tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40953932012-02-16T12:12:47.252ZThe Cat FlapPlease close the flap quietly on your way outVichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.comBlogger2851100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-25449700502878358672008-06-17T14:51:00.001+01:002008-06-17T14:52:34.268+01:00Noticing that a half-closed laptop in a meeting signifies 'I'm listening'. And not checking my emails, really.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-30761328177984418152008-01-24T15:28:00.000Z2008-01-24T15:31:50.024ZHas anyone invented a word for the annoyance felt at the realisation that you've woken up picking over an irritating conversation with someone you can't stand in real-life, never mind in dream-life. What a waste of a good dream. Bah.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-61459497235784822622007-05-29T19:37:00.000+01:002007-05-29T21:17:40.335+01:00Positively popping with excitement dans le jardin. This little papaver was a mere bud at 8.30 this morning, by 7pm, a full-blown bloom. Nice.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-32357466168175843932007-05-23T15:38:00.000+01:002007-05-23T15:39:38.107+01:00Currently wondering how I can synch up flight departures from Heathrow to the planes passing across my window.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-3820523632549995832007-02-13T09:15:00.000Z2007-01-27T09:39:59.388ZFrom Minor 9th. After my starter for 10, here's five (more) things you (probably) don't know about me:1) When I was ooh, 7 years old, I wasn't allowed to play in the ivy at my parents' house. So I did. And of course, a stray bit of twig jabbed me under my eye, and blood spurted everywhere (I mean, really, all over). Did I fess up? Course not. I told my parents that my brother had thrown a stone Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-19854573995321702712007-01-27T09:36:00.000Z2007-01-27T09:39:59.413ZJust discovered that my friends the builders have painted all my windows shut. I thought the sing-a-long-a-Magic FM was good, I thought the belches, fucking and farting had harmonious potential, and their pile driving! Let there be pile driving. But the windows. There really is no end to their talents.(Dan: this one's for you.)Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-696192840800723702007-01-25T21:26:00.000Z2007-01-25T21:35:05.437ZFour years have passed since I last took a good look in my bag. Here's what's in there now. For the curious, it's currently a leather-strapped cross-body jobby.2 tissues1 comb1 red pen1 blue pen1 black pen1 A4 ringbound notepad1 USB cable£50 John Lewis vouchers1 receipt for Davy's White City (£4.25)1 London Underground receipt1 business card (Kate Jones)1 Philosophy Gingerbread Man lip gloss1 Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1168804820611784782007-01-14T19:58:00.000Z2007-01-14T20:00:20.623ZWatching a woman on the tube with a gi-normous La Perla bag of which she seemed very proud. Shurely the smaller the bag, the better, I mean, visions of voluminous pants ahoy or what. (And I don't care if it contained lots of small things, that's not the point.)Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1165752844501596252006-12-10T12:12:00.000Z2006-12-10T12:14:04.513ZMusings on the tipping point equation of words - how many people have to use the same word over what period of time, before it starts to feel like everyone's saying it? Notice the resurgence of headfuckover and my favourite new one, cock knocker.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1161634767171718762006-10-23T21:17:00.000+01:002006-10-23T21:19:27.196+01:00What I want to know is: who is the one-woman environmental disaster who sits in her car by Ravenscourt Park each morning, with the engine running, windows down, smoking a fag and talking on her phone? Every morning. The pine tree air freshener dangling from the mirror is a nice touch, too.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1160987155705624452006-10-16T09:25:00.000+01:002006-10-16T09:25:55.716+01:00This morning I saw a 50 or so year old man scrunching a checked shirt into the Oxfam recycling bin. Thought, ooh, that's good of him. Then wondered darkly, if it had lipstick on its collar.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1160822408435189442006-10-14T11:38:00.000+01:002006-10-14T11:40:08.450+01:00Apart from climate change and oil running out, the thing I hate most in life is taking down and putting up shower curtains.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1160257383063424002006-10-07T22:39:00.000+01:002006-10-07T22:43:27.986+01:00It seems about time to shake this blog right out of its dozy semi-retirement. It's been so long that I can't remember if I've mulled this over on here before, but, have you ever noticed how many people sniff the moment after they've done something embarrassing, like tripping up?Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1123331310113989762005-08-06T13:13:00.000+01:002005-08-06T13:28:30.740+01:00Textual transcription:6 July 2005Just been to dentist, my jaw is so numb I can't feel my right ear! Need to recover a little before I come in. x09:51Am in Topshop (near the doors). x18:15Am going to Bristol on weekend of 15 - you?23:037 July 2005Balham tube stations is closed and the train is overcrowded. I'm trying the bus to Stockwell. Could be quiet late indeed...Sorry. X08:34har xxxx08:52You Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1119274102149326632005-06-20T14:27:00.000+01:002005-06-20T14:28:22.156+01:00Utterly maddening.Walking across the office to speak to someone, getting as far as Hi, how're you doing. Then their phone rings. And they pick it up. I mean, actually pick it up in order to answer it and have a full conversation while you hover behind.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1115805083014839662005-05-11T10:50:00.000+01:002005-05-11T10:51:23.050+01:00I'm wearing new du jour wedges today. Is 'my shoes are too heavy' a good enough excuse for being late to work? Enjoying elevated status, on the plus side.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1115287657448068922005-05-05T11:05:00.000+01:002005-05-05T11:07:37.466+01:00Walking down the stairs at Oxford Circus tube last night; a woman about two steps below me slipped then fell. The woman in front of her said 'Ooooh, are you OK?'. 'Yes, yes', replied the fallen woman. To which the first woman replied 'Oooh, I thought it was me that had fallen'.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1114459257788012182005-04-25T20:55:00.000+01:002005-04-25T21:00:57.790+01:00It's been a while. Since the last one, in summary, to re-cap: a snowy, sunny ski trip to Zermatt; tiny Kylie in Paris; a new job for me, a new job for him; another city for him. Days off spent wishing that a life of leisure was within my grasp. A great big shopping trip, a temporarily wizened pay packet (see above). Planting of the windowboxes occurred. Many drinks and dinners were shared with Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1109880154338571462005-03-03T19:59:00.000Z2005-03-03T20:02:34.340ZWhat went on? Walking home, past the houses at the end of the street, there was a bloke at the door of one of them. He was leering and slurring with a can in his hand. The old man house-side seemed to be trying to close the door, which he did eventually, to the sound of slurring man saying 'Thanks mate, see you tomorrow', before he shuffled noisily away then spat loudly in the gutter.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1109254320210000992005-02-24T14:09:00.000Z2005-02-24T14:12:00.210ZA funny thing happened on the way to...work. Some bloke got on the tube, howling, tearing at himself and laughing. As he sat down, the two seats either side were immediately vacated. After a couple of stops, he got off. Now tell me, would anyone who'd seen him sit there move to sit in the same seat? No. But the two vacated seats were immediately filled. Perhaps his odour was contagious.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1107954279974842612005-02-09T13:02:00.000Z2005-02-09T13:04:39.973ZDear Tesco
I'm eating a 'Tuna layered salad bowl' for lunch.
I think you'll find it's 'Tuna layered with salad in a bowl'.
Yours
VicVichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1107782270304817452005-02-07T13:16:00.000Z2005-02-07T13:17:50.306ZA new term for too loud music: annoiseyness. (Did you know...if you're standing two metres apart from someone and you have to shout to be heard, then you're damaging your hearing. Apparently.) Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1107169768915234942005-01-31T11:06:00.000Z2005-01-31T11:13:35.380ZThat completes two Internet-less weekends due to the nasty raspy noise coming from my computer's hard-drive that may or may not mean it will never work again.
If you, like me, say you never have enough time, try this: put a cover over your computer like you might with a parrot's cage, then see how much time you have.
Could this be my first step towards a tech-free future?
The backlash begins!Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1106666465469176912005-01-25T15:20:00.000Z2005-01-25T15:21:05.470ZOne man's take on binge drinking in the UK.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1106665057258340932005-01-25T14:55:00.000Z2005-01-25T15:26:37.566ZIn the running for most amusing dogwalking story of the week.
Whilst walking through the park, a rottweiler the size of a small Shetland pony came belting up to us. Its owner wasn't far behind, shouting 'Bluebell, Bluebell, come here!'Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1106314572796211332005-01-21T13:34:00.000Z2005-01-21T13:36:12.796ZTrailer for The Corpse Bride, as worked on by my brother, the UK's premier eyelid maker. Allegedly.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1105371826699306822005-01-10T15:40:00.000Z2005-01-10T15:43:46.700ZI dropped off a cheque or two at the post office just now and received a perfectly printed whump of a stamp on the receipt.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1103375875996803862004-12-18T13:17:00.000Z2004-12-18T13:17:55.996ZWhat does washing down 400mg of ibuprofen with a Yakult Light say about my attitude to health?Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1103026188003369292004-12-14T13:06:00.000Z2004-12-14T12:09:48.003ZGot back to London after a few days up north to celebrate my Gran's 90th birthday (she spent the weekend looking alternatively thrilled then bewildered).
Within moments of my arrival in the capital city, I was approached by a shall we say dapper man, who asked if I'd been at the Monet art conference (no) and was I an art historian (no). I'm not sure why he continued with the second question Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1102700456354071972004-12-10T17:28:00.000Z2004-12-10T17:40:56.353ZWhen a restaurant such as The Ivy claims that it hasn't changed in 30 years, this is no doubt considered to be a very good thing. Not so La Ballerina on Bow Street, but a plie from The Royal Opera House. Featuring Liszt wearing white tinsel, 100 bobbing ballerinas hanging from the ceiling and louvered grey and pink doors, we chomped our way through our 'Italian' food and a bottle of Prosecco. TheVichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1102613064850832732004-12-09T17:19:00.000Z2004-12-09T17:24:24.850ZA quick cassoulet of objets.
Courtesy of CBBC and a day off:
"I've got wind, can you give me something for it?"
"A kite."
Courtesy of a randim overhearing:
"Yeah, so I thought my vacuum cleaner wasn't working, it wasn't sucking up any more, so I was going to throw it away. And then, yeah, I called my dad and he said wait a bit, sit down, and he opened it up yeah, took out the bag and put a newVichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1101907340274431142004-12-01T13:21:00.000Z2004-12-01T13:22:20.273ZOh hurrah, a nice easy Scrabble to play online.
Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1101045009964942252004-11-21T13:44:00.000Z2004-11-21T13:50:21.970ZWatched Kylie rehearse, helped raise £17m for charity, got drunk, danced, had two hangovers, saw oodles of celebs from all letters of the alphabet, laughed self silly at the 'small vase of white roses' rider, made some mistakes, watched lovely S and L tie the knot in a textbook wedding, got a numb toe (wore 4 inch heels) and did the Hokey Cokey. A good 48 hours.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1100036285598094972004-11-09T21:34:00.000Z2004-11-09T21:38:05.600ZWhen my good friend N stayed over last week, I had to take my bag into my own bedroom at bedtime, instead of dumping it on the living room floor. That way I wouldn't disturb his snooze.
Tonight, after a long, busy day at work followed by a mammoth clear out, I found myself thinking 'Haven't read Sunday's papers yet'.
Both these incidents, when connected, lead me to believe that my relatives Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1099469300272402572004-11-03T08:06:00.000Z2004-11-03T08:08:20.273ZThank you for e-mailing President Bush. Your ideas and comments are very important to him.
Because of the large volume of e-mail received, the President cannot personally respond to each message. However, the White House staff considers and reports citizen ideas and concerns.
In addition to President@WhiteHouse.gov, we have developed White House Web Mail, an automated e-mail response system.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1099253137478345052004-10-31T20:00:00.000Z2004-10-31T20:05:37.480ZAnother birthday weekend gone, with all manner of fabulousness, including too many drinks in Soho, a nasty hangover with critical horizontal moments, followed by a long walk from Whitechapel via smoked anchovies and Cornish fish stew in the close-by company of Plum Sykes and Toby Young, an encounter on Embankment, an extra hour of daylight, trees divesting their leaves on the dot of Winter, Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1098971123700312032004-10-28T14:42:00.000+01:002004-10-28T14:45:23.700+01:00I've just finished a fairly critical conference call between my company and another huge organisation who's providing us with a secure server for our charity arm. My phone buzzed to inform me of a new text which I somewhat absent-mindedly opened. This is what I read:
"Who made up 'windy spasms'? Was is mum or granddad? X"Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1098808417013667392004-10-26T17:30:00.000+01:002004-10-26T17:33:37.013+01:00Good things about today: got up at 9:13, sky mostly blue, went shopping, swam, had a sauna, put photos up on wall, vacuum-cleaned the place.
Bad thing about today: John Peel died at least 20 years too early.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1098649303456484632004-10-24T21:17:00.000+01:002004-10-26T19:17:27.690+01:00While R is singing behind me, I'll quickly recount this afternoon's gah moment. We were sitting in The Mall in Bristol, window seats, staring at the falling leaves, amber-colours, rain, grey clouds to blue sky ratio, and the dotcom curvy brown shoes and knee-length jacket of a passing father (probably), and his extended family.
He waved and smiled at us, ouch, and we waved back and carried on Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1098350885439722572004-10-21T10:25:00.000+01:002004-10-21T10:28:05.440+01:00All hail and jubilation. I got a seat on the tube at my own stop this morning! Three stops later, my bottom started feeling distinctly soggy. Why had the person next to me, who'd looked at me slightly nervously, not told me? I got off to inspect the dampage, noticeable to me, mainly.
And the woman who was looming over my newly vacated seat? I didn't tell her either.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1098224079776837982004-10-19T23:07:00.000+01:002004-10-19T23:20:24.006+01:00Bah. I walked home behind a couple: he with black curly hair, enough to pull back into a minuscule backknot, and striped baggy trousers. She, same hair cut, low-cut jeans. Not a lot new there. What bothered me was the bag swinging from her fingertips, just your average Costcutter bag, white n' shiny, which held probably, by the looks of it, a carton of milk and some orange juice? Which you could Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1097620429114862242004-10-12T23:31:00.000+01:002004-10-12T23:33:49.113+01:00My Dad called to say thank you very much, it'd been a good day, the Morgan had got fixed for free, his book had arrived (horribly belated birthday present) and his Lordship had lost three teeth, one of which had been found in the passageway, leaving three up top, one new below.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1097315524140311492004-10-09T10:50:00.000+01:002004-10-09T10:52:04.140+01:00A funny thing my neighbour does each morning - sticks his/her hand out of the window, waves it round a bit, to test the outside temperature. It's so cute!Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1097003042298619302004-10-05T20:01:00.000+01:002004-10-05T20:04:02.333+01:00'God, I really hope they don't give me singers.'
'Why?'
"Well, they can't dance."
"Oh. -pauses- Are those scabs from your dancing shoes?"
"Nah, they're from my cowboy boots."
It's been four months, oh sauna, how I've missed you.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1096913805531875262004-10-04T19:09:00.000+01:002004-10-04T19:16:45.533+01:00A brief lesson in how to look good at work and effortlessly cover up your dim mistakes.
Imagine you caught a train this morning. Imagine that you wanted to get off at Reading, but that to your surprise, the train wasn't due to stop at Reading, instead going straight through to Paddington. You pay the extra fare to the nice conductor, explaining your mistake, with the intention of travelling to Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1096205194209621482004-09-26T14:08:00.000+01:002004-09-26T14:29:33.140+01:00Sunday afternoon, what better time of week to re-texturise my face. Freebie sample from The Body Shop (in return for 10 of my pounds for an Olive Body Scrub, which is the best smelling one, no contest, and thank heaven it's finally available), the Re-Texturising Peel is fabulous. Buy one. Smells of rose, sticky as you like, spread it over your face, leave to dry, then p e e l off in one deliciousVichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1096038987858661592004-09-24T16:15:00.000+01:002004-09-24T16:16:27.860+01:00Is this the most hated start known to man or email?
Vic - hi - I know you're snowed under at mo…... but I've just noticed something kind of important so thought I might as well let you know now.
Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1095952480652961392004-09-23T16:09:00.000+01:002004-09-23T16:14:40.653+01:00More tube. Once in a while a blind man gets on at Oxford Circus or thereabouts at about 9.30am, then travels westbound on the Central Line. Every time I've seen him, he engages in conversation with whoever is sitting in the door-side seat and questions them relentlessly about their day, their work, will it be a good day, finally asking what their name is before he gets off the train. The person Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1095284217591617902004-09-15T22:35:00.000+01:002004-09-15T22:36:57.593+01:00This might be voyeuristic. I love the rare occasion when I see someone reading the last page of their novel on the tube, how they close the book and the look on their face.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1095100430442003932004-09-13T19:30:00.000+01:002004-09-13T19:33:50.443+01:00I was going through the barriers at my tube stop tonight, when the guy behind me did that oh so crafty thing of swooping a ticket in the direction of something intrinsic to the act of passing through the gates. I turned to give him my best stare. Then I caught his conversation with his mate:
'When did you get out?
'What?'
'When did you get out? Was it Pentonville?
'Nah, Belmarsh.'
I didn't Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1094501401118340212004-09-06T21:09:00.000+01:002004-09-06T21:10:01.116+01:00Argh. That's the fourth time today I've looked at the time and it's been xx:11. This has been happening every day for the past week - why!?Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1094240638538729372004-09-03T20:41:00.000+01:002004-09-03T20:43:58.536+01:00Thinking about newspapers left on tubes. When does a cast-aside one become the property of another? I narrowly missed an Evening Swastika, which was swooped on by the woman next to me. She didn't pay for it, de facto it wasn't really hers. So why the huffy shoulder twitching rustling when I tried to get a look?Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1094160170393127152004-09-02T22:18:00.000+01:002004-09-02T22:22:50.393+01:00I spent months walking past a pub conversion, when it was in its embryonic state. Every day I thought please let it be a pub. It turned out to be three probably very nice flats, with wooden blinds and opaque lights, not a bar or bottle of wine in sight.
On the way home tonight I saw the Star of Bethlehem before me - a pub sign glowing in the evening light. Bastards. Not content with their flat Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1093543645063853762004-08-26T19:03:00.000+01:002004-08-26T19:07:25.063+01:00A whole range of things made me smile on the way home:
++ carolling into R's phone, left lonesome at home
++ gazing goggle-eyed at a woman shouting in an Essex-screech (excuse my inner/outer snob) 'you don't wanna come home, that's why you come home so late, you don't wanna and you blame me' yadda yadda. Then the bloke walking past me muttering ' I wouldn't want to go home either'
++ seeing a Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1093210018670273072004-08-22T22:26:00.000+01:002004-08-22T22:26:58.670+01:00Highlights of the last seven days: baroque crumble in Lecce, risotto with lemon zest and gamberetti, oak-lined and terrifyingly curvy bus journey over the Gargano, wavy seas at Vieste, olive groves and shade, proper pine scents, a three hour wait in a car park, pisspoor Italian, bumpy up from Pescara, mass at a duomo, licky puppy, milky sunrise, apricot sunset, R and seven days in the same place.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1092344797004676252004-08-12T22:04:00.000+01:002004-08-12T22:06:37.003+01:00Italy -3 days - har har!
No longer a secret pleasure, it's time to come out and admit that Cup a Soups rule. Ah, the purge power of the blog.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1091784548109339682004-08-06T10:27:00.000+01:002004-08-06T10:32:14.296+01:00Tube ugh. Last night while travelling home, the girlwoman opposite me took out some dental floss then flossed her teeth on a packed tube. Somewhere around Oxford Circus she chucked the used floss on the floor then continued to do her full make-up, before getting off. The man who sat in her now empty seat promptly trod on her dental floss.
Which is precisely the reason I take my shoes off the Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1091532840071068162004-08-03T12:30:00.000+01:002004-08-03T12:34:00.073+01:00Tube story: a man wearing glasses, with one glass cardboarded over, stood at the end of my carriage last night after getting on at Holborn. He spoke loudly, 'There are four men sitting down on this side, and one, two, three, four, five men sitting on this side and all these women standing in the middle. You should be ashamed of yourselves! Get up, don't wait to be asked, you're an embarassment toVichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1090401923403345732004-07-21T10:22:00.000+01:002004-07-21T10:25:55.730+01:00Father wants to sacrifice daughter, mum doesn't like that too much. Daughter decides it's a good thing. In more detail, go see Iphigenia at Aulis. It's also got that bloke from 'Cutting it' in it.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1090269766452548972004-07-19T21:34:00.000+01:002004-07-19T21:43:12.553+01:00Whoever said getting broadband was easy? Am finally online with all the speed of an arcing arrow, and it's ruddy great. Why didn't I do this years ago? Pipex, £19.99 a month, with enoughMB download to keep me happy. Although...watch this space.
Spent some of the weekend in a Bristolian field at the Ashton Court Festival. Many many people of all shapes and sizes, a true community affair. I wasn'tVichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1089710444457984882004-07-13T10:20:00.000+01:002004-07-13T10:20:44.456+01:00The Internet arrived in a box today, good morning ADSL!Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1089637893160853482004-07-12T14:11:00.000+01:002004-07-12T14:11:33.160+01:00More bollocks from my in-tray:
bursty at mackinaw oreven defendant as in facto.
Marco was at claustrophobia when that happened anodic.
We met at lowland and went to shrine wher we had lunch at animism.It was trend and a coeditor was had anchorite by all. Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1089373545990194582004-07-09T12:44:00.000+01:002004-07-09T12:45:45.990+01:00Thank you Popbitch. Eric (son of Kirk) Douglas, who died this week, tried his hand at stand-up comedy back in the 80s. He had some success in Las Vegas and brought his, frankly dreadful, act to London. On the first night Eric gets about two jokes in before the heckling begins. Used to respect from audiences because he was the son of one of America's best loved actors Eric was surprised at theVichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1089062214937599612004-07-05T22:13:00.000+01:002004-07-05T22:16:54.936+01:00How many people did you touch today? I can remember: random people on the tube, the woman in the Post Office, IM, KC, KJ, the woman in Tesco, random people in queues, LC, AO and KA (these two being proper shake-hands kind of touching), the man with the keys, the man in the local shop.
Not too bad going. What about you?Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1088588246284427592004-06-30T10:33:00.000+01:002004-06-30T10:37:26.286+01:009:44: the phone rang. Leaped out of bed (tube stike, got the day off) thinking at last - don't go, don't go don't go.
It was indeed the person I thought it would be. Had a slightly confused conversation explaining that this wasn't the right number. Some distress at the other end: we both know how many times this number's been called in the last four weeks.
Keeley's mum - if you're out there - Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1088450912856035322004-06-28T20:20:00.000+01:002004-06-28T20:28:32.856+01:00I've noticed a worrying, increasing trend in email sign off, including my own. My grammar is turning in her grave.
You know the thing. Sometimes a full stop seems just too demanding, too final. It's seems to act like you...want something. An exclamation mark can be just too informal don't you find, especially if you want to grasp that next rung! Then there's a question mark, what does that say?Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1088067746620044032004-06-24T09:59:00.000+01:002004-06-24T10:05:05.043+01:00Hey, did you hear the one about the gorilla that escaped from the zoo? Got out, sat on a bench, scratched his chest, sniffed some flowers.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1087942002214472842004-06-22T23:05:00.000+01:002004-06-22T23:06:42.213+01:00A minor musing: how many drivers pass my window at the same time each day thinking 'There she is again'?Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1087289990332388442004-06-15T09:54:00.000+01:002004-06-15T09:59:50.333+01:00'Troy'. 'Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter and ...Spring'.
One to see, one to miss - any guesses which?
Go to see Sean Bean shouting 'Ey up Achilles' and Pericles sulkily saying 'Whoa Achilles dude' if you think it's worth the £10. Brad Pitt doesn't really feature if that's your reason for wanting to go, when he is one screen, he's 'deciding'. I know this because he was staring into the middle Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1086684857167063262004-06-08T09:45:00.000+01:002004-06-08T09:54:17.166+01:00A brain-numbing, house-packing, box-carrying, car-driving seven days. Me in a new flat, while R did the triple: new flat, new city, new job. Not much change then. Did manage to head over to Tateditch to see Art of the Garden which was pleasantly un-doily-like, with a 10,000 rose-laid rug by Anya Gallicio and some fabulous Flower Fairy illustrations by Cicely Barker.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1086110418362366662004-06-01T18:16:00.000+01:002004-06-01T18:20:18.363+01:00Went to see what may well prove to be the most memorable film I've ever seen, last night. It was Pedro Almodóvar's Bad Education. 15 minutes before the end of the film, at that bit, you know, the one where they're using the 8mm camera, the film...burnt. Gone. A flicker of the film, then just a melted, burnt black hole pictured on the screen, in front of a packed cinema.
And it happened just likeVichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1085503927237346462004-05-25T17:51:00.000+01:002004-05-25T17:52:07.236+01:00I hate people who call their other halves, my other half, my hubbie, wifey, her indoors.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1085433121769096712004-05-24T22:09:00.000+01:002004-05-24T22:12:01.770+01:00Types of smile Part 1: The Lift Smile.
Lips pressed together, minor upturn of mouth corners, brief eye contact expressing anxiety of confined situation.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1085045393694217922004-05-20T10:29:00.000+01:002004-05-20T10:30:14.440+01:00Q: What did the doctor say to the dog that couldn't stop licking his balls?
A: Thanks.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1084870244880776982004-05-18T09:49:00.000+01:002004-05-18T09:50:44.880+01:00On my way to work this morning I saw a woman Vaselining rings up a tree trunk, then a woman walking down a road twirling batons.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1084743440384094632004-05-16T22:34:00.000+01:002004-05-16T22:37:20.386+01:00Went to see the superb Bill Brandt exhibition at the V&A. A master of illusion way, way before Photoshop came along to help artists, etch, dodge, contrast and enhance images. When you visit, be sure to look at the photos close-up and from an angle to see his alterations.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1084710660251525472004-05-16T13:28:00.000+01:002004-05-16T13:31:00.250+01:00I have a pair of jeans (A) from Top Shop that I wore solidly for months. I bought another pair (B) about one month ago from Diesel. Tell me, why is it that when pair B are strung out to dry and I must wear A again, which I was perfectly happy to do for months and months, I don't like it?Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1084544277188459662004-05-14T15:15:00.000+01:002004-05-14T15:17:57.190+01:00I mean, really. How many of these emails would you be curious enough to open? Intrigued to see that a recent ploy is to flag spam and format it in a red-read-me font.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1084383937055665962004-05-12T18:43:00.000+01:002004-05-12T18:45:37.056+01:00So there I was at my desk, on the phone, gazing out of the window. And there, right there in front of me, a man started urinating into the grass by the wire fence, facing me. Did he not notice the five storey shiny white office in front of him?Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1084266089984818552004-05-11T09:57:00.000+01:002004-05-11T10:01:29.983+01:00For the first time ever I wasn't irritated by the doosh doosh doosh sounds of a personal stereo this morning on the tube. This was because I was able to sing along to every last searing riff and wailing lyric. You cap-wearing tosspot.
Otherwise a very pleasant journey was had reading Molvania - a land untouched by modern dentistry.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1084228109091213282004-05-10T23:28:00.000+01:002004-05-10T23:28:29.090+01:00became,white mantle with,believe,then
the redhaired,progenitor,back and
forth,chelate,the listener accompanied.
When spam goes ee cummings.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1084186865555493932004-05-10T12:00:00.000+01:002004-05-10T12:02:54.766+01:00Ah, how lovely to find in my email, an email titled 'You charming kumquat'. E. Jean Carroll, who are you? Reveal yourself you mischievous spammer you.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1083952831805415312004-05-07T18:56:00.000+01:002004-05-07T19:04:28.670+01:00Came home from work at 11am feeling rough as sandpaper, should probably have guessed this likely outcome after a morning spent doubled over, shivering in bed. Somehow it is now gone 7pm, which means I've slept an entire day away. Things I want when I'm ill: company, solitude, immediate access to Telma chicken soup, sweet tea, silence, radio, painkillers targeted right at my pain with a big fat Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1083581489461244842004-05-03T11:46:00.000+01:002004-05-03T11:54:33.263+01:00Bumped into an old college friend by a set of variables ensuring our meeting. It was good to catch up. I wonder if she thought the same things as me? 'She's not changed', 'She looks well' and 'She looks older'.
So it's now a gloomy Bank Holiday Monday. It actually crossed my mind to think, great, no screen glare.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1083321909954212102004-04-30T11:41:00.000+01:002004-04-30T11:49:14.513+01:00Day off! Woo and yay. Made a pact with myself to not use the tube today, so in traditional family style, will be on my flat feet all day. Enjoyed non-people aspect of day so far, a little nervous about spoiling the mood by contaminating it with other people, which in my most sociable mood, I'd call a thriving community.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1083101493650175912004-04-27T22:29:00.000+01:002004-04-27T22:34:37.810+01:00Dear People Who Prod
Don't.
Yours faithfully
VicVichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1082673821702568472004-04-22T23:40:00.000+01:002004-04-22T23:46:40.903+01:00Good things got today: new job (R, not me), coffee in the sunshine, friends for lunch, sore thighs, £79 interest, an unexpected call re another photography job, a mouthful of wine not a skinful.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1082405562072943862004-04-19T21:09:00.000+01:002004-04-19T21:15:38.420+01:00I knew it! I knew there was another word for feeling full after eating. To all those people who said 'satisfied', I smirk in your faces. To those who said content, I snigger at your hopeless verbal imaginings.
Farctate; I love you.
More unusual words.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1082295411367257742004-04-18T14:18:00.000+01:002004-04-18T14:41:57.530+01:00What can I remember from last week?
Today:
Woke up, breathed in, realised still had cold. Got up, made coffee, back to bed to finish 'The curious incident of the dog in night time'. Got up, bleached, scrubbed, hoovered flat. H from KBH called, we chatted for one hour. J called. Had bath. Went out to get papers.
Saturday:
Got up with cold/hangover, dashed around, had breakfast, R went off to Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1081976161429019932004-04-14T21:55:00.000+01:002004-04-14T21:59:39.310+01:00Invademyprivacyagainyouarseholeofawankingmudefucker.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1081364417588848282004-04-07T19:55:00.000+01:002004-04-07T20:03:01.996+01:00Just been to buy Easter eggs for the people in my team, feeling very Easter-y, but mainly in need of a break. Looking forward to some time up north, knocking reading glasses off the back of sofas, being confused by the concept of anti-macassars or whatever they're called, meeting a friend for drinks, revisiting old haunts, showing R my manor, my Nazi relatives, playing Super Mario on Game Cube (Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-108118643261302142004-04-05T18:33:00.000+01:002004-04-05T18:36:34.496+01:00If there's some fruit in a pub, right, which fruit do you think would get pissed most quickly?
We thought that bilberries would be the ones bouncing around getting fizzy saying 'oooh, giggle, I've only had a glass of wine and I'm really pissed!!!'.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1081075335856696652004-04-04T11:21:00.001+01:002004-04-04T11:44:56.340+01:00Reading about the apparent suicides of the people suspected of organising the bombs in Madrid. There's a quote from a nearby resident in Madrid who said 'This is a very quiet neighbourhood... But it's places like this where these people try to hide'.
It's just one quote from one person, yet I wonder how a new type of civil or religious-racism war can be averted, both there, and one day, here. Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1080908677913604522004-04-02T13:24:00.000+01:002004-04-02T13:27:16.746+01:00Read this story, then imagine the faces of the woman, her daughter, the pensioner, and the sow.
From: newsshopper.co.uk.
Pensioner escapes jail for molesting pig
A PENSIONER caught molesting a pig at an inner-city farm admitted he was "very naughty".
The 72-year-old was spotted by a mother and daughter with his hand up the backside of a quarter-ton eight-year-old sow.
Thomas Leatham, of Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1080594035736487822004-03-29T21:56:00.000+01:002004-03-29T22:07:15.483+01:00Just been to amusing restaurant launch. Lots of mixed feelings, mainly the desire to bolt (after another glass of wine, flash-fried ravioli, asparagus tip or ham and olive ball, of course). A therapeutic razz on my scanner, and I feel more at home. This photo of friend M helping sister M with her sari is one of my favourite yet.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1080434600858102952004-03-28T00:41:00.000Z2004-03-28T00:45:53.873ZBBC
FBI
NASA
MI5
MA
BA
CIA
007
M1
Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1080300832945362422004-03-26T11:33:00.000Z2004-03-26T11:36:24.546ZA little girl goes into a pet shop and says,
"Excuse me mister, I want to buy a rabbit."
The pet shop owner asks, "Ah, what would you like,
a little fluffy white one or a cute brown one?"
The girl replies, "I don't really think my
python gives a fuck."Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1080166151365957772004-03-24T22:00:00.000Z2004-03-24T22:11:41.746ZEver been told that you've not got a job and wanted to whoop for joy? When I was face to face with earlier-mentioned woman this afternoon and the word 'Unfortunately' formed on her lips I could barely contain my relief. I knew I wasn't right for the job, knew that I couldn't magic up the specialist experience necessary. More than that, I don't need to be defined by the company that pays my wage, Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1080071526334041032004-03-23T19:45:00.000Z2004-03-23T19:54:35.030ZHave spent the last couple of days holed up in a, admittedly gorgeous, hotel in Kent, dreaming up ways to get people to do things. I can't work out which is true, or even if it matters: do people want the things we want them to want? Do people only want the things they want because that's what we think they want, when in fact they don't want it all, but believe it's the only option? Stick with meVichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4095393.post-1079739754467620822004-03-19T23:37:00.000Z2004-03-19T23:45:17.763ZIt's Friday night, no matter what's happening in the world tout le large, I just watched the last episode of 'Sex in the City'. The final track. What happened? I just feel like throwing my hands up in the air. Without a sentimental tear, of course.Vichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345757385163113687noreply@blogger.com0