Saturday 27 March 2010
Friday 26 March 2010
Patti Smith
Last night I went to see Patti Smith at the Oran Mor in Glasgow.
She released a new book in January and last night was one of her last dates touring the book with just herself and a pianist/guitarist/helped her with her guitar strap to put her guitar on. She read to us from her book. Stories about her mother. A great story about the first time she met Allen Ginsberg around the corner from the Chelsea Hotel! And a very, very touching tale about how she handled her grief of the death of her friend Robert Mapelthorpe. She is such a wonderful word-smith. The entire room was transfixed on the way she delivered the prose. A steady pace, with emphasis on only the words that desereved it- words that picked and sat up and were sharp. Really good.
The seating was unallocated. I could hazard a guess of about 200 seats? Intimate. They were little blue-velvet upholstered chairs lined up like pews. The main body of chairs front and centre still had some single seats, but I took a seat next to the aisle to the side of the room. I was still within 8m of the stage.
I went to go to the loo before it started and noticed that there was an unmanned spiral staircase next to the toilets. This lead to a galley. The sound from up there was amazing- just of the audience chatting before Patti was on. There were 6 chairs up there with some older people sitting up close to the glass wall of the balcony. I asked one couple who were comparing aps on their iphones if they had found the chairs there when they came up: they had. I then asked one of the staff if I could take a chair up there since there was heaps of space. A security man was consulted and promptly informed me it's reserved for special guests only. Sadface. I waited 10 min then dragged my bag back up the stairs and assumed a position to the side of the galley where I was content to watch from a standing position. This is what is looked like from up the balcony:
As I said in my rant on essay writing in the library, where I had come from and would return to after the concert, I was all in black clothes. At one point a security man came up to check wrist bands of the unknown VIPs on the chairs, but he didn't ask me. I think I managed to escape persecution because I looked like I was in Oran Mor uniform. Mwahaha! I tried to hide from the peers of people below who'd realised there was a balcony with a much better view above their heads. Inconspicuous, Jacqui. But just before the show was to start the security man who'd said no to the chair came up and told me to gather my things and get out. He said I'd already ignored him once and I was to get down stairs straight away. I tried the old- Oh, no, I thought you said no to the chair. I'm just going to stand. No one will know- only these 6 people here and they won't even see me, I'm like a shadow. Pleeeease??!! No luck. Tried. I got to take up my original seat though with the aisle leg room because I'd left my jacket on the seat.
She did a great version of Birdland. My favourite I think. I saw her do this at Hamer Hall in Melbourne last year and it was even better last night. In such a small space it was a lot more intense. A song I haven't heard written for her son as a baby which was so tender and sweet. Towards the end Patti asked if anyone had any questions they wanted to ask. There were some dozies about her favourite cheese (?) and the influence of Robbie Burns (bloody Scots are obsessed!). A girl asked Patti if she'd do an acoustic version of Rock n Roll Nigga. Patti was very hesitant; she'd never done it acoustic before. But apparently it's only EAB so the guitarist knocked it out on the strings and everyone stood up and launched into a brilliant and really energetic Rock n Roll Nigga!
Patti Smith is such a wonderful performer and artist. In such an impressive venue this will be a gig I will remember for a very long time.
She released a new book in January and last night was one of her last dates touring the book with just herself and a pianist/guitarist/helped her with her guitar strap to put her guitar on. She read to us from her book. Stories about her mother. A great story about the first time she met Allen Ginsberg around the corner from the Chelsea Hotel! And a very, very touching tale about how she handled her grief of the death of her friend Robert Mapelthorpe. She is such a wonderful word-smith. The entire room was transfixed on the way she delivered the prose. A steady pace, with emphasis on only the words that desereved it- words that picked and sat up and were sharp. Really good.
The seating was unallocated. I could hazard a guess of about 200 seats? Intimate. They were little blue-velvet upholstered chairs lined up like pews. The main body of chairs front and centre still had some single seats, but I took a seat next to the aisle to the side of the room. I was still within 8m of the stage.
I went to go to the loo before it started and noticed that there was an unmanned spiral staircase next to the toilets. This lead to a galley. The sound from up there was amazing- just of the audience chatting before Patti was on. There were 6 chairs up there with some older people sitting up close to the glass wall of the balcony. I asked one couple who were comparing aps on their iphones if they had found the chairs there when they came up: they had. I then asked one of the staff if I could take a chair up there since there was heaps of space. A security man was consulted and promptly informed me it's reserved for special guests only. Sadface. I waited 10 min then dragged my bag back up the stairs and assumed a position to the side of the galley where I was content to watch from a standing position. This is what is looked like from up the balcony:
As I said in my rant on essay writing in the library, where I had come from and would return to after the concert, I was all in black clothes. At one point a security man came up to check wrist bands of the unknown VIPs on the chairs, but he didn't ask me. I think I managed to escape persecution because I looked like I was in Oran Mor uniform. Mwahaha! I tried to hide from the peers of people below who'd realised there was a balcony with a much better view above their heads. Inconspicuous, Jacqui. But just before the show was to start the security man who'd said no to the chair came up and told me to gather my things and get out. He said I'd already ignored him once and I was to get down stairs straight away. I tried the old- Oh, no, I thought you said no to the chair. I'm just going to stand. No one will know- only these 6 people here and they won't even see me, I'm like a shadow. Pleeeease??!! No luck. Tried. I got to take up my original seat though with the aisle leg room because I'd left my jacket on the seat.
She did a great version of Birdland. My favourite I think. I saw her do this at Hamer Hall in Melbourne last year and it was even better last night. In such a small space it was a lot more intense. A song I haven't heard written for her son as a baby which was so tender and sweet. Towards the end Patti asked if anyone had any questions they wanted to ask. There were some dozies about her favourite cheese (?) and the influence of Robbie Burns (bloody Scots are obsessed!). A girl asked Patti if she'd do an acoustic version of Rock n Roll Nigga. Patti was very hesitant; she'd never done it acoustic before. But apparently it's only EAB so the guitarist knocked it out on the strings and everyone stood up and launched into a brilliant and really energetic Rock n Roll Nigga!
Patti Smith is such a wonderful performer and artist. In such an impressive venue this will be a gig I will remember for a very long time.
IT crowd
IT people are the same everywhere, aren't they?
Glasgow uni operates some kind of weirdo wireless system with a client and a tunnel and try-turning-it-on-and-off-again launch method.
I couldn't get onto the wireless at the library, though I had tried my darnedest to. I look my lappy off to the IT help centre for some TLC. I apologised for being a dummy, professed my limited knowledge of computer science and signed a disclaimed to leave my computer in the hands of someone more competent. Turns out it wasn't my fault. My anti-virus software was so good it wasn't recognising the uni's network. Sweet. So I sat in the IT help centre room with two huge IT nerds for a good half hour as my firewall and malware protection was switched off and command codes were entered and buttons clicked etc.
Here are some of the observations I made about the generalised similarities of IT professionals:
1. They dress the same. Mountain Design or equivalent outdoor-adventure style lace up shoes. Just in case they need to scale a rock face to get to the motherboard. Either slacks of nondescript cut that are any colour other than black, or the kind that have multiple pockets down the leg (possibly zip off below the knee). Of the two guys in the office, one was Glaswegian and a bit older (late 20s) with hair long enough to tuck behind his ears. He wore a short sleeved button-up collared shirt with green and orange vertical stripes. The second guy- possibly my age, and with a German accent- wore a hoodie with some kind of abstract logo on the front.
2. Their work space is the same. A small space tacked on towards the end of the library/computer room that makes a decent effort at utilising room dividers to evoke a sense of 'this room is ours and we shall divide it as we see fit'. Along one wall there are filing cabinets and shelves with books and manuals. There are boxes of things that you won't recognise piled up and a decent stack of wads of printing paper. To the walls are tacked cartoons and funny in-joke images. There was a green tree frog. A cartoon of stick figures walking through the tundra with a punch line something like- 'all I keep thinking about is how this will make a great blog entry'. 'Worst Employee of the Week' posters with images of people about to have a huge accident at work or doing something silly and generally accepted as hilarious by those in the know in the world of IT. There is a picture of a cat sitting inside a hard drive with the words 'Don't Worry, I'm with Tech Support' across the top.
3. They have the same level of humility in social situations. A girl walks in to a very small room with two men who are both on swivel chairs. There is little room for a third person in this space. One man swivels around to face the girl and says: 'You can stand if you like, but there's a chair over there.' [point's to broken swivel chair in the corner that has lost the mechanism to go up and down] Then the cracker: 'All the cool people are sitting and you can pretend if you like.'
Was that funny? Or did it just fill the silence?
4. Conversation can often focus on the incompetence of the general public and how astounding it is that people can be so stupid.
Glaswegian man: OH, I met this woman on the weekend who managed to talk about credit malfunction (I think that's what he said??) for almost an hour without using a single noun!
German guy: WHAT???!!!
Glaswegian: YES! Not a SINGLE noun!
German: Waaaaaaaaoo!
Glaswegian: slkdbaskj sdfasdkfakdf (unintelligible Glaswegian words). She would say 'the thingamy' and 'the niddlenaddle'. Later I said to her 'did you mean the process router? (he used some kind of technical word here which I cannot remember) and she said oh yeah'. That's NOT what she SAID though!
German: Oh my God! Wow!
5. Mac V PC is a real and on-going debate for IT professionals. 'Ah, you're problem is you are using a Mac. They are computers for children; I hate them.'
6. They fix things. My computer could then access the internet.
While I was in there they also dragged out a shredding machine from about 1981. Mission brown plastic casing and far too noisy. When the guy switched it on at the wall it blew a puff of paper dust into the air as if coughing back to life. It could handle only about 8 pages at once, anything more was too thick. I was offered a go, of which I duly accepted! IT shredding fun!
Glasgow uni operates some kind of weirdo wireless system with a client and a tunnel and try-turning-it-on-and-off-again launch method.
I couldn't get onto the wireless at the library, though I had tried my darnedest to. I look my lappy off to the IT help centre for some TLC. I apologised for being a dummy, professed my limited knowledge of computer science and signed a disclaimed to leave my computer in the hands of someone more competent. Turns out it wasn't my fault. My anti-virus software was so good it wasn't recognising the uni's network. Sweet. So I sat in the IT help centre room with two huge IT nerds for a good half hour as my firewall and malware protection was switched off and command codes were entered and buttons clicked etc.
Here are some of the observations I made about the generalised similarities of IT professionals:
1. They dress the same. Mountain Design or equivalent outdoor-adventure style lace up shoes. Just in case they need to scale a rock face to get to the motherboard. Either slacks of nondescript cut that are any colour other than black, or the kind that have multiple pockets down the leg (possibly zip off below the knee). Of the two guys in the office, one was Glaswegian and a bit older (late 20s) with hair long enough to tuck behind his ears. He wore a short sleeved button-up collared shirt with green and orange vertical stripes. The second guy- possibly my age, and with a German accent- wore a hoodie with some kind of abstract logo on the front.
2. Their work space is the same. A small space tacked on towards the end of the library/computer room that makes a decent effort at utilising room dividers to evoke a sense of 'this room is ours and we shall divide it as we see fit'. Along one wall there are filing cabinets and shelves with books and manuals. There are boxes of things that you won't recognise piled up and a decent stack of wads of printing paper. To the walls are tacked cartoons and funny in-joke images. There was a green tree frog. A cartoon of stick figures walking through the tundra with a punch line something like- 'all I keep thinking about is how this will make a great blog entry'. 'Worst Employee of the Week' posters with images of people about to have a huge accident at work or doing something silly and generally accepted as hilarious by those in the know in the world of IT. There is a picture of a cat sitting inside a hard drive with the words 'Don't Worry, I'm with Tech Support' across the top.
3. They have the same level of humility in social situations. A girl walks in to a very small room with two men who are both on swivel chairs. There is little room for a third person in this space. One man swivels around to face the girl and says: 'You can stand if you like, but there's a chair over there.' [point's to broken swivel chair in the corner that has lost the mechanism to go up and down] Then the cracker: 'All the cool people are sitting and you can pretend if you like.'
Was that funny? Or did it just fill the silence?
4. Conversation can often focus on the incompetence of the general public and how astounding it is that people can be so stupid.
Glaswegian man: OH, I met this woman on the weekend who managed to talk about credit malfunction (I think that's what he said??) for almost an hour without using a single noun!
German guy: WHAT???!!!
Glaswegian: YES! Not a SINGLE noun!
German: Waaaaaaaaoo!
Glaswegian: slkdbaskj sdfasdkfakdf (unintelligible Glaswegian words). She would say 'the thingamy' and 'the niddlenaddle'. Later I said to her 'did you mean the process router? (he used some kind of technical word here which I cannot remember) and she said oh yeah'. That's NOT what she SAID though!
German: Oh my God! Wow!
5. Mac V PC is a real and on-going debate for IT professionals. 'Ah, you're problem is you are using a Mac. They are computers for children; I hate them.'
6. They fix things. My computer could then access the internet.
While I was in there they also dragged out a shredding machine from about 1981. Mission brown plastic casing and far too noisy. When the guy switched it on at the wall it blew a puff of paper dust into the air as if coughing back to life. It could handle only about 8 pages at once, anything more was too thick. I was offered a go, of which I duly accepted! IT shredding fun!
Wednesday 24 March 2010
essay :(
Just in case you though all I do here on exchange is run amok in the city and the countryside, you are sure to be disappointed.
Though I may have flaunted my ill attendance to classes, I am indeed here in Glasgow to undertake university level examination.
Today I am all dressed in black because I am mourning. I am mourning the week I have lost to these two essays due Thursday. I haven't had much sleep and my eyeballs are sore.
"To what extent did Scotland remain a nation in its own right between 1707 and 1900?"
and
"Education: friend or foe?
Discuss the nature, aims and effects of educational provision in Gaelic Scotland, Ireland and Wales in the 19th and 20th centuries, in relation to each region’s native language."
I've been camped out in the library with the Prince of Norway and New Zealand's Finest. Writing sentence. Lots of them.
No need to envy me when I am spending hours on the 'puter pretending to be and Arts student. Worky worky worky. sigh.
(ps- Going to Patti Smith though tonight so must make a big dent in this essay... Also must dose up on coffee to stay awake at the gig...)
(pps- I have my exam timetable: Geography on the first day of exams, Celtic Civilisations a week and a half later. That means Jacq is finished up May 5th!)
Though I may have flaunted my ill attendance to classes, I am indeed here in Glasgow to undertake university level examination.
Today I am all dressed in black because I am mourning. I am mourning the week I have lost to these two essays due Thursday. I haven't had much sleep and my eyeballs are sore.
"To what extent did Scotland remain a nation in its own right between 1707 and 1900?"
and
"Education: friend or foe?
Discuss the nature, aims and effects of educational provision in Gaelic Scotland, Ireland and Wales in the 19th and 20th centuries, in relation to each region’s native language."
I've been camped out in the library with the Prince of Norway and New Zealand's Finest. Writing sentence. Lots of them.
No need to envy me when I am spending hours on the 'puter pretending to be and Arts student. Worky worky worky. sigh.
(ps- Going to Patti Smith though tonight so must make a big dent in this essay... Also must dose up on coffee to stay awake at the gig...)
(pps- I have my exam timetable: Geography on the first day of exams, Celtic Civilisations a week and a half later. That means Jacq is finished up May 5th!)
Tuesday 23 March 2010
Monday 22 March 2010
Sunday 21 March 2010
++--
People don't use indicators correctly. Crossing roads is not for the faint hearted.
There isn't much of a space between the gutter and the traffic- is that called a shoulder? No shoulders. Don't walk too far towards the road or you'll get taken out by a bus or a car's side mirror.
Every third person in Glasgow is a musician of some kind.
I've heard whispers of a supermarket where the fruit and vege is loose...
People here dress funny. Lots of girls wear too few clothes. Mini skirts and tights? In this weather? Tracky dacks are in for the fellas.
The Asian tag is still catching me off guard. Asian refers to the Indian sub-continent and often the Middle East, too. But Chinese is usually Chinese. And I'll be damned if I can find affordable sushi. Or even just find sushi at all!
I am still finding coins on the ground. Here is a photo of some of the things Glasgow has delivered unto me:
Pretty:
There isn't much of a space between the gutter and the traffic- is that called a shoulder? No shoulders. Don't walk too far towards the road or you'll get taken out by a bus or a car's side mirror.
Every third person in Glasgow is a musician of some kind.
I've heard whispers of a supermarket where the fruit and vege is loose...
People here dress funny. Lots of girls wear too few clothes. Mini skirts and tights? In this weather? Tracky dacks are in for the fellas.
The Asian tag is still catching me off guard. Asian refers to the Indian sub-continent and often the Middle East, too. But Chinese is usually Chinese. And I'll be damned if I can find affordable sushi. Or even just find sushi at all!
I am still finding coins on the ground. Here is a photo of some of the things Glasgow has delivered unto me:
Pretty:
St Patrick's Day
Saint Paddy's Day, Glasgow.
March 17 (same as Straya, ey!). Glasgow has the largest Irish pop in Scotland, and it's right up there in the rest of Britania, too.
Since leaving the nurturing and educational bowels of Queen's College, I have failed to perform to the levels of previous St Patrick's Days. Gone are the days of Golly hacking the college phone system in the early hours of the 17th to put out the call for 10am attendance at Pugg Mahones. It doesn't help if you have an essay to work on in the morning and an Exploring Scottish Culture lecture from 2 til 4pm. Perhaps my previous St Paddy's Day performances can justify my desperate need to run- actually wait until the lecturer wasn't looking and then sprint out the door- half way through an enlightening rant on... was it Communism or Universal Suffrage...? Whatever.
Jess, Niki and I ran out of number 7 University Gardens, and rolled into Jinty McGuinty's on Ashton Lane. Lo and Behold! Dreamboat was working behind the bar. He was also the delicious barman who witnessed the debauchery of the-day-after-the-Australia-party-cocks-on-face incident. Lo and Behold! he recognised me, and nicely enquired about getting the pen off my face. Noice.
Guinness. Buddies. Paying Niki out. Irish wooden flute (which I'm told is significantly more expensive to percure in New Zealand than your pedestrian flute of metal).
We moved on from Jinty's in search of more leg room and out Irish Hostess Gen. A wee dram at Ishka Baha, the Gaelic bar a little closer to town. Look at the link then get back to me on your thoughts on Scottish Gaelic (pronounced 'gah'lic', as opposed to the Irish 'gaylic'). There was a dog in there. Rad. Tromp down Sauchiehall St. Some hideous chain Irish pubs provided the lubrication necessary to make it down The Strip. Gen cracked the shits at one bar because they poured the Guinness in one. 'No. Disgusting!'. Burgers. Delicious. One pound fifty sugar taurine caffeine things posing as Jagerbombs. This time Lyall heckled the bar staff over the 50 pence discrepancy between advertised bomb price and actual bar bomb price. 'That's disgusting!'. We ended up at an Irish pub in town which was pretty happening. The much more exciting, prettier, likeable distant relative of our Elgin Street Irish cesspit, Molly Malones. More Guinness.
So much more Guinness. Lily and I took a detour into the Walkabout bar to balance out the Irish Drunk with some Australian Drunk. However, as years of Irish-Australian relations have shown, this is not a balancing act but more a hideous multiplication. Oh that Coopers Red was good though!
We ended at the Flying Duck where Ben joined the throng, which not long afterwards dispersed. All in all a successful evening. Not as Irish as I had geared it up to be, but a whole lot more authentic than any previous Puggs Guinness I've had!
March 17 (same as Straya, ey!). Glasgow has the largest Irish pop in Scotland, and it's right up there in the rest of Britania, too.
Since leaving the nurturing and educational bowels of Queen's College, I have failed to perform to the levels of previous St Patrick's Days. Gone are the days of Golly hacking the college phone system in the early hours of the 17th to put out the call for 10am attendance at Pugg Mahones. It doesn't help if you have an essay to work on in the morning and an Exploring Scottish Culture lecture from 2 til 4pm. Perhaps my previous St Paddy's Day performances can justify my desperate need to run- actually wait until the lecturer wasn't looking and then sprint out the door- half way through an enlightening rant on... was it Communism or Universal Suffrage...? Whatever.
Jess, Niki and I ran out of number 7 University Gardens, and rolled into Jinty McGuinty's on Ashton Lane. Lo and Behold! Dreamboat was working behind the bar. He was also the delicious barman who witnessed the debauchery of the-day-after-the-Australia-party-cocks-on-face incident. Lo and Behold! he recognised me, and nicely enquired about getting the pen off my face. Noice.
Guinness. Buddies. Paying Niki out. Irish wooden flute (which I'm told is significantly more expensive to percure in New Zealand than your pedestrian flute of metal).We moved on from Jinty's in search of more leg room and out Irish Hostess Gen. A wee dram at Ishka Baha, the Gaelic bar a little closer to town. Look at the link then get back to me on your thoughts on Scottish Gaelic (pronounced 'gah'lic', as opposed to the Irish 'gaylic'). There was a dog in there. Rad. Tromp down Sauchiehall St. Some hideous chain Irish pubs provided the lubrication necessary to make it down The Strip. Gen cracked the shits at one bar because they poured the Guinness in one. 'No. Disgusting!'. Burgers. Delicious. One pound fifty sugar taurine caffeine things posing as Jagerbombs. This time Lyall heckled the bar staff over the 50 pence discrepancy between advertised bomb price and actual bar bomb price. 'That's disgusting!'. We ended up at an Irish pub in town which was pretty happening. The much more exciting, prettier, likeable distant relative of our Elgin Street Irish cesspit, Molly Malones. More Guinness.
So much more Guinness. Lily and I took a detour into the Walkabout bar to balance out the Irish Drunk with some Australian Drunk. However, as years of Irish-Australian relations have shown, this is not a balancing act but more a hideous multiplication. Oh that Coopers Red was good though!We ended at the Flying Duck where Ben joined the throng, which not long afterwards dispersed. All in all a successful evening. Not as Irish as I had geared it up to be, but a whole lot more authentic than any previous Puggs Guinness I've had!
Monday 15 March 2010
Gone to Football, pal.
I am not very adept at making films with my little camera.
But here is us singing Flower Of Scotland at the Scotland V Czech game on March 3rd.
The pies at the football are just a bit wrong. 'Scotch Pie'. It's some kind of pastry that's not Puff, and the meat might be 60% animal...
The Drink of Choice is Bovril. Some kind of bastardised gravy/salty stock drink. Oh dear, when in Scotland... Let's watch Lyall dig in:
But here is us singing Flower Of Scotland at the Scotland V Czech game on March 3rd.
The pies at the football are just a bit wrong. 'Scotch Pie'. It's some kind of pastry that's not Puff, and the meat might be 60% animal...
The Drink of Choice is Bovril. Some kind of bastardised gravy/salty stock drink. Oh dear, when in Scotland... Let's watch Lyall dig in:
Friday 12 March 2010
Story time!
Firstly, to my dedicated Followers, I love you. I put you in the same box as olives and ADBC and Mountain Ash. I thank you, and your aforementioned contemporaries, for giving me focus and keeping me sane.
I could flood you with MS Paint masterpieces. However since Melbourne has recently been witness to such a hydrological event that the Enviros have grown training wheels to keep themselves upright whilst pondering the causes, implications and crop evapotranspiration coefficients of The Great Flood, I will instead divulge a story of Jacqui in Glasgow. It's a story of Lloydy: Living. No trips to the countryside. No uncovering of treasure (how good was the lego man???!!!). Just buying food and walking on the footpath and such.
It's story time, where I tell you about what I have done in the past few days and you can get an insight into what an average day is like. No pics. It's a dry one. Then give yourself a pat on the back for reading this far, and know that you keep me keepin' on as much as the ten pound slabs of Tennents Velvet do.
Right. March.
Monday first of March was coincidentally the first day of Spring in the Northern Hemisphere and the first day the sun tickled the thermostat over 5 degrees. Naturally the alignment of these important events could not pass by without making an offering of thanks to the Tucker God. An impromptu 'bbq' was called and attendance was mandatory for the Soothers (those who originally resided in the Southern Hemisphere). The Scandi's represented too, as did the Shetland Massiv' of Lyall and Ben. Sourcing sausages from the butcher was an experience. Here in Glasgow a 'sausage' is a rectangular slab of sausage-ish meat about an inch thick. Alias also includes 'square sausage'. A sausage, my dear Soothy Followers, as we know it, has some other name which escapes me now... but I think is something like a 'fenk sausage'. Anyway, Short fenk sausies are only one pound fourty a kilo. Nice. Fenkies under the grill was a bit of a push- but we all colluded and called it a bbq none the less.
Wednesday the third was a great day in the history of Scottish sport. Friendly game of Czech V Scotland, at a big ol' stadium in Mount Florida. Footy! Pie! Footy! Pie! I didn't get a pie. sadface. 26 000 bums on seats apparently. More than the collective population of the Shetland Isles. And half the stadium was empty. Final score: Scotland 1, Czech 0. Getting the train there and having some ales at the nearest pub beforehand was almost more fun. No drinking at football matches in Scotland. They're a bit fucked up over football, and even more so over boozing. So the two don't go together. We flew St Andrew's cross high. Jess and Phil got a hotdog. Lyall drank a cup of Bisto (pretty much watered down gravy). We sung 1000 miles.
Saturday night was a good on'. Essay essay essay for the previous 3 days, so at about 9pm I closed my books and opened some vino. Met the gang at Nice n' Sleazy on Sauchiehall Street. Since everyone likes playing the Equivalents game (including me) Sauchiehall Street is like a Swanston Street in that it leads right in and up through to the main bit of town. But it has heaps of pubs and bars and clubs and take away shops and some big concert venues at the outer end (west end of Sauchiehall St- closest to me!). Sleazy's is like Ding Dong? I think so...
Phil, Trond and Ben had been at a whisky tasting. Jess, Niki and Gowri had been to see Passion Pit. Lyall just happened to be there, as was his friend Gen and a heap of the Shetland boys. Pretty much everyone. It was great. Advertised as a 60s night, it was more a mongrel of Indie, Rock n Roll, Pop, Dance and about 2 Chuck Berry songs. Dance we did though. Then I had the most amazing Cheeseburger of my life from one of those caravan-portable things that you can't gaze directly at during the day without being turned to either a pillar of salt or a filthy civil engineering student with bad hair and bad humour. The van was in the perfect position to catch all the drunks rolling home after their Sauchiehall St adventures. The pattie came out of a deep bucket, already cooked. Slapped a piece of orange cheese on it and gave it a 55 second warm up on the hot plate, then BAM into a crispy white bap roll bun. Gave it a little sauce lovin' (tomato and mustard). Heaven. In the form of a 1.70 Cheeseburger.
We're getting a bit long. Apologies.
I went to my Celtic Civilisations lecture on Monday and learnt about 19th and early 20th century Welsh literature (they got big into radio plays). Met Lily for dinner and invited My Beau- who shall from now on be known as Mach Frequency for reasons I cannot explain. 3 for dinner at amazing chinese restaraunt. Glaswegian comedy with Mach Frequency. Pillow duty.
Most amazing, old school, fun, delicious, spoilt, other superlatives, dinner date of my life on Tuesday. I am one lucky girl, dear Followers! Nice one.
Oo- got an Espresso Martini made for us and it was as good if not better than Prudence. Yep. I said it. I think better.
Wed. A bit of uni. Met 'the gang' for pints at the student union. (here in the UK the student unions actually do things for their members like have amazing places to hangout with multiple floor venues housing cafes and bars and stages for sweet bands and pubs and a bottle-o and stationary and snacks etc. Glasgow uni has 2 unions, aswell. double the YEH). Had Jess over and cooked steak and brussel sprouts and shot the breeze. Easy evening.
Thursday- today- Jess' birthday!! (happy birthday Jess) A geelong girl, she is a total babe, really fun to hang with, she likes Eddy Current and now UV Race, easy going, funny. good chick. Rose early to get round to Mach Frequency's to pick up a muffin tray, then off to class for a bit, then lunch with Jess and the gang at a nice restaraunt/cafe, then off to Morrison's (standard biggish supermarket, closest one to me here in Partick) for baking goods. Now I must begin flexing my culinary muscles and attempt things of good niceness (fig and walnut; dark choc and coffee: cupcakes) for Jess' birthday dinner tonight around the corner at Arttu's flat.
That's a bit of what I did. Long one. Good by you for sticking through the drivel. I'd give you a cupcake if you were here. PS Vinnie i saw your penning. that was me! Shucks. Is it too much to ask for you to play some Patti Smith for me? If you're looking for some content for the next show.
I could flood you with MS Paint masterpieces. However since Melbourne has recently been witness to such a hydrological event that the Enviros have grown training wheels to keep themselves upright whilst pondering the causes, implications and crop evapotranspiration coefficients of The Great Flood, I will instead divulge a story of Jacqui in Glasgow. It's a story of Lloydy: Living. No trips to the countryside. No uncovering of treasure (how good was the lego man???!!!). Just buying food and walking on the footpath and such.
It's story time, where I tell you about what I have done in the past few days and you can get an insight into what an average day is like. No pics. It's a dry one. Then give yourself a pat on the back for reading this far, and know that you keep me keepin' on as much as the ten pound slabs of Tennents Velvet do.
Right. March.
Monday first of March was coincidentally the first day of Spring in the Northern Hemisphere and the first day the sun tickled the thermostat over 5 degrees. Naturally the alignment of these important events could not pass by without making an offering of thanks to the Tucker God. An impromptu 'bbq' was called and attendance was mandatory for the Soothers (those who originally resided in the Southern Hemisphere). The Scandi's represented too, as did the Shetland Massiv' of Lyall and Ben. Sourcing sausages from the butcher was an experience. Here in Glasgow a 'sausage' is a rectangular slab of sausage-ish meat about an inch thick. Alias also includes 'square sausage'. A sausage, my dear Soothy Followers, as we know it, has some other name which escapes me now... but I think is something like a 'fenk sausage'. Anyway, Short fenk sausies are only one pound fourty a kilo. Nice. Fenkies under the grill was a bit of a push- but we all colluded and called it a bbq none the less.
Wednesday the third was a great day in the history of Scottish sport. Friendly game of Czech V Scotland, at a big ol' stadium in Mount Florida. Footy! Pie! Footy! Pie! I didn't get a pie. sadface. 26 000 bums on seats apparently. More than the collective population of the Shetland Isles. And half the stadium was empty. Final score: Scotland 1, Czech 0. Getting the train there and having some ales at the nearest pub beforehand was almost more fun. No drinking at football matches in Scotland. They're a bit fucked up over football, and even more so over boozing. So the two don't go together. We flew St Andrew's cross high. Jess and Phil got a hotdog. Lyall drank a cup of Bisto (pretty much watered down gravy). We sung 1000 miles.
Saturday night was a good on'. Essay essay essay for the previous 3 days, so at about 9pm I closed my books and opened some vino. Met the gang at Nice n' Sleazy on Sauchiehall Street. Since everyone likes playing the Equivalents game (including me) Sauchiehall Street is like a Swanston Street in that it leads right in and up through to the main bit of town. But it has heaps of pubs and bars and clubs and take away shops and some big concert venues at the outer end (west end of Sauchiehall St- closest to me!). Sleazy's is like Ding Dong? I think so...
Phil, Trond and Ben had been at a whisky tasting. Jess, Niki and Gowri had been to see Passion Pit. Lyall just happened to be there, as was his friend Gen and a heap of the Shetland boys. Pretty much everyone. It was great. Advertised as a 60s night, it was more a mongrel of Indie, Rock n Roll, Pop, Dance and about 2 Chuck Berry songs. Dance we did though. Then I had the most amazing Cheeseburger of my life from one of those caravan-portable things that you can't gaze directly at during the day without being turned to either a pillar of salt or a filthy civil engineering student with bad hair and bad humour. The van was in the perfect position to catch all the drunks rolling home after their Sauchiehall St adventures. The pattie came out of a deep bucket, already cooked. Slapped a piece of orange cheese on it and gave it a 55 second warm up on the hot plate, then BAM into a crispy white bap roll bun. Gave it a little sauce lovin' (tomato and mustard). Heaven. In the form of a 1.70 Cheeseburger.
We're getting a bit long. Apologies.
I went to my Celtic Civilisations lecture on Monday and learnt about 19th and early 20th century Welsh literature (they got big into radio plays). Met Lily for dinner and invited My Beau- who shall from now on be known as Mach Frequency for reasons I cannot explain. 3 for dinner at amazing chinese restaraunt. Glaswegian comedy with Mach Frequency. Pillow duty.
Most amazing, old school, fun, delicious, spoilt, other superlatives, dinner date of my life on Tuesday. I am one lucky girl, dear Followers! Nice one.
Oo- got an Espresso Martini made for us and it was as good if not better than Prudence. Yep. I said it. I think better.
Wed. A bit of uni. Met 'the gang' for pints at the student union. (here in the UK the student unions actually do things for their members like have amazing places to hangout with multiple floor venues housing cafes and bars and stages for sweet bands and pubs and a bottle-o and stationary and snacks etc. Glasgow uni has 2 unions, aswell. double the YEH). Had Jess over and cooked steak and brussel sprouts and shot the breeze. Easy evening.
Thursday- today- Jess' birthday!! (happy birthday Jess) A geelong girl, she is a total babe, really fun to hang with, she likes Eddy Current and now UV Race, easy going, funny. good chick. Rose early to get round to Mach Frequency's to pick up a muffin tray, then off to class for a bit, then lunch with Jess and the gang at a nice restaraunt/cafe, then off to Morrison's (standard biggish supermarket, closest one to me here in Partick) for baking goods. Now I must begin flexing my culinary muscles and attempt things of good niceness (fig and walnut; dark choc and coffee: cupcakes) for Jess' birthday dinner tonight around the corner at Arttu's flat.
That's a bit of what I did. Long one. Good by you for sticking through the drivel. I'd give you a cupcake if you were here. PS Vinnie i saw your penning. that was me! Shucks. Is it too much to ask for you to play some Patti Smith for me? If you're looking for some content for the next show.
Sunday 7 March 2010
Mrs Doubtfire
I think I saw Mrs Doubtfire today.
She was in the front passenger seat of a little shit box with a younger woman driving and a tweeny thing in the back.
I didn't have my camera on me so I couldn't get a photo, but it looked pretty much like this:
She was in the front passenger seat of a little shit box with a younger woman driving and a tweeny thing in the back.
I didn't have my camera on me so I couldn't get a photo, but it looked pretty much like this:
Friday 5 March 2010
Arran jammin'
Arran Island.
Tea and scones for lunch at the Lochranza pub.
Niki sing song time with Trond on fork capo duties.
Watch this video:
Tea and scones for lunch at the Lochranza pub.
Niki sing song time with Trond on fork capo duties.
Watch this video:
Monday 1 March 2010
Shetland Shed
There are some things in life that will always be disagreeable; never really behaving as they should for you, though you have been promised otherwise. Take for instance house keys. I throw my hands in the air in exasperation. Key goes in hole. Turn key. Locking mechanism gets a shot of adrenalin and through electrical signals shooting down the axons, neurons, membranes and whathaveyou of the peripheral nerves the door bloody unlocks. Not so for Lloydy.
I had 5 sets of house keys last year to the Flem Safety House. One by one I would misplace them. At one point a few turned up so I was working a successful 3-key rotation system. But not really a successful season of Key Keeping.
Then here in Glasgow, I get locked out of my bedroom for 3 days. Got into the house OK, but the bedroom door locking mechanism shit itself and there were splinters of metal and squeaking of springs and heaving of handles but the door could not be opened. Even once the handle bracket was removed, no amount of gentle tickling could coerce the door to open. Not so cool when you come home from a night of dancing and you're stuck in a skirt and heels during the Glaswegian winter. Granted though, that wasn't really the key...
Yesterday I grabbed the wrong key set. They were sitting next to my keys shooting the breeze and I didn't look I just grabbed. I managed to lock the door from the outside, but when I got home I couldn't open it. Tried and tried. Hurt my hands. Disagreeable and not behaving. I rolled on to Lily's who saved me in my state of destitution. Ready for sleep overs when Lyall rang. He had returned from Edinburgh- keen for the Tennents nectar- already sweetened and after some more. So I rushed home and Lyall laughed. He also managed to, first try, open the door with the keys I had failed with. How does this happen? How could I be so useless with keys? Can I trace it back to a significant childhood incident, like Young Jac walking home solo from Primary School and awaiting company at 5pm? Or maybe because I gave up on keys and went through the window more times that I care to remember?
I think I'm just shit at keys. And I don't know if it's curable.
I propose Shetland Sheds for all of us.
No Keys No Worries
I had 5 sets of house keys last year to the Flem Safety House. One by one I would misplace them. At one point a few turned up so I was working a successful 3-key rotation system. But not really a successful season of Key Keeping.
Then here in Glasgow, I get locked out of my bedroom for 3 days. Got into the house OK, but the bedroom door locking mechanism shit itself and there were splinters of metal and squeaking of springs and heaving of handles but the door could not be opened. Even once the handle bracket was removed, no amount of gentle tickling could coerce the door to open. Not so cool when you come home from a night of dancing and you're stuck in a skirt and heels during the Glaswegian winter. Granted though, that wasn't really the key...
Yesterday I grabbed the wrong key set. They were sitting next to my keys shooting the breeze and I didn't look I just grabbed. I managed to lock the door from the outside, but when I got home I couldn't open it. Tried and tried. Hurt my hands. Disagreeable and not behaving. I rolled on to Lily's who saved me in my state of destitution. Ready for sleep overs when Lyall rang. He had returned from Edinburgh- keen for the Tennents nectar- already sweetened and after some more. So I rushed home and Lyall laughed. He also managed to, first try, open the door with the keys I had failed with. How does this happen? How could I be so useless with keys? Can I trace it back to a significant childhood incident, like Young Jac walking home solo from Primary School and awaiting company at 5pm? Or maybe because I gave up on keys and went through the window more times that I care to remember?
I think I'm just shit at keys. And I don't know if it's curable.
I propose Shetland Sheds for all of us.
No Keys No Worries
Legoman
On arrival in Glasgow all those weeks ago, I had a strong sense that I was going to find money on the ground. It was very strong and very strange. I told Lily I thought I might spot something so she can vouch for me. Since then I have found coins all over the city. I am up to 79 pence. Some times I find just lonely bronze pence, other times I have found a mighty 20 pence. That only happened once though...
Today I found the head of a legoman on the ground!
I immediately thought of Marcus UV Rechsteiner.
Last night was a big 'un. Jess the Melburnian madame, Niki the kiwi killer and Trond the Prince of Norway came over to the Partick Palace and cooked a vego Rogan Josh between bouts of Street Fighter and Mario Carts on the Old Skool Nintendo. Ben- Cork Hat, see last post- came over with a Shetland friend and we played dinner party. We met up again later with Ben, Ben's housemates and some more Shetland crew and pub crawled our way through whiskey, ales, beers and white russians. Big Lubowski's was posh but had sweet tunes from the DJ. There was a whisky bar called Ben Nevis that had taxiderm'd birds inlayed into the toilet doors. There were more pubs and more drinking and ringing of last drinks at many of these. Though the plan was after the last pub to go to a club, we all agreed the Partick Palace was a much better destination since there was no 8 pound cover charge. There was gin and kiwi fruit flying everywhere! At about 3am the crowd thinned out... Messy house in the morning was made bearable by bruscetta for two. Then I went walking and found legoman. Perfect.
Lyall is still in Edinburgh and the house is too quiet now.
And now in this fuzzy-headed state I have to go to uni at 7pm for a group project meeting with a very cool red head. This would have caused great fuss over attire and the like a week ago but since recent developments I couldn't care. Much. I found a legoman!
Today I found the head of a legoman on the ground!
I immediately thought of Marcus UV Rechsteiner.
Last night was a big 'un. Jess the Melburnian madame, Niki the kiwi killer and Trond the Prince of Norway came over to the Partick Palace and cooked a vego Rogan Josh between bouts of Street Fighter and Mario Carts on the Old Skool Nintendo. Ben- Cork Hat, see last post- came over with a Shetland friend and we played dinner party. We met up again later with Ben, Ben's housemates and some more Shetland crew and pub crawled our way through whiskey, ales, beers and white russians. Big Lubowski's was posh but had sweet tunes from the DJ. There was a whisky bar called Ben Nevis that had taxiderm'd birds inlayed into the toilet doors. There were more pubs and more drinking and ringing of last drinks at many of these. Though the plan was after the last pub to go to a club, we all agreed the Partick Palace was a much better destination since there was no 8 pound cover charge. There was gin and kiwi fruit flying everywhere! At about 3am the crowd thinned out... Messy house in the morning was made bearable by bruscetta for two. Then I went walking and found legoman. Perfect.
Lyall is still in Edinburgh and the house is too quiet now.
And now in this fuzzy-headed state I have to go to uni at 7pm for a group project meeting with a very cool red head. This would have caused great fuss over attire and the like a week ago but since recent developments I couldn't care. Much. I found a legoman!
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