonderfully understated soldiers lament “Day After Tomorrow”, bought a hush and dignity to the hall, which was very moving.

Plenty of other highlights from albums old and new all enlivened by the wonderfully animated performance of the great man. Part crazed preacher man, part hard-bitten noir detective, gag teller, raconteur and genial host; he is the perfect front man.

Finally that voice, gruff and gravely yet somehow with perfect enunciation, not a phrase or nuance was lost in the excellent sound. Truly this was a very special performance, one that I doubt that I will ever see again, I’m so pleased that my friend Pete managed to track down the tickets, for this once in a lifetime event.

Haven’t been at home much over recent days for various reasons. As practise for my new job (starts on December 6th), I’ve been doing more work for Oxfam. I need to be ready to work all day rather than 3 or 4 hours, so I’ve increased my hours in the shop.

Also been out every night this week – dancing lessons on Tuesday, Gravenhurst + Ian Green gig on Wednesday, food and late night shopping last night. Tonight we are off to see the wonderful Joanna Newsome at The Cube, then tomorrow it’s off to Devon to catch up with my folks down there.

Next week I’m in London for a couple of days for the much anticipated Tom Waits gig! I’m really looking forward to it, the latest album is just fantastic, one of his best in my opinion, the live reviews have been good, so everything looks to be in place for a memorable evening.

More exciting news of the music front, Nick Cave is playing a long overdue gig in Bristol next February. I saw him play at Trinty Hall around 25 years ago, isn’t that crazy, nearly 25 years, how old we all are!

He has never been back to Bristol since then, well not to play a gig anyway. There was a time when you would see Mr Cave around town due to his romantic connection with a certain performer who lived in the area. That was really weird, imagine trying to find a spare seat outside The Arnolfini and realising that the only one you can see is next to Nick Cave!

Last night I did something, which I have never done before! It’s something which you do on your own in the bathroom, something which I’m sure millions of people all around the world do on a regular basis, yet I have never had the nerve to try before.

The build up took a while, we have quite a large bath, and so it takes time to get a good depth of bubbly-topped water swishing around. Whilst the bath was filling up I was listening to some very relaxing jazz on radio 3 and the thought came to me – why not do it now? I’ve thought of doing it before and have often been jealous, when I hear how some people can do it for hours.

After all it does combine several of my favourite things, listening to music, relaxing in deep warm water and “the thing”. After 2 games of football in as many days, my legs were feeling really stiff, so this was the perfect night for a long recuperating soak, and consequently the perfect time for me to take the plunge into this new world of delights.

I slowly took my aching limbs down the stairs, collected the tools for my new adventure and eased myself into the wonderfully inviting foam, before leaning back and opening up my copy of the review section of Saturdays Guardian. That’s right, my virgin experience was to read the newspaper, whilst lying in the bath!

To many of you that won’t sound like a big deal but I have always been convinced that some terrible soggy mishap would befall me. The crucial denouement in that exciting piece on 14the century Flemish poetry would literally disappear before my eyes, because of some inappropriate splashing.

I’m 42 and despite the fact that I lack the ability to swim, I have been safely taking baths for many years now. Surely I told myself, I’m ready to take this experience to the next level. What a lovely treat it was! I emerged some 40 minutes later, considerably more fragrant and clean than I had been earlier and mentally invigorated by reading splendid articles on James Ellroy, Edwin Lutyens, and German witchcraft as well as Richard Ford’s thoughts on being a Democrat, after their latest election setback.

Who knows, I may even try reading a book in the bath next time!

Well, we managed a 2-1 victory in our Sunday league match yesterday, despite playing for almost half the match with only 10 players. So, tough on the legs but a pleasing outcome, the next match comes around on December 5th.

Our trip to Cardiff on Saturday was interesting. My side of the family are not very good at keeping in touch, so this was probably the first time in over 25 years that my mum and I had been in the same room as her sister and my cousin Robert. After the initial “What are you doing now” type conversations, Orynthia and I were entertained with stories of life in the welsh valleys around the time of the Second World War. Without doubt by any modern levels by mothers family grew up living well below the poverty line, yet in those pre TV days, they said that they remained blissfully unaware of the fact. Virtually everyone they knew lived in the same fiscally challenged way, so they assumed that life was just like that. Not such a bad state of mind in comparison to the thrust for material things, which engulfs families today.

What a glorious morning, the November sunshine has me squinting to see the screen on the computer, the birds are flying around the garden, pecking busily at the berries and I’ve just enjoyed a long and leisurely breakfast of piping hot toast and Marmite whilst perusing The Guardian. I’ll miss all this when I go back to work in earnest!

As part of my plan to reintroduce myself to the proper world of work, I’ve upped my hours in Oxfam. Having not worked more that 3 days in a week for the past year, I thought I needed to get back into a routine before I start the new job. I’m also going have a few practise runs at the potentially tricky commute to work, nothing worse than turning up late and hassled on the first day.

We had a good day in the shop yesterday, over the past few weeks quite a few collectable records came in, mainly rock albums from the 1960’s + 70’s. My job is to identify the goodies, take them out of pile of everyday stock and then get our resident vinyl expert John Stapleton to cast a serious eye over them and give us a price guide. Yesterday we ended up with about 10 albums with a total price of around £140.00, when they sell (and they should) that’s a lot of money for Oxfam to use in a positive way.

This week I’ve been wrapped up in football fever. I’ll give you an insight into my busy schedule, so you can understand what a patient and understanding person Orynthia is.

Last Saturday I went to see Bristol City wallop a very poor MK Dons team 4-1. Monday evening saw me taking part in my regular Monday game. Last night (Tuesday), I watched Bristol City beat a pretty good Tranmere Rovers 4-0, including a goal by Luke Wilkshire, which was amongst the best that I have ever seen. This coming Friday evening I’ll be watching Bristol City again as they play Brentford in the first round of the F.A. Cup. On Sunday I’m playing for Brian Munich in a league game, then if I’m still standing I’ll be back for the normal Monday evening run around (which could well be a walk around!).

So in the space of 10 days I’ll have watched 3 games and played in 3 games. It’s not normally like this, it’s just that a strange quirk of the fixture list has meant that City have 5 consecutive home games. Now, often that could be a bit too much of a good thing, but at the moment the reds are playing some great football and scoring loads of goals, which makes every visit to Ashton Gate a bit of a treat. Anyone who supports a lower league club knows that you have to make the most of the good times, all too soon the football returns to shapeless, pointless nonsense, which we follow out of habit and camaraderie rather than in any real hope of being entertained.

In addition to all of this, we are hopefully going to “Shimmy” that’s the club night, not a type of dance, but then again who knows, at The Cooler on Friday evening (after the football) to catch a great DJ double bill – Andy Smith and Gaz Mayall for what should be a quality mixture of northern soul, hip-hop, reggae and ska. On Saturday we are having a bit of a family gathering in Cardiff during the day, before live music from either Bucky or Wilma back in Bristol in the evening.

So not too much time to draw breath really, but that’s just the way things work out from time to time.

It’s strange the way your priorities change, as you get older. A few years ago I would have laughed at anyone who suggested that a new fireplace, new roof or new window would have caused me to get excited, yet here I am at the age of 42 spending far too long looking at (rather than through) our lovely new window.

The joy however is tinged with guilt. When we moved into our house around 10 years ago, we knew that this particular wooden window needed attention, yet we let things drift on year after year. Finally this winter, we decided that something had to be done, so sadly the old draughty wooden window had to go. So now we have a pristine, shiny double-glazed window. The old banging closure of the window has been replaced by a gentle “swoosh”. It’s quite shocking how grown up it makes me feel.

Today I formed a new and very successful partnership with Norah Jones! Our Oxfam shop had been rather quiet, so I had spent most of my time in the back room, sorting out new stock. My colleague Simon eventually tired of his rather fruitless time on the till, so I offered to take over from him. We also decided to change the music, plumping for Simon’s copy of Norah’s first album “Come away with me”. Suddenly customers were beating a path to till, like it was Xmas eve and we had the last of Santa’s goodies wrapped up and ready to go. Maybe the next time Norah is the country she could do an “in-store “show for us? I’ll be happy man the till, which I’m sure would be ringing away merrily!

It’s always interesting to see what music gets people going in a shop. It was great in Imperial, you could put a CD on and then people would come to the counter to ask what was playing and before you knew it you’d sold 5 copies of an album, which people had never heard of when they came through the door. Obviously it’s a bit different in a second hand shop, when you sell a CD that’s it – it’s gone. You can though, still set a tone for the place, it is mainly a bookshop, so we can’t really be blasting the latest drum and bass classic from Roni Size. Consequently a lot of laid-back jazz gets played, nothing that’s going to upset or confuse, not quite the same as playing Captain Beefheart to the confused looking tourists in Imperial.

The Manchester pictures have been found! You can see them here

So yesterday was quite an interesting day. 1 person kept his job, 1 person, just missed out on a new job and 1 person picked up a new job.

Obviously Mr Bush and Mr Kerry take care of the 1st couple of options, I’m pleased to say that the third role was filled by me!

That’s right my days of being a house-husband are numbered, it’s a bit of a shame as I have really enjoyed it, no doubt Mr Kerry will enjoy it as well. Quite a few of you will know that I was hopping to get a job in the library service, sadly the whole process just seamed to be moving too slowly so when I was often a worthwhile and interesting job (with good pay and perks as well), I decided to take it.

I’m going to work for a charitable organisation called Motability. They help to provide reasonably priced transport options for people with disabilities. After our experiences last year with Orynthia’s dad, I realised how debilitating the lack of transport that is under your control can be, it will nice to be able to help people to keep a degree of independence in their life.

Last night I managed to watch quite a bit of the US election coverage and found it to be a strangely bloodless affair. I guess that we are quite spoilt on election night over here; with literally hundreds off results flowing in for a number of hours it really keeps you on your toes. Few things are as much fun as watching the result being announced live, with the prospective candidates squirming behind the returning off icier.

All we had were projected results from each of the states, with hardly a sign of a politician all night. Just an endless procession of talking heads, most of whom appeared to be pollsters. So no gloating or embarrassed excuses, in short not half as much fun, I know that some pretty important issues for the whole world were at stake in this election, so it’s ability to make a middle aged man in Bristol chuckle in the small hours was not really that important, still I have to say that I was disappointed.

I have to say that I am stunned that people would have to wait for hours and hours to cast their vote. I don’t think that I have ever waited more that around 10 seconds, it’s amazing that people hung around. The other thing that seems really odd is the fact that by the time some people in the far western states go to vote, the outcome can already be decided. Obviously this is a simple problem of geography as America is such a huge country, with so many time zones. I just think that if I was voting I’d like to do so from the same position as the person casting the first vote. I know that this would mean that the result would not be known in America until a day later, but as the previous U.S. election proved, speed is not everything.

We had a great weekend in Manchester, apart from some nightmare travel arrangements, thanks to Virgin trains, which meant that we were 2 hours late getting home on Sunday evening.

The Magnetic Fields were at their most perky and although this meant we had a playful and comedic set, Orynthia and I both agreed that the taciturn, grumpy, hypochondriac side of Stephin Merritt, which we have been used to seeing, does add a certain fragile beauty to the live experience. It would often seem as though each song could be the last in the set, if they even made it to the end of the song! No such problems at this show though.

We also loved the playful cabaret jazz sound of The Real Tuesday Weld. The live experience is very different to the sound of the albums, but deliciously entertaining. This lot really should be better known than they are; with their knowing, arch lyrics they were the perfect aperitif for the Magnetic Fields.

Other than that we spent lots of time in the wonderful URBIS, marvelled at an extensive exhibition on the work of the fantastic Erich Mendelsohn at CUBE, visited some outstanding new architecture at Salford Quays, namely The Lowry Centre and the amazing Imperial War Museum (a stunning building). Took lots and lots of pictures but managed to delete them from my camera, when attempting to transfer them to the computer! Doh!!!

Last night we had the chance to see the divine Iron & Wine in action for the second time this year. This time support came from the intense and commanding Micah P. Hinson. Once again they drew a packed crowd to intimate surroundings of St Bonn’s, so much so that most of the crowd were not able to see anything of the 3-piece line up. Eventually a murmur of dissatisfaction went around the room and it was agreed that everyone at the front would sit down. This produced an unintentionally humorous moment, our friend John had nipped out of the hall to visit the toilet whilst the audience was still standing. On his return to the room, suddenly everyone was sitting down, as John towered over them trying to work out how he would squeeze between all the newly floored bottoms to get back to our corner of the room. The look of confusion and anguish on his face was very amusing to his unsympathetic friends in the far corner!

Once everyone was sitting down the show became a real treat, the simple understated songs weaved their insidious magic on us all. At the end of the show happy and contented faces were all around. Another top night at St Bonn’s.

Due to a bit of stupidity on my part it looks as though we may well have 2 spare tickets for the sold out Iron & Wine Gig at St Bonns on Monday November 1st. It’s a long shot I know but if anyone should read this and wants to go the gig leave me a message in the comments section and we could try to sort something out. Remember that I won't see any messages before Sunday evening.The excellent Micah P. Hinson is the support act by the way.

Talking of music, I’ve picked up a few tunes this week, by coincidence there is a pretty heavy Bristolian element to the albums. First off was the excellent Smith & Mighty compilation called Retrospective. It’s great to have those groundbreaking early singles Walk On and Anyone on CD, along with their production work for Carlton and Fresh 4. It’s features lots of great tracks from more recent years and should be an essential purchase for anyone with an interest in music from Bristol.

Next up are a couple of Massive Attack related items, Daddy G’s contribution to the DJ-Kicks series and the Massive Attack soundtrack album for the film Danny The Dog. Daddy G’s album is a great mix old reggae favourites, a couple of old soul gems and few remixes. No major surprises but thoroughly enjoyable, it like having your iPod on shuffle and getting 17 killer tracks in a row. The soundtrack album is full of brooding instrumentals, some of which are really beautiful, as with most soundtrack albums, it’s hardly essential but fans who have to everything will find much to enjoy. Talking of those sort of fans they will be pleased to know that the Massive Attack – Mos Def collaboration “I against I” is included on Grants DJ Kicks album, I think it’s the first time it’s been commercially available.

My final purchase is the final album from the sadly departed Elliot Smith – From a basement on the hill. With the exception of the classic either/or his albums always take a while to really get into my head, I’ve only heard this new album once but it does have a couple of really fine stand out tracks. I’m sure that over the next few months I’ll be playing it a lot, such a shame that we won’t be getting anything else from intense and wonderful man.

We are off to Manchester in a few hours, as well as the Magnetic Fields gig, we are excitedly looking forward to visiting URBIS and CUBE where they have an exhibition on the work of one of our favourite architects Erich Mendelsohn.

Another busy few days in front of us. On Friday evening we head up to Manchester for the weekend. We are going to see the wonderful Magnetic Fields again and this time we get to see The Real Tuesday Weld playing as well should be great.

I gather that Manchester has changed a lot since we were last there. They have benefited from some great new buildings and museum/galleries over the last few years. We certainly aim to take in a few of those during our travels. It’s also a chance to catch up with Orynthia’s cousin who has been studying in Manchester for a couple of years.

Then on Monday evening we get our second chance this year to see the sublime Iron & Wine, should be an interesting gig as it’s the night before the American election, then again Sam Beam is not the most talkative guy in the world, so maybe he will keep his cards pretty close to his chest.

Forgot to say that when were away I read Motherless Brooklyn by Jonathan Lethem. Earlier in the year I read his latest novel The Fortress of Solitude, which I really enjoyed. He has a great talent for setting you exactly in a location, and you can really feel the streets of Brooklyn and Manhattan in his work. Very enjoyable indeed.

So it’s happened again, the death of someone I didn’t know had me on the verge of tears for most of yesterday. The last occasion was the death of Joe Strummer a couple of years ago, yesterday the news of the death of John Peel hit me even harder.

I think that I came to his radio show rather later than some, in the mid 1970’s I was an occasional listener although I was a fan of the sort of progressive rock music which was the staple diet of his show then. I well remember other friends of mine being outraged when he started playing punk and new wave but that anger passed me by. The real turning point for me was Xmas 1978 when for the first time I listened to the whole of the festive 50 and realised that I had been missing out on some amazing music.

As well as the more obvious bands like The Sex Pistols, The Clash and Buzzcocks, I discovered people like Magazine, Scritti Pollitti, Wah Heat, Teardrop Explodes, Ivor Cutler, Big Youth and countless others. Soon like so many people around the country, I was going to bed every night with the radio alongside me so that I could be educated, amazed and amused by this wonderful man.

In the early 1981 a few friends and I drove to Liverpool to see a gig and thought that we would take the chance to watch the then mighty Liverpool FC in action. During the match my car was stolen, never to be seen again. The thing that upset me most at the time was not the loss of the car, but of a mass of tapes of the Peel show which could never be replaced. Luckily I still have a few tapes from that period and how mesmerising they still are.

So many memories, the first time I heard The Smiths and Joy Division, the way he warned us before the first play of Blue Monday by New Order that some of us may not like it. Him breaking the news to us about the death of Ian curtis, then a few weeks later Malcolm Owen of The Ruts. Hearing amazingly moving things like Shipbuilding by Robert Wyatt and Song to the siren by This Mortal Coil, whilst driving along with the show on the car radio. The light hearted joy of the Belle and Sebastian live sessions at his home.

After an emotional afternoon listening to people from all walks of life talking about the great man, we went to The Bell where our friends Ian and Russ turned the regular Tuesday night session into a Peel tribute night. They played masses of records which may well have disappeared without trace, had it not been for the great man. Soon we were all swapping memories of the first time we heard certain records and general John Peel memories.

It’s so strange that on all those occasions when we thought we were alone in our rooms, we were really part of a huge social gathering, which is as sharp and vivid in our collective memories as any physical meeting. I suppose that was one of his great strengths, in his quiet, slightly perplexed and undemonstrative way John Peel made us all part of something. No matter that some of his musical selections were on occasions testing to say the least, his was a totally inclusive brand of broadcasting where everyone and everything with a spark of originality was welcomed.

Of course Ian and Russ had to finish with John’s favourite record, Teenage Kicks by the Undertones. God knows how many times we’ve heard that record over the years, but last night it sounded as fresh and vital as ever. He sure could pick ‘em.

You can read much more about him via the BBC websites.

Well the first thing to say is that we were shocked by the lovely weather in Bilbao. Everyone has been telling us for weeks that we had to make sure we took our umbrellas and waterproofs with us, because aside from The Guggenheim the one thing everyone knows about the place is that it gets a lot of rain.

So it was rather odd to be walking around in very warm sunshine, wondering exactly why we had packed that very warm jumper?

Lots of highlights - The amazing first sight of “that” wonderful museum as the bus from the airport emerges from a long tunnel through one of the many hills, which circle the city. Suddenly there it is right it front of you. In fact if you are sitting on the right hand side of the bus you feel as though you could almost reach out and stroke the mysteriously curved titanium clad exterior of the building.

We spent around 5 hours in the building itself and that was with one of the three floors closed due to the re-hanging of one of the galleries. Exhausting but thrilling, it really is a must see.

The less trumpeted Museo De Bellas Artes was also a real treat (even more so as we visited on Wednesday, when admission is free), featuring an excellent permanent collection of 20th century art and brilliant but slightly unsettling exhibition of the work of British sculptor John Davies.

The tour of the football stadium San Mames, the real heart of the city.

The Magnetic Fields gig in Barakaldo was great. Lovely theatre, nice support band (Astrud) perfect sound and a fine collection of songs made a perfect evening. Even if we missed the last metro train back to town and had to get a taxi.

Meeting up with our old friend Carlos, who showed us the sights of Getxo and took us to the splendid Bilboloop mini music festival featuring 6 bands over 2 nights. It was also great to meet his friends, whose grasp of English put us to shame.

Great and easy travel around the town including a spectacular Funicular ride. Lots of long lunches and tasty tapas, not forgetting the hugest and tastiest croissants I have ever seen.

We are back.
More pictures can be found here.

A short fiction for you whilst we are away.

James Alexander-Gordon

As soon as I heard the newsreader say Alan Beckers name, I just knew what was coming next. If Alan could have been with me, he would have known as well.

It all started over 30 years earlier; our fathers were workmates who shared a mutual and unfathomable devotion to Bristol City. Luckily for Alan and myself, this meant that every other Saturday the four of us would meet at Alan’s Dad’s house before heading off to the game. Other than Alan, none of my other friends were allowed to go to matches, either their fathers did not like football or they could not afford to go. We were still too young to go on our own but, to be honest, even as the teenage years came screaming over the horizon, I always wanted to go with my Dad. I had no interest in running around with the teenage fools who would rather fight than watch the match.

Alan’s Dad was my Father’s boss and, although their easy camaraderie proved that this was a genuine friendship, there was no easy way to hide the obvious differences in the comparative lifestyles of our two families. Whilst we lived in a pleasant 3-bed semi in an average neighbourhood, the Beckers house a few miles away had not only a drive but also, amazingly, a tennis court (not that it ever appeared to be used).

Alan and I were not school friends; his education was expensively paid for, whilst mine was in the hands of the local primary school. So our friendship grew in fortnightly bursts rather than the more usual hours in the playground. Still, after a short while, a friendship did blossom. Fostered by our common interest in City’s mediocre struggles and, maybe more importantly, in a little after match ritual which we enjoyed on every journey home, the memory of which smacked into the front of my mind, with all the crispness of one of the great John Galley’s headers from the early 1970s, when I heard the newsreader mention his name.

In the days before dedicated sports channels dictated that the football could take place at any time and on any day, keeping up with the latest results was pretty easy. If you were at home on Saturday afternoon, it was a straight choice between the two rival Saturday afternoon TV sports programmes.

Some people would choose to watch ITV’s “World Of Sport”, although I never could understand why. The poor host always looked as though he had been dragged into the studio from some sort of foppish decorating session. What else could explain the clothes and the outrageous white streak in his hair? They even classed the absurd pantomime of wrestling as a sport. It was clear that these people could never be trusted to give you correct information.

The BBC, of course, offered us a programme which treated sport, and particularly football, with the seriousness it deserved. “Grandstand” was fronted by quietly determined men in tweed jackets, who cared as deeply about the goings on at Rochdale as Anfield. It was the only possible choice for any aspiring football supporter.

The real gem of the BBC’s sports coverage was, however, to be found on radio with the marvellous “Sports Report”. Nothing could ever match the excitement of dashing away from the latest Bristol City adventure, flinging open the doors of the car and switching on the radio just in time to catch the Central Band of the RAF launching into “Out of the Blue” at exactly 5pm. After the briefest round up of the day’s highlights, the microphone would be passed to James Alexander-Gordon for his reading of the football results.



This was where the real fun began for Alan and me. In a time long before predictive texting, the venerable Mr Alexander-Gordon mastered the art of predictive announcing. Intonation was everything, a poor performance from the home side meant that their name would be announced in a flat and slightly disappointed tone. If the away teams name fizzed out of the speakers in an upbeat manner, you knew before the score was announced that an away win had been achieved.

Alan and I would sit in the back seat of the car, desperately craning our necks forward into the gap between the driver and passenger seats in order to hear the voice of authority. In the split second gap between the announcement of the team name and their score, we would yell out, “nil”, “one”, “two” or sometimes “three”, based on the subtle clues we had been entrusted with. The away team was always slightly easier as you could tell from the very first syllable whether they had won, drawn or lost. As the condensation of those damp winter afternoons turned the car into a fog bound vessel offering occasional glimmers of Bristolian scenery, we shouted and laughed at our ability to second guess the thoughts of this great man.

Occasionally our guess would be thrown into disarray by an unusual combination. For instance, a slightly disappointed sounding “three” would confuse us - how could a home side score three and not win? All would be revealed with exuberant exclamation of the opposition’s name followed by an exultant “five”, causing the two of us to chuckle in amazement.

When the ritual was over and the action on the radio switched to reports from the ground, Alan and I would excitedly talk through the results and complement each other on our wonderful powers.


As the years passed, the joint visits to matches first slowed, then stopped all together. Both our parents went through divorces, which meant that our fathers moved out, making the travel plans too complicated to achieve. In the same way that Alan’s family had always embraced things like foreign holidays, colour TV, Fondue and Hi-Fi years before we could, his family split was the first to happen.

From that moment, I saw less and less of Alan although, as an aspiring young musician, I became used to hearing of his exploits through the local media. Although The TV and radio presenters could never match the artistry of James Alexander-Gordon, their upbeat tone clearly delighted in the fact that this local boy was destined for great things.

I was happy to wallow in the nostalgia of our brief, slightly forced friendship as my life proceeded in a fairly hum drum way. When his records were played on the radio at work in our small non-descript office, I could tell my colleagues about the excitement of having Alan Becker as a friend. He went on to live the rock star life to the full. Even his occasional brushes with law were greeted with the cheerful acknowledgement that this was someone just having fun and pushing the boundaries as far as he could.

So, it was a shock when I heard Alan’s name spoken with a near audible sigh and depressed tone and I knew that Alan had, for the first time in many years, lost at something. Sadly he’d lost something more important than a game of football.

We’ve been a bit lacking on updates recently, this has been because of a few computer issues, thankfully all is ok again now.

Last night we went to The Cube to see the really rather splendid James Yorkston in action, as well as James we were entertained by the excellent local three piece Whalebone Polly and the idiosyncratic King Creosote. Top night all round, made all the better for having the chance to hook up with a couple of the old Imperial gang.

We are off to Bilbao for a week tomorrow, so we have been busily loading music onto our recently acquired iPod. Everything has been said before about these amazing little machines I guess, they really are incredible.

It’s been a pretty busy end to the week! I’ve had a couple of job interviews, we went to an album launch, Orynthia finally got to do her much delayed hot air balloon ride, and we had a great night out, in our favourite local café/bar/restaurant.

For the interviews, I was faced with awkward suit or no suit dilemma, of course I got it wrong on both occasions. For the first one, I went for the suit option and in hindsight feel that the dreaded smart casual option would have been the better. Luckily the people interviewing me were lovely so there was no extended embarrassment. For the second interview, I went for the casual top button undone shirt look, with suit jacket and tidy(ish) jeans. So of course, I step into the office and everyone is dressed to the nines – oops got it wrong again! Once again the people I saw were terrific, interesting and funny which batted away any discomfort on my part.

I really enjoyed both the interviews, the first ones that I’ve had with people I don’t know since the late 1970’s!

Thursday evening saw the launch party for my friend Scott’s album at The River, on the Bristol harbour side. Scott is one half of the Dynamo Productions duo, and does his solo stuff under the name Boca 45. The album is called Pitch Sounds and is out on the very trendy Grand Central label. Loads of good stuff on this album, which features a few local MC’s, Tammy Payne of The Jukes and a brilliant track called Walking with the excellent McKay. Scott is great DJ if he comes to your town and he does travel pretty extensively (Europe, USA and Australia as well as the UK), then make sure you check him out.

We had to leave the bash early as Orynthia needed to be up and out before the sun rose, in order to take part in her long awaited balloon flight. This has been cancelled more times this summer than Bristol City have thrown away promotion, who would have thought that it would finally happen in October? Anyway luckily the sun shone and Orynthia said that the views of Deer running through the misty early morning fields were lovely.

Last night we hooked up with some old friends at The North on Gloucester Road for some good old-fashioned English food. A few of us had the now classic local Pieminister pies with mushy peas, mash and very tasty gravy. The others went for sausage and mash or fish and chips. Great simple food, lovely wine and fantastically friendly and helpful staff make this place a real winner, it was absolutely packed with an really eclectic bunch of people so we can’t be the only ones to think so.

My brief period of time working in the Oxfam shop has made me realise how narrow the boundaries are between good and bad luck. In the past week or so I’ve seen so many records, which are almost valuable. Most of the time it’s not huge amounts of money were talking about but if the record was in the original sleeve or in better condition then maybe it would be worth £20 rather £1. Indeed we have one record, which could have been worth £45 in the original picture sleeve, if it had been in a certain version of that sleeve (and in perfect condition) that sum could have risen to £400.

Of course it would have been great for Oxfam if that had been the case, but generally speaking I really don’t like the whole rare record syndrome. Surely it’s best that people get excited because they like the “music” not the fact that it could make them a shed load of dosh on e-bay.

I’ve never really had anything of great value until my dad decided to give up on vinyl and go CD only a few years ago. So much of his music had acted as my guide in previous years, so I was delighted to have it passed onto me. Included in the collection were a couple of good jazz albums by a now pretty obscure British sax player from the 1960’s. I’d enjoyed them albums over the years without giving any thought to any value that they may have.

One day someone bought some albums by this musician into Imperial to sell and Mark told me how much they worth!! Sad to say, since then I always been a bit uncomfortable about playing them, I guess I fear damaging something which has a different sort of value attached to it now. In truth I would never sell the records anyway, they are part of me, trouble is all the other records I have are the same.

Sometimes I really envy the MP3 generation, they will never have the storage problems of our generation. I also admire them because they just want the music, not the scarcity value.

Much feverish activity has been taking place on our poor old iMac over recent weeks. Orynthia has been working flat out to complete the reworked website for our friend Jon and his band Modesty Blaise because tomorrow sees the Blaise boys sharing a new CD release with the likes of Primal Scream, Jesus and Mary Chain, Felt, My Bloody Valentine, The Magnetic Fields and many, many more on the latest Rough Trade Shops compilation “Indiepop 1”.

Much of the music is taken from the early eighties, the days when all the best records were 7” singles with hand coloured paper sleeves, wrapped in a clear plastic cover. Ah what simple times they were! We could have endless debates about the nature what constitutes “proper indie”, but following the breakthrough of Oasis the whole nature of the phrase seemed to change, and any guitar band seemed to be tagged as indie. Of course the whole Happy Mondays / Stone Roses Indie-dance crossover thing confused everyone even more and pretty soon the term had become virtually useless – Ocean Colour Scene, I ask you?

Back in the halcyon days of indie I would take the weekly hike to the top of Park Street, and enter the cosy little world of Revolver Records. Like most of the others I had the uniform of the day for Bristol indie boys, rockabilly shoes, hand rolled turn up on the bottom of black jeans and a simple plain jumper (T-shirts were permitted in summer), luckily I had defective version so I could also wear NHS glasses, the mark of every indie wannabe. Here we would gather to get very excited over the latest releases from the likes The June Brides, The Loft, The Wedding Present, The Soup Dragons (before they became successful of course!), indeed virtually anyone from Scotland, which really does have to be the spiritual home of Indiepop. Inevitably the near legendary “Rocker” of The Flatmates (also featured on “Indiepop 1”) would be working through his hand written list of the latest plays from the John Peel show, and Grant later to be Daddy G of Massive Attack fame would be booming out the latest pre release dub 12” from his position behind the counter.

Soon the enormous success of The Smiths started to change the makeup of our cosy, some would elitist, world but we still loved them even though they helped to blow our scene apart. Looking back it was a strangely insular world, hardly any American (they were often just too.... rock) or European bands. A few antipodeans such as The Chills and The Triffids were allowed to play but in the main it was very British affair.

These days things are very different with masses of old style indie bands emerging from North America (San Francisco in particular), Brazil, Scandinavia, Germany and Australia, whilst here in the UK the genre became much derided. The recent success of bands like Franz Ferdinand has started to change that maybe my old record collection has some value after all? One Thousand Violins and Mighty Mighty anyone?

Well my first week as an unemployed person is over, I’ve spent two and a half days working in the Oxfam shop, had a couple of visits to the job centre, spent an hour with a job agency and filled in countless forms, in short it’s been pretty busy.

I did manage to find time over the past couple of days to write a short story; it’s the first time that I have sat down to write a fictional item since my school days, a very long time ago!

I mentioned a while ago that I intended to do more writing, one of the reasons for starting this site, was that I wanted to have a place where I could get used the discipline of writing on a regular basis. I’ve been pretty pleased with that amount of material I’ve been able to produce, although not always so happy with the content. Anyway over the past couple of weeks, I had been formulating a very rough plot outline in my head and over the last couple of days I managed to commit it to paper.

Orynthia was not aware that I was undertaking this little exercise, so when she, received my email containing the piece yesterday, I think she was a little surprised. Luckily and pleasingly for me, she liked it and her words of encouragement have persuaded me to carry on writing fiction. I’m not sure what to do with it yet, I know that I need to get a few pieces together and then maybe I could try to get something published.

In a few weeks time we are off to Bilbao for a week, a chance for to relax together, check out the Guggenheim and see the wonderful Magnetic Fields. The same band has also given us an excuse to take a long overdue weekend trip to Manchester later in the month.

I also need to sort out my next job, I know what I want to do, but whilst I wait for that to happen, other options of varying degrees of interest keep being placed in front of me. Looks like I’ll have to do some serious thinking before we go away.

Should you want to be notified when this site is updated, you could fill in your details in the Notify box underneath the monthly achieves. You will get an email advising of the latest exciting addition! Why you busy people would want to have more emails dropping into your over flowing “In Box” I’m not sure, but the offer is there should you wish to take it.

I’ve spent most of the last couple of days doing voluntary work in the new book and music Oxfam shop Cotham Hill. It’s certainly different to working in Imperial, but all very pleasant. We have had lots of students in the shop buying their “Cooking for one” “ Eating on a grant” type books and maybe picking up a dodgy 80’s CD at the same time. I’m not sure how long I’ll be spending there in total as I’m looking to get a proper job sorted out soon. Still if I have some free time, I may as well spend in there.

The highlight of today had to be the moment when a lady came to the counter with several books, one of which was the screenplay to a TV series from several years ago. One of my female colleagues pointed to the picture on the cover and said, “Isn’t that -----?” “Yes,” said the customer. My colleague then said something along the lines of “He’s a bit tasty isn’t he?” “Yes” replied the woman, “He’s my husband!” I have to admit that I knew of the connection, which made the moment even funnier for me.

I’ve just been listening to the excellent “Jeremy Hardy speaks to the nation” talking about the futility of choice. Very funny, you can listen to it via his BBC Radio 4 web site.

One luxury of working in Oxfam is a full one hour lunch break, at Imperial we could only get away with 30 minutes, so to be able to sit and really relax was a great treat. I made use of time by reading a short story by Zadie Smith called Hanwell in Hell from the New Yorker. Bizarrely the story was set in Bristol in the 1970’s, I don’t think that Zadie Smith has any connection with Bristol, so it was quite strange to read about the delights of Park Street in the New Yorker of all places.

Yesterday was my first day ever as an unemployed person, and it set me thinking about the start of my working life. Way back in 1978, I was all set to stay on at school to do the 6th form thing, even though I was not really blessed with any great academic abilities. In fact even though I had really enjoyed school from a social perspective and loved the fact that they organised lots of sport for you to take part in, I had becoming increasingly bored and lazy by that whole going to lessons and doing work thing.

One night I was lazily looking through the jobs section of the Evening Post, when a small ad caught my eye. I always avoided those big, boxed job adverts, as they were obviously looking for someone much more talented then me, if they went to all the trouble of paying for a large advert. Anyway this particular advert said that a joinery firm in Kingswood was looking for someone to do general office work. I had no real idea what general office was, but I though that I would send them an application.

Amazingly they called me for an interview and after that offered me the job, I was somewhat shocked. It turned to be a lovely place to work, run by a pair of fervent socialist brothers, with the occasional input of their virtually communist father, it was never going to an ordinary place to work. The tone was set, straight away, my first day coincided with the start of Wimbledon and for the next two weeks, my job seemed to consist of keeping a record of the scores in all the games, via the office radio so that I could keep everyone up to date with the tournament!

Later similar attention was lavished on football tournaments and various elections. The brothers looked after the staff brilliantly, in fact they were probably rather too generous as the firm went bust in late 1984 despite having a full order book, and it was time for me to head off to BT. I still see one of the brothers regularly at the City ground, as he sits very near to me. I’ll always be thankful to him, his brother and Father for helping to ease me into the adult world in such an enjoyable way.

On a different note, the great and good (well some of them are good) of the rock world, have banded together to make an album in support of the Burmese struggle for freedom, anything which helps to highlight the dreadful situation in that country is welcomed and long overdue.

Well we had a fascinating weekend in London, we saw lots of interesting parts of the city, which were totally new to me. Thanks to Orynthia’s auntie we also discovered the joys of the bus service in London. Normally we tend to get around town using the underground, however on this occasion we were staying in West Norward, a part of south London which has no underground station anywhere near it. The good news was that for just £2.50 a day you can get unlimited bus travel anywhere in London, and the great thing about buses is they go almost everywhere, so we had great fun hoping on and off virtually any bus we saw, consequently we saved our legs from an awful lot of walking.

You can see pictures from our visit here.As we were staying in South London, we decided to start our Saturday morning with a trip to Tooting Bec Lido. The sun was shining and the simple Art Deco beauty of the huge pool was easy to appreciate. The pool itself is twice the length of a standard Olympic pool, the men and women swimming did confuse me somewhat. I have to admit that I am a non swimmer, so just about the only time I see swimming taking place is during events like the Olympics, consequently I was amazed at the slow (but elegant) pace of the simmers as they eased their way up down the considerable length of the pool. I mentioned this to Orynthia (who goes swimming every week) and of course she laughed at my naivety, all these years I’d thought of swimming as being a full throttle attempt to get to the end of the pool as soon as possible, when in fact the exact opposite appears to be the case.

Our next stop was the rather more modern Peckham Library. As we approached the library we had a great view of the energetically buzzing streets of Peckham from the top floor of a double-decker bus. A vast array of colourful food shops, selling produce from all corners of the world caught our eye, so after spending some time in the spectacular Will Alsop designed Library, we spent some time walking the streets of this exciting and chaotic neighbourhood. We stopped off in one of the many Caribbean food shops to purchase the odd sounding (and looking) “Bun & Cheese”, which consisted on two huge slice of a sort of moist fruit loaf, with a slice of cheese in the middle. Unorthodox and tasty, caught the mood of the area perfectly.

Our next location was at the very heart of orthodox and traditional London, 120 Fleet Street the former home of both the Daily and Sunday Express. I’ve always love the cool black simplicity of the exterior of this classic Art Deco building and now following a whopping £5 000, 000 restoration, we had a chance to see the stunning lobby area. Understandably this visit meant our first period of queuing, luckily we only had to wait around 30 minutes, the time passed quickly as we chatted with the person in front of us, who knew Bristol as she had gone to University here. So we spent quite a while telling her about places we had visited on previous open doors days in Bristol, as well as the “what have you seen”, “where are going next” time conversion which is an integral part of these sort of events. Once we got inside the lobby was well worth the wait, amazing detailing and design couple with opulent grandeur made it a very special place.

After missing out on a tour of BBC Bush House, we stopped for a coffee in Somerset House before heading up to Bloomsbury for a visit to The Horse Hospital. My former colleague RLF played a gig there recently and his description made we want to check out this very intriguing art’s space. It’s an independently funded centre for experimental art of various types on the upper floor, combined with a costume storage unit in the basement, which is accessed via a very steep winding path, complete with chunky wooden breaks. Very odd and very old it was a good place to end our exertions for the first day as the rain fell heavily.

Sunday morning dawned clear and bright and we jumped on a bus heading towards Streatham. Our destination here was the classic collection of 1930’s flats called Pullman Court. We fell in love with this place, probably helped by the lovely guides who took their time to explain about the architectural history and the practicalities of living in a place like this, we really felt at home. It was great to hear that after decades of neglect people have started to really value the building and restoration and repairs and being made in order to ensure that this place lasts for many more years.

After a bit of bus confusion in the Brixton area, it was back to Peckham to look at another 1930’s gem “The Pioneer Centre”. Before the guided tour began, we managed to sneak in a quick visit to Quay House a converted milk depot, which had lots of interesting features. Then it was back to “The Pioneer Centre” home of the so called Peckham experiment of the 1930’s, it was built as a place was doctors could monitor the affect of exercise and socialising would have on the health of the local residents who used the place. It’s worth reading further on the history of that idea, but I’m not going to bog you down with loads of text on that here. What I will say though is that the original architect for the property was Owen Williams, the same man who did the external work at 120 Fleet Street. We were taken on a tour of the property by the of the guys who now own flats in the building, once again their enthusiasm for the place was infectious. It featured as incredible internal swimming pool and a huge roof terrace, giving spectacular views over London.


Time then for our final destination. This time in the very heart of the London establishment, a private members club – The Lansdowne Club just off Berkeley square. A strange mixture of styles here, the place was originally built in 1763 by Robert Adam for the Marquess of Bute, before becoming transformed into a club with loads of glorious Art Deco rooms in the 1930’s. it was a fitting end to a fantastic weekend.

Well Sondre Lerche was pretty impressive last night. As he is virtually unknown in the UK, this was something of a toe in the water type affair, so we did not get the chance to hear him playing with a band. No matter, Sondre and his gorgeous Gretsch guitar gave us plenty to enjoy. The first surprise of the evening came when Sondre explained in perfect English (as we now expect from all Scandinavians) that his surname in pronounced Ler-Kay, apparently even the Norwegians have difficulty getting his name right.

With his floppy fringe, jazz tinged vocals and the aforementioned Gretsch, the obvious comparison was with a youthful Roddy Frame of Aztec Camera fame. That however could be his problem, whilst many of us of a certain age are suckers for the sort of wonderful guitar pop, which the likes of Postcard Records pushed our way in the early 80’s, to others it could sound rather dated.

Hopefully the infectious quality of his songs will be enough to bring him a larger audience in the UK. Last night he treated us to the best tracks from the two albums he has released so far plus one exquisite unreleased song. The only awkward part of the evening for us, was trying to make sure that the rather over enthusiastic middle aged Norwegian gentlemen standing next to us, did not step on our toes or crash into us too many times as he bounced around during the gig. We escaped without injury but sadly as soon as Sondre left the stage our Norwegian friend pounced on him and engaged in some in depth Norwegian chitchat, which ruled out the chance of an encore. We made the short journey back to Bristol, thinking that we may have seen a star in the making.

Orynthia found out the other day that Norwegian wonder boy Sondre Lerche is playing in Cardiff this evening, so it’s time for a flying visit to my mothers homeland. It’s all going to be a bit of a dash, but he does make some very nice music and it’s a great chance to catch him in a (very) small venue.

Today was a rather sad day in the shop. RLF, Jay, Mark and I meet for the last time to do the final bit of painting, when we were done Mark thanked us for all our efforts and then gave us each an astounding gift and a farewell card. I don’t think that any of us knew what to say, I dropped RLF and Jay home and it was hugs and good wishes all round.

They have been lovely people to work with, I must admit that when I started I was slightly concerned that the other guys would think it a bit odd that an old timer like me had started working in a shop like Imperial, maybe they would think it was just Mark looking after a mate and that I would find myself in a slightly odd position. Of course, I had no reason to have those thoughts; part of the attraction of the job WAS the people who worked there already. I was also concerned that it could jeopardise the friendship I have with Mark. During our time in work the dynamic of our relationship would have to change, Mark had to be the boss and I was very much the new boy compared to RLF, Jay, Alex, Chris and Beren. I think it all went really well, I’m sure that with the exception of RLF (who is moving to London) I’ll see them all around. I certainly hope so. Sorry to wax so lyrical about it all but it was great to live out the teenagers dream job at the age of 42. You can see a nice piece on the shop here.

Well it’s been pretty hectic, since I last wrote a proper entry here. We caught a couple of contrasting gigs by RLF, firstly in intimate surroundings when he played with the wonderful Freeze Puppy at “Here”, then at the very busy, very hot “Croft” on Saturday evening. I guess it’s the last time for a while that we will see the magnificence of RLF in Bristol for a while as he is about to move away from the area. London, your gain is our loss.

I also managed to catch PJ Harvey in action on Sunday evening, she was great but was not so sure about some members of the band, as they appeared to more interested in throwing shapes than playing the right notes.

In the midst of all this activity the shop finally closed last Wednesday, so ever since then we have been clearing the place of any indication that we may have existed. Initially, this entailed breaking up the counter and removing everything from the walls and then yesterday we repainted the whole place, which was actually more fun than I thought it would be, not enough fun to think about making decorating a career option though.

I know that I mention the New Yorker magazine from time to time, but I just have to say it really is the best magazine I have ever read. The recent double size food issue was a wonderful case in point. Consistently fantastic writing about all manner of things pertaining to food made it an endlessly fascinating and informative read. The only problem is finding the time to read it, the latest issue dropped through the latter box this morning and I’ve haven’t started last weeks yet.

As BCFC were at home last Saturday, we only managed to catch 3 places on open doors day, before going to Ashton gate to see City thump Stockport 5-0! That’s 9 goals in the last two home games; it’s all really rather strange. Anyway this weekend we off going to London for open house weekend. We managed to get some bargain coach travel and will be staying with Orynthia’s auntie, so it should be a pretty cheap and interesting weekend. Any tips on good places to see will be much appreciated.

Oh my word, it looks as though I shall be going to the Tom Waits gig in London!!

Well we had some very exciting news in Bristol yesterday, from May 20th next year Continental Airlines are going to be operating a direct flight between Bristol and New York!! We have already started looking at our finances and planning to take advantage of this new service. Hopefully a few people from New York will want to visit Bristol as well, maybe I could be some sort of tour guide for New Yorkers looking for real insight into the delights of Bristol. You know the sort of thing, how to avoid the late night beer monsters in the city centre taxi ranks, where to find the best Asian food, giving the low down on all the quirky little music venues we have......

Talking of quirky little music venues, tonight we are heading off to the basement of “Here” to one of RLF’s farewell gigs before he leave us to head back to London. He is playing 4 gigs, in 3 different venues around the Stokes Croft area. As well as this evening’s gig we are also going to his final big show on Saturday at the “The Croft”. It’s amazing, we have around 5 different options for really good things to do on Saturday evening, when normally Saturday turns out to be a bit of a stay at home sort of evening, with all our going out taking place during the week. On top of that it's open doors day and City are at home against Stockport, it's going to be a pretty busy day.

Wow we had a great evening yesterday, watching the wonderful Charlie Parr in action at The Cube. What a fantastic guitarist and songwriter this man is. If he plays anywhere near you, you really should go and see him. He is a real gent as well; it’s high time that his work was more widely known. If you can’t get to see him in the flesh, he has two excellent albums available (and cheap), do yourself a favour a grab them.

Earlier a writing an email to blog friend Heather who lives in the states and found myself writing the following:
Meeting so many people who are involved in making music has been one of the joys of working in the record shop. As I am easily the wrong side of 40, it's really energizing to chat to these young people who are determined to make things happen for themselves. So many of them either make their own music or promote gigs and club nights, we even have a small cinema/ music venue (capacity around 110), which is run entirely by volunteers. They are so supportive and encouraging of each other, it really is great. No one makes any money, yet they keep on putting on interesting entertainments for the people of Bristol to enjoy. How lucky I am to live in a place where such things take place!

I think this really is a time of change in Bristol, as places like Imperial close and although it serves a different crowd, I was sad to hear of The Depot closing as that was a venue where people could enjoy hassle free dance music, without the big club attitude, which many places have. Although I never went to any of the nights there, I know from talking to friends that it will be much missed by a large section of the Bristol community. Still, it is really good to hear about the people that still want to find ways of doing interesting things for the right reasons, so in no particular order here are some of the people who continue to make this town of ours an interesting place to live; The Cube, Here (it’s a shop in Stokes Croft), Tom of my two Toms (and about 20 other bands), Mark from float and The Cube, Lady Lucy, RLF (sadly not in Bristol for much longer), Chiz, Ed, Dutty Girl, Simple Kid promotions, Aaron of run run promotions. Whilst we still have the likes of John Stapleton, Paul of Espionage fame and a few others of my generation working hard it’s fun to watch the new blood coming through.

Since I last wrote we have had the last of the summer bank holiday breaks, whilst I have been working in the shop these have been even more lovely as my Fridays are spent at home anyway, this means that I have had a lot of 4 day weekends. Splendid!

As ever quite a lot of our time has been spent watching live music, on Friday afternoon I wandered into town for the free jazz in Queens Square. I meet up with Orynthia and Teresa and shared a couple of bottles of wine, whilst listening to the cream of the Bristol jazz scene playing for a few hours.

On Monday afternoon we had our second look at Wilma and their amusing take on the world of country music before heading up to The Downs to catch some of the music and food on offer at the Asian festival.

Last night was spent at the Polish club, watching the crazy vaudeville show provided by The Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players. They are a real one off, presenting more of a “show” than a normal gig experience. I can really see why they were such a hit at the Edinburgh festival. Special mention also needs to be made of the support act, Bristol’s own Kid Carpet, who put on a hugely entertaining show using kids toys and cheesy samples, car boot fair pop is the only way I can describe it. If this tour comes anywhere near your town it’s well worth seeing.

What else.....well the shop is really looking very, very empty now. I’ll be surprised if we have any stock left after next weekend. People are still saying the nicest things to us and sometimes it does feel that we should be offering a counselling service to help them get over the devastation that our imminent departure is causing.

The big treat on bank holiday Monday, was seeing Bristol City finally win a league game this season. A spanking 4-1 victory over Brentford should be the catalyst to push up the league table.

Well following on from my last entry, here is more about music – well sort of. On Tuesday evening Orynthia and I went to LeRoc classes at the nearby Elmgrove Centre. Now I’m sure that some of you will be thinking what on earth is that. Well LeRoc is a slightly more modern form of Jive dancing and following out Jitterbug experience the other week, we thought that it would be fun to have another go at this dancing thing.

I have to say that I was initially sceptical, but the evening turned out to be great fun. I was pretty hopeless, but all the people I danced with were very forgiving (quite a few were on their first visit as well), and we spent a lot of time laughing. Sadly we won’t be able to make it next week, but I think it could become quite a regular Tuesday night event.

We won’t be able to go next week because that nice Mr Stapleton has arranged a gig by the intriguing Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players at The Polish Club. All the reports about them make this sound like a must see gig, which is strange as I have only heard one track by them (which was great). Next week see the return of the wonderful Charlie Parr to Bristol, when he plays The Cube on September 2nd.

Looking further ahead, Saturday September 11th is Bristol doors open day, it’s always one of our favourite days of the year, because you get the chance to look around lot’s of interesting buildings which you cant normally gain access to. It’s been going on for several years now, so we are always on the look out for new places to see. This year we can go behind the scenes at the Colston Hall and visit the beautiful looking 1920’s retirement home known as St Monica Trust amongst others.