Friday, February 28, 2003
What will happen in Iraq after a war? Dangerous territory by Brendan O'Neill Article25 February 2003
Read more at spiked online, and check cursor for stuff on how things are going in 'liberated' Afghanistan.
Worth reading!!
Read more at spiked online, and check cursor for stuff on how things are going in 'liberated' Afghanistan.
Worth reading!!
Check out www.trafficlightwars.co.uk.
Yesterday evening people held a candle-lit vigil in Leeds city centre. I walked there with a few dozen students from the university, and we joined a few dozen others. My son came and met me there, although he sat on a bench and pretended it had nothing to do with him. He's at an age where he thinks it isn't cool to make such a spectacle of yourself. He 'tolerates' me when I'm involved in such things. There were lots of different people there, as there were on the big march on Feb 15th, from stroppy revolutionaries to grandmothers. It was, of course, very peaceful - some chanting, some drumming, a few people dancing. We stayed for an hour or so before going for something to eat at a lovely little restaurant down by the station - La Comida. Actually, the promise of a pizza was what persuaded my boy to leave the pc for a few hours and come with me. We had a good meal, anyway, and spent some quality time together so it was worth it.
I'm going for a drink after work today to celebrate my imminent birthday with my workmates. Its handy having bars on the premises - one of the benefits of working in a student's union! But I can't drink much or stay late because I've got to clear my kitchen out tonight, ready for having lino delivered and fitted tomorrow morning. Then my kitchen will be finished. Hooray!
I'm going for a drink after work today to celebrate my imminent birthday with my workmates. Its handy having bars on the premises - one of the benefits of working in a student's union! But I can't drink much or stay late because I've got to clear my kitchen out tonight, ready for having lino delivered and fitted tomorrow morning. Then my kitchen will be finished. Hooray!
Thursday, February 27, 2003
Litter. I hate it. My walk to work in the morning takes me along paths strewn with crisp packets, macdonalds wrappers, plastic bottles etc etc. Is your city as mucky as this? Is it an English thing to be so disrespectful of the environment? Why can't prople take their rubbish home, or find a litter bin? Dirty, dirty, dirty.
Let's not have a war, eh? Let's not kill loads more innocent people. Let's give the weapons inspectors more time. Let's not provoke more anti-west feeling. Let's not provoke more terrorism. Let's not destabilize the Middle East anymore than it already is. Let's stop using so much oil. Let's work towards peace. Let's spread peacableness. There was a banner on the march in London the other week that said "Fighting for peace is like shagging for virginity". Yeah.
Let's not have a war, eh? Let's not kill loads more innocent people. Let's give the weapons inspectors more time. Let's not provoke more anti-west feeling. Let's not provoke more terrorism. Let's not destabilize the Middle East anymore than it already is. Let's stop using so much oil. Let's work towards peace. Let's spread peacableness. There was a banner on the march in London the other week that said "Fighting for peace is like shagging for virginity". Yeah.
Wednesday, February 26, 2003
A Fishy Tale
Through the restaurant window I watched Barbara Cartland walk by dragging a trout. Her pink hair glowed incandescently in the headlights of the cars that crawled by in the not-so-rush-hour traffic. Barbara’s bouffant halo reminded me that I had forgotten to buy shampoo on the way home from work. My fingers automatically reached up to smooth my errant locks. My hair was a permanent catastrophe.
She had the trout on a lead, which was attached to a hook through its mouth. It had clearly been out of the water for some time, being quite dead. It bounced stiffly along the pavement, glassy eyes seeing nothing, 3 feet behind Barbara’s pink fluffy slippers.
The waiter came to take my order. I chose the cheapest curry – plain dal with just a few chapattis. I couldn’t afford my usual feast of bhajis, pickles, naan and deliciously rich mushroom madras, having to get the vacuum cleaner repaired before my landlord notices it is broken. I was cleaning up at the playground last weekend and tried to hoover up some broken glass near the bottom of slide. Unfortunately it completely devastated the guts of the machine. It was just trembling, the brush wouldn’t spin and there was a distinct absence of suction. It will cost me a fortune! At the time I was concerned about how I would be able to clean up the rest of the playground, but I needn’t have worried. Barbara appeared dragging a dead fox. She had evidently found it at the roadside – its front half was squashed flat. It turned out to be a very practical tool. It was rigid, enabling us to use its front half as a shovel and its rear as a brush. In no time at all we had cleared all the litter from the area.
The waiter brought me my meal. Although it wasn’t as spicey as my regular dish, it was hot enough to make me take my jumper off. I folded it neatly and placed it carefully on the chair beside me. The applique face on the front smiled up at me and I smiled back. The baby blue mohair sweater had been a gift from the Queen Mother, and she’d had the picture of herself put on the front. It was like always having her with me and was a great comfort to me on days like today.
I scooped up a mouthful of dal, eating slowly, determined to savour this small treat. The chapatti was light and soft, fresh enough to melt into the thick lentil broth as I chewed. As I ate I watched Barbara disappear round the corner. She hadn’t seen me here and would be wondering where I was. But I won’t be joining her for a walk this evening.
I lost my mackerel today. One minute he was there behind me, skipping over the grass. Then we hit a bump and he must have become unhooked. I didn’t notice he was gone until I stopped to cross the road. He was so light on his fins, bobbing along barely touching the ground! So graceful! So….elegant. I turned back to look for him but with no success. All I saw was a black labrador disappearing into the trees across the park. My mackerel was gone. As I wiped my bowl clean with the last scrap of chapatti I sighed. Soon I would have to go home to my empty house.
Through the restaurant window I watched Barbara Cartland walk by dragging a trout. Her pink hair glowed incandescently in the headlights of the cars that crawled by in the not-so-rush-hour traffic. Barbara’s bouffant halo reminded me that I had forgotten to buy shampoo on the way home from work. My fingers automatically reached up to smooth my errant locks. My hair was a permanent catastrophe.
She had the trout on a lead, which was attached to a hook through its mouth. It had clearly been out of the water for some time, being quite dead. It bounced stiffly along the pavement, glassy eyes seeing nothing, 3 feet behind Barbara’s pink fluffy slippers.
The waiter came to take my order. I chose the cheapest curry – plain dal with just a few chapattis. I couldn’t afford my usual feast of bhajis, pickles, naan and deliciously rich mushroom madras, having to get the vacuum cleaner repaired before my landlord notices it is broken. I was cleaning up at the playground last weekend and tried to hoover up some broken glass near the bottom of slide. Unfortunately it completely devastated the guts of the machine. It was just trembling, the brush wouldn’t spin and there was a distinct absence of suction. It will cost me a fortune! At the time I was concerned about how I would be able to clean up the rest of the playground, but I needn’t have worried. Barbara appeared dragging a dead fox. She had evidently found it at the roadside – its front half was squashed flat. It turned out to be a very practical tool. It was rigid, enabling us to use its front half as a shovel and its rear as a brush. In no time at all we had cleared all the litter from the area.
The waiter brought me my meal. Although it wasn’t as spicey as my regular dish, it was hot enough to make me take my jumper off. I folded it neatly and placed it carefully on the chair beside me. The applique face on the front smiled up at me and I smiled back. The baby blue mohair sweater had been a gift from the Queen Mother, and she’d had the picture of herself put on the front. It was like always having her with me and was a great comfort to me on days like today.
I scooped up a mouthful of dal, eating slowly, determined to savour this small treat. The chapatti was light and soft, fresh enough to melt into the thick lentil broth as I chewed. As I ate I watched Barbara disappear round the corner. She hadn’t seen me here and would be wondering where I was. But I won’t be joining her for a walk this evening.
I lost my mackerel today. One minute he was there behind me, skipping over the grass. Then we hit a bump and he must have become unhooked. I didn’t notice he was gone until I stopped to cross the road. He was so light on his fins, bobbing along barely touching the ground! So graceful! So….elegant. I turned back to look for him but with no success. All I saw was a black labrador disappearing into the trees across the park. My mackerel was gone. As I wiped my bowl clean with the last scrap of chapatti I sighed. Soon I would have to go home to my empty house.
The cat came with us when I took the dog out tonight. She doesn't do it very often, but its sooooo cute when she does! It scares me a bit though because there's a road to cross. Its not busy so late at night, but all the same, cars come round the corner pretty fast, and cats have got this innate randomness - they will just dash off in any direction. I worry she'll dash under someone's wheels.
Quiet evening, reading The Amber Spyglass, bit of David Gray in the background. A strange combination I suppose. Had a laugh earlier though when I showed my son a website I found today - rathergood.com - there's a link at the top of this page. The bit he liked best was buffy's swearing keyboard. We both laughed til we fell over. Except we were sitting down. Its a good job the computers at his school don't have soundcards. Check it out and you'll know what I mean. Wouldn't go down too well in an IT class!!
Quiet evening, reading The Amber Spyglass, bit of David Gray in the background. A strange combination I suppose. Had a laugh earlier though when I showed my son a website I found today - rathergood.com - there's a link at the top of this page. The bit he liked best was buffy's swearing keyboard. We both laughed til we fell over. Except we were sitting down. Its a good job the computers at his school don't have soundcards. Check it out and you'll know what I mean. Wouldn't go down too well in an IT class!!
Feeder are outside right now, in their tour bus, and the roadies have just started to unload the truck. That truck has got to be the dirtiest truck I have ever seen. I'm sure that by the end of today the students here will have engraved their comments in the grime. Feeder have got quite a nice double-decker tour bus. I think there must be a problem with a wheel though because there is a man lying underneath the front edge, in the gutter, with a spanner. That or he's a very strange kind of groupie. Sometimes when there's a gig on we see various band members wandering round the building looking lost, but we've got part of the building closed at the moment, and thats the part the bands usually hang out, so I dunno where they will be put. Maybe they'll have to stay in the bus all day.
I finished The Subtle Knife last night. Excellent book. I almost cried when Will finally found his father, and when Lee was defending Grummond against the soldiers. Very moving. The book was real 'edge of your seat' stuff; exciting, scary, and I was never quite sure what would happen next. Pullman knows how to use suspense to keep you turning the pages. I've got The Amber Spyglass in my bag, ready to start at lunchtime. Can hardly wait!!
Tuesday, February 25, 2003
planet impiazzi
Just back from walking the dog. Its a foggy night. From here at the top of the hill, all I can see of the city is a few random, distant lights. No town hall, no office blocks. At the prison down the road I heard an occasional shout, inmates passing late night messages. It used to feel a bit strange, thinking of them all locked up in there, but now I hardly think about it. It would be just too depressing otherwise.
Its been a pretty good day today workwise. Bugger all to do this morning, but plenty to keep me occupied this afternoon - though I snuck off early and went through the city centre to buy a few new tops for work. My stock had dwindled to about 3 that I could get away with wearing. The rest had got so baggy, or mucky, or had burns in, or deodorant stains under the arms. You didn't really want to know that did you? And I also got to chat to my new boss a bit (at work - not while shopping). I think we're going to get on fine. I found we have a trade union background in common, so although he is now management, I think he comes from the right 'place'.
Been reading most of this evening. I'm 3/4 of the way through Philip Pullman's 'The Subtle Knife'. I bought my son the trilogy last year and have been planning on reading them for ages. I started on 'The Northern Lights' a week or so ago, and haven't stopped since. Well, obviously I have, to sleep and to work. But every spare minute I've been completely absorbed in Lyra's worlds. Wonderful stuff. It was a bit spooky, really, walking the dog in the fog, after spending the evening reading about Lord Asriel's antics. You'll understand if you've read them, but I won't go into detail in case you haven't got round to it yet.
To be honest though, I didn't spend the whole evening reading because I had to watch Coronation Street first. Wow!! Wot a good one!! I never expected Richard to confess. I'm looking forward to Wednesday's episode. Will he throw himself in front of a train? I wait with baited breath. Gotta admit Corrie is one of my weaknesses. I can happily ignore the other soaps.
Just back from walking the dog. Its a foggy night. From here at the top of the hill, all I can see of the city is a few random, distant lights. No town hall, no office blocks. At the prison down the road I heard an occasional shout, inmates passing late night messages. It used to feel a bit strange, thinking of them all locked up in there, but now I hardly think about it. It would be just too depressing otherwise.
Its been a pretty good day today workwise. Bugger all to do this morning, but plenty to keep me occupied this afternoon - though I snuck off early and went through the city centre to buy a few new tops for work. My stock had dwindled to about 3 that I could get away with wearing. The rest had got so baggy, or mucky, or had burns in, or deodorant stains under the arms. You didn't really want to know that did you? And I also got to chat to my new boss a bit (at work - not while shopping). I think we're going to get on fine. I found we have a trade union background in common, so although he is now management, I think he comes from the right 'place'.
Been reading most of this evening. I'm 3/4 of the way through Philip Pullman's 'The Subtle Knife'. I bought my son the trilogy last year and have been planning on reading them for ages. I started on 'The Northern Lights' a week or so ago, and haven't stopped since. Well, obviously I have, to sleep and to work. But every spare minute I've been completely absorbed in Lyra's worlds. Wonderful stuff. It was a bit spooky, really, walking the dog in the fog, after spending the evening reading about Lord Asriel's antics. You'll understand if you've read them, but I won't go into detail in case you haven't got round to it yet.
To be honest though, I didn't spend the whole evening reading because I had to watch Coronation Street first. Wow!! Wot a good one!! I never expected Richard to confess. I'm looking forward to Wednesday's episode. Will he throw himself in front of a train? I wait with baited breath. Gotta admit Corrie is one of my weaknesses. I can happily ignore the other soaps.
Saturday, February 22, 2003
Ok, so I'm a bandwagon jumper. There's been so much in the news about blogger over the last few days so I decided to give it a go and set up a page of my own. I'm sure I'm not the only one!
So what is going on on Planet Impiazzi? Today I've been ringing round friends to invite them to join me for my birthday celebration next Saturday. It will be the start of my final year as a thirty-something. And I intend to make the best of it. Might as well. Mad King George seems set on making it doubtful that anyone will get a birthday next year. Of course, lackey Blair is helping him. Hey, Tony, make ME a target, why dontcha??? I'll save the anti-war rant for another day. Tonight I'm mellowed with a glass or two of wine, and I don't want to get all wound up.
Yesterday I thought I stumbled on a novel way to get my son to eat broccoli. I'd finished eating and was heading for the fridge for a glass of juice. The radio was playing a 70s disco track. So I was dancing. My boy looked at me with that 'oh mum' look in his eyes. "Stop it!" he says. I gave a little wiggle. "Stop it!!" he says. "Only when you've eaten your broccoli" I reply. Did it work? He just started throwing chips at me. He did eat it eventually though, but that was only because he was worried I'd stop him spending the evening on his favourite game site! (http://www.shimlar.com).
I've been decorating my kitchen over the last few weeks. Today I went and ordered some lino, and I put new knobs on my kitchen cupboards. Thats exciting, innit? No, I know it isn't, but I'm really chuffed that its nearly finished. This is the first house I've lived in that isn't rented off some scummy landlord. This is MINE. Or it will be eventually, many years of mortgage in the future. But I can do what I like with it. And that includes painting the kitchen yellow. My son doesn't like it, but he didn't come up with any better ideas. And it is MINE!!!!. Actually, I had always resisted the idea of buying a house. For me, social housing would be the first choice. But there isn't much of that left. One of the legacies of Thatcher that the Labour government haven't seen fit to rectify. The only way you can get a council house now, or even a Housing Association place, is to be totally and hopelessly homeless. I don't begrudge them that at all. Those in need should be supported. But there should be affordable housing available to everyone. How would that be done? Well, if councils had been allowed to use the income from the sale of council houses to build or buy new homes there might be enough to go round. Anyway, when my (private) landlord decided to try and up my rent last year (he'd wanted me out for ages but there was nowhere for me to go that was accessible to my son's school) I realised that as I was now in a position to buy, it was time to move on. I eventually found a lovely little house, and I recently traced the whole history of it, from long before it was built in 1895! I'll write about that another day too.
So what is going on on Planet Impiazzi? Today I've been ringing round friends to invite them to join me for my birthday celebration next Saturday. It will be the start of my final year as a thirty-something. And I intend to make the best of it. Might as well. Mad King George seems set on making it doubtful that anyone will get a birthday next year. Of course, lackey Blair is helping him. Hey, Tony, make ME a target, why dontcha??? I'll save the anti-war rant for another day. Tonight I'm mellowed with a glass or two of wine, and I don't want to get all wound up.
Yesterday I thought I stumbled on a novel way to get my son to eat broccoli. I'd finished eating and was heading for the fridge for a glass of juice. The radio was playing a 70s disco track. So I was dancing. My boy looked at me with that 'oh mum' look in his eyes. "Stop it!" he says. I gave a little wiggle. "Stop it!!" he says. "Only when you've eaten your broccoli" I reply. Did it work? He just started throwing chips at me. He did eat it eventually though, but that was only because he was worried I'd stop him spending the evening on his favourite game site! (http://www.shimlar.com).
I've been decorating my kitchen over the last few weeks. Today I went and ordered some lino, and I put new knobs on my kitchen cupboards. Thats exciting, innit? No, I know it isn't, but I'm really chuffed that its nearly finished. This is the first house I've lived in that isn't rented off some scummy landlord. This is MINE. Or it will be eventually, many years of mortgage in the future. But I can do what I like with it. And that includes painting the kitchen yellow. My son doesn't like it, but he didn't come up with any better ideas. And it is MINE!!!!. Actually, I had always resisted the idea of buying a house. For me, social housing would be the first choice. But there isn't much of that left. One of the legacies of Thatcher that the Labour government haven't seen fit to rectify. The only way you can get a council house now, or even a Housing Association place, is to be totally and hopelessly homeless. I don't begrudge them that at all. Those in need should be supported. But there should be affordable housing available to everyone. How would that be done? Well, if councils had been allowed to use the income from the sale of council houses to build or buy new homes there might be enough to go round. Anyway, when my (private) landlord decided to try and up my rent last year (he'd wanted me out for ages but there was nowhere for me to go that was accessible to my son's school) I realised that as I was now in a position to buy, it was time to move on. I eventually found a lovely little house, and I recently traced the whole history of it, from long before it was built in 1895! I'll write about that another day too.
