The little program I mentioned a few days ago has revolutionised my viewing habits. My busy metropolitan lifestyle leaves me no time to catch up on DVD box-sets of TV shows but now that I can drop them onto my PSP I’m whizzing through them. Series 1 & 2 of Seinfeld has now been enjoyed (yesterday I went to the loo for a number two and ended up sitting there for 22 minutes watching an episode) and the Family Guy Stewie Griffin Movie is half watched and had me stifling laughs on the underground this morning (evil and witty and very un-pc). How very modern. Also on my PSP are new albums from The Gossip and Tiga and a two year old cd by The Playgroup from the DJ Kicks series (remember the dub version of Do Or Die by the Human League? Fanatastic!).
Contrary to popular belief I do not have shares in Sony.

I'm still torn between a sensible 125 trialbike like the XT (or even a sensible and boring, but completely reliable, YBR) and a lovely new (and very grown-up in an old fart sorta way) ER500. Luckily the freezing temperatures are giving me time to think. I could use the ER500 to zoom up to Blackpool in the summer months but then again I could use the money saved on insurance, if I buy a 125, on something frivolous and pretty (such as enhancements to my tattoos at a great studio we found yesterday). Family Business Tattoois in trendy Exmouth Market in Clerkenwell and has a great roster of artists working there. I know I'd virtually made my mind up to get worked on by Alex Binnie but I'm open to offers so I shall be calling on Family Business for a chat soon. Darren and I went to the barbers yesterday on Rosebury Avenue and then met friends for beer in gastro pub (and Guardian staff room) The Eagle. I heard a pizza calling my name so we crossed the road and headed up Exmouth Market to Strada where we sat next to the wood fired oven because it was fricken bitter cold outside.
Today I downloaded a brilliant little program that allows me to convert DVD movies into MP4 format and then transfers them onto the memory card of the PSP. This evening I walked the dog in the park while watching an episode of Seinfeld. I must have looked like a right nutter strolling around and laughing out loud (the chinese restaurant episode if anyone cares). Like Darren said to me, while I made a sandwich and watched Napoleon Dynamite at the same time, "it's like the future has finally arrived". If you'd asked a little boy in the 1970's if he thought there would ever be a machine that fitted in his pocket and played movies and music while he walked his dog he'd have laughed at you.

I'm feeling better already. I read this story about how listening to Mary J. Blige cd's cured some red-necks of their diabetes, depression and throat cancer. So I downloaded her last four albums and have had them on rotation for a few days now. Don't laugh but I think there may be something in this theory. Mary's positivity and creamy voice coupled with those thunking hip-hop beats has lifted my spirits and eased my ingrowing toe nail. All hail St Mary the Blige master, no more the poor mans Lauryn Hill (hands up, who's excited about David Chappelles Block Party? me! me!) and faith healer to the trailer park masses. I think she made my teeth whiter too!

So, anyway, the combover is going to be HUGE this year so I'm letting mine grow in and the llamas and other dangerous/bad animals have been removed from Neverland and some complete twunts think hornbag Daniel Craig shouldn't be the next James Bond (they obviously own a labrador with a day-glo jacket) and trust the Germans to come up a Top Trumps for adults (I prefer my old pack of tall ships cards) and I always suspected there was something pink about that waxed-asshole gardener from Desperate Housewives and now his gay face is all over the gossip blogs and maybe he should take a lead in this spin-off production and it's snowing outside but it won't settle so I won't need to wear tennis rackets on my feet and I got to work extra early today to make polite conversation with visiting Russians and lunch today will be government sandwiches and cheap orange juice at an event promoting the creative industries in Chile and I'm worried about the camel they removed from Neverland and I wonder if he would get along with Edward and Darren and whether his toes look like this.

I finally made it onto CNN!
(I was tickled but apologies if this is old hat)

Darren is working away from home this week. 4 days on the south coast doing the job he enjoys. This has really hacked me off (which I'm embarrassed to admit). Even though Tom is staying with us I am lonely. I mean, what's the point in having a partner if there's no one here to make me a cup of tea, no one to wake up in the middle of the night to stop them snoring, no one to share the bath water with, no one to lie in bed with and listen to the radio news and no one to tell me off for not wiping the dogs muddy paws? And don't go giving me that "we all need a bit of space" nonsense. If I wanted space I would watch Star Trek. I'm the kind of fella who likes to live in someones pockets. I like my sentences finished for me and I like wearing matching anoraks. I'm a "we" person. If I'm going to be on my own then I want the 'benefits' of being alone. And we all know what they are. Actually, I don't want them really, I just don't want to be on my own. The restructure at Darrens workplace means that there will be more working away from home for him this year and more sitting at my PC bored off my tits till 1am for me.
Some friends would be nice but I'm not very good at keeping them. The very nature of 'happy coupledom' makes maintaining friendships difficult for me. Add to that this enormous city ("pop round for a coffee? love to! I'll be there in an hour and a half") and a dog, which prohibits any after-work entertainment (I love him to bits and it wasn't my idea to get him), and you're left with a friend-unfriendly scenario.
Blimey, what a moaner I am today. Must be this grey wet weather and the lack of chocolate, red wine and my bf's company. He's back tomorrow night so hopefully my temprement will improve (I'll be moaning about him hogging the TV remote by Saturday).

I don't have green fingers. Plants suffer when they come to live with us. This orchid was looking sad and lonely on the shelf at the supermarket over 4 weeks ago so we brought her to spellcnut towers to die with dignity. But instead she has thrived in our bathroom and blossomed into this purple regal diva. Goodness knows how I did it but I'm glad I did. She's a bolt of beauty and lifts my spirits as I lie in the bath reading the grim 'A Million Little Pieces' (which I'm actually thoroughly enjoying despite the backlash).

Last Saturday evening Darren, Tom and I headed over to Crystal Palace to visit the fair. It was a bitter cold night so naturally only the hardiest of hoodlums and chavs were skulking around with their pitbull dogs. The rides were looking damn fine on this dark and cold night, especially the waltzer. David Irvins waltzer is a work of art but not in the 'traditional fairground art' sense. His modern machine is a swirling mass of dry ice, matt gold paint, blinding white strobe lights and ear-bleed-volume techno and drum 'n' bass. I thought my chest was going to cave in when we got up to full speed and I laughed so hard a little bit of wee came out. Take a look at my pics of the lovely machine.
We rounded off the night with a meal at a MuMu which is a lovely Asian fusion place. Splendid sweet curries and a bottle of rioja and great views over London on the walk back to the car.

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I never expected The Strokes to be that good but they excelled and were awesome. Really really good, actually. They played tight for two hours and had an effective yet simple lighting set-up which complimented their catchy art rock. They played most of their catalogue (not hard when you've only got three short albums) and the only track missing was Razorblade (from the new album) but, as that is the one with the Barry Manilow 'Mandy' rip-off, I wondered if it was due to copyright issues. Most of the crowd were word perfect on the shouty choruses and more than a few of the boys in the audience had gone for that skinny-leg-jeans and crap-long-hair that the band were wearing two years ago (you could see them looking at each other with a worried look as the band walked out in smart Hedi Slimane style suits). I'd like to see them capture that 'look' using their pocket money.

As if I wasn't depressed enough! We didn't get the result we wanted from Darrens employers. He gets to keep his job and the redundancy carrot was snatched away at the last minute. I was looking forward to resigning from my job, selling up and leaving London but it's not to be, so, there you go. Don't let the bastards grind you down, as Arthur Seaton (that's him above) said in Saturday Night Sunday Morning (free DVD with yesterday's TorygraphTelegraph, first time we've bought it, honest, though I quite enjoyed it).
On Friday I was so upset by the whole business so I had my haircut. Then we walked to Clerkenwell where I had a consultation with Alex Binnie. He's a legendary tattooist who rarely takes on work and, best of all, is married to Leigh Bowery's widow (long time readers will know I have a fascination with Leigh which stems from a terrifying encounter in Brixton in 1989). I once saw Alex take a shit on a plate of chips and call it art. He's going to mark me with his ink and make me remember this traumatic period. I'm going to buy a big motorbike too and cut my commuting time to work. Talk about midlife crisis. I'm off to Blackpool tomorrow for some sea air and greasy food and to see The Strokes. If I haven't jumped off the end of the pier I'll be back on Wednesday.

Commuting
1 hour each way. 2 hours per day.
10 hours per week.
43 hours per month.
473 hours per year (taking one months holiday into account).
or
18 days travelling to and from work per year!!!!
As a man on the cusp of old age I think I should utilise those 18 days in a more productive/enjoyable manner.

Blimey, I’ve not felt much like posting lately. Life’s still in a bit of turmoil but hopefully something will pop soon. I shall be seeing The Strokes in Blackpool this time next week and the week after that is the huge Valentines fairground in Leeds. We’re off to Florida in April and have Morrissey tickets for the Palladium gigs that month too. I’ve been granted interviews for various jobs following my avalanche of applications but I’ve not attended any as I’m too scared to make that big leap from the frying pan into the fire. I was excited about an interview for a driving job with the Royal Mail later this week but following a lengthy telephone conversation with a driver today I’m now not keen. Darren is having his fair share of ups and down in his job too at the moment so maybe if we hold hands we can both jump ship and move to the seaside and make ice cream (disappear).

The reel at Blackpool Pleasure Beach was demolished in 1982 (and built in 1922!). 10 years later the managing director regretted his decision in an interview in a rollercoaster magazine. I'm lucky enough to have had a few years riding the reel before it was removed and I'll never forget that final, steep, banked curve into the dark tunnel before returning to the station.



The cars were circular, very heavy and held 8 people with no safety restraints. There was a bar around the rim of the car and to hold this meant riding with your arms around the shoulders of your companions (very cosy).



Steel spinning coasters are quite common now and The Reel was the Grandaddy to todays youngsters. In this clip (30 seconds and courtesy of the BBC) there is rare colour footage of The Reel in action before WWII.



Fascinating 12 page history of The Reel and an interview with one of the engineers who worked on the ride.

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Anyone else having trouble getting into the Clap Your hands And Say Yeah album?

Anorak alert



Every year in June a huge fair, the Hoppings, is held in Newcastle on the town moor (fascinating timeline here). It’s one of the biggest fairs in the country, along with Hull and Nottingham, and is a classic gathering of nearly every UK travelling showman. Three rows, each over a mile long, of attractions and rides, old and new. When I was a kid I used to get so excited about visiting the ‘town moor’ and the night before our visit was almost as unbearably long as Christmas Eve.
One of my favourite rides was the Moonrocket. This huge contraption featured fantastic ‘futuristic’ rocket cars on a tilted raised platform that revolved at a breathtaking speed causing the cars to tilt outwards and then swing back. The raised platform was always packed with older lads and their girlfriends listening to the pounding T Rex soundtrack and when the ride stopped there was always a mad scramble to find an empty car and jump in.



The Moonrocket stopped appearing at the town moor in the 1980’s as faster and more extravagant rides appeared so, for the last few weeks, I’ve been trying to track down what happened to it. It seems there were several Moonrockets in the UK from the 40’s to the 70’s but only one has survived today. The last surviving Moonrocket was lovingly restored a few years ago by an engineering company in Yorkshire and once a year it makes an appearance at a steam rally in Lincoln.



I called the engineering company this morning to confirm that they will be taking their pride and joy to this years rally and I’m pleased to report that they are. It’s years since I’ve been to Lincoln (last time was when I was the drummer in a band and we opened for Blancmange at a cheesy nightclub in 1983) so, there’s the first summer event to look forward to.