Monday, 30 April 2007
If you look closely - and why wouldn't you ... what else is there to do - you'll spot the ear of one of the garden bears and a bit of tatty windmill. That was exciting, wasn't it?
Apparently I will be listening to mostly Mitch Benn this week. Her "I'm so poor. I have no money. I need to buy things to cheer me up" parcel has arrived from Amazon and it seems to be mostly Mitch Benn. This is alright with me because Mitch Benn is very funny and quite furry.
And, while I'm listening to Mr Benn (that name rings a bell), I won't be able to hear Madame wittering on about that Rufus bloke. He has a new album out soon.
Oooooo! Excitement outside in the tree. I think it might be a bird. Or something. No. Just leaves.
Tuesday, 24 April 2007
She's been to see "300". I thought she might like to do a little review.
"Maybe do a bit of a piece of the political implications of the film?"
Manic giggling. "It had a big battle rhino in it."
"Yes, but what about the comments of the Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad ..."
"It was big and loud. And nice to look at."
"It was about war and death, woman. Violence. Blood. Ick."
"There were loads of fit blokes. In leather pants. And did I mention the battle rhino ..." And off she skips. Just like an audience with Germaine Greer.
Bet you can't wait for her review of "Das Leben der Anderen". Apparently it was a thoughtful, compelling story of oppression and hope in Communist era East Germany. Oh, and that Sebastian Koch is, sigh, a bit of alright.
Sunday, 22 April 2007
He fought as a child soldier back in the old Punk Wars - playing the Sex Pistols before he could walk.
Back when I was just a cub I would sit at his feet and take in tales and cigarette smoke.
These days the packs of Marlboro have gone but the stories are still there. Buy him a gin and tonic and ask him about the old days. Postcard Records. Jean Jacques Burnel. The Wombles.
But don't talk of this.
Mr Sharp - sir - Bear salute you. Here's some Orange Juice from 1983.
This is Jurmala - it stretches along the Latvian coast in the Gulf of Riga- here on the map - only 1.25Ls there and back in the train from Riga.
Jomas is from the Majori district of Jurmala. He misses the pine forests, the long sandy beach, and the bracing Baltic air. He wants to wander along Jomas iela (Jomas Street) on a sunny spring afternoon, admiring the beautiful little wooden houses, maybe shopping for some amber or stopping off at Cafe 53 for Rīgas kafija and a Biezpiena krēms ar aveņu mērci. Yum.
He was named after this street. Jomas is the Latvian word for parallel depressions between sandbars. It is not a very romantic name but it is a lovely street.
Artists and writers and musicians have come to Jurmala. You can visit Rainis and Apazija's summer villa - there is a monument to them on Jomas iela.
Jomas dreams of being a millionaire and buying a little cottage in Jurmala. He would write mournful poetry and walk along the beach at dawn and dusk.
A lot of the buildings in Jurmala needs some love and attention - like the old "Marienbade" sanatorium.
Jomas is far away from Jurmala now. He has come to live in Scotland. It is interesting but Scottish people can be very loud and scary. There are a lot of squirrels. And the bear is bossy.
Saturday, 21 April 2007
Friday, 20 April 2007
Latvians, bears and chocolate
Latvians, bears, chocolate and Estonians
I was hoping to get some background information from Jomas on these two items. But he's sulking. How was I supposed to know that he felt like that about the Pet Shop Boys?
Anyway. Humpf. We do all know that polar bears are smug, annoying, and responsible for global warming - don't we? Oh, well. Here's that Knut. Now he might be an iceberg botherer but ... death threats ... that's not big or clever. Sounds like a job for Lawyerbear. A good mauling. It's the only language that these criminals understand.
She's just wandered past. She sniggered. "You're turning into Noel Gallagher, you are. Next you'll be demanding they bring back National Service and rickets." An excellent idea. National Service. Not rickets. Hum.
This'll be middle age then.
Blah. She's bitter. I'm keeping her off the puter and there are new, exciting pictures of that Rufus bloke to dribble over. Rufus in lederhosen. Truly. Unless I was hallucinating.
I could be. She's tapping my head with a teaspoon and singing.
"I'm a little teapot" since you asked.
Right. I'm off to write letters to the Daily Mail in green ink about the decline in standards.
If you are free of sugared-up women then you might want to have a wander over to The Weekly - Mr. Nash and Mr. Millington's fine production. Cast out the pesky!
Thursday, 19 April 2007
I know who I'm going to sue ...
Tuesday, 17 April 2007
Hello. Back from holiday and back to work. A lot of tiredness and grumpiness about. Survived the trip to Latvia. Just. Hoping to get some insights into the Latvian character and culture from my new Baltic sidekick Jomas. Apparently Latvians like to sing and dance - this seems unlikely but it says so here so I won't argue. Can't say I've seen much evidence of it yet. He will dance a bit - if you prod him with a pencil - but no singing. He did get quite excited when he heard some Gwen Stefani nonsense on the radio. Hum. Maybe he's secretly Norwegian.
Tuesday, 3 April 2007
Big thanks to Nomi (bidie-in of Comehither Frog) for looking after Her the other day. And not laughing when my eyes fell out. We can save the big sack, a brick and a trip to the river for the next time. Bear salutes you.
So now I'm off to the Heart of Darkness - Riga.
Wish me luck.
Apocalypse Now Redux really was different, wasn't it ...