Tuesday, 31 July 2007
Thursday, 26 July 2007
Sunday, 22 July 2007
Ooh, I should have flipped this. Ah well, ya get the gist. Ads on bins. Bins on ads. Some shadowy 0845. Wonder what kind of business would wanna be associated with a bin campaign? Wonder what the charges are? Alright if you've got disposable income I guess. And depends what you're pedal (bin) ing.
Saturday, 21 July 2007
So, me and Dee get to celebrate her 29th birthday in the company of some splendid folks, all of whom have got brilliant reasons to be excited. Excuse me if this post gets a bit Peter's Friends, but of the 10 folk gathered last night at Hull's number one all-you-can-eat vegan buffet above a cobbled street experience, six of us have announced engagements in Peru, Belize and Sweden, two are expecting a child and the other two are embarking on a new life together in the 2008 City of Culture. Last year, there was a nasty dispute about the bill at the now defunct Immanuels and a weird atmosphere. To cut a long and slightly tiresome rock n' roll story short, none of the folks who attended Dee's birthday last year came along this time around. But we definitely hope that the people who came to Hitchcocks will be with us in 2008. Whatever the adventures we have in the meantime, its bound to be more entertaining than the sequel to This Life!
Friday, 20 July 2007
Monday, 16 July 2007
Sunday, 15 July 2007
Saturday, 14 July 2007
Wednesday, 11 July 2007
Before this blog develops an unhealthy 'look at pictures of my family' schmaltzy-ness, let me just say this is an end to the baby pics. But let it be said that my mum, on the right, is looking pretty good for a gran (although she had to pick herself off the floor when she heard the news). Oliver, or Ollie as he is likely to be, is a little delight as well, although, scarily, he has my brother's hands. Elsewhere, the journey to work on the Loz superbike has been accompanied by some great sounds of late (Cribs, Decemberists, Aretha Franklin's gospel album) but today, as I was crossing the great expanse of the Humber from north to south, I had John Barry's Science Fiction, from Midnight Cowboy. It worked perfectly for the glacial, spectral river and bizarre giant turrets. I recommend it.
Tuesday, 10 July 2007
Saturday, 7 July 2007
After all the insanity and national nonsense written about our fair city in the last few days, me and Dee decided to make a heroic attempt to rescue Hull's reputation with a trip to its better assets, which bears no relation whatsoever to the whingey neo-new-build cluster cul de sacs on a flood plain that have been bleating about being ignored in the national press this week. Incidentially, if the lost city of Atlantis did turn out to in fact be an earlier prototype of Hull and have shops like Booze & U, Hair By Karen and Dream Doors, I can imagine an awful lot of disappointment. Nah, we went to the Ferens to see the incredible installation by Benin artist Romauld Hazoume. La Bouche du Roi, a piece resembling a slave boat that sailed out of Liverpool for the African west coast in the 1790s, the artist had used petrol cans to represent the slaves transported to the States and Caribbean, together with a moving film of life today in the country. It was all beautifully lighted and stark in its realisation. We then ventured outside for chips from Golden Fry, got starred down by an Iraqi kid on a chopper, watched erratic drivers indulge in road rage and saw an errant boozer trying to vault a wrought-iron fence into a bakery. Same Hull there then.
Now back at Club Thoresby and wincing through Live Earth. Why oh glam rock why does climate change have to be represented by Jimmy Blunt, Graham Norton and the Durannies. Oh, if only the Tour de France commentators could be providing the ad-libs. We might get closer to some sort of perverse truth about the whole shoddy televised nonsense.
Wednesday, 4 July 2007
Monday, 2 July 2007
Bloke being interviewed on Radio Humberside about the smoking ban. "I personally smoke between 100 and 120 fags a day. This ban is killing us."
Lovely weekend catching up with friends on London's Bankside, in the shadow of the Globe, the Golden Hinde and speedboats careering up the Thames. Lovely to see our group of friends from journalism college now being added to with babies, boyfriends, girlfriends and husbands. It's always hard after the London thang to return to the delights of Anlaby Road, and shops like Booze & U, Best Mate (a Chinese takeaway, no less, and probably best mate to several Boothferry Road casuals, the charlatan) and What Comes Naturally (a centre for preventive medicine). Back up north, then, with plans for new jobs, escapades and adventures on the horizon.
Pictoral note: This is not of course, about smoking, and does not reflect, in any way, the views of this blogger. It comes from the insane Louis Theroux doc about The Most Hated Group In America, led by Fred 'Tweakin my nose y'Jackass' Phelps.