Green represents my stepfather Pete
Blue represents my mother
The normal black is what I have writtenI'm sure you didn't need telling about the black but I thought my key would look bit crap with just two colours.
Monday, May 30, 2005
Hay Key
Because I was writing my entries about Hay Festival in a notbook in a field, it was open to pen stealing abuse. For this reason the previous entries have been colour coded to show who wrote what.
Green represents my stepfather Pete
Blue represents my mother
The normal black is what I have written
I'm sure you didn't need telling about the black but I thought my key would look bit crap with just two colours.
Green represents my stepfather Pete Blue represents my mother The normal black is what I have writtenI'm sure you didn't need telling about the black but I thought my key would look bit crap with just two colours.
Hay Festival 2005 #4
Sadly I've left it to when I am drunk and tired again to write this post. I will probably miss things out and apathetically was over details I would have liked to elaborated on. So, let me think. I woke even earlier this morning, 5:35. I managed to get back to sleep again but when I re-awoke I was damn sweaty, I'd put on loads of extra clothes to go to bed because it was colder last night.
I had my fried breakfast which was really just veggie bacon, sausages and beans for me because I don't like mushrooms. After much lounging around and attention giving to baby Grace we headed into town. When we got there we met my Dad (Dominic) and went to a pub for a pint. (I had the delicious Butty Bach). After that we went around a few bookshops and I got a few books. First I got Rim from the gigantic ex-library bookshop. Then Postmodernism For Beginners and finally a Gibson book, All Tomorrow's Parties.
Rim, Alexander Besher, £2.00
Postmodernism For Beginners, Richard Appignanesi and Chris Garratt, £2.50
All Tomorrow's Parties, William Gibson, £2.25
Meaning I made a saving of £6.68 when compared to Amazon.co.uk price.
it was then inside the Hay Cinema Bookshop that I met Anshul. The last time I saw Anshul was in Bournemouth, leaving my house after I lent him some DVDs. previous to seeing him I was worried about the fact that I had left to go on a holiday to the north of Wales without telling him. What if he wanted to return the DVDs and found I wasn't there? It was at the cinema selection I saw him and I thought. "Bloody hell! That's Anshul." and then "Wait, no, that doesn't make sense, I'm in Hay, far away from Bournemouth on a holiday at a festival most people have never heard of. May be it's just some Indian guy who looks a bit like Anshul and my uncultured brain is telling me that it is Anshul." For about three minutes I debated this with myself, all the time standing right next to him waiting for him to get up and notice me, However he was fully engrossed in the cinema books, which span my mind further because what I know of him, he is a bit of a film freak (he does do MA Editing after all). Eventually he did get up and realised that the weirdo he could see out of the corner of his eye that was fixed to his side pretending to look at books was me. Back at the campsite we went to the Hollybush Inn for food. i drank cider 'till I didn't feel so good and then we've been sitting out here since then. I'm now trying to warm my legs by a dying disposable barbecue lit for the purpose of heating.
I had my fried breakfast which was really just veggie bacon, sausages and beans for me because I don't like mushrooms. After much lounging around and attention giving to baby Grace we headed into town. When we got there we met my Dad (Dominic) and went to a pub for a pint. (I had the delicious Butty Bach). After that we went around a few bookshops and I got a few books. First I got Rim from the gigantic ex-library bookshop. Then Postmodernism For Beginners and finally a Gibson book, All Tomorrow's Parties.
Rim, Alexander Besher, £2.00
Postmodernism For Beginners, Richard Appignanesi and Chris Garratt, £2.50
All Tomorrow's Parties, William Gibson, £2.25
Meaning I made a saving of £6.68 when compared to Amazon.co.uk price.
it was then inside the Hay Cinema Bookshop that I met Anshul. The last time I saw Anshul was in Bournemouth, leaving my house after I lent him some DVDs. previous to seeing him I was worried about the fact that I had left to go on a holiday to the north of Wales without telling him. What if he wanted to return the DVDs and found I wasn't there? It was at the cinema selection I saw him and I thought. "Bloody hell! That's Anshul." and then "Wait, no, that doesn't make sense, I'm in Hay, far away from Bournemouth on a holiday at a festival most people have never heard of. May be it's just some Indian guy who looks a bit like Anshul and my uncultured brain is telling me that it is Anshul." For about three minutes I debated this with myself, all the time standing right next to him waiting for him to get up and notice me, However he was fully engrossed in the cinema books, which span my mind further because what I know of him, he is a bit of a film freak (he does do MA Editing after all). Eventually he did get up and realised that the weirdo he could see out of the corner of his eye that was fixed to his side pretending to look at books was me. Back at the campsite we went to the Hollybush Inn for food. i drank cider 'till I didn't feel so good and then we've been sitting out here since then. I'm now trying to warm my legs by a dying disposable barbecue lit for the purpose of heating.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Hay Festival 2005 #3
"You're creepy. Bugger off."
That's something Sam just said to me. I'm quite proud that I evoke ssuch a response due to my presence.
Sam and Lisa (with baby Grace) arrived shortly after we got back from a short trip to Hay. I only came back with one book: The Technique of Sex by Anthony Havil.
I was disappointed to find that it was just and old book about sex with no really exciting content. It was 50p from an honesty book shop, and as worthlessness is a common trait of most of he books on the shelf, it's content comes as no surprise. Having said that I have come across one bit that's worth mentioning I think.
"A man really has more brain than his wife - the difference, as a rule, is 4.5 ozs., the man's brain weighing 48.5 ozs., the womans only 44 ozs."
I'm hoping to find more old school gems throughout this book, as it covers topics about sex, I'm quite hopeful.
Oooh! Another extract I quite like (probably because I'm a bit disturbed) but doesn't make much sense out of context (I'll leave it that way too) is as follows.
"At last, in desperation, she threw herself out of a fourth floor window. Both her legs were badly broken and she suffered other injuries, but a few months later she gave birth to a very strong child. She had absolutely no use or wish for the baby, so it was put in an orphanage."
"Oh dear! Your mother is anally moist!" was a line I wasn't expecting from the book. Very forward for the 1950's.
I wrote that quote from Lisa and then made the mistake of leaving my notepad in the company of my mother.
Another book I picked up in Hay, but did not buy was a graphic novel compilation of noir short stories. I read one by Neil Gaiman and got half way through one by Alan Moore before Mum phones me from outside the shop to tell me to come join them.
I've now read six out of the ten short stories in Tom Fourgs's Spookfish, a book that Dominic sent me from the publisher Parthian that he works for. My father is working around the festival site somewhere, so hopefully I will see him there tomorrow. Unfortunately the author of this book I'm reading isn't here 'till Monday, so I'd probably miss the opportunity of getting my book signed.
I started writing this entry sometime when the sun was shining, I'm now finishing it in my sleeping bag in my tent by the light of a dying hypervalue battery powered lamp.
I'm not looking forward to waking up at six in the morning again because of the light but I am looking forward to the fry up planned for breakfast.
That's something Sam just said to me. I'm quite proud that I evoke ssuch a response due to my presence.
Sam and Lisa (with baby Grace) arrived shortly after we got back from a short trip to Hay. I only came back with one book: The Technique of Sex by Anthony Havil.
I was disappointed to find that it was just and old book about sex with no really exciting content. It was 50p from an honesty book shop, and as worthlessness is a common trait of most of he books on the shelf, it's content comes as no surprise. Having said that I have come across one bit that's worth mentioning I think.
"A man really has more brain than his wife - the difference, as a rule, is 4.5 ozs., the man's brain weighing 48.5 ozs., the womans only 44 ozs."
I'm hoping to find more old school gems throughout this book, as it covers topics about sex, I'm quite hopeful.
Oooh! Another extract I quite like (probably because I'm a bit disturbed) but doesn't make much sense out of context (I'll leave it that way too) is as follows.
"At last, in desperation, she threw herself out of a fourth floor window. Both her legs were badly broken and she suffered other injuries, but a few months later she gave birth to a very strong child. She had absolutely no use or wish for the baby, so it was put in an orphanage."
"Oh dear! Your mother is anally moist!" was a line I wasn't expecting from the book. Very forward for the 1950's.
I wrote that quote from Lisa and then made the mistake of leaving my notepad in the company of my mother.
Another book I picked up in Hay, but did not buy was a graphic novel compilation of noir short stories. I read one by Neil Gaiman and got half way through one by Alan Moore before Mum phones me from outside the shop to tell me to come join them.
I've now read six out of the ten short stories in Tom Fourgs's Spookfish, a book that Dominic sent me from the publisher Parthian that he works for. My father is working around the festival site somewhere, so hopefully I will see him there tomorrow. Unfortunately the author of this book I'm reading isn't here 'till Monday, so I'd probably miss the opportunity of getting my book signed.
I started writing this entry sometime when the sun was shining, I'm now finishing it in my sleeping bag in my tent by the light of a dying hypervalue battery powered lamp.
I'm not looking forward to waking up at six in the morning again because of the light but I am looking forward to the fry up planned for breakfast.
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Splitter Blood
I did such a big shit that when I wiped my arse, it was more a case of moppinh the blood away.
Hay Festival 2005 #2
It's now Saturday morning. I woke at 6am and realised there was no wall to turn to, or blanket to pull over my head. In my tent there is no escape from the sunlight. I tried to use my t-shirt as a blindfold but it just kept falling off my face.
I have just had breakfast. I ate a fake bacon sandwitch that Mum vigilantly prepared against the destructive force of the wind and then I had a bowl of Rice Krispies Muddles that came from a Kellogg's multi-pack pack. They smelt like Caramac.
We will be heading into Hay after we find out what time Lisa and Sam plan on arriving.
I have just had breakfast. I ate a fake bacon sandwitch that Mum vigilantly prepared against the destructive force of the wind and then I had a bowl of Rice Krispies Muddles that came from a Kellogg's multi-pack pack. They smelt like Caramac.
We will be heading into Hay after we find out what time Lisa and Sam plan on arriving.
Hay Festival 2005 #1
Wednesday evening. I was pacing in the kitchen in my student digs on my mobile phone. (Reminds me how much I wish the university hadn't forgotten to send out the application form to have the landline activated in the house. Although only able to receive incoming calls it would have been a convenience.)
Mother - "We're going to Hay on Friday."
Me - "Can I come with you?"
There was already plans to meet my grandparents in the morning. Nan and Trev were in Bournemouth on one of those OAP bus trip thingies... I have just been informed that it wasn't an OAP bus trip, it was a dance club trip, just most of the people on it were OAPs as far as I could see. OAP = OLD AGE PENSIONER BY THE WAY.
Cider is good.
and anyway I digress, I arrived at Hay and it was beautiful, the swans were singing, cows were laughing, and the pigs were croaking, what a lovely day.
mmmm car exhaust!!!
Back to my point. Arrangement was then made that after meeting Nan and Trev in Bournemouth that I would just stay in the town and catch the train home. It made more sense to go home on Thursday and go up to Hay in the car with Mum and Pete than catch the train all the way to Hereford
NOTE: He had no help spelling Hereford.
on Friday and Mum and Pete coming to pick me up from Hay.
So it was half ten that I left the house Thursday morning to catch a bus, something that I still don't have the hang of. I am terrified of catching buses. I believe the timetables are unduly complex and that rather than listing actual place names they list monkey faces.
I believe!!
We are standing around all our lives waiting for things to happen and along comes Wells, wayhey party animal!! NOT
the bus drivers' own nickname for places, leaving me incapable of working out where a bus is supposed to be going. If they listed them with sensible descriptions such as "On the street with Electronics Boutique and Toys 'R' Us" then I would understand.
and then we went to where the swans lived and fed them.
I don't trust the bus drivers, maybe this has something to do with the fact that my father used to be a bus driver.
People keep telling me to just ask the bus driver where it's going. I refuse to do this because last time I tried it the bus driver thought me such a fool that he punched me in the face and sent me rolling off the bus, nose bleeding. O.K. That's not what really happened, it may have for all the psychological prohibition it put on me. In actual fact the bus driver just replied "No! This is the 'place name' bus" and gave me a look that said "You're a pathetic little shit and I hate you for wasting my time asking such stupid questions."
So I don't like catching the bus. The train I can handle, I have learnt how to read their timetables and they depart from nice solid brick structures that have probably been there for a quarter of a century or more. It was fine catching the train from Barry to Cardiff at any time because I knew that every train that passed through Barry station would stop at Cardiff. Every train! Admittedly they were often late or absent but being fixed to parallel iron bars they would go to the destination I expected them to each and every time, little room for deviation is left.
I've just realised I haven't really been writing much about Hay, making presumptions made about this piece caused by the title will probably lead most to disappointment.
To continue with my path to Hay; I met Nan and Trev in Bournemouth where we spent some time with squirrels that were just too tame. Someone suggested feeding them biscuits. Nan didn't have any biscuits but she did have some Liquorice Allsorts, so the squirrels were fed on those. Somehow this led to my grandmother making a wisecrack about free bowel treatment that the elderlies found most amusing. I think she was quite proud of her funny because she kept reminding me and Trevor of it for the rest of our meeting.
My train journey home was mostly uneventful. I noticed a woman pointing to something out the window to her small child saying "Look at those neigh neighs", presumably horses. I thought this too abstract for a child I then though about how I would possible "Look at those equine creatures." to my own potential child in an attempt to expand its vocabulary at an early age.
I really think I should read a lot more I have a child so that I can constantly use unnecessarily large words in their presence during their development.
I was home in between the hours of 5 and 6, Pete gave me a lift from the station with Mum as he usually picks her up from work around he time I got into Cardiff. Thursday night I spent in my sleeping bag because there were not enough bed clothes in the house, this was due to Mum and Pete making me take them to uni, presumably their assumption was that the more bed clothes I have the more likely I am to change them.
Friday morningish we then left for Hay. We haven't gone anywhere in Hay other than the beer tent on the campsite we are staying and as I finish writing this I am still fairly drunk and quite tired.
Mother - "We're going to Hay on Friday."
Me - "Can I come with you?"
There was already plans to meet my grandparents in the morning. Nan and Trev were in Bournemouth on one of those OAP bus trip thingies... I have just been informed that it wasn't an OAP bus trip, it was a dance club trip, just most of the people on it were OAPs as far as I could see. OAP = OLD AGE PENSIONER BY THE WAY.
and anyway I digress, I arrived at Hay and it was beautiful, the swans were singing, cows were laughing, and the pigs were croaking, what a lovely day.
mmmm car exhaust!!!
Back to my point. Arrangement was then made that after meeting Nan and Trev in Bournemouth that I would just stay in the town and catch the train home. It made more sense to go home on Thursday and go up to Hay in the car with Mum and Pete than catch the train all the way to Hereford
NOTE: He had no help spelling Hereford.
on Friday and Mum and Pete coming to pick me up from Hay.
So it was half ten that I left the house Thursday morning to catch a bus, something that I still don't have the hang of. I am terrified of catching buses. I believe the timetables are unduly complex and that rather than listing actual place names they list monkey faces.
I believe!!
We are standing around all our lives waiting for things to happen and along comes Wells, wayhey party animal!! NOT
the bus drivers' own nickname for places, leaving me incapable of working out where a bus is supposed to be going. If they listed them with sensible descriptions such as "On the street with Electronics Boutique and Toys 'R' Us" then I would understand.
and then we went to where the swans lived and fed them.
I don't trust the bus drivers, maybe this has something to do with the fact that my father used to be a bus driver.
People keep telling me to just ask the bus driver where it's going. I refuse to do this because last time I tried it the bus driver thought me such a fool that he punched me in the face and sent me rolling off the bus, nose bleeding. O.K. That's not what really happened, it may have for all the psychological prohibition it put on me. In actual fact the bus driver just replied "No! This is the 'place name' bus" and gave me a look that said "You're a pathetic little shit and I hate you for wasting my time asking such stupid questions."
So I don't like catching the bus. The train I can handle, I have learnt how to read their timetables and they depart from nice solid brick structures that have probably been there for a quarter of a century or more. It was fine catching the train from Barry to Cardiff at any time because I knew that every train that passed through Barry station would stop at Cardiff. Every train! Admittedly they were often late or absent but being fixed to parallel iron bars they would go to the destination I expected them to each and every time, little room for deviation is left.
I've just realised I haven't really been writing much about Hay, making presumptions made about this piece caused by the title will probably lead most to disappointment.
To continue with my path to Hay; I met Nan and Trev in Bournemouth where we spent some time with squirrels that were just too tame. Someone suggested feeding them biscuits. Nan didn't have any biscuits but she did have some Liquorice Allsorts, so the squirrels were fed on those. Somehow this led to my grandmother making a wisecrack about free bowel treatment that the elderlies found most amusing. I think she was quite proud of her funny because she kept reminding me and Trevor of it for the rest of our meeting.
My train journey home was mostly uneventful. I noticed a woman pointing to something out the window to her small child saying "Look at those neigh neighs", presumably horses. I thought this too abstract for a child I then though about how I would possible "Look at those equine creatures." to my own potential child in an attempt to expand its vocabulary at an early age.
I really think I should read a lot more I have a child so that I can constantly use unnecessarily large words in their presence during their development.
I was home in between the hours of 5 and 6, Pete gave me a lift from the station with Mum as he usually picks her up from work around he time I got into Cardiff. Thursday night I spent in my sleeping bag because there were not enough bed clothes in the house, this was due to Mum and Pete making me take them to uni, presumably their assumption was that the more bed clothes I have the more likely I am to change them.
Friday morningish we then left for Hay. We haven't gone anywhere in Hay other than the beer tent on the campsite we are staying and as I finish writing this I am still fairly drunk and quite tired.
Hay Key
Because I was writing my entries about Hay Festival in a notbook in a field, it was open to pen stealing abuse. For this reason the following entries have been colour coded to show who wrote what.
Green represents my stepfather Pete
Blue represents my mother
The normal black is what I have written
I'm sure you didn't need telling about the black but I thought my key would look bit crap with just two colours.
Green represents my stepfather Pete Blue represents my mother The normal black is what I have writtenI'm sure you didn't need telling about the black but I thought my key would look bit crap with just two colours.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
The Most Beautiful Woman In The World
I know you're all desperate for these. So here they finally are. Pictures of me in female garments. I think I should say here that if you are a male and find me attractive (even if you get a boner) don't worry. The feelings you have are perfectly natural. I'm one sweet ass bitch. You know it, I know it, I'm just damn sexy. Plus you always had a thing for adam's apples anyway.
Proceed with the photography ...........
Quality Nips eh?
It would have been a little more convincing if I had shaved my bumfluff off first I think.
You know what I can feel under that dress?
I'm so youthful and 'up for it'.
Those are 'sex' eyes.
The pictures were taken for my flash project. They were supposed to be people milling around in a bank during a robbery scene. I would post a link to the flash animation but I underestimated the difficulty of using flash and the time I had to complete the project, so it ended a rushed piece of poo.
Proceed with the photography ...........
Quality Nips eh?
It would have been a little more convincing if I had shaved my bumfluff off first I think.
You know what I can feel under that dress?
I'm so youthful and 'up for it'.
Those are 'sex' eyes.
The pictures were taken for my flash project. They were supposed to be people milling around in a bank during a robbery scene. I would post a link to the flash animation but I underestimated the difficulty of using flash and the time I had to complete the project, so it ended a rushed piece of poo.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Beklager, jeg snakker ikke norsk.
Things I forgot to mention in the previous post: That Cathrine looks like Neutrogena® advert. I also didn't point out the irony of me adding the Norwegian flag colours to one of the photos.
Oh, an the other thing is on the sins page under the description of pride it has a nice thing that describes me perfectly. Just to kick myself in the nuts.
Hvor er toalettet?
Oh, an the other thing is on the sins page under the description of pride it has a nice thing that describes me perfectly. Just to kick myself in the nuts.
Hvor er toalettet?
Norwegian Day
Today, May 17th is apparently the national Norwegian day. A day when all Norwegians can celebrate being Norwegian. I would have thought this an excuse for a bit of joyful novelty and most importantly a piss up. However excuse it seems not to be. I was bemused to see the donning of suits in preparation for a national parade. Serious suits. 'Need to impress the girlfriend/boyfriend's upper class parents' suits. There was real patriotism there. It just scares me a little because I hate patriotism, almost as much as religion. Well O.K. no where near as much as religion, but still... I'd call it national arrogance but that sounds spiteful.
Hmmm.. time for some irony. I don't like it because it's number one on this list of sins. Funny eh? I hate religion but here I am using an example from some thing religious for my own purposes. Well, It's not religious, it's a pertains to virtue and virtue is not something dependent on religion. Ahh, I love a good ole senseless rant.
I'm a bit of an extremist nutter anyway. I begrudge the two minutes that society squeezes me into giving for remembering war. I don't want to remember war, it's bad and nasty. The only sense it needs to be remembered is 'Oh, that was nasty, better not do that again eh?'. Plus I'm trying to shop. And it's eerie, like something from sci-fi when everyone just .. stops.. willingly. That's some freaky ass hypnotism shit.
Yeah, well I liked Guernsey liberation day more. That was the ironic alcohol fuelled kind of patriotism that I can get along with.
YAY! Guernsey!
Friday, May 06, 2005
UK:RESISTANCE
A website I am a fond fan of. UK:RESISTANCE. It's due time they got a link on my blog as they frequently light up my life. Reading today I wanted to place a quote from one of their posts somewhere, and the only place I could think to put it was here. so ...
"Games are going backwards. At 1000 miles an hour and towards HELL."
... there it is. Nothing special, just a line I liked. Of course I encourage you to go check it out in it's original context.
"Games are going backwards. At 1000 miles an hour and towards HELL."
... there it is. Nothing special, just a line I liked. Of course I encourage you to go check it out in it's original context.
New Photos
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Neverending SCUMM
Harking back to old SCUMM posts I'd like to put down my current list of games. Due to a couple of lucky find in charity shops it has become lengthier.
Beneath a Steel Sky
Broken Sword I
Broken Sword II
Day Of The Tentacle
Flight Of The Amazon Queen
Full Throttle
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
Loom
Maniac Mansion
Monkey Island 1
Monkey Island 2
Sam & Max
Simon the Sorcerer
Simon the Sorcerer 2
The Curse of Monkey Island
The Dig
Zak McKracken and the Alien Mindbenders
Which leaves me with just 'Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis' to find before I can stop the madness.
Beneath a Steel Sky
Broken Sword I
Broken Sword II
Day Of The Tentacle
Flight Of The Amazon Queen
Full Throttle
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
Loom
Maniac Mansion
Monkey Island 1
Monkey Island 2
Sam & Max
Simon the Sorcerer
Simon the Sorcerer 2
The Curse of Monkey Island
The Dig
Zak McKracken and the Alien Mindbenders
Which leaves me with just 'Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis' to find before I can stop the madness.
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