Friday, 7 August 2009

Haven't posted one of these for a long time. Thankfully blogger tells you that you've deleted your account but secretly keeps all your posts hidden away somewhere. Somewhere where you can't get to them and then you become all depressed about all those lovely little words you typed being lost forever. Anyway, a lot has changed since the last time I wrote stuff here. The most major thing ~ though not the most exciting in my opinion ~ is that I've moved in to my own place. It's gone ok so far & I've managed to get a grip on all my finances and stuff like that... despite setting up all my direct debits, feeling very pleased with myself, and then realising that I'd given the wrong bank details for every one. I had to phone back each one and explain what a twit I had been, before giving them the right details. I maintain that it was my bank's fault though, as they have never (never!) ever (ever!) sent me a paper statement for my loan account. I mean, I've had this account for the best part of a year, and they've never sent me a statement. Yet, for some reason, they'd sent me one and I picked it up automatically assuming it was my normal account. The thought of checking these details never crossed my mind.

One of the highlights of the place is the fire escape. I mean, I'm talking about a structure so dangerous that you'd be tempted to say you know what, I think I'll take my chances in the fire. Seriously, if the fire doesn't kill you, the fall will. Heh. That being said, I'd rather there was to be no fire at all. I could do without that.

Enough about that though. In other news I caught a particularly virulent strain of swine flu from a particularly virulent strain of sausage roll, and our little musical project has now become a fully-fledged four-piece band thanks to the addition of a phenomenally gifted drummer called James, and a real general of the bass (& a phenomenally gifted guitarist who seems inexplicably happy to let me and Lance take care of shredding duties) called Antony. We've done two rehearsal things now, last night and the previous Thursday. I know I shouldn't go on about this because nobody benefits from it, but it's very exciting... you know, for us to be in a room with these two guys who are so intuitive and autonomous... and to finally have the songs translate from the recordings into something else, something tangible... it's just a complete headfuck. Sorry for that last word, but it kinda feels appropriate. I can't believe how great some of the songs sound, and how they're changing... new sections being improvised, other bits being chopped or re-arranged. So exciting, problem is that I'm wishing the days away now until the next session. The plan is to make it a regular thing ~ maybe once every three weeks or so ~ and then try and play somewhere, to people. I think it can happen.

I've been off work for three weeks now. Not exactly sure when I have to go back. I'm not going to moan about it, but, great as it is, getting six weeks off isn't quiet as brilliant as you'd think it would be. At least it's not for me anyway. I find it hard to fill the days, what with pretty much everybody you know being at work. And so I've been filling my days with a steady diet of Homes Under the Hammer and various other antiques or boot sale-based shows. I hate them, but I can't help it. To be honest, my main grievance isn't with the format, but with Lorne Spicer. She's vile in every way imaginable. My heart sinks when those opening titles end and she toddles out onto the screen. You always hope that it's going to be anybody other than Spicer. I dread to think how she got to where she is. She's just a horrible, horrible (horrible) woman. Homes Under the Hammer though, now that's made of stern stuff.

I'm going on a narrow boat soon.

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