I suppose I should've blogged about the Foos gig before now, but to be honest a week on and I'm still so over excitable that there's a strong chance that the blog, as much as I want to give an objective view of the evenings entertainment, I just know that it will come out as "IlovethefoosIlovethemIlovethemIlovethem" or something very similar. Let's just say that Oh My God They Rocked.
The one thing that marred my super evening was losing my umbrella. And not in the usual getting off the bus and realising you left it behind way. Oh no. Last Wednesday it rained all day in London. And I mean all day. None of that "Oh, quick! It's stopped raining for five minutes I can nip to the shop without fear of drowning" kinda days. Non. Stop. Rain. All. Day.
So as we reach the front of the queue, we noticed a whole load of umbrellas on the pavement outside, including a few big golfing umbrellas (Foo Fighters gigs/playing golf - hey, I know I'm always getting those two mixed up!). We didn't think anything about it, other than "Wow, what a lot of umbrellas". So we get inside and this 'security girl' says I can't take my umbrella in. I ask "Why?" she says "No umbrellas". So, enlightened by her super explaining skills I put my brolly back in my bag before going to queue to pick up my tickets, I'll dispose of my brolly once I have those tickets in my grubby little mits. Anyway, security girl grabs me by the elbow to tell me that I have to give my umbrella to "that girl over there", I said (okay, maybe not in the nicest tone of voice, but she was seriously pissing me off) "I'm going to get my tickets first" and she said something about "that girl over there" again, and to cut a long story short I abandoned my brolly! They weren't even letting people take them to the cloakrooms, you had to leave them behind the box office counter! Yeah, right, I'm going to come after the gig , along with everyone else, and explain what my umbrella looks like! "No, not that pink stripey one, it's more, erm, well..." Can you imagine?
Gigs are getting stupider and stupider. And I'm sure that there's no coincidence that the rules at gigs have got more bizarre and the ticket prices have gotten extortionate ever since a well know brand of 'lager' (and I use the term lightly) started sponsoring most of the venues in London. In the past month I have been told that I can't have a (plastic) bottle of water with a lid on incase I throw it, but they were still serving beer and alcopops in glass bottles to the person next to me. I can't take my umbrella in for no good reason, other than I'm sure it greatly amused someone somewhere. (It wasn't me!)
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Con Yo Toke Lark Mey Surry?*
The BBC are doing a series on dialect at the moment. You can't turn on the tv/radio/internet without hearing some intellectual with a cut-glass accent going on about how "quaint" and "super" regional dialects are.
I'm from Stoke-on-Trent originally, and although I don't have a strong accent, to most people's amusement I'll usually come out with some phrase or word that no-one else has ever heard of on a regular basis. I love different words and sayings and so I thought I'd share a few of my favourites with y'all. (Y'all being one of them). Robbie Williams is from Stoke, so I sound a bit like that. Only in a female voice. And without the singing.
Black over Bill's mothers - this means that there are dark rain clouds on the horizon, headin' your way. And not where Richey Benaud was staying during the 1993 ashes series, which is what my friend thought when he said the phrase. He said "It's looking black over Bill's mothers", she said "Ooh, do you think that's where he's staying, with Bill's mother?" I said - well actually I said nothing, but I did fall off the chair with laughter.
Mard/Mardie - this site says has the definition "spoiled, marred, spoiled child" but it's used for everything, people who are feeling a bit sorry for themselves are "feeling a bit mardie".
Nesh - someone who is a bit soft, but also someone who feels the cold easily (eg me!). In the winter I am totally nesh.
Summat - my mum's favourite! I was always being told off for saying "summat" instead of something.
Duck - a term of affection "Ow at duck?" (How are you dear?) which confuses the hell out of anyone who moves to the area. You can spot a Staffordshire Uni fresher by the look of bewilderment on their face, wondering why the bus driver just called them "duck"?
And the famous "Cos kick a bo agin a wo an' 'ead it til it bosses?". Next time you see Robbie in the street, you just ask him that.
* Can you talk like me, son?
I'm from Stoke-on-Trent originally, and although I don't have a strong accent, to most people's amusement I'll usually come out with some phrase or word that no-one else has ever heard of on a regular basis. I love different words and sayings and so I thought I'd share a few of my favourites with y'all. (Y'all being one of them). Robbie Williams is from Stoke, so I sound a bit like that. Only in a female voice. And without the singing.
Black over Bill's mothers - this means that there are dark rain clouds on the horizon, headin' your way. And not where Richey Benaud was staying during the 1993 ashes series, which is what my friend thought when he said the phrase. He said "It's looking black over Bill's mothers", she said "Ooh, do you think that's where he's staying, with Bill's mother?" I said - well actually I said nothing, but I did fall off the chair with laughter.
Mard/Mardie - this site says has the definition "spoiled, marred, spoiled child" but it's used for everything, people who are feeling a bit sorry for themselves are "feeling a bit mardie".
Nesh - someone who is a bit soft, but also someone who feels the cold easily (eg me!). In the winter I am totally nesh.
Summat - my mum's favourite! I was always being told off for saying "summat" instead of something.
Duck - a term of affection "Ow at duck?" (How are you dear?) which confuses the hell out of anyone who moves to the area. You can spot a Staffordshire Uni fresher by the look of bewilderment on their face, wondering why the bus driver just called them "duck"?
And the famous "Cos kick a bo agin a wo an' 'ead it til it bosses?". Next time you see Robbie in the street, you just ask him that.
* Can you talk like me, son?
Thursday, August 18, 2005
6 days and some hours
until I see the Foo Fighters, 'cus hell yeah, I got the Foo tickets! It was touch and go for a while and I must have clicked on 'order now' about a million times before I got through, and then I held my breath whilst the transaction was transactioning, and then I shouted "yessssssss!" and did a little jig in my chair. I think my new workmates think I'm a bit mental.
I also have someone to go with after nagging, nagging, nagging Mr Librarian until he agreed to go with me. He has been told that he is not allowed to make any comments about The Grohl, but this morning when their video was on tv he said "I hope he hasn't got that beard next week, it really doesn't suit him" and "Did they have to get a drummer that looks like Kurt?".
Oh well, better he gets it out of his system now I suppose.
I also have someone to go with after nagging, nagging, nagging Mr Librarian until he agreed to go with me. He has been told that he is not allowed to make any comments about The Grohl, but this morning when their video was on tv he said "I hope he hasn't got that beard next week, it really doesn't suit him" and "Did they have to get a drummer that looks like Kurt?".
Oh well, better he gets it out of his system now I suppose.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
The Foos are in town!
Which is like the circus only 50 bezillion times more exciting. What with the whole Dave Grohlness of it all. They are playing a gig at a tiny venue next Wednesday and the tickets go on sale tomorrow at 9am. I want to go so much, I could probably puke with excitement!!!!!!! See, see how excited I am, look at all the exclamation marks!!!!!!
Anyway, I emailed all my friends today and asked who wanted to go. And who wanted to go? Why, none of them that's who! Maybe it was because I called them my gig bitches, maybe it was because they are scared of me getting arrested for trying to Davenap The Grohl. But I think they all have watertight reasons for not going. My last hope is Mr Librarian. Only I just know he'll spend the whole gig picking on The Grohl. He's just jealous.
Maybe I'll just have to go on my own. But, and let me just say this for the record, I will not be held responsible for my actions if there is no-one there to restrain me.
Anyway, I emailed all my friends today and asked who wanted to go. And who wanted to go? Why, none of them that's who! Maybe it was because I called them my gig bitches, maybe it was because they are scared of me getting arrested for trying to Davenap The Grohl. But I think they all have watertight reasons for not going. My last hope is Mr Librarian. Only I just know he'll spend the whole gig picking on The Grohl. He's just jealous.
Maybe I'll just have to go on my own. But, and let me just say this for the record, I will not be held responsible for my actions if there is no-one there to restrain me.
Neighbours
No, not this kind, the kind that live by you. And share walls with you. And play their guitar and stereo loud enough to wake you up at 3am. 3AM! In the morning! The middle of the night!
We only moved in five weeks ago, and the loud music has happened a couple of times before, but that was earlier in the night, around midnight, and for only a short while, which is still annoying, but I can let that go. We've had much, much worse than that in the past. Only last night, 3am the music starts, then the guitar, then the singing along. She woke me up, and then she woke Mr Librarian up. So we lay there for a while, quietly seething, holding our breath in between songs in the vain hope that she'd turned it off/down/the stereo had exploded. After 20 minutes, Mr Librarian says "Maybe I should go down and say something". I say "maybe". He says "What would I say?". I say " How about 'Shut the f*** up bitch?' or ' Oi lady, turn your stupid music down' or 'It's 3am, are you KIDDING?'". He says "Hmmm". We decide against going down, 'cus who's going to open their door at 3.25 in the AM? After another 20 minutes, I have super had enough and go down to complain. I stomp very loudly down the stairs, and ring her doorbell. No answer. I can hear her in there, moving around, but no big surprise, like I say, who's going to open their door at (now) 3.45 in the AM?
Anyway, long story short, Mr L resorts to earplugs, and I fall back asleep just after 4.
And do you know what? Our neighbour? A teacher in her 50's. Lady, you should know better.
We only moved in five weeks ago, and the loud music has happened a couple of times before, but that was earlier in the night, around midnight, and for only a short while, which is still annoying, but I can let that go. We've had much, much worse than that in the past. Only last night, 3am the music starts, then the guitar, then the singing along. She woke me up, and then she woke Mr Librarian up. So we lay there for a while, quietly seething, holding our breath in between songs in the vain hope that she'd turned it off/down/the stereo had exploded. After 20 minutes, Mr Librarian says "Maybe I should go down and say something". I say "maybe". He says "What would I say?". I say " How about 'Shut the f*** up bitch?' or ' Oi lady, turn your stupid music down' or 'It's 3am, are you KIDDING?'". He says "Hmmm". We decide against going down, 'cus who's going to open their door at 3.25 in the AM? After another 20 minutes, I have super had enough and go down to complain. I stomp very loudly down the stairs, and ring her doorbell. No answer. I can hear her in there, moving around, but no big surprise, like I say, who's going to open their door at (now) 3.45 in the AM?
Anyway, long story short, Mr L resorts to earplugs, and I fall back asleep just after 4.
And do you know what? Our neighbour? A teacher in her 50's. Lady, you should know better.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
The best day of my life?
I have just been for a good old gossip complete with pizza and ice cream sundae, there's an evening of Britpop on bbc4 (Marion are on!), and our broadband has been reconnected!
What more could a girl ask for?
What more could a girl ask for?
Monday, August 08, 2005
Tonight we're going to party like it's 1995
or "a story about an Indie Boot Camp outing".
Last Friday lunchtime I get the most exciting email I've had in a very long time. It says "Oh My God this looks amazing!", and it's all about this. How cool? Really. How exciting? Really, really. So a plan of attack forms, and despite going out on the Friday night to this, we decide to take the whole 1995 thing very seriously, and pretend that we are all still under 25 and can still do going out two nights in a row. We spend all Friday evening deciding what to wear, what we still have in our wardrobes and more importantly, what the hell will still fit or will last one final spin in the washing machine.
Saturday sees many text messages conveying minor panic attacks along the lines of "I have no shoes!", and results in Clare being ready at 4pm with the message "I'm ready now? Can we go?" to which I had to reply "No, I have three more episodes of SATC to watch and a bath to have". I do these things in order of importance (SATC first, of course) and by 6.30pm I am in my bedroom looking at my wardrobe, and having this realisation: I am not retro and cool, I am just cheap - half my wardrobe is clothes I had in 1995! I decide on a compromise - Pulp yellow "I'm common" t-shirt, with my jeans. Now in 1995 I didn't even own jeans, they were too 'mainstream' for me, but back to 2005 and the fact that I had spent all day trying to dry my jeans, and it seemed such a shame not to wear them. And it would've meant that my battle scar/burn from touching the zip after they had been baking on the front of the oven was for no reason. (However, between you and me, the main reason that I decided to wear the jeans? I tried on my orange skirt - £5 Topshop, Meadowhall, summer '95 - and do you know what?Apparentlyy I was a slut in '95, 'cus the skirt? Turns out to be teeny tiny. Oh my god! I was the Christina Aguillera of my day. Oh, the shame. )
My hair, to be truthful was more circa '98, but then in '95 I had shorter hair than I do now. And there's no way I was cracking open the bleach and pink hair dye for one night only.
Anyway, we all manage to meet in the pub, where we are all at varying levels of excitement. Okay, me and Clare are so excited we could puke, the boys are probably more bewildered than excited. We decide to get to the club nice and early so's we can get seats/get in cheaper (hey, we're only pretending we're under 25). And what an amazing night! Well, amazing apart from the bit where there was a poster of Liam Gallagher on the back of the door in the ladies loo, and I was too scared to go in. Luckily someone ripped it down, and we could all answer the call of nature in peace again. I danced so much, in such a small space! I was escorted off the dancefloor when Oasis came on by a lovely young man shouting "Indie snobs coming through" which did indeed clear a path back to our seats! I met some lovely new people and had random conversations about taking my mum to see the Manics, how everyone wore CKOne in '95, songs that make you cry and the first time you ever heard Mansun on the radio.
What a night. And do you know what, two days later I'm very nearly almost recovered!
Last Friday lunchtime I get the most exciting email I've had in a very long time. It says "Oh My God this looks amazing!", and it's all about this. How cool? Really. How exciting? Really, really. So a plan of attack forms, and despite going out on the Friday night to this, we decide to take the whole 1995 thing very seriously, and pretend that we are all still under 25 and can still do going out two nights in a row. We spend all Friday evening deciding what to wear, what we still have in our wardrobes and more importantly, what the hell will still fit or will last one final spin in the washing machine.
Saturday sees many text messages conveying minor panic attacks along the lines of "I have no shoes!", and results in Clare being ready at 4pm with the message "I'm ready now? Can we go?" to which I had to reply "No, I have three more episodes of SATC to watch and a bath to have". I do these things in order of importance (SATC first, of course) and by 6.30pm I am in my bedroom looking at my wardrobe, and having this realisation: I am not retro and cool, I am just cheap - half my wardrobe is clothes I had in 1995! I decide on a compromise - Pulp yellow "I'm common" t-shirt, with my jeans. Now in 1995 I didn't even own jeans, they were too 'mainstream' for me, but back to 2005 and the fact that I had spent all day trying to dry my jeans, and it seemed such a shame not to wear them. And it would've meant that my battle scar/burn from touching the zip after they had been baking on the front of the oven was for no reason. (However, between you and me, the main reason that I decided to wear the jeans? I tried on my orange skirt - £5 Topshop, Meadowhall, summer '95 - and do you know what?Apparentlyy I was a slut in '95, 'cus the skirt? Turns out to be teeny tiny. Oh my god! I was the Christina Aguillera of my day. Oh, the shame. )
My hair, to be truthful was more circa '98, but then in '95 I had shorter hair than I do now. And there's no way I was cracking open the bleach and pink hair dye for one night only.
Anyway, we all manage to meet in the pub, where we are all at varying levels of excitement. Okay, me and Clare are so excited we could puke, the boys are probably more bewildered than excited. We decide to get to the club nice and early so's we can get seats/get in cheaper (hey, we're only pretending we're under 25). And what an amazing night! Well, amazing apart from the bit where there was a poster of Liam Gallagher on the back of the door in the ladies loo, and I was too scared to go in. Luckily someone ripped it down, and we could all answer the call of nature in peace again. I danced so much, in such a small space! I was escorted off the dancefloor when Oasis came on by a lovely young man shouting "Indie snobs coming through" which did indeed clear a path back to our seats! I met some lovely new people and had random conversations about taking my mum to see the Manics, how everyone wore CKOne in '95, songs that make you cry and the first time you ever heard Mansun on the radio.
What a night. And do you know what, two days later I'm very nearly almost recovered!
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