May 2003

May 30th, 2003. Rest and relaxation

I don't normally take holidays - they can be expensive, and it's a nuisance having to find someone to come and feed the cat.

The Boss, though, is going on holiday. They haven't had one for years either, so they're just desperate to find a nice, warm, sun-soaked beach to lie back and read on for a week or so. And now, they've managed to find one.

This means, of course, that I have to have a week off work too, as I wouldn't be able to get into the office on my own. Rattling around on my own with nothing to do for a week, though, will be incredibly boring. Going away for a bit is a possibility, but I'd still need to find a cat-sitter. Either way, I need to find something to occupy myself for a week, and soonish. Does anyone have any ideas?

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May 28th, 2003. Housing

More landlord issues.

They've finally got back to me about wanting to reinspect the flat, on Monday afternoon. Their letter just says "a representative" will pop round, not the landlord himself, but I'm still worried - he might turn up too, or the representative might be given a one-sided brief on the situation (although they usually don't seem to be prepared at all). It's still unclear whether I was supposed to get rid of the cat, or whether I can keep him; when I talked to them about it, that was all left rather vague.

The optimistic point of view is that it's just a routine inspection - it's about the right time for one - and that everything will be fine as usual. This doesn't stop me having nightmares about it, though.

As I was expecting, I finished off the last of the His Dark Materials trilogy last night, wanting to find out what happened next as quickly as I could and blinking through tears by the end. They really are very good books.

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May 27th, 2003. Immersed in words

Several months ago, I promised I'd set up a Reviews section on here, so I could write about books and music and occasionally films and so on. That was quite a while ago, and all I've managed to do is a couple of paragraphs comparing Susan Cooper to JK Rowling, when stranded at my parents over Christmas. I will get it off the ground eventually, I promise.

On Sunday, I decided that I needed more to read. I was already in the middle of one book, but I thought I needed more; so I went round a few bookshops and spent too much money on books that I've always meant to read but never got around to. One book was I Capture The Castle by Dodie Smith, and another was Northern Lights by Philip Pullman; which is the first of a trilogy.

Getting home, I started to read, and suddenly was drinking down Northern Lights page by page. I was swimming through it wanting to find out what would happen, reading with delight and joy and horror and fear. That same afternoon I finished it, and first thing Monday, on my way to work, I bought the other books in the series. One I read Monday evening, still unable to slow down; the other I'm still in the middle of. They're not as quick and flowing a read as Northern Lights, but they're still very good. This is why I need a Reviews section: to try to put into words what an experiance some books can be.

On similar lines, the other weekend I went to the cinema, and saw Secretary. It really is a very good film, and I keep meaning to write about it here, but somehow I can't quite think how to explain myself. Hopefully I'll get around to it before forgetting what I wanted to say.

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May 25th, 2003. Small rabbits have little noses

See, I didn't think tATu would win. And they didn't; all they had to show was an average tATu song. The British song, of course, was laughably poor. Terry Wogan seemed convinced that the only reason we came last was a "post-Iraq political backlash." Radio 4's news reporter was rather more blunt: "It would have helped if our performers had sung in tune."

I know you can hardly expect wonderful music from the Eurovision, but being able to sing in tune really would have helped. For some reason, though, we seem to have developed a British tradition of entering awful unknown bands - who else remembers Samantha Janus' singing career? The 'best' music on the show all night was a five-second burst of Stereolab which I'm sure I heard during Croatia's introductory segment.

It was a shame that Belgium didn't quite win. I liked their song, much more than Turkey's. It had a rather nice tune, even though (or more likely, because) the bagpiper on stage was clearly miming. The idea of singing in a completely made-up language was rather good, though; I keep wondering whether the singers' gestures during the song were meaningful, or were just supposed to look it.

Germany were quite good too, but their singer had mad stary eyes which put me off a little. Bonus points, have to go to Austria for combining standard Eurovision-style lunacy with references to ancient pagan tradition. I'm assuming it was intentional, of course, and they weren't just aiming for the complete lunacy angle. Here are the lyrics to their chorus (as translated by the BBC subtitlers):

Small rabbits have little noses,
Small cats have soft paws
And Mother Holle gets her wool
From the African dromedary.

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May 23rd, 2003. Ministry of Entertainment

This is the TV weekend. You'll be able to spot me easily on Monday; I'll be the one with the square eyes.

Tomorrow, it's the Eurovision Song Contest! I'm sure that W is already on the edge of his seat with party planning. I have to say, I'm a little unsure how good it's going to be, partly because of all the hype about tATu entering it; all the "gosh, they're going to be so shocking that the TV companies are prepared and ready to cut to video at any moment!" hype about them. It detracts from everything else, I think.

First, though, it's Big Brother 4. And it's going to be a disappointment, too, I can just tell. The reason being, in previous years I've never been very interested in it at the start, or beforehand. This year I'm already looking forward to it, so it'll inevitably prove disappointing.

The previous three series, though, all crept up on me slowly. I'd maybe watch some of the opening night, and see the contestants' introductions. There's so many, at the start, that I couldn't get a handle on them all, and I'd be too overwhelmed to care. After the first few were weeded out, I'd start to pay more attention. Before long I'd be watching every night, and by the finale, I'd be on the edge of my seat. I would never be bothered enough to actually vote, but that didn't matter. I had learned to love Big Brother.

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May 22nd, 2003. Last one for now, I promise

I was also very amused to note that both me and Tara are on the first page of search results at the moment for Aargh! Why is the internet so rubbish?. Now that's the kind of search I like.

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May 21st, 2003. Infamy

Rereading that last entry reminded me that I was recently quite near the top of the Google responses for my old primary school, Waltham Leas. And if you work for an Interweb Tat Emporium you soon learn that your Google ranking is everything.

I already get quite a few search hits from people searching for Grimsby or Cleethorpes things, so I'm tempted to see what else I could mention to draw people in. Maybe I should talk about all the evenings I spent at Youth Orchestra - sorry, I mean GCYDO (hello, Googlebot) rehearsals. Or, I could talk about the other school I went to - Waltham Toll Bar School Business & Enterprise College - and how awful it was. I'm a bit worried, though, that it might mean more visitors from people who were there the same time I was. It wouldn't be good if people I hoped I wouldn't have to meet again started popping up in the comments box.

As I was saying - to change the subject - Google Is Everything, but it's also rather democratic. The one thing more important than Google is ordinary people's opinion.

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May 20th, 2003. Regular feature

Yes, it's that part of the show where Caitlin tries to solve her recent search requests!

freemasons in grimsby: well, one of my uncles is one, but I don't know anything else about them. Oh, and there's some sort of Masonic hall just by Cleethorpes leisure centre.

fried rolo sounds awfully unhealthy, but it is the sort of thing you'd expect to find in Scottish chip shops.

"king's cross" fire plaque: I can't really remember where it is, but I think it's near the top of the Northern Line escalators.

the hidden cameras lead singer is called Joel Gibb, I think. I checked their website, but it doesn't say anywhere.

the sleepy jackson aren't that good.

"the hidden cameras" edinburgh: I was hoping to see them, as it happens, but they didn't turn up. So I can't tell you what it was like, because it never happened.

cleethorpes blog: Are there any Cleethorpes bloggers? I'd be interested to know if there are, to be honest, just for my own nostalgia. Are you allowed to get nostalgic about somewhere you don't like very much? Anyway, if you're a blogger and you're from Cleethorpes, get in touch! The nearest I know is Mark in Louth, and he hasn't updated for a couple of months now.

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May 19th, 2003. Black dog night

To be honest, I didn't enjoy Friday night much in the end. The club was full of people I knew, people I vaguely knew, and people who they knew but I didn't recognise at all; but they all seemed interested in talking in their own little groups. Hardly anyone bothered to introduce themselves, and it felt like I was sat on the edge of an indifferent crowd, or a crowd who resented me trying to hang on to them.

It was worse after midnight, when crowds of local neds started to turn up. Nervous, I stayed in my seat most of the time, worried that they might come near. Someone soaked my handbag in beer, and I didn't recognise most of the music.

I wondered if I should just leave, or try to stay until the bitter end. If there was any point to that. I realised I was slipping downwards into darkness, but I wanted to embrace it in the hope that it would make me angry enough to do something, however destructive. One greasy, horrible looking man caught my eye in particular. He was wearing a brown suit, looked like some sleazy European game-show host, and had a permanent smirk on his face. I wondered what would happen if someone threw an empty glass at his head; if it would smash and cut his face up, or just bounce off. I tried to dare myself to pick up one of the empties at my table. Everyone was ignoring me; noone would notice it happen. I'd be doing the world a good deed. I was still trying to convince myself to do it when he left.

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May 16th, 2003. Shot In The Dark

Did anyone see a documentary on Channel 4 last Sunday night called Magnetic Flip? It was about how the Earth's magnetic field is weakening, and is probably about to reverse direction.

Anyway, the reason I'm asking is that I really liked the music that was played over the opening titles, but I've got no idea what it was. Did anyone who reads this hear it and recognise it? If you did it'll save me writing to Channel 4 to try to find out.

Ad break time: tonight is the Winchester Club's First Birthday, at the Woodside Social Club, Kelvinbridge, Glasgow. It's at 9pm, with music from Language Of Flowers (from Northern Ireland) and The Dudley Corporation (from the other bit of Ireland). I'm also told that everyone will receive cake, too. See, free cake, it can't be bad.

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May 15th, 2003. Aching

"Can I speak to Caitlin?" said the man on the phone. "I'm calling from Blah Blah Blah Wibble Legal Services..."

"Um!" I said. Eeek, I thought. Do I owe someone money? Am I going to be pulled into court? Eeek!

"...about the road traffic accident you were involved in this afternoon?"

Aaah, I thought, it's only about the car crash. I'd been given a lift home from work, but five minutes into the journey some fool in a BMW pulled out of a side turning without looking. He hit us a couple of feet in front of me; we were jogged sideways, and it felt as if I hit my head somewhere. One of the front wheels was left standing at a rather odd-looking angle.

"Dr.       was injured in the crash," the voice went on, "and we wanted to check if you'd received any injuries yourself."

"Um, no," I said. "I think I'm fine. I haven't noticed anything."

Of course, as soon as I put the phone down, I realised I'd had a pain in my back all evening. I still have it now, but I haven't told the insurance man about it. It might well have come from sitting badly-postured in an office chair all day, every day, rather than the car crash. It'll look a bit suspicious if I suddenly realise I've strained something just after they ask me.

On another note: I did a bit of clothes shopping on the way to work this morning, and saw a great t-shirt which sadly wasn't in my size. It was bright pink, with this on it in white writing:

10 PRINT "I am cool"
20 GOTO 10
RUN

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May 14th, 2003. Art of noise

In the end, The Hidden Cameras didn't show up for last night's gig. Grrr. So instead, I got to see two bands who I'd never even heard of before; one an unknown local band, the others the Australian headliners The Sleepy Jackson.

Whatever you think of The Sleepy Jackson's music, you have to admit that they have bad hair. Very bad hair. There wasn't a single good look between the four of them. Their lead singer had an odd bowl cut on top of a scrappy goatee and moustache, and the bassist an uncontrollable mop of ringlets. Their music had several points of beauty, several parts I enjoyed, but every so often it would disintegrate into an incredible mass of noise. After a few minutes of unlistenable din, I'd start to get a bit bored, and idly looked around the room wondering what everyone else thought.

Behind us was a boy who'd come on his own, in a duffel coat. I felt slightly sorry for him; he looked young and lonely. At one point, I'm sure I saw him pull out a notebook. Over by the speaker stacks was one girl who looked like she'd fit in as a band member, in jeans and an unbuttoned plaid men's shirt. She wasn't dancing, but she looked to be enjoying herself.

Several times a roadie had to rush onto the stage, ducking between the flailing guitarists, to re-erect parts of the drumkit that the drummer had knocked over with his force. I kept waiting for the roadie to be knocked to the floor by one of the lead singer's random kicks.

"I have to say," said Gordon, who was there too, "they even look Australian." He'd been hoping for maybe a couple of Dada-ist performance moments. The lead singer's Rickenbacker had nonsense phrases painted all over it, but that was as close as they came.

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May 13th, 2003. Smells like rain

Laid in bed at night reading a book, I started tapping my fingernails on the book's cover. It sounded like rain on the window; or, more, like, rain on the roof of a tent. I did it some more.

I hardly ever hear the sound of rain on my window now. I've not been camping for years either, and I miss it. I wish I could be in a tent somewhere by torchlight, warm and cosy and cuddled up to someone, with rain pattering loudly on the roof.

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May 12th, 2003. Sociable

Everything might be a bit hectic this week. Tomorrow night, The Hidden Cameras are doing a gig at the Venue, supporting a band called The Sleepy Jackson. The HC's have a very good album out and I'm told The SJ are rather good too; so I can't really miss it. Then on Friday it's The Winchester Club over in Glasgow, and then on Saturday there's a Sinister Picnic in Kelvingrove Park. I'm really not used to such a lot of socialising. Plus, I need new clothes to socialise in.

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May 11th, 2003. Do you think they'll get The Proclaimers to host it?

According to the Evening News, this year's MTV Europe Music Awards is going to be held in Leith. Yes, Leith. At a shopping centre by the docks. How sophisticated and exotic can you get?

(Is this the first big musical event in the Edinburgh area since the Eurovision Song Contest was here in the 70s? I hope the local blogger will be giving us a Special Report.)

A couple of my search requests in the past few days:

"can't stop sneezing"
sneezing blog hayfever

Oddly enough, that's exactly how I feel today.

11:49 Comments (1)

May 8th, 2003. Grumble grumble (an anti-Microsoft rant)

Aargh! Why is Internet Explorer so rubbish?

I've been spending all afternoon trying to redesign a work site so that it looks roughly the same on each browser. Mozilla: it's fine. Safari: more or less the same. Opera: just as good there too. IE: it just doesn't work. Full stop. On some parts of the page, the text just vanishes. On other parts, the background colour doesn't appear. I look this up: apparently, it's a well-known bug. I try to apply the fix. The site's still fine in all the other browsers - but in IE, different bits don't display. I try to fix those parts, and it starts shifting blocks randomly about the page. Nothing seems to help. AARGH!

(eventually, I realised that if I compromised the site design slightly and rewrote some other bits of the stylesheet, I could get it to look usable on every computer even though it wasn't *quite* what I wanted it to look like. I don't see why I should have to bend over backwards for just one browser, though)

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May 7th, 2003. So hot, we have to keep it chilled

W came up to Scotland for the weekend, with his boyfriend Pablo. They were staying with a friend in Glasgow, but on Sunday popped over to Edinburgh to visit me. Pablo went off to visit the Museum of Scotland, and W and me wandered around the town, sat on park benches, walked up to the castle and along the Royal Mile and so on.

We went down the bottom of Blair St to ogle the site of the big Cowgate Fire from last December. After that, W decided he needed a bottle of water, so we went to the nearest newsagents.

It was a very dark and gloomy room. Not at all self-service; there was nothing at all in the public part, and the L-shaped counter was topped with bars which looked like they were made from garden railings. There were a few newspapers on the counter, and a fridge and a couple of shelves behind it. It wasn't very inviting at all. The sort of shop where I usually start to feel pretty scared.

One arm of the counter was made of one of those big glass-fronted fridges that you get in delis, so that you can see all the yummy food on show. This fridge didn't have any food in it at all, though. It was filled with porn. It was switched on, its light was on, but all that was in it was porn.

Once outside, we burst out laughing:

"That was a weird shop. Did you see the fridge?"

"The Fridge Of Porn? It was switched on! That must be hot porn they have."

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May 6th, 2003. Small update

Sarah has gone away to spend summer living in a beach hut and spending her days strangling weasels; so her site has gone away for the summer too. I have to say, though, I do like her replacement page. As she's not updating I've taken her off my site list for now; but if you're bored you should go and read her archives.

Update: There's also a small update to the Sinister Recipe Tree: Caleb Ben's recipe for Orgasmic Chicken Salad. With a name like that, it has to taste good.

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May 5th, 2003. Pot, kettle and so on

Walking home on Friday afternoon, I spotted a sign for Scottish Algebra Day. What caught my eye was the way it was laid out, like this:

Scottish
Algebra
Day

Is this genuine? Have mathemeticians suddenly gained a sense of self-deprecation? Was it just an accident? Answers on a postcard, please.

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May 2nd, 2003. Coin in the slot

Another story from The Scotsman: record store Fopp has installed Britain's first CD vending machine outside its Union St, Glasgow store.

I agree with what Alex said about this: if people can buy the record they want without popping inside the store, they will lose a lot of impulse buys. I love to wander round a record shop, flicking through the racks, seeing what's there, being reminded about bands I've been meaning to look into or buying a CD just because I like the look of its cover.

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May 1st, 2003. Latest News

I admit to being cynical about politics, but voting is important. I made sure I popped into the polling place on my way to work and crossed all the various ballot papers; including the regional ballot paper, which was about two feet long and wouldn't fit through the slot in the ballot box.

With regard to Beltane again: The Scotsman had a story about it this morning. The first paragraph - "crowds of revellers massed on Calton Hill to celebrate the [banned festival]" is, as far as we can tell, completely untrue. In fact - so The Boss tells me, anyway - it was impossible to get near Calton Hill at all for the police blocking it off. The rest of the story isn't very good either; but it was In The Paper, so it must be true.

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