Thursday, September 29, 2005

Fugee La

My back is knackered. I feel like someone has hammered my head into my neck with an anvil, like a cartoon character. Way past due for a massage - the last was about 10 years ago. We were on holiday in Turkey, we all went for an aromatherapy massage. I felt a bit twitchy as the masseur was a young handsome guy, especially when he tugged at my bikini bottoms. Afterwards he told me "I am trying to tell you they are inside out."

When we came out we went to this little bar to drink cocktails, I felt so relaxed it was like my bones had turned into water. They were playing reggae, and the icing on the cake was they were playing this tune, the only one I liked off the second Fugees album. The first Fugees album is amazing, before they went all shouty and started murdering Roberta Flack tunes. Do give it a listen. I'm playing it in lieu of a back massage.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Teen movies cure all ills

My cure for bad day resulting in headache like a ring of steel - get into bed with a Green and Black hot chocolate and watch Pretty in Pink (archetypal American high school tormented- love- across -the- social- divide).

Reasons I love it:
  • Andi’s best friend Jenna casually smoking a fag during gym class
  • Molly Ringwald, red-headed teen goddess, signally failing to come across as white trash from the wrong side of the tracks.
  • Some good inventive cusses - “I hope they shrivel up and fall off” “You retarded little dwarf”
  • Set dressing - the girliest bedroom in the world, complete with pink princess telephone by her bed.
  • Harry Dean Stanton as her heartbroken dad, lifting it way out of teen film league.
  • Duckie miming, wordperfect, to Try A Little Tenderness
  • The club bouncer (cameo by Andrew Dice Clay) practising his smooth lighting-a-cigarette moves when no one’s watching.
  • Andi’s job in an indie record shop - I would’ve died for it as a teenager.
  • Annie Potts fabulous as her boss, with retro 50s pad in Chinatown.
  • James Spader, wonderfully obnoxious, arrogant, trust fund scum - you’ve got to hand it to the boy who goes to high school in a white linen suit and gold watch.
  • An unexpected homage to The Smiths running through it.
(Getting a bit dependent on it, though I have some way to go before I catch up with ex-flatmate F’s record of watching Legally Blond 9000 times.)

Vote for your favourite teen film here… or if you really hate the genre, what film was your favourite when a teenager?

(And if you are in fact a teenager right now, shouldn’t you be out stealing cars or something?)

Monday, September 26, 2005

Tumbleweed

"Have you seen my blog yet?"
"Yes, it's great!"

I think my friends have misunderstood the interactive nature of this medium.

Come on friends! Don't be shy. The comment box is just for you!

Sunday, September 25, 2005

Favourite book covers

Until I save up enough pennies to buy this camera,and can post photos, here is one of my favourite book covers, to brighten up the place.

Saturday, September 24, 2005

66 things


courtesy of dcver's technical advice

1. I come from a part of north London always described as leafy.

2. But my family is from East London originally.

3. Born within the sound of Bow Bells.

4. Proper Cockneys, (via Russia and Poland.)

5. To my dad, it's funny that their generation couldn't wait to get out while our generation is busy moving back in.

6. East London is worth it just for regular access to the bagel bakery on Brick Lane

7. Though we always knew them as 'beigels' (bagels = Americanisation)

8 Prefer dirty, noisy, dangerous east London to leafy north London, where life is elsewhere.

9 Our neighbours recently dropped a machete in our garden - you don't get that kind of excitement in north London.

10. We know we're home when we hear the sirens.

11. Once lived South of the river - could never get a taxi home.

12. Never lived in West London - always get lost there.

13 I have transport issues. Can't ride a bicycle. Or drive. Condemned to public transport!

14. Waiting for tricycles for adults to come into fashion.

15. Have nine lives;

16 Aged 4 saved by fireman grandfather from burning bedroom when a toy caught fire on the nightlight;

17. Aged 9 narrowly missed being squashed like a hedgehog, playing chicken with traffic on Brighton seafront;

18 Aged 15 was blown off Scafell Pike in a gale whilst camping;

19 Hmmm, only 6 more lives left...

20. Not afraid of spiders but hairdressers frighten me.

21. If I could choose, I would like to come back as a sloth

22. Kept it quiet for a long time but... I was once in a Queen video. Surprising how many people are closet Queen fans.

23 Fight a daily battle with my hair, which wants to be dreadlocks.

24 Have held four people's hands while they got tattoos and have never been tempted to get one.

25 At various times have religiously read The Beano; Tammy and Misty; Smash Hits; NME and Melody Maker; New Society; Elle and The Face; Love and Rockets and Sandman; Sight and Sound. These days my regular read is the Argos catalogue.

26. Used to eat sand.

27. Discovered blogs last June, when searching, for reasons lost to history, for 'fondant fancies' on Google brought up Green Fairy.com.

28 I love computers without understanding how they work.

29 Or telephones for that matter. Or electricity.

30 Yet will be teaching primary kids science by next term.

31 Was once glassed in the face at a wedding by a friend windmilling her arms on the dance floor to 'Dancing Queen' with a glass in her hand.

32 Shortest employment record was 10 minutes as a barmaid, after which I passed out behind the bar.

33 If I could pack up and go tomorrow, I'd go to Brazil.

34 Started off kind of socialist. Clearly leaned too far left until I fell into current totally horizontal political apathy.

35. I used to get serious insomnia.

36. Now I have trouble staying awake.

37 May start a campaign for winter hibernation for humans.

38 Stopped smoking whilst living in Spain, where it is a) very cheap and b) the national sport; a feat of almost superhuman willpower.

39 Now hooked on coffee and grouchy til my first hit.

40. My friends keep moving to faraway places (France, Greece, Spain, India, Australia, NZ, USA), good for holidays but I miss them.

41. Met my best friend when we were four. In the last year of primary, in the school play I was Dorothy and she was Glinda. We weren't speaking and spoke our lines to each other looking straight at the audience.

42. We once hitchhiked to Berlin together. Dutch lorry drivers became our heroes.

43. Born without a sense of balance (bicycles, rollerblades., skis are all instruments of terror, though I have an untested theory that I'd be a demon on a surfboard.)

44 Different people have said I look like C*h*e*r (pre-nose op era I imagine).

45. It could be worse - once nearly got in a fight in a bar when a man said I looked like Robert Smith of the Cure.

46. No offense Bob. I love you really. Especially for Just Like Heaven.

47. Usually I'm very peaceable but apparently K cider makes me violent.

48. Because normally when drunk I tell people I love them, they're my best mate, then fall asleep.

49. In the 70s my mum looked just like Nana Mouskouri.

50. To wind her up, my sister and I just had to chant 'Nana, Nana...' under our breath.

51. But secretly I think she was pleased - people used to ask for her autograph.

52. I worked as an usherette, and was instructed to "shine your torch" on people smoking illegal substances in the balcony seats during late shows.

53. Have been to IKEA on foot 3 times in my life and plan never to repeat this experience.

54 Me and my friend Claire once went out wearing identical red boiler suits. Still on the run from the fashion police to this day.

55. Aged 7, sleep-walked naked down the stairs, out the door, over the road to where my friend Madeleine lived.

56. Have never sleep-walked since but wear pyjamas just in case.

57. Can't remember my first record - it might have been 'Remember You're A Womble' (by The Wombles).

58. I have one of those faces that make people say “cheer up, love”.

59. I've been to Vietnam, but never to Scotland or Ireland.

60. Most of the jobs I've had have been in the book industry.

61. This is why I am quite poor.

62. Despite my poverty, my camping days are over.

63. These days I crave luxury. Or at least a flush toilet.

64. But my dancing days will never be over.

65. I want to start a club night for the older more discerning clubber called Hip Replacement.

66. Entrance will be via Stannah stairlift.

Strange site of the week

Why, why, why? If anyone can explain this, I'd be grateful.

Friday, September 23, 2005

My friends make it easy

Lazy posting on a Friday. I love it when my friends do the work for me.

Cocktails for Emma's relocation-to- Spain party. What an encyclopedic knowledge we have of the essentials in life. Any suggestions gratefully received. And a prize( a postcard from my extensive postcard collection) if you can guess the ingredients of a "Fancy Panties". Good cocktail stories also welcome.

I'm not sure, but I think you all are up for cocktails on 7 October, so please have a look at the suggestions and place your votes. Top 3-5 are a goer! I'll send out a shopping list when I get your votes in.

BTW, any suggestions welcome too, naturally

Old favourites

Cosmopolitan
Martini - vodka and/or gin
Bellini
Black/White Russian
Banana Daquiri
Margarita
Mojito
Gibson
Zombie
Vodka jelly

New favourites

Flirtini

Fancy Panties
Champagne fizz
Chocolate Cake
Southern Screw
London Ice Tea
Fairytale
Moscow Mimosa
Mind Eraser

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Mental Brazilian music

Feeling somewhat behind the times. It's called Baile Funk, not sure if I like it.
Jess and I went out drinking in Rivington Street with her painter friend.
I think it was called the Shadow Rooms, very Shoreditch and cool. (Though apparently those in the know are abandoning Shoreditch for Dalston. If you've ever passed through Dalston, this will make you laugh.) On our way we were
a) accosted by a gang of youths - I was torn between being irritated and being flattered - I'm nearly old enough to be their mother, if I'd been a very bad girl - and
b) shot at by twelve year olds with air rifles, taking aim out of their bedroom window as we passed. This is the price you pay for the giddy excitement of East London.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Flirting

Eavesdropping on a conversation in favourite cafe on Bethnal Green Road:

Workman from repairs shop next door: "It's the Turkish Delight."

Glamorous girl who works in the cafe: "Not Turkish. The Kurdish Delight."

"Haven't seen you in a while. Had your hair done?"

"No. Well, I do it myself now. I don't go to hairdressers any more, I'm saving for my holiday."

"You had your eyebrows done."

"Yeees.... How do you know these things? How do you notice?"

"I do notice."

"But why do you notice? If you notice so much about a person.... either you hate them, or you really really like them..."

She steps outside to talk to him more and I can't hear their conversation anymore.

People are very cute when they flirt.

Monday, September 19, 2005

Heathcliff, it's meeee...

Rah! The return of Kate! Mad as a brush and twice as attractive.

New Wave

Ah, beautiful. I am listening to Nouvelle Vague, which I kept hearing in various coffee shops. With cunning and stealth I tracked it down in a record shop. After frantically scanning jazz, world, compilation sections, I went to the counter: “Have you got this album, it’s called Nouvelle Vague?” - the girl gestured silently behind me, where there was an entire wall of them on display. Minus 10 groovy points for me.

It is by French producers who have lovingly covered post-punk pop (or New Wave) songs like Making Plans For Nigel or This Is Not A Love Song with slinky Brazilian and French singers and musicians. (Bossa Nova means New Wave apparently - punning musically and literally in 3 languages, aren’t they clever?) You can’t believe how well it works. Love Will Tear Us Apart is especially transcendentally gorgeous, though the Brazilian singer clearly has no idea what the words mean - “When your tuna bites hard” is what it comes out like.

The bossa nova/samba-y covers reveal some beautiful indestructible tunes - Marianne by Sisters of Mercy is very haunting too - who’d have thought it of those pseudy old Goths? But favourite by far is by Modern English called Melt With You - I don’t recall them from the first time round but it makes me want to check them out, it is one of those songs that reminds you of being in love. If you stick it on at the end of the day, I guarantee it will mellow you out.

Sunday, September 18, 2005

Green mango with salt and pepper

Very entertaining post from Guyana Gal

London Books

One in an occasional series

Absolute Beginners, Colin MacInnes

One of my favourite books. (Avoid the film, a wasted opportunity). Colin MacInnes used to write kind of dry, sociological studies on teenagers and pop culture, amazing that this turned into great fiction. He was into his thirties when he wrote it but you believe in Jimmy, he has that teenage energy and passion. It's so touching, his relationship with both parents, so sad, his unrequited love for Suze, the increasing racism, such an alive book about London in a specific time and place. Heartbreaking. (And he was Edward Burne Jones'grandson,strange but true).

Tip for tourists - he writes about going to the top floor cafe in Peter Jones with all the blue- rinsed old biddies, just for the spectacular view across London. They've changed the cafe since then but it still has a beautiful view.

Nominate your favourite London books here!

Saturday, September 17, 2005

In memory of Hackney Lookout

Sights on my travels around Hackney this weekend:

Swans swanning down the Canal (how do they stay so white in such dirty water?)

Canoe-ists canoodling down the Canal.

A man swimming in the Canal (crazy nutter!)

A woman walking a ferret on a lead down Mare Street.

Friday, September 16, 2005

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Vino

Chardonnay, chardonnay, chardonnay...

Londis has no good wine in the fridge, but I can't wait for it to chill in my fridge at home. I want a white wine so dry it would numb your extremities. I want to pour it straight down my throat without it touching the sides.

Never was much of a drinker. In general (big generalisation coming up here) we Jews are not big drinkers; consider this, in Catholicism exists the stereotype of the whisky-soaked priest(see Father Ted)but the same is not true for the rabbi pissed on the old kosher vino.

School is turning me into a dipso. All I can think about is getting home and being able to drink and smoke. I want to be amongst the grownups. If I could simultaneously drink, smoke, have sex, joyride and max my credit card it might make up for the fact that I spend all day with the small feral children.

Monday, September 12, 2005

Just because it's Tuesday

and because i don't yet know how to link in my sidebar, here is some Patricia Waller for you. She is a crazy German artist we saw in Barcelona who crochets everything. Very twisted and funny, yet amazingly crafted - my kinda artist.

Sunday, September 11, 2005

This shall be for a bond between us... *

Looking back I can't quite believe in Woodcraft, though it's still going strong. My school friend Claire used to disappear off every Friday evening, she asked if I wanted to come to her... group. There had been a gap in my life ever since leaving the Brownies (nobody in their right minds continued into the Guides. I'd first joined the Brownies because Madeleine went there, her mum Yvonne said that "they all run round the place screaming like a load of loonies" and at the time this sounded immensely appealing. But Guides started when you were just getting into your teens and becoming aware of notions of cool).

"What do you do at Woodcraft?" Everybody assumed it was woodwork but the name came from being aware of the ways of nature, living harmoniously in the wood like a Red Indian (excuse me, native American) would, though in practice this translated into more urban skills such as lighting the campfire with a Zippo. Oh yes, there were campfires... there were also bivouacs, known as "bivvis" which to my horror meant going into the wilds of the English countryside, WITHOUT EVEN A TENT, just a kind of plastic bag to sleep in. Okay maybe in any Mediterranean country, but in this climate?

I got very good at weaselling out of this. Yomping heartily up mountains with rucksacks filled with calor gas stoves was one thing, but risking hypothermia held no appeal for a coward like me. Plus I was a lazy bastard & preferred lurking around the kitchen tent and schmoozing the grownups for extra food.

Bivouacking was a bit later on, when you reached your teens... I've forgotten all the names for the different age groups, the little ones were called Elfins (shades of Cold Comfort Farm) and activities involved mucho tie-dye, apparently. I believe our age group was the Wayfarers, or possibly the Pioneers, and the oldest group was the District Fellows - they didn't really come to the group (held in Claire's old primary school hall) but used to just convene directly at the pub.

But I've forgotten to mention the most important thing about it - it was mixed, that is to say, unlike scouts, brownies etc, both boys and girls went, which I still think is a Good Thing - it especially seemed a good deal in your teens. Basically, it was a chance to spread your social wings & practice essentials such as cigarette rolling, flirting and snogging in a safe environment. (Unlike school, where there still operated a kind of sexual apartheid).

And though we mercilessly took the piss out of the grownups who ran the group, I look back and think they must have been saints to offer up their Friday nights, after a full working week, to 15 moody, argumentative, hormonally supercharged teenagers.

The woman responsible for running our group, let's call her Bea, was a force of nature. She was a lecturer at a London tech and tried her damndest to indoctrinate us with Marxist theory, (many a fun evening spent watching documentaries on the struggles of the Sandanistas or the tragic fate of Rosa Luxembourg, and singing cheery songs like "Child of Hiroshima". )

We used to have "heated debates" - for example, Bea couldn't stand her son's best friend. They were into hip hop from the word go and Shane's speciality was the human beatbox.
"Nick nack paddy wack give a dog a bone, BOOM boom boom, BOOM boom boom , boom boom BOOM BOOM." (imagine human beatbox noises).
"I WON'T HAVE THAT! IT'S RACIST TO WELSH PEOPLE!"
A heated debate would follow over a) whether Paddy could be said to refer to Welsh or Irish people, and b) whether Bea herself was oppressing Shane in his creative efforts.

Ah, happy days. Eventually we left the group behind and graduated straight to the pub, the now defunct Moss Hall Tavern, where the trick was to pile on enough eye makeup to convince them you were eighteen.

But it definitely left its mark on us. There's something about people who went to Woodcraft (or "Powwow", as my Canadian friend Sarah dubs it, after hearing the pledge we used to say ended, Red Indian style, in "How").

My friend Emma tells of how she was in Leeds years later, and after a long drunken night out with a new friend from up north, the girl leaned over and apropos of nothing, said, "You went to Woodcraft, didn't you." Emma was amazed, not to say disconcerted. "How did you know?"
"I did, too. I could just tell."

* * *
* This shall be for a bond between us

that we are of one blood, you and I

that we have cried peace to all

and claimed kinship with every living thing

that we hate war, and sloth, and greed,

and love fellowship

and that we shall go singing to the fashioning of a new world.

How.

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell

They're making it into a film!

Can't wait.

It got marketed as one of those cross-over children's/adults' books but that is because they are a little bit embarrassed about the fantasy genre in this country, always have been. It's a grownup book, like the best graphic novelists - Alan Moore or Neil Gaiman (not his straight novels, which are disappointing) crossed with great 19th century writers like Stevenson or Dickens.

Read it, it's brilliant. It's a beautiful book. Now out in paperback, so you don't even have to break your wrist hefting the hardback version around. It's one of those books that's so powerful, you are lost when it's finished.

Saturday, September 10, 2005

single females don't have to pay if they want to be submissive. They can go out any day and find someone who is dying to dominate them for free

Okay, no work is getting done now I have these shiny new toys (ie broadband and blog) to play with.

Looking for a new and financially rewarding career path? Do read this fascinating article on the world of dominatrices in Manhattan. Makes you think.

Brick Lane Festival

Must stop arsing around and do some work so I can go to this tomorrow.

I went to Greece.

I didn't go diving.

Saturday morning, I went down to the harbour. At this point I'd had a couple of hours sleep in 48 hours (friends over from Spain, early morning flight, couldn't get to sleep for hours ...) and was feeling a bit giddy.

Get on the boat with the couple who run the diving school and a man named Bob, who has dived before. She starts explaining the equipment to me.

"There are areas of in your body which will be affected by the pressure, your lungs, your sinuses... you will have to clear your nose, like so, breathing through it, though you can't really breathe through it, it will regularise the pressure... we will take you down to 30 metres first of all..."

I am zoning in and out, and suddenly don't feel equipped to do this. I make my excuses, say I'll come back on Monday, drop a 20 euro deposit. They think I am a lunatic but agree.

Off I scarper, and get on a boat touring 2 nearby islands. Phew, I think.

30 metres. How deep is 30 metres? I have no idea, but it sounds pretty deep. The deep end of a swimming pool is not more than 8 metres, is it?

Over the weekend I start having moments of dread and anxiety. What if I can't get the hang of it? Okay maybe in a swimming pool, but what about in the sea? Don't you have to go over backwards off the boat? Wearing all that stuff on your back? Calm down, it'll be beautiful and amazing, swimming with the fishes... Okay, toss a coin, heads you do it, tails you cancel. Hmm, heads. Best of 3 then.

Eventually I get sick of myself, and make my mind up. I ring him in the morning to cancel. I am ashamed of being such a wuss. Luckily the line is bad and cuts out before I have to explain why.

When I get home, I talk to friends who have been diving. 30 metres? Straight in the sea? No way, Jose! Most of them learned in a swimming pool, and were taken down to 5 metres first to acclimatise. Glad I trusted my instincts.

Friday, September 09, 2005

Foxy Lady

Flatmate L has cunningly managed to get her work to pay for us to have Sky. Also her friends have given us their big old TV (our old TV was the smallest you have ever seen, and this, combined with a very fuzzy reception, made our TV-watching experience akin to that of viewers in the early 50s.)

Now we have a million choices, and you can actually see them all! Just watched a bit of a programme called Jimi Hendrix, not sure which channel it was but if it represents what's on offer, I'll be glued to the box. Basically, over the track of "Foxy Lady", it had a red-haired woman in a fox fur coat and knee-length white vinyl boots, running away from the camera through what looked like an NCP carpark. ("I'm coming to getcha...") Genius! Was it an early form of video? It looked authentically 60s - no hairdresser nowadays could achieve that volume of backcombing.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Somewhere in the jungle they're holding me ransom *

You know you've found a job you like when you stop having fantasies about being kidnapped on the way to work. * This line is from M.I.A's Arular, she clearly knows the feeling. I hated this at first but now am addicted. It was her voice which irritated, she sounds so ridiculously street you can't help but suspect she secretly went to Cheltenham Ladies College. I also admire her dress sense, soon I will be sporting this to school.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Dark Times

Our first staff meeting, and the head asks what we think about trips. Most parents are not going to want their kids to travel by public transport after the bombings in July, but it's not in like the Simpsons with their school bus, it's public transport or nothing.

I love galleries and museums, taking them on trips is the best part of the job, but think about it. Imagine being in a bomb attack on the tube. Now imagine being in a bomb attack on the tube with 30 small children you are responsible for, who belong to other people.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

East Ham

is a little bit David Lynch. Home to the world's ugliest double glazing, and the cheapest shoe shops in East London. And bilingual ice cream vans which segue seamlessly from Punjabi MC into your more traditional Greensleeves theme. But I really really wish I could have shown you the identical twins I saw on the bus today, in their sixties, both with teased blond beehive hair, wearing matching frosted pink lipstick and baby blue crimplene suits. You couldn't make it up. I wish I could show you but I didn't have the guts to take a photo as they were two inches away and didn't want to treat them like animals in a zoo, though they were a wonder to behold.

Sunday, September 04, 2005

When irony is bad

What is going on with the clothes this season? I fear I may be out of step with the world of fashion. In Top Shop at the moment all the clothes look like something my mum would wear to a party circa 1973, and let's not forget, that was the decade taste quite rightfully forgot. Tiered, floor-length dresses. Crocheted waistcoats. Denim waistcoats. Bottle green clothes. Aubergine clothes. Cheesecloth. I can't believe that people really truly want ironic fashion.

But then I don't get the appeal of humour in music either. Like the Streets - I know he is talented but I want something a bit more... more musical from my music. Goldie Lookin' Chain are another example. What is wrong with all these people, buying music to have a laugh? Are they the ones responsible for Chas & Dave? (though must admit the love song where he says he's going to wine and dine his girlfriend and take her to Elizabeth Duke is pretty funny. Oh alright then.)

Saturday, September 03, 2005

Not as easy as it looks


Hmm. No graphics. No pretty pictures. And now I can't turn off this bloody underline. Please do feel free to offer any helpful suggestions.

Personals

Can't stop reading the personal ads. Can't bring myself to try it either, but it's like window shopping. One I saw in "Men seeking women" summed it up for me, it said "the kind of person I'm looking for would never answer a classified ad". Kind of like the Groucho Marx quote about not wanting to belong to a club that would have him as a member.

The most touching ad I've ever seen (quite recently, I think it was in Time Out, wish I had it in front of me) said something like

"Gentleman, 70, seeks lady for going out. PLEASE SPEAK SLOWLY AND CLEARLY WHEN LEAVING MESSAGE."

Thursday, September 01, 2005