it was really the eighties end of decade that first brought the concept of a decade to me and put before all a feast of what was consumed both media wise and from the dwindling of memory lane. i was 14 then. i didn't know that i'd be in for a feast of indie music, teen freedom & paranoia, parental control struggles, GCSE and A-levels, travelling and University in & out.
i guess it was nostalgic looking back and it is now. thoughts come flooding back of where i was when the twin towers fell, saying farewell to bachelordom, holding all of my children for the first time... all these won't happen again.
for me, the noughties, have been a privilege to been part of.
Thursday 31 December 2009
Tuesday 29 December 2009
Wednesday 23 December 2009
rock n roll
so caleb came in saying he was rock n roll today.
angie asked him why. he replied i like to listen to loud music.
it was a proud moment.
angie asked him why. he replied i like to listen to loud music.
it was a proud moment.
Sunday 20 December 2009
snow stories#1
thursday night football is a bit of an institution. used to be 9 to 10pm of intense footy fun. followed by a beer and unwind usually in the chequers pub. now it's 9.30 kick off. but still just enough time for a post footy brew. all these things have turned into institutions that are more than just routines. they are memories. call it a tradition. i recall the time when the police held me at the pub. ironic. but it turned out i had parked my car where they had found a suspected gunman. the land lord served up some extra special brews.
this thursday. we had heard the weather warnings. heard the street stories of a "storms-a-coming". took pride in ignoring them all. even angie pleaded for me to reconsider my evening of sweat and goal scoring celebrations (i hope). i brushed her comments aside like the silky foot skills that i had been crafting in my imagination. don't mess with my traditions i thought as i walked out into the thin precipitation of snow.
football was great. a little bit cold. but enjoyed my hat trick immensely. then as i walked out. wow. where did all that snow come from.
the journey home started. i didn't know it would be of star trek 4 magnitude.
the roads were ungritted and very skiddy. going down hills with my feet slammed on the brakes yet still picking up speed. managed to slide around past a few cars. my hope was in the main bypass road (the A21) which surely must be ok. it wasn't.
managed to slither to the tonbridge turnoff and past the abandoned cars to an utter stand still. i watched the bmw's rear wheels spinning yet the car remaining still. some were innovative to place blankets in front of those rear wheels and grab the trodden blankets and move them to the front again. it was slow but managed to gain several feet advantage.
we had been stuck for an hour. i popped out to see what was happening. a jackknifed lorry. cars stranded little space to manoeuvre. everyone was talking to each other. i borrowed the guy behind me's phone to text my wife to tell her not to worry. two girls ran down to exclaim "you will never guess who's in the car over there?" (this could indeed be a long night i thought)... "it's only davina mccall!" her friend produced a camera with a shot of the tv celeb.
another hour i managed to get to the lorry. the police helped push my car up the hill. it took me 4 hours to get home for what should usually be a 20 minute journey.
you'd think i would have learnt my lessons about hills and snow and generally not being good to add a "car" into the equation. i live on a hill. i thought should i attempt this or park and walk. instinct kicked in. i managed to get up the hill. game on. got to the top and no parking. tapped the brakes and now i was a potential abandoned car statistic. still i was a stone throw from my house. two drunken guys strolled passed said something about how his mum being screwed in this weather to pick her up. i was stuck. dang.
eventually, a man turned up and offered to help. and no joy. i hopped out to thank him nonetheless. as i was midway through my speech my car started to roll past us. darting back with it. opening the door a-la-goldeneye style jumping in and attempting to slam my foot down on the brakes as hard as i could and steering towards the pavement. it was double yellows and i thought it's reasonably out the way- i'm off home.
angie was still asleep. it was nearly 3am and the text i sent through unread.
this thursday. we had heard the weather warnings. heard the street stories of a "storms-a-coming". took pride in ignoring them all. even angie pleaded for me to reconsider my evening of sweat and goal scoring celebrations (i hope). i brushed her comments aside like the silky foot skills that i had been crafting in my imagination. don't mess with my traditions i thought as i walked out into the thin precipitation of snow.
football was great. a little bit cold. but enjoyed my hat trick immensely. then as i walked out. wow. where did all that snow come from.
the journey home started. i didn't know it would be of star trek 4 magnitude.
the roads were ungritted and very skiddy. going down hills with my feet slammed on the brakes yet still picking up speed. managed to slide around past a few cars. my hope was in the main bypass road (the A21) which surely must be ok. it wasn't.
managed to slither to the tonbridge turnoff and past the abandoned cars to an utter stand still. i watched the bmw's rear wheels spinning yet the car remaining still. some were innovative to place blankets in front of those rear wheels and grab the trodden blankets and move them to the front again. it was slow but managed to gain several feet advantage.
we had been stuck for an hour. i popped out to see what was happening. a jackknifed lorry. cars stranded little space to manoeuvre. everyone was talking to each other. i borrowed the guy behind me's phone to text my wife to tell her not to worry. two girls ran down to exclaim "you will never guess who's in the car over there?" (this could indeed be a long night i thought)... "it's only davina mccall!" her friend produced a camera with a shot of the tv celeb.
another hour i managed to get to the lorry. the police helped push my car up the hill. it took me 4 hours to get home for what should usually be a 20 minute journey.
you'd think i would have learnt my lessons about hills and snow and generally not being good to add a "car" into the equation. i live on a hill. i thought should i attempt this or park and walk. instinct kicked in. i managed to get up the hill. game on. got to the top and no parking. tapped the brakes and now i was a potential abandoned car statistic. still i was a stone throw from my house. two drunken guys strolled passed said something about how his mum being screwed in this weather to pick her up. i was stuck. dang.
eventually, a man turned up and offered to help. and no joy. i hopped out to thank him nonetheless. as i was midway through my speech my car started to roll past us. darting back with it. opening the door a-la-goldeneye style jumping in and attempting to slam my foot down on the brakes as hard as i could and steering towards the pavement. it was double yellows and i thought it's reasonably out the way- i'm off home.
angie was still asleep. it was nearly 3am and the text i sent through unread.
Wednesday 16 December 2009
raging against the machine
i've been loving this recent campaign to oust the x-factor from the christmas no 1 slot through virally campaigning about getting rage against the machine's "killing in the name of".
i like it for 3 reasons:
1. it reminds me of a campaign i tried to lead at our college to obtain a minimum library fine and refuse to pay it upon graduating. they withhold your degree from all those that have outstanding monies owed to the college. i was angry with the system at the time. i needed an outlet. this was my campaign.
they overlooked my fine.
2. music has become more about tv than music. whilst this particular campaign, ironically, spawned from a reaction to tv and maybe, in my mind a little misguided, it still retains a feeling of being grassroots.
i remember going to friends houses just to listen to bands like to stone roses, house of love, the wonder stuff or happy mondays. one of my good friends tells how when the day sgt pepper came out he was supposed to be revising for an exam and in the end he was so blown away by the music he stopped, with his friends, just to listen to it all weekend.
3. it's fun.
i like it for 3 reasons:
1. it reminds me of a campaign i tried to lead at our college to obtain a minimum library fine and refuse to pay it upon graduating. they withhold your degree from all those that have outstanding monies owed to the college. i was angry with the system at the time. i needed an outlet. this was my campaign.
they overlooked my fine.
2. music has become more about tv than music. whilst this particular campaign, ironically, spawned from a reaction to tv and maybe, in my mind a little misguided, it still retains a feeling of being grassroots.
i remember going to friends houses just to listen to bands like to stone roses, house of love, the wonder stuff or happy mondays. one of my good friends tells how when the day sgt pepper came out he was supposed to be revising for an exam and in the end he was so blown away by the music he stopped, with his friends, just to listen to it all weekend.
3. it's fun.
Monday 14 December 2009
"it's not living... just surviving"
Kosova is not recognised as a sovereign land by Serbia.
Nearly 1 million people were displaced through the conlict in 1999.
They can not return to the life they had. Many are still scattered. The life they had will not be there even if they were to go back. The social landscape has changed.
Some are in designated places for such displaced people. Those in Serbia are not refugees as their "country" is not recognised
Nikoleta is staying in "non" refugee camp, in Serbia. She invited 2 of my colleagues into her small 3 x 3m house. She offered them drinks. She uttered these words: "it's not living... just surviving".
My colleagues left after their drink.
Nearly 1 million people were displaced through the conlict in 1999.
They can not return to the life they had. Many are still scattered. The life they had will not be there even if they were to go back. The social landscape has changed.
Some are in designated places for such displaced people. Those in Serbia are not refugees as their "country" is not recognised
Nikoleta is staying in "non" refugee camp, in Serbia. She invited 2 of my colleagues into her small 3 x 3m house. She offered them drinks. She uttered these words: "it's not living... just surviving".
My colleagues left after their drink.
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