shewho: (E17)
despite a brief break for work on Thursday, the stuff kept continuing.

Thursday evening I took the wife for dinner locally, to the Village Kitchen, which was nothing inspiring but alright. I had some goose-y pate, very tasty mackerel, and got carried away and also had a creme brulee and demanded some tasty port. Yum! Slightly tipsy by then, I turned down Fullmooners. Twice. (A good decision as it turned out.) Bed. Sleep.

***

Which meant I was sprightly and not dead on Friday, phew! Had a tasty Wimpey with [livejournal.com profile] curiousbadger (what is it about Wimpey in Wembley? It's always RAMMED!) and then headed up to the arena, over excited about Meat Loaf!! Purchase of 1x slutty Loaf t-shirt and 1x fridge magnet complete, we took our seats. Good seats! Closer than the Take That seats some while back. I could see without glasses! Phew!

It is the Three Bats Tour, so he opened with Paradise by the Dashboard Light (making it EVEN LONGER than it usually is, an almost impossible feat!) and did Bat I stuff, followed by Bat II and then Bat III. Everything you'd expect to hear was there, with the notable exception of Dead Ringer for Love, bad Meat. He was in quite a sulky foul mood too, at one point taking an audience member to task for screaming. Don't have a breakdown chap, I still love you! And I *know* you've been playing some of these songs for longer than I've been alive, but REALLY, don't mess them around so much. Too slow / incomplete / yawn. :(

Suffice it to say, he wasn't half as good as the last time I saw him. Perhaps that time was only so good as he didn't have a new album to plug. I dunno. My highlight was Rock and Roll Dreams Come Through which is quite possibly my favourite of his. After Hot Summer Night (too slow) and Bat Out of Hell (last of the main set and done properly, phew!). He encored with some rock covers, finishing on Gimmie Shelter. Seriously though, in what world is that better than Bat.....?

P'shaw.

Still, there was fire, comedy, and scary inflatable giant people, plus the songs still stand. We had fun at any rate. Literal dance moves ftw!

***

Saturday I had halfheartedly decided to go to Paradise Gardens. But got distracted by Walthamstow Market (heaps of denim duly bought for cheap, slightly cheating I know.....) and tidying my room. Oh shush, sometimes the mood takes you that way. Of course, once I'd found Talk to Me by the 60 Foot Dolls I was actually physically unable to leave the flat at all.

[Honestly, you think you grow and your music taste matures, but the moment I listened to Angel and Easy (the b-sides) I had to listen to them again and again and again. Just like when I first bought it. Slag 'em off all you want, they have a special place in my heart. What are they doing these days? I can't even remember their names. Carl, I think, was teh drummer, rumoured to enjoy sh1t-play. Oh, and Richard Parfitt (not that one) who, popular indie legend would have it, once received Rick Parfitt's (yes that (Status Quo) one) tax bill.

But your name *is* Richard Parfitt?
And you *are* a musician?

I wonder if it was true....]


Anyway, the evening contained much lovely massage, lovely Devastations CD and lovely sleep. Lovely. Innit.

Also, lovely Doctor Who, with a brilliant episode. I can't cope with the evil scarecrows (don't give *them* brains, argh!) but thought Mr Tennant was being superb, and Jessica Stevenson lovely (oh count them of you wish, I don't care :P) and I can't wait for next week.

***

All of which meant that I was up early on Sunday again (!!! two days in a row!!!) and actually went to the gym for my first ever yoga class.

Oh my! It's *wonderful* isn't it? I don't think my shoulders have been so relaxed in over 10 years. Blimey. Who'd have known that a leathery Essex woman and some dubious New Age Music could work such magick charms! If all that happens is that I relax properly once a week I'm a convert. Actually, it's a bit like the meditation I used to do at the Croydon Buddhist Centre in that respect. (Sssh, I *really* liked the Beatles, alright?)

Kept up with most of the postures, although am a bit rubbish at things like 'down facing dog' and 'the plank' due to rubbish arm strength. I mean, how can I punch people so hard I almost stop their heart (sorry again Rob!) and not support my own stupid body? Give it time. I plan to be back there every week. We shall see.

Due to messing up the start time and no trains OR tubes out of Walthamstow, I failed miserably to get out to games day at Clairey & Johnny's mansion (sorry chaps!) and just about had time to head West to Hammersmith, for a mini pub crawl along the river before the Pet Shop Boys.

Errr, yes. Evil wine lead to speedy inebriation, I do apologise people! However, the PSBs are completely and utterly MARVELLOUS. Seriously. Everything they played was a classic. They have so many! And they played them properly. Listen up, Meat. They were so good, I'm going again on Wednesday. I shall be drinking less though.

***

Monday was therefore a washout. And not just because of the rain. Headache. Cold. So bed and duvet and BURNING pizza were the only ways forward.

Got this far? Have a medal.

***

Or some (rubbish cameraphone) random Meat Loaf pictures! )


***

Who am I going to see at 7ish in the Bull & Gate tonight then?
shewho: (E17)
despite a brief break for work on Thursday, the stuff kept continuing.

Thursday evening I took the wife for dinner locally, to the Village Kitchen, which was nothing inspiring but alright. I had some goose-y pate, very tasty mackerel, and got carried away and also had a creme brulee and demanded some tasty port. Yum! Slightly tipsy by then, I turned down Fullmooners. Twice. (A good decision as it turned out.) Bed. Sleep.

***

Which meant I was sprightly and not dead on Friday, phew! Had a tasty Wimpey with [livejournal.com profile] curiousbadger (what is it about Wimpey in Wembley? It's always RAMMED!) and then headed up to the arena, over excited about Meat Loaf!! Purchase of 1x slutty Loaf t-shirt and 1x fridge magnet complete, we took our seats. Good seats! Closer than the Take That seats some while back. I could see without glasses! Phew!

It is the Three Bats Tour, so he opened with Paradise by the Dashboard Light (making it EVEN LONGER than it usually is, an almost impossible feat!) and did Bat I stuff, followed by Bat II and then Bat III. Everything you'd expect to hear was there, with the notable exception of Dead Ringer for Love, bad Meat. He was in quite a sulky foul mood too, at one point taking an audience member to task for screaming. Don't have a breakdown chap, I still love you! And I *know* you've been playing some of these songs for longer than I've been alive, but REALLY, don't mess them around so much. Too slow / incomplete / yawn. :(

Suffice it to say, he wasn't half as good as the last time I saw him. Perhaps that time was only so good as he didn't have a new album to plug. I dunno. My highlight was Rock and Roll Dreams Come Through which is quite possibly my favourite of his. After Hot Summer Night (too slow) and Bat Out of Hell (last of the main set and done properly, phew!). He encored with some rock covers, finishing on Gimmie Shelter. Seriously though, in what world is that better than Bat.....?

P'shaw.

Still, there was fire, comedy, and scary inflatable giant people, plus the songs still stand. We had fun at any rate. Literal dance moves ftw!

***

Saturday I had halfheartedly decided to go to Paradise Gardens. But got distracted by Walthamstow Market (heaps of denim duly bought for cheap, slightly cheating I know.....) and tidying my room. Oh shush, sometimes the mood takes you that way. Of course, once I'd found Talk to Me by the 60 Foot Dolls I was actually physically unable to leave the flat at all.

[Honestly, you think you grow and your music taste matures, but the moment I listened to Angel and Easy (the b-sides) I had to listen to them again and again and again. Just like when I first bought it. Slag 'em off all you want, they have a special place in my heart. What are they doing these days? I can't even remember their names. Carl, I think, was teh drummer, rumoured to enjoy sh1t-play. Oh, and Richard Parfitt (not that one) who, popular indie legend would have it, once received Rick Parfitt's (yes that (Status Quo) one) tax bill.

But your name *is* Richard Parfitt?
And you *are* a musician?

I wonder if it was true....]


Anyway, the evening contained much lovely massage, lovely Devastations CD and lovely sleep. Lovely. Innit.

Also, lovely Doctor Who, with a brilliant episode. I can't cope with the evil scarecrows (don't give *them* brains, argh!) but thought Mr Tennant was being superb, and Jessica Stevenson lovely (oh count them of you wish, I don't care :P) and I can't wait for next week.

***

All of which meant that I was up early on Sunday again (!!! two days in a row!!!) and actually went to the gym for my first ever yoga class.

Oh my! It's *wonderful* isn't it? I don't think my shoulders have been so relaxed in over 10 years. Blimey. Who'd have known that a leathery Essex woman and some dubious New Age Music could work such magick charms! If all that happens is that I relax properly once a week I'm a convert. Actually, it's a bit like the meditation I used to do at the Croydon Buddhist Centre in that respect. (Sssh, I *really* liked the Beatles, alright?)

Kept up with most of the postures, although am a bit rubbish at things like 'down facing dog' and 'the plank' due to rubbish arm strength. I mean, how can I punch people so hard I almost stop their heart (sorry again Rob!) and not support my own stupid body? Give it time. I plan to be back there every week. We shall see.

Due to messing up the start time and no trains OR tubes out of Walthamstow, I failed miserably to get out to games day at Clairey & Johnny's mansion (sorry chaps!) and just about had time to head West to Hammersmith, for a mini pub crawl along the river before the Pet Shop Boys.

Errr, yes. Evil wine lead to speedy inebriation, I do apologise people! However, the PSBs are completely and utterly MARVELLOUS. Seriously. Everything they played was a classic. They have so many! And they played them properly. Listen up, Meat. They were so good, I'm going again on Wednesday. I shall be drinking less though.

***

Monday was therefore a washout. And not just because of the rain. Headache. Cold. So bed and duvet and BURNING pizza were the only ways forward.

Got this far? Have a medal.

***

Or some (rubbish cameraphone) random Meat Loaf pictures! )


***

Who am I going to see at 7ish in the Bull & Gate tonight then?
shewho: (cheese!)
I have failed miserably to do a proper update in a while. You might hear a lot from me today dear internets, sorry!

Last week then, the weekend started on a Wednesday. Horrifically early in fact, meeting my travelling companions ([livejournal.com profile] perfectlyvague and [livejournal.com profile] fugitvemotel at Kings Cross, earlier than I'd usually be at work. From there a painless journey via Luton and Easyjet to PARIS.

(I found myself drinking a stiff gin and tonic at half ten in the morning. Well, a combination of 'Anansi Says', a scary fact about flying, and the fact the gin was in a bag drove me to it!)

I had never been to Paris before. I had never daytripped abroad before. This was all incredibly exciting! But not as exciting as all the signs to Orly, prompting stupid yarly comments and hysteria. Heh.

So, the David Lynch exhibition then. The main reason we went. I don't think there's any way a text description of it could do it justice, to be honest. (Certainly not from me.) It was amazing. In an unsettling and uncomfortable, yet wonderful way. The first room was a little disturbing, huge grey canvases, lots of houses, simple yet dark paintings that appeared to have stories, and lettering snaking around them telling you. (Um, the letter style remind me a lot of the cover of Nearly God. Actually, there was a very similar vibe. Ugh. Bad word.) In the background was that typical Lynch music. You know what I mean. Rumbling away, and almost making me feel sick. Around the edges of the room were drawings / sketches / doodles on anything and everything. The man's brain doesn't stop working, does it?

Anyway. Then on into the second room. The music continues eerily in the background. Huge canvases again. ARGH! Scary and bad and wrong! Too many women with holes in and pen1s type protrusions. Scary red man! Lots and lots of 'Bobs'. Lynch likes calling people in his art 'Bob'. They aren't just paintings either, he'll whack on some hair and fabric and anything he finds if he thinks they need it. Somewhat amazing, but I'm surprised I haven't had any nightmares.

Downstairs there is the ace Snowman series of photographs, his Disfigured (?) Nudes (again freaking me out), lots of photography, a mini cinema showing short films (the monsterboy wanting milk makes me Very Happy) and my favourite bit of the whole exhibition. This is a small painting of a room on the wall, and then a real life copy of the painting you can walk into. Smaller at the back to get the same perspective. Simple things for my simple mind, but I walked through the doors at the back and round again several times, hoping that one time I'd become a dwarf and start talking backwards. It almost felt it could have happened.

So yes, that alone was worth the trip.

We then spent a lovely, relaxing day, no stress, no problems, just wandering around Paris, Ms H leading the way with an infallible sense of direction. Through the gorgeous Luxembourg Gardens looking at the art. Through busy shopping streets (and seeing the most darling polkadot dress on the way) to Pont Neuf and the Seine..... to the Louvre (only on the outside!) to be amazed at the sheer scale of the place.... Up to the Sacre Couer, the hard way via the stairs as the funicular was broken.... looking over the whole of Paris from on high...through the random garment district then towards Gare du Nord via picking up some (very) tasty cheese at a fromagerie...... a tasty croque madame and pastis for tea (well, when in Rome Paris &c...!) and then back on the RER to Charles de Gaulle and the flight back.

I was tucked up in bed before half midnight, and slept well.

***

Paris is lovely, isn't it? I was expecting attitude and snootiness and overly busy streets. But got relaxing and pretty and charming and helpful and and and and...... I felt very comfortable there. In fact, I'd like to go back and do it properly. Despite my RUBBISH French, I'd even feel confident enough to do it on my own. I might do this. Not this year. But soon and for the rest of my life....

***

Some random photos from my phone as proof I actually went! )
shewho: (cheese!)
I have failed miserably to do a proper update in a while. You might hear a lot from me today dear internets, sorry!

Last week then, the weekend started on a Wednesday. Horrifically early in fact, meeting my travelling companions ([livejournal.com profile] perfectlyvague and [livejournal.com profile] fugitvemotel at Kings Cross, earlier than I'd usually be at work. From there a painless journey via Luton and Easyjet to PARIS.

(I found myself drinking a stiff gin and tonic at half ten in the morning. Well, a combination of 'Anansi Says', a scary fact about flying, and the fact the gin was in a bag drove me to it!)

I had never been to Paris before. I had never daytripped abroad before. This was all incredibly exciting! But not as exciting as all the signs to Orly, prompting stupid yarly comments and hysteria. Heh.

So, the David Lynch exhibition then. The main reason we went. I don't think there's any way a text description of it could do it justice, to be honest. (Certainly not from me.) It was amazing. In an unsettling and uncomfortable, yet wonderful way. The first room was a little disturbing, huge grey canvases, lots of houses, simple yet dark paintings that appeared to have stories, and lettering snaking around them telling you. (Um, the letter style remind me a lot of the cover of Nearly God. Actually, there was a very similar vibe. Ugh. Bad word.) In the background was that typical Lynch music. You know what I mean. Rumbling away, and almost making me feel sick. Around the edges of the room were drawings / sketches / doodles on anything and everything. The man's brain doesn't stop working, does it?

Anyway. Then on into the second room. The music continues eerily in the background. Huge canvases again. ARGH! Scary and bad and wrong! Too many women with holes in and pen1s type protrusions. Scary red man! Lots and lots of 'Bobs'. Lynch likes calling people in his art 'Bob'. They aren't just paintings either, he'll whack on some hair and fabric and anything he finds if he thinks they need it. Somewhat amazing, but I'm surprised I haven't had any nightmares.

Downstairs there is the ace Snowman series of photographs, his Disfigured (?) Nudes (again freaking me out), lots of photography, a mini cinema showing short films (the monsterboy wanting milk makes me Very Happy) and my favourite bit of the whole exhibition. This is a small painting of a room on the wall, and then a real life copy of the painting you can walk into. Smaller at the back to get the same perspective. Simple things for my simple mind, but I walked through the doors at the back and round again several times, hoping that one time I'd become a dwarf and start talking backwards. It almost felt it could have happened.

So yes, that alone was worth the trip.

We then spent a lovely, relaxing day, no stress, no problems, just wandering around Paris, Ms H leading the way with an infallible sense of direction. Through the gorgeous Luxembourg Gardens looking at the art. Through busy shopping streets (and seeing the most darling polkadot dress on the way) to Pont Neuf and the Seine..... to the Louvre (only on the outside!) to be amazed at the sheer scale of the place.... Up to the Sacre Couer, the hard way via the stairs as the funicular was broken.... looking over the whole of Paris from on high...through the random garment district then towards Gare du Nord via picking up some (very) tasty cheese at a fromagerie...... a tasty croque madame and pastis for tea (well, when in Rome Paris &c...!) and then back on the RER to Charles de Gaulle and the flight back.

I was tucked up in bed before half midnight, and slept well.

***

Paris is lovely, isn't it? I was expecting attitude and snootiness and overly busy streets. But got relaxing and pretty and charming and helpful and and and and...... I felt very comfortable there. In fact, I'd like to go back and do it properly. Despite my RUBBISH French, I'd even feel confident enough to do it on my own. I might do this. Not this year. But soon and for the rest of my life....

***

Some random photos from my phone as proof I actually went! )
shewho: (thumbs up)
Q: If your friendslist jumped off a cliff, would you follow?

A: Yes, probably. Have a dinosaur with a walking stick. )

Proof that the South is less evolved than the rest of London.
shewho: (thumbs up)
Q: If your friendslist jumped off a cliff, would you follow?

A: Yes, probably. Have a dinosaur with a walking stick. )

Proof that the South is less evolved than the rest of London.
shewho: (goff)
If I said to you that I'd spent a lot of last night with a binbag over my head being short of breath, you'd be forgiven for thinking I may have done a Michael Hutchence*.

However, I was just dressed as a creepy skeleton for the radio. Yes yes. That'll be me, and also Russell Howard 'giving it' to [livejournal.com profile] unskinny_bop. Binbag mask (covered in green and EYES not pictured). Larks a plenty.

In fact, if you tune into Radio 2 on Saturday 28th October about 1pm**, you will probably hear me taking part in an evil laugh contest (which I lost, booo).

And then Mim winning the halloween costume contents. I am SO middle class and 'make and do' in my upbringing that creating a skeleton from bin bags*** in half an hour is a piece of piddle. And good fun! My [creative] juices are flowing! Timed deadlines and competion = shewho heaven!

(Even if you don't tune in to hear me laugh, you should anyway, tis funny and you'll get to hear Mark Watson, Dan Antopolski, Jo Neary, Justin Edwards &c &c.....)

♥♥♥♥♥

Public service announcement: I appear to have left my phone at home. Don't expect me to reply to anything. Email me re meeting up for Jeremy Lion later!****

♥♥♥♥♥

Today's favourite spammers:

Orientate Q. Stroke
Stalemate H. Strategies
Manges A. Salivates




*Best wrestling chant that never was!
** I won't be listening, I shall either be drunken or unconcsious. Whitby!!!! Eeeeee!
***The fiver challenge - take £5, make a thing
****And other things. If you wish.
shewho: (goff)
If I said to you that I'd spent a lot of last night with a binbag over my head being short of breath, you'd be forgiven for thinking I may have done a Michael Hutchence*.

However, I was just dressed as a creepy skeleton for the radio. Yes yes. That'll be me, and also Russell Howard 'giving it' to [livejournal.com profile] unskinny_bop. Binbag mask (covered in green and EYES not pictured). Larks a plenty.

In fact, if you tune into Radio 2 on Saturday 28th October about 1pm**, you will probably hear me taking part in an evil laugh contest (which I lost, booo).

And then Mim winning the halloween costume contents. I am SO middle class and 'make and do' in my upbringing that creating a skeleton from bin bags*** in half an hour is a piece of piddle. And good fun! My [creative] juices are flowing! Timed deadlines and competion = shewho heaven!

(Even if you don't tune in to hear me laugh, you should anyway, tis funny and you'll get to hear Mark Watson, Dan Antopolski, Jo Neary, Justin Edwards &c &c.....)

♥♥♥♥♥

Public service announcement: I appear to have left my phone at home. Don't expect me to reply to anything. Email me re meeting up for Jeremy Lion later!****

♥♥♥♥♥

Today's favourite spammers:

Orientate Q. Stroke
Stalemate H. Strategies
Manges A. Salivates




*Best wrestling chant that never was!
** I won't be listening, I shall either be drunken or unconcsious. Whitby!!!! Eeeeee!
***The fiver challenge - take £5, make a thing
****And other things. If you wish.

December 2015

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