w.atching the w.orld unw.ind

Today's lyric:

"Miss Macbeth has a gollywog she chucks under the chin
And she whispers to it tenderly then sticks it on a pin
And it might be coincidence, but a boy down the lane,
That she said "went white as he could do," then doubled over in pain."

Elvis Costello: "Miss Macbeth"
From the album: "Spike"

Practice Moonwalk tonight. Looks like it's going to be a cold'un...

Today's lyric:

"You have the world at your fingertips
No-one can make it better than you."

Spirit: "Nothing to hide"
From the album: "The twelve dreams of Dr Sardonicus"

Until the weekend, I had two understandings of the word "mapped."

One was the I.T. usage, whereby one set of data is correlated to another, as in 'For this, read that' and 'for that, read this.'

The second - and for someone who is damn near hopeless with things geographical - is the two-dimensional representation of the world in atlases (which may as well be pictograms as far as I'm concerned).

But during the last two days, just about everyone we know, or have known, rang to book out time with us. Now I'm definitely not complaining about being 'wanted' - far from it - but it means that our weekends are now committed for the next two months, with no 'spare' time as such until May.

Our lives are mapped out for the foreseeable future.

Bit scary, in a way...

Today's lyric:

"I am a dull and simple lad
Cannot tell water from champagne
And I have never met the Queen
And I wish I could have all he has got."

The Jam: "David Watts"
From the album: "All Mod Cons"

...for a moment, that there was some aspect of you that, if only for a few hours, or perhaps for the whole of your life, you've been unhappy with?

I'm not talking physical attributes here, like you'd prefer to be taller, or thinner, or be able to change the size of your, er, body parts - but your persona. Ego. Call it what you may.

Perhaps you'd like to have the intelligent charm of David Beckham? Or the compassionate humility of Margaret Thatcher?

Go on. Spit it out. "Get yer therapy 'ere. Two bob a pand"

Failing that - enjoy your weekends, y'all.

Today's lyric:

"I saw you today, or at least I think it was
It's hard to say, we've all changed so much?
Compelled to look, but I hid my face
It's hard to trace these feelings
Gone so soon, the time I spent with you
And like an old, old tune - keeps running through my head
I wanted to say, so many things
But my mouth went dry - and one word & I'd cry."

Paul Weller: "Time passes"
From the album: "Stanley Road"

Trekking in through the sporadic sleet this morning, I was verbally accosted by someone I vaguely recognised but - very unusually for me - was instantly able put a name to.

I hadn't seen him in, ooh, eight years at least and he'd certainly lost a lot of hair in that time, making the visual connection and recognition that much more difficult in the half-stupor of my commute.

But he's still as sharp as a razor - something which I took on board the very first time I was introduced to him, some fifteen years ago - and which was obviously apparent as we stood in the middle of the melee, staccato reminiscing, swapping business cards and promising to meet up.

So today's lyric sort of fitted the moment...

Today's lyric:

"If you see me walking down the street
And I start to cry, each time we meet
Walk on by
Make believe that you don't see the tears
Yes let me grieve in private
'Cos each time I see you I break down and cry
Walk on by."

Dionne Warwick: "Walk on by"
From the album: "Heartbreaker"

We're still on schedule for the Moonwalk half-marathon, despite the inclement weather, which inevitably does its best to put you off heading out.

Managed a solo trek of seven miles on undulating roads on Saturday (in two hours) and last night, the crew did four miles in an hour. Damn 'fresh' going across Tower Bridge, though.

Not sure where I got this painting of the Quai Du Louvre, but well done whoever did it?



We must start stretching the distance though, as we really only have two and a half months of training left before "the off."

Today's lyric:

"The lyrics aren't supposed to mean that much
They're just a vehicle for a lovely voice
They're not supposed to mean that much."

Mansun: "Open letter to the lyrical trainspotter"
From the album: "Attack of the grey
lantern"

Dear Witchy

a) I know you generally eschew competitiveness (see Comments); and
b) there is a (photographic equipment voucher) prize for the winner and runner-up of this competition *; but
c) with your natural empathy for, affinity towards and symbiosis with the rural, bucolic and transient beauty of our planet and this England (fetches bucket); and
d) your eye for the quick shot and imagery; and
e) the unassailable fact that you can operate a camera as well as anyone else I know; and
f) (and here's the clincher, I hope) the fact that if you won the 2006 entry (whose theme is "Weather") you would be contributing with your own inestimable talents to the very worthy cause of "Children in need", plus you could auction the prize amongst your faithful Familiars, with the proceeds going to your charity of choice, so that everyone profs?); soooo
* g) might you be persuaded to park your principle on this one occasion?

I shall be seeking support in the Comments box of your delightful site.

Yours faithfully

Today's lyric:

"Not many people thought that Bentley would hang
But the word never came, the phone never rang?
Outside Wandsworth prison there was horror and hate
As the hangman shook Bentley's hand to calculate his weight.
Well it's hard to imagine it's the times that have changed
When there's a murder in the kitchen that's brutal and strange
If killing anybody is a terrible crime
Why does this bloodthirsty chorus come round from time to time?"

Elvis Costello: "Let him dangle"
From the album: "Spike"

No-one quite does venom like Costello. His anti-Thatcher song "Tramp the dirt down" (wherein he relishes the thought of dancing on her grave) is a profound piece of poetry that pulls no punches.

And today's lyric - an anti-capital punishment song - speaks for itself. Although I disagree with him on this one - I've often sworn that I'd throw the switch or drop the trap on a fully-convicted murderer - I suspect that I'd probably bottle it, if the circumstances ever did arise?

Could you?

Today's lyric:

"The world that we used to know
People tell me it don't turn no more
The places we used to go
Familiar faces that ain't smilin' like before
The time of our time has come and gone
I fear we been waiting too long."

Steely Dan: "Midnite cruiser"
From the album: "Can't buy a thrill"

A round of meetings today, to round off a hugely busy week.

I may get round the blogroll, later on..

That's quite enough 'rounds'. Ed.

Today's lyric:

"How will you ever learn,
When your hands are tied and your bridges burned?
When will you get to see, that your only option lies with me?
Must you be kicked right down, ripped from limb
Taught to drown, but told to swim?
The way to be, the way to act is
Not to preach what you practice.
Things change, but a part of its present formula remains
Things needn't be so if you let me through
'It must be true', he said 'I found you'."

The Bluetones: "Things change"
From the album: "Expecting to fly"

Dashed home after a 3.5 mile, one hour power walk around the streets of the City, bolted a pie-and-mash dinner and then played Number One Daughter at badminton from 9:00 'til 10:00.

And for the first time since we've been playing, she nicked one of the five games from me.

Losing my touch, clearly..

Today's lyric:

"What the hell is wrong with you tonight?
I can't seem to say or do the right thing
Wanted to be sure you're feeling right
Wanted to be sure we want the same thing."

Joe Jackson: "Different for girls"

Anyone see last night's "Survival" programme on the Beeb, about the rescue of the yachtsmen in the Fastnet race in '79?

We were down in Cornwall at the time, having just spent a glorious week in Devon - which deserves the title of Garden of England far more than Kent, imo - then moving on at the weekend to Padstow, where we were immediately greeted by weather which would dog us throughout our second week and, of course, cost the lives of several of the racing sailors.

As was our custom, we booked our boat-fishing trip for the beginning of the week, so that, if the sea's too rough to get afloat, there may be a fishable day later on.

Come the Monday - just as the news about the losses at sea was making its way into our carefree holiday - we rang the skipper of "Selachian", and were not surprised to discover that he would not be taking us out today. (Force 6 and above, and you stay indoors.)

Tuesday, the same. As was Wednesday. Thursday saw the sea just as 'confused' as the rescue pilots know it, but, no, we were going to try it. I have some cine film of us, and the one other boat which set out that day, a tiny, red-sailed dinghy which took turns with us to disappear from view as we dipped into what seemed like huge troughs.




Because the boat hadn't been out for several days, the catch of mackerel which was to be used for chumming was now, how shall we say, ripe? And Skip was pummelling it into soup in a steel bucket with a log. There was no escape from the godawful stench.

Buddy hooked into the first blue shark (two anglers at a time take turns to hold the rods, so that there's not a whole nest of line streaming out from the stern) whereupon my gunwhale neighbour decided to show me what he'd had for breakfast. That did it for me - I couldn't control my stomach's natural urge and keep it down so I heaved too, then scuttled into the hold, to remain supine for most of the rest of the trip.

One thing you quickly learn when sea fishing from a boat is that, while there's at least one angler still standing and fishing, no amount of money you can offer will persuade him to return to port so that you can stop dying.

Two other blues were caught before Buddy hooked into his second shark of the day. To his selfless credit, he dragged me from my sick-bed, thrust the rod into my feeble hands and 'encouraged' me to haul the fish in with typical profanities and invective.

It was only the biggest one of the day, wasn't it? A 50lb-er. Sadly, even though we were into conservation all those years ago, we weren't able to return it alive because, in the huge swells, it had swallowed the hook too deeply for retrieval before anyone realised it had taken the bait. Great shame. But it was used for lobster-pot bait, so not entirely wasted.

Watching the programme last night, while we'd not in any way been in seas like those experienced by the yacht crews, I could smell and feel the salt spume in my nose and on my face.

Bl0ody mad, we must have been. But at least we survived.

Today's lyric:

"When you're alone and life is making you lonely
You can always go - downtown
When you've got worries, all the noise and the hurry
Seems to help, I know - downtown
Just listen to the music of the traffic in the city
Linger on the sidewalk where the neon signs are pretty
How can you lose?"

Petula Clark: "Downtown"

If you're reading this, it needs to be in the knowledge that some 30 years ago, my brother-in-law - for extremely moral reasons - took his own life.

It seems that, after New Year's Eve, the most popular date for prematurely exiting this world is St Valentine's Day? How sad and bad is it that at least one of the driving reasons for potentially becoming a Guinness Book of Records statistic is the commercially-induced realisation that you have less than some others, just because it's 14/2? So you take yourself off to the nearest multi-storey* and spread yourself around for the last time

And for the simple and genuine reason that neither of us can stomach the cynical manipulation of this day, Mrs.D. will not be spending it in the stench of roses.

But maybe, in a couple of weeks time (and when prices have reverted to something approaching normality), I'll sub Number One Son to buy his Ma some for their birthday.

Yes, they share the same day. I told her I'd take her somewhere special 23 years ago. She just didn't realise it would be a maternity ward...

Who said I'm not an old romantic?

Oh, and Scary's got some crackers (and it's not even Christmas) which are only not work-safe because you'll pee yourself laughing and everyone will want to know why?

Today's lyric:

"My karma tells me
You've been screwed again.
If you let them do it to you
You've got yourself to blame.
It's you who feels the pain
It's you that feels ashamed.."

The Who: "The dirty jobs"
From the album: "Quadrophenia"

Mid-chapter, I idly glanced out of the carriage window and looked down onto the flat roof of a single-storey extension of a Victorian tenement, nestling cosily among the newly-constructed apartments (are they still called "yuppie flats"?) on the approach into the capital.

Two, formerly-white and now rime-encrusted garden chairs absolutely filled the roof, and looked down on a tiny garden, so filled with wreckage and detritus that it was impossible to see grass, or even earth.

What would possess anyone to sit there, with trains shunting ceaselessly overhead, I could not imagine? Hell would surely be worse?

Just picking up on a MSN snippet from a few days back, about 'inappropriate' domain names (allegedly real - like homesexchange.com - for an estate agents), if you wanted to find historical information about Roger Daltrey's and Pete Townsend's band, you'd go straight to thewhoresearch.com, wouldn't you?

Anyone else got some good'uns?

Don't (generally) blog of a weekend, but decided to make a virtual note of the fact that I just did a 5-mile walk in practice for the Moonwalk.

En route, I spotted a pub sign which might make a nice piccy for someone I know...

Today's lyric:

"Gentle rain, here it comes again
Rattling 'round your window, threatening pain
Coming on like a friend, but you know better than
Yesterday that held you by a different hand
Hail and stone
And all that's gone
When everything that passes, cuts to the bone
Turning like a wheel dragging a heavy stone
A weight that ties you down that you will never own."

Paul Weller: "As you lean into the light"
From the album: "Heavy Soul"

Always find it strange when people walk without swinging their arms? Almost robotic.

After yesterday's verbal diarrhoea-ic post, I feel drained. And we've got the external ISO auditor clambering all over us today. Deep joy!

Anyway. Whatever. Enjoy your weekends, y'all.

Today's lyric:

"She was tall, thin and tarty and she drove a Maserati
Faster than sound
I was heaven bound
Although I must have looked a creep in my army surplus jeep
Was I being too bold?
Before the night could get old."

Rod Stewart: "Italian girls"
From the album: "Never a dull moment"

Arriving home later than usual last night from our postponed Moonwalk practice walk (4.7 miles, so well on schedule for the target 12 of the 13.1 half-marathon) I was inveigled by our Lovely And Undeniable* neighbours to attend a meeting of local residents (no more than an hour, tops).

So, quickly showered and dinnerless, I trekked 100 yards to a house I'd never seen before, to meet 20-odd tweeded and cardiganed 'neighbours' I'd never met in over 15 years of living here.

We'd moved in with our young children - always an ice-breaker - and not once did someone wander down to say "Hi, you need to try this or that school for your kids."

And into a house which had been vacant for several years - always a cause for net-twitching - and no-one came along to recommend this or that shop, or tradesman.

So we soon came to the ineluctable fact that nobody gave a sh1t, and determined to live on in splendid semi-isolation. We know it as the "Fcuk 'em all" mentality.

Now the intention of the supposedly ad-hoc meeting was to harangue two councillors (again, strange faces to this resident) about the speed of traffic using our C-class road and the possibility of reducing it. (Remember, I drive a Mini Cooper, so was this poacher turning gamekeeper?) Was it bolox!

But I had to give one councillor full marks though, for explaining about the diminishing returns of a flashing speed warning. "Is that because the batteries eventually run out?" queried one fcukwit burgher of the parish. Drawing a deep but discreet breath, he instructed "No, it's because motorists quickly learn to ignore it."

There was no laughter. (Well, I did - inside) Such is the populace, evidently.

The same representative of our illustrious society recommended forming an action group, to strengthen the lobbying power for the overwhelming evidence of discontent manifesting itself so vociferously. Well, he didn't actually say that, but if his brains hadn't just been painted on, he would have.

For over an hour and a half, the same subject was churned over and over until, me being me, I ventured that this actually wasn't a new phenomenon, and that before we'd moved in - and therefore 16+ years ago - someone had rounded the corner, scaled the take-off ramp that is our front lawn and flown 20 feet into the fence attached to our house.

"Top that" I thought.

They were also thrilled at the revelation that a certain major supermarket chain can be fined 5,000GBP if the registration number of one of their artics can be recorded and proved to have used our lane as a rat run. Even the beleaguered councillors perked up at that. Net curtains are being laundered right now, in expectation of being the first to dash out from behind them, leap in front of a 32-tonner and claim their 'reward'. Now I'd pay to see that.

Fortunately for me and my now growling stomach, the cavalry arrived in the form of Mrs.D., back from her late night stint down the mines, ringing me on my 'set-to-meeting' moby and warning me that unless I got my sorry ar5e back home, the cats were staking out my steak and Guiness pie and were already lapping the froth off my freshly-poured pint of Blackstuff, which was now screaming at my post-walk-parched throat.

"Sorry, ladies and gentlemen" I reluctantly intoned "Bit of an emergency, gotta go. Keep me in the loop, hey?"

And so LAU* neighbours rang when when they'd eventually made their own escape, to advise me that S***** Lane Action Group had been formed in my absence.

That's one acronym that'll keep me amused for, ooh, hours.

And I wasn't even present at the birth...

Today's lyric:

"Japanese god-jesus robots telling teenage fortunes
For all we know and all we care they might as well be Martians
They say gold paint on the palace gates comes from the teeth of pensioners
They're so tired of shooting protest singers, that they hardly mention us
While fountains fill with second-hand perfume and sodden trading stamps
They'll hang the bullies and the louts to dampen down the day."

Elvis Costello: "Tokyo Storm Warning"
From the album: "Blood and Chocolate"

Last night, in semi-sleep, I had a half-decent topic drafted and parked in my sub-conscious. Really.

I'll remember it in a mo'...

Oh, yes - it was a sort of offer.

When I was a kid - and forever being the odd one - while my mates were collecting train numbers and suchlike, I used to go down to the beach - very early in the morning - and watch the Royal Navy ships sailing out of Portsmouth harbour.

From that 'hobby' of jotting down the ships' numbers F73 (frigate), D98 (destroyer) etc. sprang collections of photos and postcards, contributed to by friends' fathers who'd been in the navy and which have been languishing in albums (the photos, not the fathers) for donkeys' years.

I've recently found a couple of websites who buy such things, but it occurred to me that there may be some of you out there who might know someone who'd be interested in them? If so, let me know specifically which ships are involved and I'll see if there's anything in the archives that I could pass on?

Hmmm. Not actually that interesting a post, after all. That's the problem with making 'decisions' while you're half akip.

Today's lyric:

"I'll wait the signs to come
I'll find a way
I will wait the time to come
I'll find a way home


Who then can warm my soul?
Who can quell my passion?
Out of these dreams a boat,
I will sail home to you."

Enya: "Exile"
From the album: "Watermark"

Very little going on in my little world, these days.

Another training session for the Moonwalk again, tonight. Tuesdays seems to be the routine day for it (and routine seems to be necessary, if we're to all get through it.) Other than that, pretty much bereft of ideas for mutual entertainment.

Sorry to all those (hah, as if..) who called by for fun and frivolity.

Tomorrow will be mucho improved.

Today's lyric:

"Hey boy" they shout - "have you got any money?"
And I said - "I've a little money and a take away curry,
I'm on my way home to my wife.
She'll be lining up the cutlery,
You know she's expecting me
Polishing the glasses and pulling out the cawk."

The Jam: "Down in the tube station at midnight"
From the album: "All Mod Cons"

The Stranglers: No more hearing

I love the way Weller pronounces "cork" in his Mockney accent.

I work with several people from S6 and have been trying to work out how to 'spell' the way they say things like "report". it comes out like "repawt" but without the long 'a' of paw - more like the rapid "repote".

Whatever. It's a slow news day, Ok?

Today's lyric:

"I bought a lot of brandy, when I was courting Sandy
Took eight to make 'er randy, and all I 'ad was shandy
Anuvver fing wiv Sandy, which of'en came in 'andy
Was passin' 'er a mandy - she di'en 'alf go bandy."

Ian Dury and the Blockheads: "Billericay Dickie"
From the album: "New boots and panties"

Yesterday evening, Buddy and I were hugely entertained by the London Diving Chamber's freely-given lectures at the Royal Geographic Society's beautiful building in SW7, in aid of Scuba Trust, a charity which provides scuba diving facilities for disabled people, and Shark Trust which funds research into shark conservation.

The three lecturers were superbly entertaining, and you didn't need to be a diver to appreciate their work, such was the quality of the talks. It's unlikely that any of you out there will hear these guys in action*, but just in case, here are the spoilers.

Leigh Bishop, a fireman and "techie"** diver, treated the 500+ audience to some beautiful photos of deep-water wrecks of liners such as the Lusitania (a pivotal sinking of a civilian ship, which precipitated the USA's entry into WWII) and the Britannic (the Titanic's sister ship) and others.

His photos of early diving gear - twin-sets (air bottles linked side-by-side) with 2 20-litre tanks mounted, plus a girdle of auxilliary bottles to support the 6-hour+ decompression sessions, where the potentially poisonous nitrogen seeps out of your body and avoids "the bends", had everybody gasping in amazement. The inevitable question - How do you manage to get into the water?" was explained with "Gravity-assisted chuck yourself in".

In order to provide scale to the photos of the wrecks - some in over 130 metres of water - he asks divers to give up some of their precious "bottom time" to hang off propellers etc. Having set up a shot, he was waiting (and losing valuable air/time) for a diver to oblige, only to turn around and see a whole gaggle behind him, trying to avoid spoiling the shot!

But what do you do in the several hours of underwater 'de-gassing' with no external stimulus, other than the changing of bottles as you approach the time when it's safe to surface?

** "Techie" means going beyond the normal 40m limit for recreational diving and involves mixes of gases (oxygen, nitrogen etc) in non-air percentages.

Second up was Loyd Grossman - yes, the tv foodie, and a scuba diver of some 44 years experience, believe it or not - fresh from his 16 year old daughter's parents evening, an event which he averred he'd happily trade for a snorkel trip to the Titanic!

He thanked the audience for a full attendance in support of the two charities (which he supports) and told a story of an earlier talk he'd given, where there'd been an audience of one - a woman who patiently sat through his lecture and generously applauded at the end.

After a brief chat and drink, he explained his need to get back to London. "Can't you stay a little longer?" she asked, imploringly.

So, after another drink, he again tried to make his escape.

"But I can't let you go" she pleaded. In true 'celebrity' style, he enquired why not.

"Because I'm the next speaker" she explained. Massive applause.

Finally, Monty Hall's address had the entire auditorium in stitches. I can't find any links, but his behind-the-scenes accounts of his RDF- and Channel 5-sponsored tv series "Deep Ocean Adventure" were hilarious.

In comparison to Richard Attenborough's "Blue Planet" series of eight episodes, which took five years and 7m to make, "DOA" took 60 days and 0.5m to film 40 different animals in 37 countries.

Prior to showing a beautiful video clip of manta rays - in which Buddy and I nudged each other and whispered "Done that!" he explained that the marine wildlife experts had told then how to interact with the various animals they were to encounter.

"With mantas" they said "the trick is to ignore them. On no account, rush them."

So down they went, and a manta duly turned up. And they charged it, whereupon it turned tail and finned off into the gloom. So the second time, they pretended to be filming a grouper fish when another ray appeared, looking over their shoulders as it flew gracefully past, and finned off into the gloom. "Bu99er" was the general response.

But it re-appeared, and according to Monty, asked wtf they were doing filming a grouper, when there was a manta ray pitching up?

They were also primed to visit a woman specialist in penguins. Expecting to find a 4' scientist with webbed feet, after being 'on the road' for seven weeks they were stunned when "a vision" emerged from the hut, who politely helped them to recover their jaws from the floor, where they'd dropped.

And Monty's chat-up line? "We have a biscuit called 'Penguin' "

Never fails.

Enjoy your weekends, y'all.

* Apart from, perhaps, Witchy
btw, Witchy, I've signed up to the LDC's website, so if I get any forward notices of future events, I'll let yer know?

Labels: scuba

Today's lyric:

"Penny lane - the barber shaves another customer,
We see the banker sitting waiting for a trim.
And then the fireman rushes in
From the pouring rain. Very strange!"

The Beatles: "Penny Lane"
From the album: "Sgt. Pepper's"

Buddy and I are going here tonight for an evening of lectures on scuba diving and are mightily looking forward to it!

Labels: scuba

Today's lyric:

"When I am sad and weary
When all my hope is gone
I walk around my house and think of you with nothing on
I have a list of things I go over in my mind
When I can just sit right back and watch the world unwind."

The Bluetones: "Bluetonic"
From the album: "Expecting to fly"

That "watching the world unwind" thing up there?

I didn't consciously relate it to the Bluetones' lyric. Did I mean I was sat smugly in my ivory tower, gazing dispassionately while everything unraveled around me?

Or did I, in my leonine way, just like to see everyone chilling out and enjoying themselves (probably with me picking up the tab)?