Monday 27 December 2010
The Darien Venture
The Darien Venture
Excellent band.
The Darien Scheme
Abysmal attempt at colonisation.
Listen to the top one, read the bottom one.
Excellent band.
The Darien Scheme
Abysmal attempt at colonisation.
Listen to the top one, read the bottom one.
Saturday 18 December 2010
Meredith Music Festival 2010: WORDS
Some notes on one of the best festivals in Australia:
"I don't call you Aussies, I call you 'Awessies'. Because you're so awesome!!!"
Thank you Hypnotic Brass Ensemble (dot com) for giving me the jollies on Sunday afternoon. You were everything and more that I had hoped for. 8 blokes, one drum kit, 3 trumpets, 2 trombones, an over-the-shoulder massive sousaphone and a big trumpet baritone. Apparently all from the one stock. I liked how the sousaphone player was the smallest of all and the trumpet player was t-bulkster huge. lol. They played funky brass-powered grooves and rapped and made us dance in the mud. Smithy and I were particularly filled with electric energy and danced through slush and hot-chocolate-murder. [Drink murder with a girder (Please say in deep weegie accent for full effect. While drinking Irn Bru. Du kens).]
Other favourites include Neil Finn. Such a comfortable and perfect performer. 'Twas beautiful. Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings were fantastic. She is one funky mama and her boys are so spot on. We all danced our bestest.
On Sunday morning Ben and I were wandering the amphitheatre looking for treasure and we spotted a very dapper man in white troos, a white shirt and white bow tie with slicked back hair. He was showing a little man the surrounds. He held this little baby in his arms and as we walked past the little fella wiggled a little and his knitted beanie slipped off and we glimpsed the most beautiful head of 6-month-old bright red hair. What a beautiful ginger bub. A few hours latter we saw said dapper man, this time in a green stripey blazer, on stage with a few friends (horns, double bass, drums). Sans baby. C.W. Stoneking. He makes music that takes you back a century. No one does that any more. Calypso/blues/old-style-American-drinkin-rum/African shipwreck.
His story is pretty good. Stream the interview he did with Triple J here.
Working in New Orleans (?) mixing voodoo remedies, then in the Caribbean he met some strangers and sailed across the Atlantic til they shipwrecked off the west coast of Africa. He kicked about in the jungle with a native tribe until he was able to get back to civilisation.
Custard were great fun. Dare I say it, I thought Dirty Three were like being prodded with zucchinis. Everyone says it's amazing but it's actually just a bit interesting but mostly something to endure. "Noise with stage presence".
Of course Meredith is also about who you're with. The Facepainting Force will make me giggle for ever. Ken Done: you've met your match. Glitter everywhere made things interesting. Hair cuts for free. Party on a Stick 2.0.
Lots of love for everyone, Auntie Meredith I'll be seeing you again...
"I don't call you Aussies, I call you 'Awessies'. Because you're so awesome!!!"
Thank you Hypnotic Brass Ensemble (dot com) for giving me the jollies on Sunday afternoon. You were everything and more that I had hoped for. 8 blokes, one drum kit, 3 trumpets, 2 trombones, an over-the-shoulder massive sousaphone and a big trumpet baritone. Apparently all from the one stock. I liked how the sousaphone player was the smallest of all and the trumpet player was t-bulkster huge. lol. They played funky brass-powered grooves and rapped and made us dance in the mud. Smithy and I were particularly filled with electric energy and danced through slush and hot-chocolate-murder. [Drink murder with a girder (Please say in deep weegie accent for full effect. While drinking Irn Bru. Du kens).]
Other favourites include Neil Finn. Such a comfortable and perfect performer. 'Twas beautiful. Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings were fantastic. She is one funky mama and her boys are so spot on. We all danced our bestest.
On Sunday morning Ben and I were wandering the amphitheatre looking for treasure and we spotted a very dapper man in white troos, a white shirt and white bow tie with slicked back hair. He was showing a little man the surrounds. He held this little baby in his arms and as we walked past the little fella wiggled a little and his knitted beanie slipped off and we glimpsed the most beautiful head of 6-month-old bright red hair. What a beautiful ginger bub. A few hours latter we saw said dapper man, this time in a green stripey blazer, on stage with a few friends (horns, double bass, drums). Sans baby. C.W. Stoneking. He makes music that takes you back a century. No one does that any more. Calypso/blues/old-style-American-drinkin-rum/African shipwreck.
His story is pretty good. Stream the interview he did with Triple J here.
Working in New Orleans (?) mixing voodoo remedies, then in the Caribbean he met some strangers and sailed across the Atlantic til they shipwrecked off the west coast of Africa. He kicked about in the jungle with a native tribe until he was able to get back to civilisation.
Custard were great fun. Dare I say it, I thought Dirty Three were like being prodded with zucchinis. Everyone says it's amazing but it's actually just a bit interesting but mostly something to endure. "Noise with stage presence".
Of course Meredith is also about who you're with. The Facepainting Force will make me giggle for ever. Ken Done: you've met your match. Glitter everywhere made things interesting. Hair cuts for free. Party on a Stick 2.0.
Lots of love for everyone, Auntie Meredith I'll be seeing you again...
Monday 1 November 2010
BBQ (nb)
As the sun set over the rooftops and tram lines the atmosphere grew electric at the Manningham Manor.
Two Girls One Nut.
Well, a few nuts. And some bolts. And some washers. (Check the jargon!)
Thanks to the generosity of our neighbour, a Phillips Head was acquired and the two lasses set to work on constructing the most magnificent heat-making-food-boss. This shit is going down as the 8th Wonder of the Industrial World!
Perseverance, intelligence, strength and clarity of the mind. A massive achievement in only one short hour. The bbq is now assembled and will play a pivotal role in future entertaining at the Manor. Brilliant!
In other news, Bosdog is back in town in a big way! I'm talkin' 53% fat King Island cream!! Pasta and salad of vegetables, then some chockie and salad of fruit, with tender lashings of the finest aforementioned cream, made for a wonderful evening in the pallor. Great to have her back. What a legend.
NB. This was a standard hour, not a short one. NB. Naomi Bosler.
Two Girls One Nut.
Well, a few nuts. And some bolts. And some washers. (Check the jargon!)
Thanks to the generosity of our neighbour, a Phillips Head was acquired and the two lasses set to work on constructing the most magnificent heat-making-food-boss. This shit is going down as the 8th Wonder of the Industrial World!
Perseverance, intelligence, strength and clarity of the mind. A massive achievement in only one short hour. The bbq is now assembled and will play a pivotal role in future entertaining at the Manor. Brilliant!
In other news, Bosdog is back in town in a big way! I'm talkin' 53% fat King Island cream!! Pasta and salad of vegetables, then some chockie and salad of fruit, with tender lashings of the finest aforementioned cream, made for a wonderful evening in the pallor. Great to have her back. What a legend.
NB. This was a standard hour, not a short one. NB. Naomi Bosler.
Wednesday 27 October 2010
hypnotic brass ensemble
Hello.
My absence can be explained by an insipid combination of jetlag, hunger, general laziness, a mild outbreak of skin-bacteria-somethingsomething and 5kg of homegrown lamb now residing in my two freezers.
Here are some things I noticed today (numbered. Props to all mathematicians out there):
1. Listen to this. Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. Mighty mighty funkatron muchly.
2. Mach Frequency might just be the most amazing superhero that ever there was? Big call. But did any other superhero manage to bring down the entire boarder security of a first world nation for the greater good of his heroine? Nae. Winner! <3
3. I ate a piece of fruit today, and another piece of the same fruit yesterday, which I am unable to name. It's somewhere between a blood orange and a pink grapefruit. Thick pith, scarlet flesh, yellowy rind, sour but not spit-out-your-falseys. My money is on the latter variety but some suggested otherwise. It's time we all got better aquainted with fruits and vegetables. Kohlrabi, anyone?
4. I went for a walk up Little Lonsdale from Russell to William. There are three or so cafes I'm now dying to check out. And a few other interesting bars/restaurants in between the law courts and sky scrapers. Around the back of the Melbourne Magistrate's I overheard two fatties sitting in the gutter deciding upon lunch: "I'll shout you Maccas, love." Please see point 3.
5. I am engrossed with Alan Davies and Stephen Fry.
I'm at a loss as to where this blog will head, probably to a natural death. Like Dr Pepper, it may exist in tiny pockets of obscurity supported by desperate hangers on...
Listen to this if you miss Glasgow like I do.
My absence can be explained by an insipid combination of jetlag, hunger, general laziness, a mild outbreak of skin-bacteria-somethingsomething and 5kg of homegrown lamb now residing in my two freezers.
Here are some things I noticed today (numbered. Props to all mathematicians out there):
1. Listen to this. Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. Mighty mighty funkatron muchly.
2. Mach Frequency might just be the most amazing superhero that ever there was? Big call. But did any other superhero manage to bring down the entire boarder security of a first world nation for the greater good of his heroine? Nae. Winner! <3
3. I ate a piece of fruit today, and another piece of the same fruit yesterday, which I am unable to name. It's somewhere between a blood orange and a pink grapefruit. Thick pith, scarlet flesh, yellowy rind, sour but not spit-out-your-falseys. My money is on the latter variety but some suggested otherwise. It's time we all got better aquainted with fruits and vegetables. Kohlrabi, anyone?
4. I went for a walk up Little Lonsdale from Russell to William. There are three or so cafes I'm now dying to check out. And a few other interesting bars/restaurants in between the law courts and sky scrapers. Around the back of the Melbourne Magistrate's I overheard two fatties sitting in the gutter deciding upon lunch: "I'll shout you Maccas, love." Please see point 3.
5. I am engrossed with Alan Davies and Stephen Fry.
I'm at a loss as to where this blog will head, probably to a natural death. Like Dr Pepper, it may exist in tiny pockets of obscurity supported by desperate hangers on...
Listen to this if you miss Glasgow like I do.
Wednesday 13 October 2010
Saturday 21 August 2010
Gone to the polls/BILLY BRAGG/WELLCOME COLLECTION
OK, I started writing about the upcoming election.
There were personal anecdotes, some relevant links to news articles and witty observations about Tony Abbott.
However, while 'researching' (because I only deliver to you quality, and if you make it through the babble you may note that sometimes there is some good stuff in there, too) I came across something much more exciting!
Earlier this year Billy Bragg was involved in the production and performance of a play called Pressure Drop. I am bummed I missed it because I think Billy Bragg is one of the most spot-on people on the planet, and if I were English I would definitely have moved to Barking just so I could hang around the streets Billy hung around. From watching the short interview with the director Mick Gordon and Billy Bragg on Billy's website I gather it was about self identity and what it means to be British. Political, social, historical, all things deep and meaningful.
That is cool.
But I missed it, so not so cool.
However, the play was held at the Wellcome Collection in London.
That IS cool!
Before I left the UK I tripped down to London for a few days (as you know, faithful reader, from previous blog entries). I was hours from my train ride back up to Glasgae and it was raining and I was carrying my laptop and back pack and it was all very uncomfortable so I spent as long as I could inside museums where they look after your bags in cloak rooms and don't charge you like they did at my horrorhostel. I picked up a brochure somewhere for the Wellcome Collection's free and new exhibition 'Skin'. So I made the Wellcome Collection my last stop before the station and had a look around. Skin was less about tattooed bodies, as the image on the front of the brochure lead me to believe, and more about skin. Funny that. Diseases, functions, scarring and tattoos, microphotography, implements for 'doing things' to skin, wax castings of skin bits used hundreds of years ago as medical aids. It was a bit unnerving to see some of the pieces in the exhibit but also very cool to have all those things there at once. Since it wasn't train time and I still wasn't ready to carry my things around I wandered upstairs to the permanent exhibition Medicine Man. The collection was formed from the private stash of Mr. Wellcome's bizzare shite. It was fantastic! He had collected all sorts of odd artefacts connected loosely with medicine. Glass cabinets 10s of metres long filled with different style forceps, rows of chemists' porcelain containers, Napoleon's shaving set, Darwin's walking stick, Florence Nightingale's moccasins, Chinese sex toys... Totally odd and randomly wonderful!
So that is that. I just wanted to alert you to the fact the Wellcome Collection is rad- it is a gallery, a performance space, there's a library if you need to brush up on your medical knowledge (studying surgical procedures from the 1750s? No worries!) and a very nice cafe and rad little shop. I went there because it was free and I needed to leave my bags somewhere safe. And I ended up really enjoying it. It wasn't on the list of London Galleries I picked up from tourist info. The Wellcome Collection is somewhere between Euston and King's Cross stations.
You should go there and enjoy it too.
And say Hi to Billy Bragg when you next see him...
There were personal anecdotes, some relevant links to news articles and witty observations about Tony Abbott.
However, while 'researching' (because I only deliver to you quality, and if you make it through the babble you may note that sometimes there is some good stuff in there, too) I came across something much more exciting!
Earlier this year Billy Bragg was involved in the production and performance of a play called Pressure Drop. I am bummed I missed it because I think Billy Bragg is one of the most spot-on people on the planet, and if I were English I would definitely have moved to Barking just so I could hang around the streets Billy hung around. From watching the short interview with the director Mick Gordon and Billy Bragg on Billy's website I gather it was about self identity and what it means to be British. Political, social, historical, all things deep and meaningful.
That is cool.
But I missed it, so not so cool.
However, the play was held at the Wellcome Collection in London.
That IS cool!
Before I left the UK I tripped down to London for a few days (as you know, faithful reader, from previous blog entries). I was hours from my train ride back up to Glasgae and it was raining and I was carrying my laptop and back pack and it was all very uncomfortable so I spent as long as I could inside museums where they look after your bags in cloak rooms and don't charge you like they did at my horrorhostel. I picked up a brochure somewhere for the Wellcome Collection's free and new exhibition 'Skin'. So I made the Wellcome Collection my last stop before the station and had a look around. Skin was less about tattooed bodies, as the image on the front of the brochure lead me to believe, and more about skin. Funny that. Diseases, functions, scarring and tattoos, microphotography, implements for 'doing things' to skin, wax castings of skin bits used hundreds of years ago as medical aids. It was a bit unnerving to see some of the pieces in the exhibit but also very cool to have all those things there at once. Since it wasn't train time and I still wasn't ready to carry my things around I wandered upstairs to the permanent exhibition Medicine Man. The collection was formed from the private stash of Mr. Wellcome's bizzare shite. It was fantastic! He had collected all sorts of odd artefacts connected loosely with medicine. Glass cabinets 10s of metres long filled with different style forceps, rows of chemists' porcelain containers, Napoleon's shaving set, Darwin's walking stick, Florence Nightingale's moccasins, Chinese sex toys... Totally odd and randomly wonderful!
So that is that. I just wanted to alert you to the fact the Wellcome Collection is rad- it is a gallery, a performance space, there's a library if you need to brush up on your medical knowledge (studying surgical procedures from the 1750s? No worries!) and a very nice cafe and rad little shop. I went there because it was free and I needed to leave my bags somewhere safe. And I ended up really enjoying it. It wasn't on the list of London Galleries I picked up from tourist info. The Wellcome Collection is somewhere between Euston and King's Cross stations.
You should go there and enjoy it too.
And say Hi to Billy Bragg when you next see him...
Monday 16 August 2010
Friday 13 August 2010
Internet Revolution
I woke up at 5am this morning with no chance of getting back to sleep.
I was trying to punch the jet lag right in the kisser from day 1. Alas, it may have got the better of me.
I left Glasgow around midday and had a cheeky 5 or so hours to kill in Heathrow on Monday before boarding for Oz. After 13 hours in the air we landed in Singapore for a 1.5 hr lay over. Then back to my 39A seat (absolute back of the plane. Good seat- I recommend it. Close to the loo and first to get the food, plus there are only 2 seats in that back side row rather than 3 so you are less likely to be bumped by fatties walking down the aisle) and another 7.5 hrs to Sydney. Arriving at 5am, I had a 3 hour wait until the morning flight to Tullamarine. So by the time I got home to Warragul it was about midday on Wednesday. My body was completely out of sync.
Very first thing I did when we got home, before I even unloaded my bags?
Went to Centrelink and got on the dole.
Second thing?
Went to the opp shop.
One of the novel things I've found since coming home that totally rocks my world is my underwear. For seven and a half months I have had the same stock of about 10 undies. I forgot about all of the underwear I have! It's amazing!
Also amazing is the fact that I am writing this while sitting at the kitchen table at #17! Having only dial-up internet for the past decade at home, Betheles has finally lined up broadband wireless internet. I know it's 2010 but we are rockin the internet revolution here in Warragul! Surfin like a pro. Hang 10, grommit!
I spent a few hours in Maccas yesterday doing internetty things because Warragul hasn't caught on to the cafe-with-wifi notion. Or perhaps there is no market for it? Sometimes Warragul is a little town playing big, and sometimes it is just little.
Marcus came over last night and we cooked a chicken thai green curry. Delish! Marcus is jolly. A good blether was had. I got to listen to the new as yet unreleased UV Race album. Chair! They're off on a mad tour of the US. Bye bye blues.
So I'm off to Melb today to get my corporate on at GHD and then to get my Melbourne bars on. Hopefully I haven't thrown my whole weekend out by waking up early today...
Now which of my rediscovered undies will I wear...?!
I was trying to punch the jet lag right in the kisser from day 1. Alas, it may have got the better of me.
I left Glasgow around midday and had a cheeky 5 or so hours to kill in Heathrow on Monday before boarding for Oz. After 13 hours in the air we landed in Singapore for a 1.5 hr lay over. Then back to my 39A seat (absolute back of the plane. Good seat- I recommend it. Close to the loo and first to get the food, plus there are only 2 seats in that back side row rather than 3 so you are less likely to be bumped by fatties walking down the aisle) and another 7.5 hrs to Sydney. Arriving at 5am, I had a 3 hour wait until the morning flight to Tullamarine. So by the time I got home to Warragul it was about midday on Wednesday. My body was completely out of sync.
Very first thing I did when we got home, before I even unloaded my bags?
Went to Centrelink and got on the dole.
Second thing?
Went to the opp shop.
One of the novel things I've found since coming home that totally rocks my world is my underwear. For seven and a half months I have had the same stock of about 10 undies. I forgot about all of the underwear I have! It's amazing!
Also amazing is the fact that I am writing this while sitting at the kitchen table at #17! Having only dial-up internet for the past decade at home, Betheles has finally lined up broadband wireless internet. I know it's 2010 but we are rockin the internet revolution here in Warragul! Surfin like a pro. Hang 10, grommit!
I spent a few hours in Maccas yesterday doing internetty things because Warragul hasn't caught on to the cafe-with-wifi notion. Or perhaps there is no market for it? Sometimes Warragul is a little town playing big, and sometimes it is just little.
Marcus came over last night and we cooked a chicken thai green curry. Delish! Marcus is jolly. A good blether was had. I got to listen to the new as yet unreleased UV Race album. Chair! They're off on a mad tour of the US. Bye bye blues.
So I'm off to Melb today to get my corporate on at GHD and then to get my Melbourne bars on. Hopefully I haven't thrown my whole weekend out by waking up early today...
Now which of my rediscovered undies will I wear...?!
Thursday 12 August 2010
I was in Glasgow in August
COOLESTin the Halt
On another note, DON'T BE A DICK
(Sorry Phil, I hope you can still show your face around those people again)
Monday 9 August 2010
Last Wegie posting
Last post from Glasgow.
My penultimate Wegie weekend has been a delightful one.
Visited the Glasgow Farmers' Market in the sooth side with Joff and Chris- ostrich sausage in roll a winner but the wild boar burger a stand out. Shot through to Edinburgh with Lily for a final farewell to Carl. Got to see a little more of Edinburgh this time- the Meadows and the Links. Waded through manic crowds (the Fringe certainly transforms the city!!!) and rifled through some top gear at the Grass Market market/Anderson's (Big up J P and N L). Had a real ale at the Best Pub in Edinburgh 2010, joint winner, and waxed lyrical about everything with Carl and Lil from socialism to the impact of the EU 'corporation' to renewable energy to ginger ladies. Finished Sat with a pasta making lesson from Ben. Delicious. The pasta was good, too.
Oh stop it.
Action and Adventure awoke on Sunday with determination and energy and a belly full of goodness. Loch Lomond was the destination. Walked through the woods and ate carrot cake. Found mushrooms and dogs and a Balloch-ian penny.
Feast tonight, true Davis style, of salt and pepper squid, satay monk fish, roast rack of lamb, parsnips, King Eddies... many many yum yums. All things delicious.
Packed my hideous excuse for a bag- one of those plastic tartan £2 bags, which has already torn. Tomorrow I bind it with duct tape, coffee with McBetts (my off-line online travel buddy) and then a tough journey to the airport with Ben for mechanical and emotional reasons.
See you Melbourne folk soon- Saturday at the Town Hall.
Bye Glasgow.
Love ya!
Lloyd
My penultimate Wegie weekend has been a delightful one.
Visited the Glasgow Farmers' Market in the sooth side with Joff and Chris- ostrich sausage in roll a winner but the wild boar burger a stand out. Shot through to Edinburgh with Lily for a final farewell to Carl. Got to see a little more of Edinburgh this time- the Meadows and the Links. Waded through manic crowds (the Fringe certainly transforms the city!!!) and rifled through some top gear at the Grass Market market/Anderson's (Big up J P and N L). Had a real ale at the Best Pub in Edinburgh 2010, joint winner, and waxed lyrical about everything with Carl and Lil from socialism to the impact of the EU 'corporation' to renewable energy to ginger ladies. Finished Sat with a pasta making lesson from Ben. Delicious. The pasta was good, too.
Oh stop it.
Action and Adventure awoke on Sunday with determination and energy and a belly full of goodness. Loch Lomond was the destination. Walked through the woods and ate carrot cake. Found mushrooms and dogs and a Balloch-ian penny.
Feast tonight, true Davis style, of salt and pepper squid, satay monk fish, roast rack of lamb, parsnips, King Eddies... many many yum yums. All things delicious.
Packed my hideous excuse for a bag- one of those plastic tartan £2 bags, which has already torn. Tomorrow I bind it with duct tape, coffee with McBetts (my off-line online travel buddy) and then a tough journey to the airport with Ben for mechanical and emotional reasons.
See you Melbourne folk soon- Saturday at the Town Hall.
Bye Glasgow.
Love ya!
Lloyd
Friday 6 August 2010
Thursday 5 August 2010
LONDON. The Rabbit is part of It.
I sat sipping coffee (too quickly, Jacqui! B. Landau, 2008) as I sought refuge under the canvas sail from a fine display of British weather. As others huddled in multipacks of handbags, dripping umbrellas, pressed collars, carefully worn new woollen knits and the odd solo gortex warrior, we were at once in unison and alone.
A connection was made over muesli bars and a little warmth began to seep from the humming group of 4.
Oh! the weather! Yes, but you may want to save that for dessert! Day release tickets- I'm not sure? We came here last month and it was also very good. The rabbit is part of it, too. They just turned it upside down!
Strangers were united under a reckless sky, which gave way to sunshine tipping a mass exodus.
Before they left, they gave me some sound advice and a Royal Academy of Art friends-of-members-go-free entry to the Summer Series.
My sleep was almost non-existent. A rickety bunk and a swearing Brazilian. The lack of any tourist information whatsoever at the dirties hostel I've seen- with the grand exclusion to that void of Madame Toussaudes's- I spent the morning hours riding the underground, watching the Tower of London bridge yawn open and closed, and then texting McBetts for directions and advice. Big Ben loomed in the foreground as a grey shade of wet enveloped much of the city. Squares and circuses and men petrified in the heat of battle then strung up to count lorries.
The Tate Modern was very good. The two exhibits at the moment are very different and inspiring in their own way- voyeurism, surveillance and a bit of sexy bits, a great photographic exhibit; mixed media and thought provoking middle-east based politics/poetry.
China Town dinner with an unexpected and much appreciated cameo from none other than the middle Quirk. It's a long way from Eagle Boys days...
A connection was made over muesli bars and a little warmth began to seep from the humming group of 4.
Oh! the weather! Yes, but you may want to save that for dessert! Day release tickets- I'm not sure? We came here last month and it was also very good. The rabbit is part of it, too. They just turned it upside down!
Strangers were united under a reckless sky, which gave way to sunshine tipping a mass exodus.
Before they left, they gave me some sound advice and a Royal Academy of Art friends-of-members-go-free entry to the Summer Series.
My sleep was almost non-existent. A rickety bunk and a swearing Brazilian. The lack of any tourist information whatsoever at the dirties hostel I've seen- with the grand exclusion to that void of Madame Toussaudes's- I spent the morning hours riding the underground, watching the Tower of London bridge yawn open and closed, and then texting McBetts for directions and advice. Big Ben loomed in the foreground as a grey shade of wet enveloped much of the city. Squares and circuses and men petrified in the heat of battle then strung up to count lorries.
The Tate Modern was very good. The two exhibits at the moment are very different and inspiring in their own way- voyeurism, surveillance and a bit of sexy bits, a great photographic exhibit; mixed media and thought provoking middle-east based politics/poetry.
China Town dinner with an unexpected and much appreciated cameo from none other than the middle Quirk. It's a long way from Eagle Boys days...
Tuesday 3 August 2010
Glasgeh
back to glasgow.
remember these things?:
shitty footpaths that are uneven as fuck
spitting
buckfast
Jeremy Kyle
breakfast: congealed blood and oatmeal
Kopperberg pear cider
excessive drinking
treasure. 1p 2p 10p and a 5p
alright pal
lloyds pharmacy
lloyds tsb bank
remember these things?:
shitty footpaths that are uneven as fuck
spitting
buckfast
Jeremy Kyle
breakfast: congealed blood and oatmeal
Kopperberg pear cider
excessive drinking
treasure. 1p 2p 10p and a 5p
alright pal
lloyds pharmacy
lloyds tsb bank
Sunday 1 August 2010
TROLL
I ran into a Troll in the main square in Bergen, Norway.
Trolls are all over Norway. They are traditionally very ugly and have enlarged nostril-to-face ratios. They have hair in their ears, nose but not so much right on the top of their heads. They only wear natural fibres because dry cleaning is against their religion (Scandinavian Black Metal). They eat moose and small children and tend to forage solo but live in Troll communities called Trollvegans.
I was backing out of a shop in Bergen (west coast of Norway) and accidentally walked backwards into someone. I turned around to apologise. Everyone speaks perfect English in Norway. As I stepped away and profusely apologised I made eye contact with the thing I had hit. I almost spewed up my breakfast. I met eyes with a Troll-woman. She was dressed in a long maroon woolen coat over a grey pant-suit made of whale skin. She had a scarf around her head that she had obviously stolen from her last small Norwegian childmeal because it was floral and Trolls haven't advanced enough to screen print their moss-and-elk-hair textiles. The troll glared at me with eyes of sickness and death and pigeon feet.
She held my gaze as I froze in fear and then shook her head in utter disgust at my ignorant backwards-walking and apparently insufficient utterance of 'sorry'. I managed to twist my silent scream into a pathetic smile and pulled my face into a formation loosely resembling the look of one asking forgiveness. The troll, who had clearly just eaten some delicious grainy bread because there where crumbs in her moustache, had a dry mouth so was unable to spit fire at my feet. Had she not have just eaten a delicious and freshly made baked good she would surely have secreted troll slag in my direction. Which burns through synthetic fibres only.
I rushed away as fast as I could coerce my feet to take me. The image of her deadly troll eyes still burns a horrifying imagine in my retina.
I was lucky to escape.
Norwegian trolls.
Bloody scary.
Trolls are all over Norway. They are traditionally very ugly and have enlarged nostril-to-face ratios. They have hair in their ears, nose but not so much right on the top of their heads. They only wear natural fibres because dry cleaning is against their religion (Scandinavian Black Metal). They eat moose and small children and tend to forage solo but live in Troll communities called Trollvegans.
I was backing out of a shop in Bergen (west coast of Norway) and accidentally walked backwards into someone. I turned around to apologise. Everyone speaks perfect English in Norway. As I stepped away and profusely apologised I made eye contact with the thing I had hit. I almost spewed up my breakfast. I met eyes with a Troll-woman. She was dressed in a long maroon woolen coat over a grey pant-suit made of whale skin. She had a scarf around her head that she had obviously stolen from her last small Norwegian childmeal because it was floral and Trolls haven't advanced enough to screen print their moss-and-elk-hair textiles. The troll glared at me with eyes of sickness and death and pigeon feet.
She held my gaze as I froze in fear and then shook her head in utter disgust at my ignorant backwards-walking and apparently insufficient utterance of 'sorry'. I managed to twist my silent scream into a pathetic smile and pulled my face into a formation loosely resembling the look of one asking forgiveness. The troll, who had clearly just eaten some delicious grainy bread because there where crumbs in her moustache, had a dry mouth so was unable to spit fire at my feet. Had she not have just eaten a delicious and freshly made baked good she would surely have secreted troll slag in my direction. Which burns through synthetic fibres only.
I rushed away as fast as I could coerce my feet to take me. The image of her deadly troll eyes still burns a horrifying imagine in my retina.
I was lucky to escape.
Norwegian trolls.
Bloody scary.
Thursday 22 July 2010
Norge
Check this out:
Å
Æ
Ø
Yeeeeah Booooiiii! I am in Norway.
I ate a seafood feast at the Bergen residence of the Norwegian royal family. It was delicious. Prawns (Reker), Salmon, Mussels Blåskjell), Proscuttio (Spekeskinke), Bread (Bydelsørt), Wine (Vin) etc. Yes, they all deserve capitals on account of how delectable each of them was.
I tried caviar and whale at the Bergen fish market.
This afternoon Ben, Trond and I will go to Marriane´s cabin on the fjord to fish and hunt deer and chop wood and ride whales and pick berries and conquer mountains and bathe in icy waters and bask in glorious sun.
Jag.
Yes.
Oslo: water features and contemporary art and sculptures. And duck poo on Ben´s towel. And synchronised marching men in uniform with REAL guns. And bodies piled on top of each other in some kind of obilesk. Aker Brygg docklands woo woo.
Ceilidh on its way on a farm on hardangerfjord. Thank you to the Davis posse for bringing in the litre of whisky each for Benj and I. Time to get our dancing shoes on and do some eightsome reels and burling. Dashing white sergeant. Strip the willow. St Bernad´s Waltz, Boston two-step. Eee-YIP woo!!!
Å
Æ
Ø
Yeeeeah Booooiiii! I am in Norway.
I ate a seafood feast at the Bergen residence of the Norwegian royal family. It was delicious. Prawns (Reker), Salmon, Mussels Blåskjell), Proscuttio (Spekeskinke), Bread (Bydelsørt), Wine (Vin) etc. Yes, they all deserve capitals on account of how delectable each of them was.
I tried caviar and whale at the Bergen fish market.
This afternoon Ben, Trond and I will go to Marriane´s cabin on the fjord to fish and hunt deer and chop wood and ride whales and pick berries and conquer mountains and bathe in icy waters and bask in glorious sun.
Jag.
Yes.
Oslo: water features and contemporary art and sculptures. And duck poo on Ben´s towel. And synchronised marching men in uniform with REAL guns. And bodies piled on top of each other in some kind of obilesk. Aker Brygg docklands woo woo.
Ceilidh on its way on a farm on hardangerfjord. Thank you to the Davis posse for bringing in the litre of whisky each for Benj and I. Time to get our dancing shoes on and do some eightsome reels and burling. Dashing white sergeant. Strip the willow. St Bernad´s Waltz, Boston two-step. Eee-YIP woo!!!
Saturday 17 July 2010
Stork fort and Whit beer
Rouen-Paris, Paris-Strasbourg.
Strasbourg is a very pretty town. It is in the French region of Alsace. I arrived early afternoon and had a nap to recover from 1.sleeping on the floor in Rouen, 2.waking at 6am that morning, after a string of up-before-I-want-tos, and 3.Bosler's train arrived close to 5pm and I had time to kill.
We found cheap beer and then an ACDC soundtrack to accompany our Croque Monsiuer dinner.
In Strasbourg you can find 'Little France' which is a gorgeous old part of town cut off from the Rhine by locks. You can find a beautiful gothic catherdaral in the middle of town, you can find sales in all the shops in the commercial strip, you can find a crazy homeless guy making out with his dog, and you can find a lot of stalks (as in the bird. And they are stuffed toys. Didn't see any real ones). Through a rough and hideous translation Strasbourg means Stalk - fort.
Strasbourg-Offenberg-Konstanz
My first night in Konstanz was great!
So wonderful to see Nomes again. And she speaks English in a German accent. Funny!
The train from Strasbourg took us through the Black Forest and then as we approached Konstanz I could see the Alps in the distance.
We headed along Lake Konstanz shore front, across the border and into Switzerland. Lake Konstanz is the biggest freshwater lake in Europe. It's big. I swam in it. Cheese and wine ensued with Nomes' local contigency made a solid turnout. Donner and blitzen moved overhead and across the lake. The storm took our sun light and then eventually rained on us. I was dinked in to and then out of Switzerland. The group gathered at a house where the wine was finished.
This morning I have had a traditional Bavarian breakfast of white sausage (don't eat the skin!) and white beer with sweet mustard and bretzel (like a large, bready pretzel). The weather is a mild 25 today but the rain may come back. I think my carefully planned itinerary includes canooing, a festival on the island on the lake, 'relax clubbing' (?) and german things like beer.
Strasbourg is a very pretty town. It is in the French region of Alsace. I arrived early afternoon and had a nap to recover from 1.sleeping on the floor in Rouen, 2.waking at 6am that morning, after a string of up-before-I-want-tos, and 3.Bosler's train arrived close to 5pm and I had time to kill.
We found cheap beer and then an ACDC soundtrack to accompany our Croque Monsiuer dinner.
In Strasbourg you can find 'Little France' which is a gorgeous old part of town cut off from the Rhine by locks. You can find a beautiful gothic catherdaral in the middle of town, you can find sales in all the shops in the commercial strip, you can find a crazy homeless guy making out with his dog, and you can find a lot of stalks (as in the bird. And they are stuffed toys. Didn't see any real ones). Through a rough and hideous translation Strasbourg means Stalk - fort.
Strasbourg-Offenberg-Konstanz
My first night in Konstanz was great!
So wonderful to see Nomes again. And she speaks English in a German accent. Funny!
The train from Strasbourg took us through the Black Forest and then as we approached Konstanz I could see the Alps in the distance.
We headed along Lake Konstanz shore front, across the border and into Switzerland. Lake Konstanz is the biggest freshwater lake in Europe. It's big. I swam in it. Cheese and wine ensued with Nomes' local contigency made a solid turnout. Donner and blitzen moved overhead and across the lake. The storm took our sun light and then eventually rained on us. I was dinked in to and then out of Switzerland. The group gathered at a house where the wine was finished.
This morning I have had a traditional Bavarian breakfast of white sausage (don't eat the skin!) and white beer with sweet mustard and bretzel (like a large, bready pretzel). The weather is a mild 25 today but the rain may come back. I think my carefully planned itinerary includes canooing, a festival on the island on the lake, 'relax clubbing' (?) and german things like beer.
Thursday 15 July 2010
FRENCHIE CHERIE
O la la
PARIS was beautiful. I will try try try to return soon...
Rouen is also nice.
Capital of Normandy.
Gothic cathedrals, Impressionist festivals (thanks Rouen for hosting the birth of impressionism and bringing it from the landscape to the streets. Big up to Monet and Gauguin who loved the place, too)
leaving for Strasbourg but not before an amazing Afghani dinner and fireworks and music for Bastille Day.
See you in Rue de Bitche, Strasbourg
PARIS was beautiful. I will try try try to return soon...
Rouen is also nice.
Capital of Normandy.
Gothic cathedrals, Impressionist festivals (thanks Rouen for hosting the birth of impressionism and bringing it from the landscape to the streets. Big up to Monet and Gauguin who loved the place, too)
leaving for Strasbourg but not before an amazing Afghani dinner and fireworks and music for Bastille Day.
See you in Rue de Bitche, Strasbourg
Monday 12 July 2010
PARIS you're a babe
Bonjour!
After 4 days of hot hot heat and humidity the sky broke over Paris early this morning.
Thunder
Lightening
Rain. Lots of rain. Real rain, heavy rain!
Thankfully it's now cooler and the rain has moved on east. Ascent of the Eiffel Tower is locked in for today!
On arrival in Paris Jess and I hit the supermarce for essentials- pain, fromage, vin (and a bottle opener. No screw tops here, thank you.) and met up with some Real Parisians in a park in the middle of Paris that looked like it was in the middle of the 'bush'. Magnific! The sun set as we sat on the hill side and swapped cheeses for homemade mushroom pastries and rushed to finish our (surprisingly great tasting for only 3 euros) Bordeaux red before the park gates shut at 10pm.
Our connection to the locals is Romain.
A legend among men.
We met in the hot and absurd East of Turkey about a year ago.
After the piquenique we headed back to his cosy apartment for more wine, French philosophy mags, 80s French dance tunes and dancing with keyboards and retro irons & telephones.
Jess and I have done a lot in 4 days. Would love to stay longer in Paris, do more sitting and watching, but with so much to do in such a short period of time we've done well. Gold stars all round.
Romain met us on Saturday morning and guided us through Indian and Asian areas to a market under the train line where I bought cheries. Then up to Montmatre to the Sacre Coer on the hill with beautiful Paris views. Coffee, Moulin Rouge, some grave hopping (J Morrison, O Wilde), delicious lunch. An excellent morning. Thank you Romain for a really enjoyable amble through Paris.
Modern installations at Tokyo Palace, impressionists at Musee d'Orsay, flying buttresses at Notre Dame, chandelliers and silk and plastic and wood and polyester and weaves and china and puppies at a flea market...
More wine and cheese and Hotel de Ville and Pompidou and Jardin du Luxombourg and some Eiffel action and I'm done.
Sad to say bye byes to Jessica Rose tomorrow.
Soon to see the Bosdog and the reunion of Action and Adventure...
After 4 days of hot hot heat and humidity the sky broke over Paris early this morning.
Thunder
Lightening
Rain. Lots of rain. Real rain, heavy rain!
Thankfully it's now cooler and the rain has moved on east. Ascent of the Eiffel Tower is locked in for today!
On arrival in Paris Jess and I hit the supermarce for essentials- pain, fromage, vin (and a bottle opener. No screw tops here, thank you.) and met up with some Real Parisians in a park in the middle of Paris that looked like it was in the middle of the 'bush'. Magnific! The sun set as we sat on the hill side and swapped cheeses for homemade mushroom pastries and rushed to finish our (surprisingly great tasting for only 3 euros) Bordeaux red before the park gates shut at 10pm.
Our connection to the locals is Romain.
A legend among men.
We met in the hot and absurd East of Turkey about a year ago.
After the piquenique we headed back to his cosy apartment for more wine, French philosophy mags, 80s French dance tunes and dancing with keyboards and retro irons & telephones.
Jess and I have done a lot in 4 days. Would love to stay longer in Paris, do more sitting and watching, but with so much to do in such a short period of time we've done well. Gold stars all round.
Romain met us on Saturday morning and guided us through Indian and Asian areas to a market under the train line where I bought cheries. Then up to Montmatre to the Sacre Coer on the hill with beautiful Paris views. Coffee, Moulin Rouge, some grave hopping (J Morrison, O Wilde), delicious lunch. An excellent morning. Thank you Romain for a really enjoyable amble through Paris.
Modern installations at Tokyo Palace, impressionists at Musee d'Orsay, flying buttresses at Notre Dame, chandelliers and silk and plastic and wood and polyester and weaves and china and puppies at a flea market...
More wine and cheese and Hotel de Ville and Pompidou and Jardin du Luxombourg and some Eiffel action and I'm done.
Sad to say bye byes to Jessica Rose tomorrow.
Soon to see the Bosdog and the reunion of Action and Adventure...
Monday 5 July 2010
Four marvels of Florence
As Jess caught those cheeky Zs we'd foregone in the morning in order to avoid queues and sweltering heat, I went for a solo stroll around Firenze. No camera, no money, no map or idea of where I was going. A promenade in Florence.
Just after eight thirty. Still quite warm- about 32 degrees but with a slight (and much anticipated) breeze.
The sun was setting.
Marvel one.
It was enormous, perched between the roof tops and just above the horizon. Blood orange red. Fiery red and huge.
I wandered further towards the old town and the river. I cut through piazzas I hadn't seen. There were people huddled around televisions in bars watching the Germany Argentina match and synchronous cheers echoed down the narrow streets as various crowds in various bars and restaurants watched the beating unfold. I made it down to the river, further downstream than the Ponte Vecchio. I crossed the river and headed to a weir I could see. It was set at a gradient to the river so the water was flowing deepest over the left side and gradually became shallow and was damed up from about half way across the river. On the side where the weir was higher than the water level the concrete of the weir was exposed and people were sitting out on the weir watching the sun set and drinking from bottles of wine.
Marvel two.
As I looked across the weir and the river towards the domes and towers of the city the street lamps all came on. The reflection of the lamps on the water was magical. All of a sudden the buildings became highlighted and the water was shimmering. Very beautiful.
When the street lights come on I took that as my cue to head back to Jess and the hostel. As I cut through the old streets, past gelato stores, bars, leather and fashion shops closed for the day I heard the sound of music in the distance. I followed my ears and ended up in a square with big columned walls. A heavy crowd had formed around the music. It was a brass band with drums and a very funky tune. I got closer and as they finished a swinging big number I recognised the trombone player as the guy I'd spoken to on the beach in Barcelona. (Did I tell you about that? The travelling brass band playing for free on the beach during the fireworks of the San Juan midsummer festival in Barcelona?)
Marvellous!
They were so fun. Molte bueno! The What Cheer? brigade. The trombone player told me they'd finished their business in the Basque country where they'd been invited to compete in a world champs of brass bands. They'd won first place and popular vote. Legends!
I wore a smile as big as the gelati I'd had earlier that day.
And then, as I turned a corner, in my path stood an old fashioned carousel. Marvel four. Lit up in the middle of the piazza. No music, but spinning around and glowing. There weren't many people about so I don't understand why it was there, or why it was still turning. But it was beautiful.
A marvellous promenade through the streets of Florence. Gorgeous city.
To Venice tomorrow.
Today was a long one- a tour of Siena and Tuscany and the Chianti region (yes, it's where Chianti red wine comes from). We did some wine tastings and ate some very nice Tuscan tucker. Nicest white I've ever had. And a beautiful Chianti red where the old bloke who ran the winery turned up in a flashy sports car (he was about 70) in what looked like pyjamas with a cigar hanging out his mouth. We exchanged brief words, but I think he liked me, because I was one of the few who got a second helping. He made sure I got the first glass of the second lot :)
Good night lovelies. Thought a lot about my wonderful new friends I've made and those I'll see soon back in Australia on my solo Firenze spin. Much love to you. x
Just after eight thirty. Still quite warm- about 32 degrees but with a slight (and much anticipated) breeze.
The sun was setting.
Marvel one.
It was enormous, perched between the roof tops and just above the horizon. Blood orange red. Fiery red and huge.
I wandered further towards the old town and the river. I cut through piazzas I hadn't seen. There were people huddled around televisions in bars watching the Germany Argentina match and synchronous cheers echoed down the narrow streets as various crowds in various bars and restaurants watched the beating unfold. I made it down to the river, further downstream than the Ponte Vecchio. I crossed the river and headed to a weir I could see. It was set at a gradient to the river so the water was flowing deepest over the left side and gradually became shallow and was damed up from about half way across the river. On the side where the weir was higher than the water level the concrete of the weir was exposed and people were sitting out on the weir watching the sun set and drinking from bottles of wine.
Marvel two.
As I looked across the weir and the river towards the domes and towers of the city the street lamps all came on. The reflection of the lamps on the water was magical. All of a sudden the buildings became highlighted and the water was shimmering. Very beautiful.
When the street lights come on I took that as my cue to head back to Jess and the hostel. As I cut through the old streets, past gelato stores, bars, leather and fashion shops closed for the day I heard the sound of music in the distance. I followed my ears and ended up in a square with big columned walls. A heavy crowd had formed around the music. It was a brass band with drums and a very funky tune. I got closer and as they finished a swinging big number I recognised the trombone player as the guy I'd spoken to on the beach in Barcelona. (Did I tell you about that? The travelling brass band playing for free on the beach during the fireworks of the San Juan midsummer festival in Barcelona?)
Marvellous!
They were so fun. Molte bueno! The What Cheer? brigade. The trombone player told me they'd finished their business in the Basque country where they'd been invited to compete in a world champs of brass bands. They'd won first place and popular vote. Legends!
I wore a smile as big as the gelati I'd had earlier that day.
And then, as I turned a corner, in my path stood an old fashioned carousel. Marvel four. Lit up in the middle of the piazza. No music, but spinning around and glowing. There weren't many people about so I don't understand why it was there, or why it was still turning. But it was beautiful.
A marvellous promenade through the streets of Florence. Gorgeous city.
To Venice tomorrow.
Today was a long one- a tour of Siena and Tuscany and the Chianti region (yes, it's where Chianti red wine comes from). We did some wine tastings and ate some very nice Tuscan tucker. Nicest white I've ever had. And a beautiful Chianti red where the old bloke who ran the winery turned up in a flashy sports car (he was about 70) in what looked like pyjamas with a cigar hanging out his mouth. We exchanged brief words, but I think he liked me, because I was one of the few who got a second helping. He made sure I got the first glass of the second lot :)
Good night lovelies. Thought a lot about my wonderful new friends I've made and those I'll see soon back in Australia on my solo Firenze spin. Much love to you. x
Wednesday 30 June 2010
Espanol? Italiano? Si!
Ciao!
An entry from me is long over due.
I'm in Roma with Jessica Rose Pearce.
We have eaten gelati as big as your head, seen the Colosseum and the Trevi Fountian and countless other amazing 'things', been harassed by men (walking home, about 11pm, a man stops his car in the middle of the road, leans over and opens the passenger door and says: "Cuanto?") and we are on the hunt for Il Papa and Roman sandals.
Spain was a little less hot (still mid 30s) and a little more relaxed. I explored the beautiful streets of Girona solo and also did a day trip into the mountains including a lap of the lake where they held the '92 Olympic rowing. The orchestration and execution of the Great Surprise involving Phil turning up unexpected to join Niki, Jess and I in Barcelona was somewhat stunted by French air strikes and day-late-arrival of the lasses. But I filled the time with a fireworks midsummer festival on the beach at night and lots of delicious tapa.
Next on the itinerary is Florence, Verona and Venice. Then 'Salut Paris!', 'Guttentarg Konstanz' (Germany, yah?!) and 'Tousan Tak Norway'. Pics and descriptions to follow. For now I'm off to get my pasta and tiramassu on! Ciao! x
An entry from me is long over due.
I'm in Roma with Jessica Rose Pearce.
We have eaten gelati as big as your head, seen the Colosseum and the Trevi Fountian and countless other amazing 'things', been harassed by men (walking home, about 11pm, a man stops his car in the middle of the road, leans over and opens the passenger door and says: "Cuanto?") and we are on the hunt for Il Papa and Roman sandals.
Spain was a little less hot (still mid 30s) and a little more relaxed. I explored the beautiful streets of Girona solo and also did a day trip into the mountains including a lap of the lake where they held the '92 Olympic rowing. The orchestration and execution of the Great Surprise involving Phil turning up unexpected to join Niki, Jess and I in Barcelona was somewhat stunted by French air strikes and day-late-arrival of the lasses. But I filled the time with a fireworks midsummer festival on the beach at night and lots of delicious tapa.
Next on the itinerary is Florence, Verona and Venice. Then 'Salut Paris!', 'Guttentarg Konstanz' (Germany, yah?!) and 'Tousan Tak Norway'. Pics and descriptions to follow. For now I'm off to get my pasta and tiramassu on! Ciao! x
Tuesday 15 June 2010
OBAN & MULL & IONA
As the Pet Shop Boys once said, Lily and I decided last week it was time to Go West.
We arrived at the train station very early headed for the south west highlands coast and were told we'd need to get a bus. Weird. The train goes straight there in 3 hours. Then we are informed it may take an extra hour and a half on the bus, because of a landslide on the train track and road.
That landslide turned out to be big enough to have derailed the train the night before we were to set off, which caused a fireball to shoot through the carriage and left the train half on the tracks and half overhanging the road.
Anyway, it only took 3.5hrs, not the 5 we were threatened with. We arrived after having had a little snooze on the bus- ready to take on Oban! Lily and I found an awesome hostel in Oban that gave free breakfast and was run by the hairiest (Swiss/German) woman I have ever met. Woah!
Things to do in OBAN:
* Take a walk along the harbour and admire the crazy architecture, while eating Mackie's ice cream.
* Stroll north from town and climb the cliff to get to Dunollie Castle. The only castle I've seen where you can climb the stairs to the second level. Most castles have retained the exterior but any interior features (such as ceilings) have been ruined.
*Walk to the top of town to the imposing monument that looks like it was mistakenly built when the Roman architects got 'Oban' confused with 'the Coliseum'
Next day we caught the ferry from Oban to the Isle of Mull.
It is very lush on the west coast of Scotland- Mull was no exception.
The bus took us to Tobermory, the most populated town on Mull. A cute seaside village. We were the only people under the age of 64 though. Lily informed me it's like that Doctor Who episode where the town is set in the 50s and there are only old grey haired people around and it turns out the oldies are sucking the life out of the youth. (Big up to Lomax. Aiiiii)
We found a hostel, dropped our bags and went for a walk along the peninsula. Great views back across the water to Tobermory. We were undisturbed, too, since the swarm of old people must have found the walk a little too much for their hips. Unfortunately it turned from sunburn-hot to sky-breaking downpour, then just standard rain for a good few hours. Lily and I hid under an abandoned stone shed for 40 min, then moved to a rotunda thing for another good stint. Unfortunately all the midgies (Scottish equivalent of Mosquitoes, but much smaller) took shelter under the rotunda too. I'm still itching my bites a week on :(
Tobermory:
After our big, wet walk Lily and I thought we deserved a big couple of glasses of red at the pub. Which turned into a delicious crab meat pasta and bottle of white,
then more glasses of white, then move next door to another pub where we where bought multiple drinks and made many friends. Don't know who these people where- clearly they were friendly though. They jumped in a boat and rowed home after the pub shut. I desperately wanted to go with them, but probably for the best we didn't follow them on to the next party because I don't know about the structural integrity of that boat, or it's capacity to carry more than 2 people...
Then we discovered there had been a curfew and the hostel was shut. We were locked out. Long and ridiculous story short, Lily and I stayed on the floor of the hotel room of two old Welsh blokes we met until 6am, when we sat outside in the rain waiting for someone to come down for breakfast so we could be let in. We managed to get in and squeeze in a cheeky 35 min snooze before we had to get the 7.30am bus to Iona at the far end of Mull. Rough night. Lead on to a rough day. Pretty sure we were drunk right up til the ferry across to Iona. Not impressed with our hostel. Who locks people out but doesn't warn them before they go out to get drunk?
Lily: "Want to throw the keys in the harbour?" Brilliant!
IONA
Iona is nice, but not a lot going on. A chapel and a church. We spent a LOT of time sitting in the dingy diner opposite the ferry dock drinking Irn Bru and eating sausage in roll. We were suffering from the previous night.
I'm glad we made it to Iona, but I don't have much to say on it. Take a look instead:
The journey home was tough. We both just wanted to be back in our Weegie beds. It went like this: hour bus ride back from Iona to half way up Mull where the ferry comes in, hour on the ferry, hour wait in Oban, three and a bit hour bus to Glasgow, ten minute underground in Glasgow, three minute walk to Ben's house. Home. Ahh.
Verdict: beautiful and dramatic landscape. Lush. Sunny. Midgies not so good, but a ferry is always fun and the castles we saw in Oban and on Mull where grand. Good times. Shit facing, but good times :)
We arrived at the train station very early headed for the south west highlands coast and were told we'd need to get a bus. Weird. The train goes straight there in 3 hours. Then we are informed it may take an extra hour and a half on the bus, because of a landslide on the train track and road.
That landslide turned out to be big enough to have derailed the train the night before we were to set off, which caused a fireball to shoot through the carriage and left the train half on the tracks and half overhanging the road.
Anyway, it only took 3.5hrs, not the 5 we were threatened with. We arrived after having had a little snooze on the bus- ready to take on Oban! Lily and I found an awesome hostel in Oban that gave free breakfast and was run by the hairiest (Swiss/German) woman I have ever met. Woah!
Things to do in OBAN:
* Take a walk along the harbour and admire the crazy architecture, while eating Mackie's ice cream.
* Stroll north from town and climb the cliff to get to Dunollie Castle. The only castle I've seen where you can climb the stairs to the second level. Most castles have retained the exterior but any interior features (such as ceilings) have been ruined.
*Walk to the top of town to the imposing monument that looks like it was mistakenly built when the Roman architects got 'Oban' confused with 'the Coliseum'
Next day we caught the ferry from Oban to the Isle of Mull.
It is very lush on the west coast of Scotland- Mull was no exception.
The bus took us to Tobermory, the most populated town on Mull. A cute seaside village. We were the only people under the age of 64 though. Lily informed me it's like that Doctor Who episode where the town is set in the 50s and there are only old grey haired people around and it turns out the oldies are sucking the life out of the youth. (Big up to Lomax. Aiiiii)We found a hostel, dropped our bags and went for a walk along the peninsula. Great views back across the water to Tobermory. We were undisturbed, too, since the swarm of old people must have found the walk a little too much for their hips. Unfortunately it turned from sunburn-hot to sky-breaking downpour, then just standard rain for a good few hours. Lily and I hid under an abandoned stone shed for 40 min, then moved to a rotunda thing for another good stint. Unfortunately all the midgies (Scottish equivalent of Mosquitoes, but much smaller) took shelter under the rotunda too. I'm still itching my bites a week on :(
Tobermory:
After our big, wet walk Lily and I thought we deserved a big couple of glasses of red at the pub. Which turned into a delicious crab meat pasta and bottle of white,
then more glasses of white, then move next door to another pub where we where bought multiple drinks and made many friends. Don't know who these people where- clearly they were friendly though. They jumped in a boat and rowed home after the pub shut. I desperately wanted to go with them, but probably for the best we didn't follow them on to the next party because I don't know about the structural integrity of that boat, or it's capacity to carry more than 2 people...Then we discovered there had been a curfew and the hostel was shut. We were locked out. Long and ridiculous story short, Lily and I stayed on the floor of the hotel room of two old Welsh blokes we met until 6am, when we sat outside in the rain waiting for someone to come down for breakfast so we could be let in. We managed to get in and squeeze in a cheeky 35 min snooze before we had to get the 7.30am bus to Iona at the far end of Mull. Rough night. Lead on to a rough day. Pretty sure we were drunk right up til the ferry across to Iona. Not impressed with our hostel. Who locks people out but doesn't warn them before they go out to get drunk?
Lily: "Want to throw the keys in the harbour?" Brilliant!
IONA
Iona is nice, but not a lot going on. A chapel and a church. We spent a LOT of time sitting in the dingy diner opposite the ferry dock drinking Irn Bru and eating sausage in roll. We were suffering from the previous night.
I'm glad we made it to Iona, but I don't have much to say on it. Take a look instead:
The journey home was tough. We both just wanted to be back in our Weegie beds. It went like this: hour bus ride back from Iona to half way up Mull where the ferry comes in, hour on the ferry, hour wait in Oban, three and a bit hour bus to Glasgow, ten minute underground in Glasgow, three minute walk to Ben's house. Home. Ahh.
Verdict: beautiful and dramatic landscape. Lush. Sunny. Midgies not so good, but a ferry is always fun and the castles we saw in Oban and on Mull where grand. Good times. Shit facing, but good times :)
Sunday 6 June 2010
Birthday x2
On the 5th of June, 1986, a child was born.
Legend has it the mother, having gone through this child birth caper once before, assumed omnipotent power and knowledge and demanded the child be placed in her arms post haste. The child then proceeded to wee, vomit and poo nasty blackness. In utter disgust the mother cried for the beastly child to be taken away.
24 years later, that child has grown into a Lloyd Llegs Parabolloyd.
Ben's birthday was the 2nd of June. The plan was to host a Povo Black Tie dinner on the 1st with Ben's buds from Edinburgh. I sourced a dishy LSD (little silver dress) from the Opp Shop for a cheeky 3 pound, but the dinner was called off. Instead we ate a Davis Special stir fry and drank beer and wine and whisky in Ben's lounge and some of his Glasgow pals came over (with cake!!!) & we danced topless to Nirvana! Chair. Ripper night. On Ben's actual birthday we hit up a game of mini golf and then wined and dined at a verah noice Italiano restauranta.
My birthday was also a good one. As it is important to get a good run up to the anniversary of one's birth, Ben and I watched The Godfather on the telly.
Saturday the 5th was a beautiful sunny day in Glasgow. I went for a big walk through the Botanical Gardens and then along the bank of the River Kelvin. Lots of people walking dogs. Dags- you like dags? It's a funny walk in that it is so lush and green and you could forget you're in the middle of the the biggest city in Scotland. Then you pass under a grand old traffic-carrying bridge and you see some glass and stone peeping at you through the trees and you're in the city once again.
I had plans to bake ANZAC bics but the search for ingredients was epic (can you just give me rolled oats? I don't want instant porridge I want oats!) so the baking never happened.
Then Ben came home from work and we hit Glasgow town!
* 2 games of pool at King Tuts Wah Wah Hut (a live music institution in Glasgow, voted best in Britain I think)
* Espresso Martinis- made on request- at Grill on the Corner (oh la la! so swanky!)
* Beers but no food at Bier Hall Republic
* More beers with Jayne (Ben's housie) at Universal
* Classic finish: jovial convo with randoms while waiting for pizza from middle eastern take out joint below Ben's flat.
Thanks for all the birthday wishes from all my lovely friends. Too kind. Makes me warm in the chestal area. Coarse crapitations be gone!
Legend has it the mother, having gone through this child birth caper once before, assumed omnipotent power and knowledge and demanded the child be placed in her arms post haste. The child then proceeded to wee, vomit and poo nasty blackness. In utter disgust the mother cried for the beastly child to be taken away.
24 years later, that child has grown into a Lloyd Llegs Parabolloyd.
Ben's birthday was the 2nd of June. The plan was to host a Povo Black Tie dinner on the 1st with Ben's buds from Edinburgh. I sourced a dishy LSD (little silver dress) from the Opp Shop for a cheeky 3 pound, but the dinner was called off. Instead we ate a Davis Special stir fry and drank beer and wine and whisky in Ben's lounge and some of his Glasgow pals came over (with cake!!!) & we danced topless to Nirvana! Chair. Ripper night. On Ben's actual birthday we hit up a game of mini golf and then wined and dined at a verah noice Italiano restauranta.My birthday was also a good one. As it is important to get a good run up to the anniversary of one's birth, Ben and I watched The Godfather on the telly.
Saturday the 5th was a beautiful sunny day in Glasgow. I went for a big walk through the Botanical Gardens and then along the bank of the River Kelvin. Lots of people walking dogs. Dags- you like dags? It's a funny walk in that it is so lush and green and you could forget you're in the middle of the the biggest city in Scotland. Then you pass under a grand old traffic-carrying bridge and you see some glass and stone peeping at you through the trees and you're in the city once again.
I had plans to bake ANZAC bics but the search for ingredients was epic (can you just give me rolled oats? I don't want instant porridge I want oats!) so the baking never happened.
Then Ben came home from work and we hit Glasgow town!
* 2 games of pool at King Tuts Wah Wah Hut (a live music institution in Glasgow, voted best in Britain I think)
* Espresso Martinis- made on request- at Grill on the Corner (oh la la! so swanky!)
* Beers but no food at Bier Hall Republic
* More beers with Jayne (Ben's housie) at Universal
* Classic finish: jovial convo with randoms while waiting for pizza from middle eastern take out joint below Ben's flat.
Thanks for all the birthday wishes from all my lovely friends. Too kind. Makes me warm in the chestal area. Coarse crapitations be gone!
Tuesday 1 June 2010
Crabs
Ben and I went on a trek last week to god-knows-where (North of Great Western Road? No one goes north of Glasgow??!!) to a big Asian supermarket. How amazing are these crabs? They have fur around those claws, like Elizabeth Taylor might have worn in an old movie when it was cold and she sticks her hands in a big fur tube thing because it is snowing and she is walking across a bridge. Du ken? I made a Thai Green Chicken Curry last night. It has been so, so long since I've eaten food from that part of the world. It was very nice.
Squash: Lloydy is aching!
Hello. sorry for lame-o posts. (big up to J-Rose-P though, respect to the plum!)
Have been kicking about Ben's flat a lot and organising the Euro trip. Lots and lots of internetting. Not that interesting. Gowri has left for her second semester on exchange- in Denmark I think. Sad to say bye. It's getting old. Everyone is leaving (except Phil- Holla!).
It was really nice having Phoebe come up to Glasgow for a visit. She is now en route to Madagascar where she'll do 3 months scuba diving every day counting fish. Lucky girl! Then she'll head home to Aus via Karim in Morocco where they may or may not be getting married.
Kate Mac came through Glasgow too. Lily, Pho, Kate and I went to the Lighthouse (A Rennie Mackintosh building/museum) which had great views of the city but caught the terrible wind since it was a particularly shite day. Then we went to Mr Ben's vintage shop and The 13th Note in Merchant City for some bohemian vibes and ginger beer (Crabbies. Brewed in Glasgow. It's delicious).
Lily and I have been frequenting Sonny & Vito's a lot. I think it may be the Best Coffee in the West End. Nice.
Also, Ben and I played squash. Having never played a racket sport before, (half a dozen games of tennis with L. Ablett in the summer of 2005 doesn't really count) and NEVER having played squash before, it was quite the adventure. I wasn't that good at it, but got the idea of how it works, and wasn't too bad by the end (could volley for at least 6 hits!!). Now I am suffering beyond explanation. I'm so sore. My bum, back, arms. Ouchies!
Have been kicking about Ben's flat a lot and organising the Euro trip. Lots and lots of internetting. Not that interesting. Gowri has left for her second semester on exchange- in Denmark I think. Sad to say bye. It's getting old. Everyone is leaving (except Phil- Holla!).
It was really nice having Phoebe come up to Glasgow for a visit. She is now en route to Madagascar where she'll do 3 months scuba diving every day counting fish. Lucky girl! Then she'll head home to Aus via Karim in Morocco where they may or may not be getting married.
Kate Mac came through Glasgow too. Lily, Pho, Kate and I went to the Lighthouse (A Rennie Mackintosh building/museum) which had great views of the city but caught the terrible wind since it was a particularly shite day. Then we went to Mr Ben's vintage shop and The 13th Note in Merchant City for some bohemian vibes and ginger beer (Crabbies. Brewed in Glasgow. It's delicious).Lily and I have been frequenting Sonny & Vito's a lot. I think it may be the Best Coffee in the West End. Nice.
Also, Ben and I played squash. Having never played a racket sport before, (half a dozen games of tennis with L. Ablett in the summer of 2005 doesn't really count) and NEVER having played squash before, it was quite the adventure. I wasn't that good at it, but got the idea of how it works, and wasn't too bad by the end (could volley for at least 6 hits!!). Now I am suffering beyond explanation. I'm so sore. My bum, back, arms. Ouchies!
Sunday 30 May 2010
each, peach, pear, plum.
Each peach pear plum, I spy Tom Thumb.
Tom Thumb in the cupboard, I spy Mother Hubbard.
Mother Hubbard in the cellar, I spy Cinderella.
Cinderella on the stairs, I spy the Three Bears.
Three Bears out hunting, I spy Baby Bunting.
Baby Bunting fast asleep, I spy Bo-Peep.
Bo-Peep up the hill, I spy Jack and Jill.
Jack and Jill in the ditch, I spy the Wicked Witch.
Wicked Witch over the wood, I spy Robin Hood.
Robin Hood in his den, I spy the Three Bears again.
Three Bears still hunting, they spy Baby Bunting.
Baby Bunting safe and dry, I spy Plum Pie.
Plum Pie in the sun, I spy...
Everyone!
J+A Ahlberg.
Tom Thumb in the cupboard, I spy Mother Hubbard.
Mother Hubbard in the cellar, I spy Cinderella.
Cinderella on the stairs, I spy the Three Bears.
Three Bears out hunting, I spy Baby Bunting.
Baby Bunting fast asleep, I spy Bo-Peep.
Bo-Peep up the hill, I spy Jack and Jill.
Jack and Jill in the ditch, I spy the Wicked Witch.
Wicked Witch over the wood, I spy Robin Hood.
Robin Hood in his den, I spy the Three Bears again.
Three Bears still hunting, they spy Baby Bunting.
Baby Bunting safe and dry, I spy Plum Pie.
Plum Pie in the sun, I spy...
Everyone!
J+A Ahlberg.
Friday 28 May 2010
Niki: too much
I went to the movies with Ben and saw Kick Ass. It was funny. Much more dramatic and violent that I had anticipated. I did jump a few times, but at least there were no knee-jerk reaction "It's a big shark!" exclamatories...
Niki-
you write too much on your blog entires.
(Though, you do have an amazing ability to speak a lot normally anyway. True Lomax styleee)
Niki-
you write too much on your blog entires.
(Though, you do have an amazing ability to speak a lot normally anyway. True Lomax styleee)
Thursday 27 May 2010
Dear Friends
Dear Friends.
I miss you.
But I am happy.
Very.
Kiss you in la facé soon.
Llegs 11, baby. x
Geometric shapes on the Clyde + swan on floaty thing.
Tough as fuck.
Babe. Dag. Slag.
Talent + talent.
I miss you.
But I am happy.
Very.
Kiss you in la facé soon.
Llegs 11, baby. x
Geometric shapes on the Clyde + swan on floaty thing.
Tough as fuck.
Babe. Dag. Slag.
Talent + talent.
Tuesday 25 May 2010
transitions and glasgow
WEATHER. Glasgow is CHANGING! Make no mistake! Weather has officially gone from sombre to joyous. Not suddenly, but still relatively quickly. Like if you take too long in the shower one morning you might miss the tipping point and your in your PJs in dark/cold then in your clean undies in summer.
EXCHANGIES. Only two of my friends I've met who are also on exchange are staying for more than the single semester. So one by one they're all leaving. I'll be seeing Niki and Jess soon enough in Barcelona, but it's still sad to see them go.
Please note I am wearing Ben's german football stripe because my only other option of clothing to farewell the lasses was the Mirrorball Suit which went out to the house party the night before. 
Trond has also left for Norway, but I am bunking at his house with Ben in Bergen around the end of July. With Deb and Arttu gone as well, and Phil in Paris, it's only Gowri, Victor, Cliff, Rohan (where is Rohan?) and I left. But they'll all be gone soon too. Transitions. I will sorely miss all the beautiful friends I have made here on exchange. But I feel we'll surely meet again- if not in Melbourne when they all come good on promises to visit, then in some other place on some other adventure... yes!
OLD PALS. Today Lyall and I am clearing out the flat. Keys will be handed in tomorrow and That is That. End of the Partick Palace. It was good while it lasted, I think I was incredibly lucky to meet Lyall. He is such a legend and I could not have predicted my time in Glasgow would have been this fun. What a dude. Can't wait til he comes to Australia and I can show him off. Tonight will be The Last Supper for us. He's on the boat back to Shetland where he'll scoop the guts out of salmon with a spoon for 3 months. Bye bye Lyall. You're the best!
EXCHANGIES. Only two of my friends I've met who are also on exchange are staying for more than the single semester. So one by one they're all leaving. I'll be seeing Niki and Jess soon enough in Barcelona, but it's still sad to see them go.
Please note I am wearing Ben's german football stripe because my only other option of clothing to farewell the lasses was the Mirrorball Suit which went out to the house party the night before. 
Trond has also left for Norway, but I am bunking at his house with Ben in Bergen around the end of July. With Deb and Arttu gone as well, and Phil in Paris, it's only Gowri, Victor, Cliff, Rohan (where is Rohan?) and I left. But they'll all be gone soon too. Transitions. I will sorely miss all the beautiful friends I have made here on exchange. But I feel we'll surely meet again- if not in Melbourne when they all come good on promises to visit, then in some other place on some other adventure... yes!OLD PALS. Today Lyall and I am clearing out the flat. Keys will be handed in tomorrow and That is That. End of the Partick Palace. It was good while it lasted, I think I was incredibly lucky to meet Lyall. He is such a legend and I could not have predicted my time in Glasgow would have been this fun. What a dude. Can't wait til he comes to Australia and I can show him off. Tonight will be The Last Supper for us. He's on the boat back to Shetland where he'll scoop the guts out of salmon with a spoon for 3 months. Bye bye Lyall. You're the best!
transitions and endinburgh
I seem to be involved in a perpetual state of transition at the moment.
People coming, people going; milestones; seasons turning...
It's a funny feeling because my entire time here in Glasgow has been held at ransom by the countdown of my return. I have always felt my time here to be a surreal reality- some kind of hiccup in my normal life. Some kind of mistake- how the hell is it legit' that I get to come to the other side of the world, make such amazing new friends, see such beautiful and interesting scenes and get 'credit' for 'attending' university? I know I am returning to normal/usual life and that makes everything here seem strange/unusual. But things are definitely changing. Which means there has been some kind of pattern of living that I have slipped into that makes the strange and unusual quite normal... Talking in circles... I'm happy here and now this transition is going on all around me I feel a bit uneasy...
Mum came and went. It was a 30 year gap between visits but she made it back to Scotland and I think she really enjoyed herself. It was a shame about the Ireland trip not working out but we had a lovely trip to Arran (mum took the photos home with her so have no pics to share) and to Edinburgh. We did a tour of the Real Mary King Close in EddieB which was really good. Edinburgh was built UP rather than OUT. When they built the new Royal Exchange building they just cut off 4 stories of houses and closed off the streets and built above it. The old houses and streets are sitting abandoned under the Royal Mile. Amazing.
They used to make wall plaster from horse hair (to keep it all together and stick to the wooden walls), water and ash from cremated humans (steady ash supply thanks to The Black Plague). We walked up to Calton Hill, which is on the 'new' side of town and looks out over the Firth of Forth to the north, and the city and Arthur's Seat to the south. 
We saw big fluffy bumble bees, Italian tourists (Scuzi!) and a film crew doing a film where the protagonist plays violin. Here is mum explaining the world and all it's appendages to moi.
Mum made it back home safe but apparently is badly jet lagged. I am not looking forward to that one.
Ben's little sister Emma turned 21 on Thursday. She is such a gorgeous girl, really nice. I felt very lucky to be involved in her special bday celebrations. There was mother and father and brother Davis, and boyfriend Godron, and Grandma and Grandpa Davis came up from southern England. And me. We went to a Michellin starred restaurant in Edinburgh and were all put up for the night in a hotel. Pretty amazing! And I have never, ever, ever come across food like it.
The restaurant is Kitchin, run by Tom Kitchin (judge on British Master Chef finale if that helps anyone?). The flavours were like nothing I've ever had before. Look at the menu via the link: I had crab for starter, red mullet with garlic gnocci and seared squid for main, and then pistachio soufflé with pistachio ice cream for dessert. Crickey!
So happy 21st to Emma :)
People coming, people going; milestones; seasons turning...
It's a funny feeling because my entire time here in Glasgow has been held at ransom by the countdown of my return. I have always felt my time here to be a surreal reality- some kind of hiccup in my normal life. Some kind of mistake- how the hell is it legit' that I get to come to the other side of the world, make such amazing new friends, see such beautiful and interesting scenes and get 'credit' for 'attending' university? I know I am returning to normal/usual life and that makes everything here seem strange/unusual. But things are definitely changing. Which means there has been some kind of pattern of living that I have slipped into that makes the strange and unusual quite normal... Talking in circles... I'm happy here and now this transition is going on all around me I feel a bit uneasy...
Mum came and went. It was a 30 year gap between visits but she made it back to Scotland and I think she really enjoyed herself. It was a shame about the Ireland trip not working out but we had a lovely trip to Arran (mum took the photos home with her so have no pics to share) and to Edinburgh. We did a tour of the Real Mary King Close in EddieB which was really good. Edinburgh was built UP rather than OUT. When they built the new Royal Exchange building they just cut off 4 stories of houses and closed off the streets and built above it. The old houses and streets are sitting abandoned under the Royal Mile. Amazing.
They used to make wall plaster from horse hair (to keep it all together and stick to the wooden walls), water and ash from cremated humans (steady ash supply thanks to The Black Plague). We walked up to Calton Hill, which is on the 'new' side of town and looks out over the Firth of Forth to the north, and the city and Arthur's Seat to the south. 
We saw big fluffy bumble bees, Italian tourists (Scuzi!) and a film crew doing a film where the protagonist plays violin. Here is mum explaining the world and all it's appendages to moi.
Mum made it back home safe but apparently is badly jet lagged. I am not looking forward to that one.Ben's little sister Emma turned 21 on Thursday. She is such a gorgeous girl, really nice. I felt very lucky to be involved in her special bday celebrations. There was mother and father and brother Davis, and boyfriend Godron, and Grandma and Grandpa Davis came up from southern England. And me. We went to a Michellin starred restaurant in Edinburgh and were all put up for the night in a hotel. Pretty amazing! And I have never, ever, ever come across food like it.
The restaurant is Kitchin, run by Tom Kitchin (judge on British Master Chef finale if that helps anyone?). The flavours were like nothing I've ever had before. Look at the menu via the link: I had crab for starter, red mullet with garlic gnocci and seared squid for main, and then pistachio soufflé with pistachio ice cream for dessert. Crickey!
So happy 21st to Emma :)
Monday 17 May 2010
Icelandic Ash
Couldn't get to Ireland today. Ash cloud, closed airport, etc. Bummer. And damn Ryanair will only refund the leg of the journey cancelled from ash, i.e. we can't get to Ireland, but we'll have to pay for the flight home, even though the trip was booked as a return flight and they won't drop us in Derry... I really hope this doesn't become a common problem. I think I'll take mum to Arran Island tomorrow for the day. One holiday for another. Last time I was there there was still snow on the ground so I reckon it'll be beaut now it's Spring.
Arran in January:
Arran in January:
Sunday 16 May 2010
Gone to Ireland
Some things you may not know about Ireland:
The horses have moustaches.
The Giant's Causeway is sick. And the whole rock complex is much bigger than I assumed. Lots of rock. For big giant feet, I guess.
The Irish like muff, but not always each other.
It's always Guinness time, everywhere!
The horses have moustaches.
The Giant's Causeway is sick. And the whole rock complex is much bigger than I assumed. Lots of rock. For big giant feet, I guess.
The Irish like muff, but not always each other.
It's always Guinness time, everywhere!
Saturday 15 May 2010
Clockwork Orange
The underground subway in Glasgow is orange. And it goes in a loop. There are 15 stops. Last night we went on an infamous Clockwork Orange: a subway pubcrawl. The objective is to get out at every subway stop, head to the pub that is closest to the station, have a pint, then on you hop and get out at the next station 2 min down the line and repeat. 
I have a video of the shenanigans, but can't upload it here for some sad reason. If you're mind friend look on my FB page to share in the havock. The vid is from about 9 hrs in to the crawl. Involves drunken slurring from me, the train driving closing the window and refusing to acknowledge us, Lyall and Ben doing gymnastics between the hand rails on the carriage, and some free style rapping from a wicked Glaswegian who witnessed our ridiculous behaviour. Mum joined us for two stops (then managed to get lost on her way home, after 2 pints. Oh mother!). Top work Phil for being one of the main organisers, to Ben for knowing what the hell was happening most of the time, to Arttu and his European friends for doing the whole slog, but definitely not to the man at St Georges Cross who wouldn't let me through the turn style at the station.
I have a video of the shenanigans, but can't upload it here for some sad reason. If you're mind friend look on my FB page to share in the havock. The vid is from about 9 hrs in to the crawl. Involves drunken slurring from me, the train driving closing the window and refusing to acknowledge us, Lyall and Ben doing gymnastics between the hand rails on the carriage, and some free style rapping from a wicked Glaswegian who witnessed our ridiculous behaviour. Mum joined us for two stops (then managed to get lost on her way home, after 2 pints. Oh mother!). Top work Phil for being one of the main organisers, to Ben for knowing what the hell was happening most of the time, to Arttu and his European friends for doing the whole slog, but definitely not to the man at St Georges Cross who wouldn't let me through the turn style at the station.
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Thursday 13 May 2010
Shetland Folk Fest, du kens.
Boarded the 'Hjaltland' Northlink ferry at Aberdeen on the Wednesday night, but didn't leave the harbour for 3 hours because we were waiting for the tide to rise.
Ben and I met a rad old timer named Sandy from Inverness who was a fan of Orkney and was mates with some of the members of one of the bands playing at the festival. We stayed up chatting with Sandy for a while. He used to work for Tourism Scotland so he shared stories about all the wonderful places in Scotland to visit (which I did with mum this week just gone!) We had a few beers at the front bar (as opposed to the back bar where more of the action takes place) and listened in on a lots of fiddle sessions and impromptu jams with double basses, accordians, fiddles, drums, mandolins, etc.
Ben and I didn't have a cabin (too poor) so we pulled cushions off the seats and laid them on the floor. We undid a few light globes and hid under my big coat to sleep. It wasn't too rough so we managed to get a few hours sleep. We arrived Thursday morning and had a snoozie to prepare for the rest of the festival.
Lerwick is the main town on the main island of Shetland. It's a pretty town, quite small, all stone in the old part, based around the harbour.
Met a local with an amazingly thick accent on a cliff atop the ocean. He told us we'd just missed sighting some seals. Shem shem. He was building a dry stone dyke wall. I want one of these when I grow up:
I didn't get any pics from the festival gigs. I thought about it but couldn't be bothered. You'll just have to get yourself a ticket for next year!
The gigs started the same night we got off the ferry. Ben's mum and dad have been going to the festival for ever and know the protocol well of ensuring you get good seats. Basically you arrive bloody early and get the front spot in the line until doors open, then you head straight for the front table. Easy. On the Thursday night we saw 5 bands.
Friday night was our 'night off', which we spent with Ben's old Shetland friends drinking and playing guitar and singing and speaking French and just being silly. That was lots of fun. Ben took me to the Sooth End for some puffin spotting. Success!
Ben and his dad lined up 2 hours before doors opened on Saturday. My, did we have good seats! It was a much bigger concert than the small town hall venue on Thurs- there were about +400 seats. After the gig Ben and I went to the 'Festival Club'. The Festival Club is at a big town-hall kind of place in Lerwick where all the musos go to after their gigs. There's a bar there open til 1am. There are 2 main stages on 2 levels and bands just jump up and play a set. Then there are half a dozen rooms off to the side that are 'session' rooms. Musicians just wander in with their instruments and start jamming. We were in a Jazzy Charleston room for a while with some honky tonk piano and some clarinets and fiddles. We watched Fiddler's Bid for a bit (Shetland heroes) and talked to one of the members from The Wiyos for ages about New York and music. Big night! Home before 5am, and the sun was well and truely up by that time. Only about 3 hours of proper darkness this time of year. In mid summer the sun only just dips below the horizon. It's call 'simmer dim'.
Sunday was a another epic stake out by Ben's dad. Almost 3 hours this time. The last night of the festival is the Foy. All the visiting bands come round to the venues and play a short set of about 20 min. Snuck in whisky and wine so got very merry.
I was fed very well by Ben's folks. Shetland hospitality is great! We saw a new born Shetland pony, which was weird. And the sun coming out at 3am was also very odd.
My festival faves were:
The Unwanted
Irish/American south blues and traditional music. The mouth organ man was dressed old school like the chemist from a Spaghetti Western, and the woman was in a red satin corset with black lace.
Bodega
Young kids, all did a folk music course at uni. Really talented and very energetic, they've won a shite load of awards. Good mix of old and new style music, with some Gaelic and some English songs. Ben went to school with the fiddler Ross, who was mostly pissed every time we saw him.
Swedish band Vasen where great. They had an old traditional Swedish instrument called a Nicelharpa (spelling?) which is like gnarly fiddle held at the hip with keys rather than toughing the fret board. Very funny and happy guys who've been playing together for over 20 years!
The Wiyos. Rad. Spoke to the guitarist on the ferry up and festival club at about 3am, and he managed to remember mine and Ben's names on the ferry back! The singer was so charismatic and had a strong voice for a little bloke. He'd put on this little black hat and push it down his face and take on this swaggering bluesy character. Cajun, blusey music. Foot stompin'. Can someone please help me get them to Australia?
The New Rope String Band were a comdey/folk act that where extremely clever and entertaining. Check their website of Youtube or something. Have a giggle.
Ben and I met a rad old timer named Sandy from Inverness who was a fan of Orkney and was mates with some of the members of one of the bands playing at the festival. We stayed up chatting with Sandy for a while. He used to work for Tourism Scotland so he shared stories about all the wonderful places in Scotland to visit (which I did with mum this week just gone!) We had a few beers at the front bar (as opposed to the back bar where more of the action takes place) and listened in on a lots of fiddle sessions and impromptu jams with double basses, accordians, fiddles, drums, mandolins, etc.Ben and I didn't have a cabin (too poor) so we pulled cushions off the seats and laid them on the floor. We undid a few light globes and hid under my big coat to sleep. It wasn't too rough so we managed to get a few hours sleep. We arrived Thursday morning and had a snoozie to prepare for the rest of the festival.
Lerwick is the main town on the main island of Shetland. It's a pretty town, quite small, all stone in the old part, based around the harbour.
Met a local with an amazingly thick accent on a cliff atop the ocean. He told us we'd just missed sighting some seals. Shem shem. He was building a dry stone dyke wall. I want one of these when I grow up:
I didn't get any pics from the festival gigs. I thought about it but couldn't be bothered. You'll just have to get yourself a ticket for next year!
The gigs started the same night we got off the ferry. Ben's mum and dad have been going to the festival for ever and know the protocol well of ensuring you get good seats. Basically you arrive bloody early and get the front spot in the line until doors open, then you head straight for the front table. Easy. On the Thursday night we saw 5 bands.
Friday night was our 'night off', which we spent with Ben's old Shetland friends drinking and playing guitar and singing and speaking French and just being silly. That was lots of fun. Ben took me to the Sooth End for some puffin spotting. Success!
Ben and his dad lined up 2 hours before doors opened on Saturday. My, did we have good seats! It was a much bigger concert than the small town hall venue on Thurs- there were about +400 seats. After the gig Ben and I went to the 'Festival Club'. The Festival Club is at a big town-hall kind of place in Lerwick where all the musos go to after their gigs. There's a bar there open til 1am. There are 2 main stages on 2 levels and bands just jump up and play a set. Then there are half a dozen rooms off to the side that are 'session' rooms. Musicians just wander in with their instruments and start jamming. We were in a Jazzy Charleston room for a while with some honky tonk piano and some clarinets and fiddles. We watched Fiddler's Bid for a bit (Shetland heroes) and talked to one of the members from The Wiyos for ages about New York and music. Big night! Home before 5am, and the sun was well and truely up by that time. Only about 3 hours of proper darkness this time of year. In mid summer the sun only just dips below the horizon. It's call 'simmer dim'.
Sunday was a another epic stake out by Ben's dad. Almost 3 hours this time. The last night of the festival is the Foy. All the visiting bands come round to the venues and play a short set of about 20 min. Snuck in whisky and wine so got very merry.
I was fed very well by Ben's folks. Shetland hospitality is great! We saw a new born Shetland pony, which was weird. And the sun coming out at 3am was also very odd.
My festival faves were:
The Unwanted
Irish/American south blues and traditional music. The mouth organ man was dressed old school like the chemist from a Spaghetti Western, and the woman was in a red satin corset with black lace.
Bodega
Young kids, all did a folk music course at uni. Really talented and very energetic, they've won a shite load of awards. Good mix of old and new style music, with some Gaelic and some English songs. Ben went to school with the fiddler Ross, who was mostly pissed every time we saw him.
Swedish band Vasen where great. They had an old traditional Swedish instrument called a Nicelharpa (spelling?) which is like gnarly fiddle held at the hip with keys rather than toughing the fret board. Very funny and happy guys who've been playing together for over 20 years!
The Wiyos. Rad. Spoke to the guitarist on the ferry up and festival club at about 3am, and he managed to remember mine and Ben's names on the ferry back! The singer was so charismatic and had a strong voice for a little bloke. He'd put on this little black hat and push it down his face and take on this swaggering bluesy character. Cajun, blusey music. Foot stompin'. Can someone please help me get them to Australia?
The New Rope String Band were a comdey/folk act that where extremely clever and entertaining. Check their website of Youtube or something. Have a giggle.
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