The hopeless dream of being - not seeming, but being

Yesterday, Mike Reid (and surely the Mirror's headline Mike Reid Dead takes the plaudits for least imaginitive headline of the day - what was wrong with "Peggg-d it?" or "G-g-g-gone". Today, the Master, Ingmar Bergman dies on the beautiful island of Faro, leaving us with some amazing films like The Shame, Persona and the Seventh Seal. Tonight, we intend to have a Bergman night, after EastEnders, obviously, to revel in these amazing cinematic gems once again.

State of my back: Healing

House saga: Our survey on the new property was the funniest publication I've read all year

What that means: We start looking for an 'ouse again

The view from the afternoon

Back in Hull, and the delights of a cycle thru Boothferry Road. Couldn't get any closer to the charming derelict stadium/former Iceland combo, cos there were some wild kids who have made this bizarre landscape their own. But check out my favourite barber's, Chinese takeaway and beauty therapists, and I challenge ya not to raise a smile.

Also on news radar: Shaboo the cow, condemned to death in south Wales; the crazy capers on the Tour de France - maybe all this doping explains why all the cyclists I pass on 'da Bridge' have manic luminous eyes of hate.

Listening (still) The Cribs (also) Bat For Lashes

Watching (and loving, despite ambivalence towards subject) Clarkson at the Poles

Beautiful journey

Some images of my journey on the super Lozbike from Barton to Hull, taken on Tuesday. The lavender isn't Provence, but just outside Immingham, waiting for a goods train to pass.

Case for the prosecution

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.

Case for the defence

A sunny morning, for one thing. And a fabulous brunch in Fudge, eating Eggs Benedict and Feta while listening to Percy Sledge. A walk through the park past my favourite random totally-out-context-ancient dome. And Lal, the proprietor of JSK Minimart, last seen on this blog throwing crisps at a yobbo and hittinh him with bat between said crisps, spotted outside Jackson's swaying giddily and drinking from a giant can. However, he was sober and it was a giant can of coconut milk.

Hull is ch-ch-changing

Picked up some London mates at the railway station this weekend, and found that Paragon has been turned into a giant orange future-speak billboard. Hull is changing. Not like the incredible Hulk changing, although we did see some station fixtures (where did they hang out while the Paragon police station was out of operation?) who did appear to be evolving through a hazy cider in front of our eyes). This is all about the new St Stephen's development, which aims to make Hull a top 10 city by building an H & M and, unconvincingly, a giant surfboard/wave feature. Throughout the city, there are signs that others are following in this new evolutionary zeal. Take this landlord for example. Marketing luxury flats on Spring Bank. These flats should be condemned, not spouted off as a new high in modern city living. Look. There's no windows and structural support. And pigeons in roof. Seems bizarre that beautiful buildings in the old town are being bulldozed while these are the new flava. The dichotomy of Hull, perhaps?

Hitchcocks suspence

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!