After a hard day at the coalface, I’m sitting in the garden with a cold imported lager in a frosty glass working on my base tan and listening to Infected by The The.
Inspired by the chatter around his recent shows I’ve had this on heavy rotation for the first time in at least 20 years – it’s very much the sound of second year university – and I’ve been struck by how many noises, tics, tricks and vocal inflections he borrowed from Hole by his chum Foetus.
Anyway, I’d cued up Hole in an effort to sneak it in before Mrs P the architect got home but I got sidetracked by SteveT’s Joe Strummer rarities news, and now I’m about to swing too Black Market Clash – and it really is gloriously sunny over Stoke Newington.
I’ve made coleslaw and later there’s going to be crispy, spicy wings with a garlic and lemon yoghurt.
Which is all a long-winded way of asking, what you groovy fuckers doing tonight?
Friday night live
Since you ask, I’m sitting back in my new leather chair, ripped off the back of some unfortunate beast… My god, I so vividly recall how that album was the biggest thing in my life in the closing weeks of 1986, and I loved the film too – MJ charging around South America out of his mind on vodka and drugs. Rock and rollllll!
Now I’m working, in between twatting about on here, breaking off about nine for a big boy’s special drink. Mr Berb’s Desire and Mr Gaz’s Matador coming out of the Missions. Sun and a nice breeze. Occasional “entertainment” from the local fauna in the street.* Life could certainly be worse.
(*gotta love Friday night… hurrr)
In this weather, that leather seat will make you sweat. I bet you barely notice.
Dude, I’m steaming.
Same old X 2.
Here in Toronto, just stuck 12 beers in the fridge, packet of ciggies on stand-by, The Clash on the sound system…….it’s a hot one today and i am looking forward to an evening sitting on the deck doing absolutely sweet FA.
After my most intimate experience in many a year
I’m physically and mentally numb
(some young fellow with a tidy beard
stuck a camera up my bum).
{*A certain couplet from Turning Japanese is what I had to hum}
I’ll be back to my best, have no fear
for the knockout games to come
Oh dear, I don’t like seeing the phrase “knockout games” in that context
No beers for me tonight, I’m afraid, as I’ve just been to give blood and I’d probably go all funny at the slightest sniff of booze. My vinyl copy of the excellent Skee Mask album has turned up from Bleep today (second pressing only, alas) so I’m sat back on the sofa listening to that right now. In a bit I’ll be off to pick up the littlest Dynamite from Girl Guides. On the way back we’ll probably spot a fox or two, and then I’ll sit in the garden with a book until the light goes.
I read that in Alan Bennett’s voice. No offence intended. It just felt right
I once gave blood just before a social commitment involving the pub. I asked the nurse if I would be OK going to the pub and her eyes lit up and said that it’ll be brilliant.
And was it?
I don’t remember.
That good, eh?
Dude, that nurse thought you were asking her out. Missed a trick there.
Going on holiday tomorrow, so Friday night involves packing cases and loading the car.
It also seems to involve cleaning -the house – is this in case of a break-in, the burglars will say “oh no, this is far too clean. We can’t mess this place up”?
Soundtracked by Roger Daltrey’s new ‘un
Sneaky beer (or 3) later, then early night followed by early start tomorrow morning (that Ferry just won’t wait for me)
Coming to the end of a wonderful fortnights holiday. Spent a lovely 11 days in Lincolnshire, middle of nowhere, good food, lots of hikes and the best weather.
Tonight? Had a splurge in Brighton as it’s my Birthday so lots of CD ripping tonight.
GF’s on her way. Haven’t seen her in a fortnight. So, yeah … groovy fuckers.
BTW IanP – in case you missed it there was a piece on the last Bigmouth podcast about a documentary on Matt Johnson – which I think is streaming free somewhere.
Drinks in the rooftop bar on the Montreal Westin international with some of the world’s leading experts in psychopathy and ‘the dark triad’. I have a wager that nobody can Talk about narcissism and psychopathy without mentioning Donald trump, and reckon I’m onto a winner. Its 30 degrees here, too, so a slushy margarita is warranted. Jazz fest on too, and who knows what’ll waft over from the free outdoor stages dotted about?
On our tiny balcony with a goan fish curry, the whiff of burning moorland seems to have abated for a while. Going to plan my DJ set for a party tomorrow, strictly 70s and 80s bangers and sunshine friendly tunes. Selection of continental lagers in the fridge, Might see if there’s an old TOTp later or watch the Duran doc on bbc4. How fooken boss are Fridays?
Went to a funeral earlier today, so Mrs B and I have commiserated with each other over a couple of bottles of wine and two enormous takeaway pizzas in the garden. We rounded things off nicely with a hosepipe fight and chucked glasses of water over each other.
I am 56.
Another drunken night on the terrass, old dear old friends from Them Sixties reminiscing about being alive and imagining how day by day The World was going to be a better place. Then Trump, Then Putin, Then Fuck… Time for some prior music methinks https://youtu.be/I5GtXp64NYE
Yikes! If there’s two syllables I don’t need to hear now they are “tear” and “ass”.😳
You have a good one, though, Lodester!
TMI mate. Quite a party you’re having.
The idea that the pampas-grass brigade get warmed up with a bit of political discussion is an eye-opener… all very continental I suppose. Was Jean-Luc Godard filming this?
While I went to collect a framed picture (an old map of Asia Minor, since you ask, the missus is keen on Turkey), which just happened to mean I was next door to Staffordshire’s Pub of the Year, the wondrous Beerbohm, she started watching Posh Frock Shop from the start. By the time I returned there was no reprise, so I have watched innumerable episodes thereof, with left over pasta from last night, along with a rather spesh pinot noir. No complaints.
Keen on turkey, you say? Bootiful! (c) B. Matthews.
Just come back from a works do on a sail training ship – fascinating tour round and a chat to colleagues, followed by a beer or two and then now home and a couple of peanut butter sarnies before bed. No music, but did pick up Love and Money’s Strange Kind Of Love and This Morning Jacket’s Z on CD earlier today.
Glugging a long G&T after a couple of rounds of ham & pickle sarnies. It’s hot in here despite the windows all being open. I may watch another couple of Dr. Who episodes on the BBC iPlayer before retiring to my bed.
Busy day tomorrow with the last Daylight Music until September at Union Chapel, followed by an afternoon garden party at the Farmer’s Boy in St. Albans featuring the amazing Stanley Dee and a couple of hours of Becker/Fagen faves played with verve and panache.
On Sunday evening there’s Monica Vasconcelos and band singing Brazilian songs of resistance at Chandos Arms Jazz and then on Monday evening I’ll be nipping down the road to see flautist Gareth Lockrane with the Purcell School Jazz Band and local(ish) saxophonist Alex Garnett at the Purcell School of Music in Bushey. I only discovered yesterday that they have regular classical and jazz concerts at the Purcell School. Very remiss of me.
The weather is set to be hot and steamy for the next ten days at least, it appears.
We spent a good part of the early evening trying to convince our 10 year old daughter that her Fear of Death will be overcome by her Love of Life. She was quite distraught for a while. Her older sister cooked chicken and pasta for the 4 of us as her mum and I tried to offer comfort and an honest opinion without diluting the facts of Life and Death with honey coated bullshit. Thankfully the simple gesture of her older sister cooking the family meal provided the parable about the continuity of Life our ‘hands on’ parenting lacked and her emotional receptor needed. Her sister had made a family favourite they both had been taught to cook by my mum. Life not only goes on but can also be passed on.
That’s quite possibly the best thing I‘ve ever read on here.
Since you ask, I’m working. 12 hour night shift (and it’s frickin hot in here – no air conditioned office for me) Before you feel too sorry for me, I have been sunning myself all week and plan to do the same next week once I get these three pesky night shifts out of the way.
Toot on
After a nervous breakdown inducingly stressful day at work we went down the local to meet some pals for a bite to eat and a drink. It was lovely – we had some free time as the boy is sleeping in the woods in a self constructed bivvy with the Scouts. However I’ve been awake since 5am…see stress above. Plotting major change in life/work balance.
I fancy that Stanley Dee gig in St. Albans if I can escape this afternoon. Maybe see you then @mike_H
Couple of glasses of wine in the garden with the GLW downloading her working week real time, before an early night for a 5am start so girl child can play at a tournament. The sunshine looks really nice from inside an ice rink… (i’m Only whinging- I can be outside between her games).
The creeping deafness means it’s either listen to music or talk these days. Very difficult for me to do both.