Saturday, April 30, 2005
BYEBYE*STEPH
Soundtrack: 'Employment,' Kaiser Chiefs (obviously)
Good evening this evening.
I've just finished my last day at Scholars. Normal people get parties thrown for them when they leave work by their co-workers. I have no co-workers, so I threw myself a party. Fortunately, my mother stayed with me the whole day, I think partly because she felt sorry for me, partly because she didn't want me to scare the people of Warminster with my notorious crazy dancing.
I made myself a banner from the pieces of card we use to label the stuff we set by for people. It had a character on each piece of card: B, Y, E, B, Y, E, *, S, T, E, P and H. I punched holes through the top corners and used colourful rubber bands to hold the thing together. I was well impressed with myself.
Sophie from Scholars Trowbridge called me to say 'bye.' That shop sounds way more interesting than Warminster (I can't call it my shop anymore. No worries. At all). She said that she had a couple come in. Originally, she had thought that the woman was just getting a costume for a fancy dress party, but she overheard their conversation when they thought that she couldn't hear, and she said that it sounded as if they were going to act out some kinky fantasy. And I thought that they were crazy in Warminster.
Every time I catch (or caught? I'm sure my travelling to Warminster days aren't over forever) the train to and from Scholars, I find myself wondering who is madder: the people who get off at Trowbridge, or the people who get off at Warminster. My musings always reach the same depressing conclusion, however: I do both, so I must be madder than most.
But those days are temporarily over! [Edward and Yvonne have said that I can come and work for them again next summer when I'm poor.] I really ought to clean my desk, now. It's covered in odd bits of stuff that I've been putting off sorting out: student finance stuff, flight itinerarararararararararies, passports, birth certificates, letters from Valerie Hayward, dead flies etc etc.
Or I could just go and check the day's cricket scores on Ceefax, which would be much more satisfactory.
Good evening this evening.
I've just finished my last day at Scholars. Normal people get parties thrown for them when they leave work by their co-workers. I have no co-workers, so I threw myself a party. Fortunately, my mother stayed with me the whole day, I think partly because she felt sorry for me, partly because she didn't want me to scare the people of Warminster with my notorious crazy dancing.
I made myself a banner from the pieces of card we use to label the stuff we set by for people. It had a character on each piece of card: B, Y, E, B, Y, E, *, S, T, E, P and H. I punched holes through the top corners and used colourful rubber bands to hold the thing together. I was well impressed with myself.
Sophie from Scholars Trowbridge called me to say 'bye.' That shop sounds way more interesting than Warminster (I can't call it my shop anymore. No worries. At all). She said that she had a couple come in. Originally, she had thought that the woman was just getting a costume for a fancy dress party, but she overheard their conversation when they thought that she couldn't hear, and she said that it sounded as if they were going to act out some kinky fantasy. And I thought that they were crazy in Warminster.
Every time I catch (or caught? I'm sure my travelling to Warminster days aren't over forever) the train to and from Scholars, I find myself wondering who is madder: the people who get off at Trowbridge, or the people who get off at Warminster. My musings always reach the same depressing conclusion, however: I do both, so I must be madder than most.
But those days are temporarily over! [Edward and Yvonne have said that I can come and work for them again next summer when I'm poor.] I really ought to clean my desk, now. It's covered in odd bits of stuff that I've been putting off sorting out: student finance stuff, flight itinerarararararararararies, passports, birth certificates, letters from Valerie Hayward, dead flies etc etc.
Or I could just go and check the day's cricket scores on Ceefax, which would be much more satisfactory.
Friday, April 22, 2005
"Let's make poverty history..."
Soundtrack: "Let's Make Poverty History" by Katherine Mitchell
Good evening this evening.
Why do people build towns on hills? I'm sure there must be some sort of rational explanation.
So anyway, I took the afternoon off work to go and play bass at St Louis' in Frome (which is halfway up a steeply-inclined hill) for this Make Poverty History record thing. This afternoon, they got some guy from Frome Community College to film the kiddies singing. They're going to make a video, then send it off to the Glasto people to get it shown on the screens at the Pyramid in-between sets. Which means a) I won't be playing Glasto, b) I can stay in Oz as planned and c) stalking Carl Dalemo from Razorlight is not going to happen. I digress. Katherine, the lady who's organising the whole thing/wrote the song etc etc was saying that they're having a bit of a hard time with the Glasto organisers, and they keep on messing them around and whatnot.
"Just send the tape straight to Michael Eavis," I said.
"Huh?" said Katherine. "How would we do that?"
"Well, he does have one of the obvious addresses in the county: Mr Michael Eavis, Worthy Farm, Pilton, Somerset."
At this point, she wrote it down. Sometimes my own proactivity scares me.
Wrt the song itself... The sound guy Howard, the choir lady Alicia and Katherine were on about it having a Latin feel. My foot. Okay, the intro is all 1-2-3 1-2-3 1-2, but that's where it ends. It's in E minor. Say no more. E minor = Eastern European folk. At least, that's how Phil the guitarist and I were playing it... I was all for a ska version as well, but my idea was silenced as soon as it was mooted. Bloody typical.
Good evening this evening.
Why do people build towns on hills? I'm sure there must be some sort of rational explanation.
So anyway, I took the afternoon off work to go and play bass at St Louis' in Frome (which is halfway up a steeply-inclined hill) for this Make Poverty History record thing. This afternoon, they got some guy from Frome Community College to film the kiddies singing. They're going to make a video, then send it off to the Glasto people to get it shown on the screens at the Pyramid in-between sets. Which means a) I won't be playing Glasto, b) I can stay in Oz as planned and c) stalking Carl Dalemo from Razorlight is not going to happen. I digress. Katherine, the lady who's organising the whole thing/wrote the song etc etc was saying that they're having a bit of a hard time with the Glasto organisers, and they keep on messing them around and whatnot.
"Just send the tape straight to Michael Eavis," I said.
"Huh?" said Katherine. "How would we do that?"
"Well, he does have one of the obvious addresses in the county: Mr Michael Eavis, Worthy Farm, Pilton, Somerset."
At this point, she wrote it down. Sometimes my own proactivity scares me.
Wrt the song itself... The sound guy Howard, the choir lady Alicia and Katherine were on about it having a Latin feel. My foot. Okay, the intro is all 1-2-3 1-2-3 1-2, but that's where it ends. It's in E minor. Say no more. E minor = Eastern European folk. At least, that's how Phil the guitarist and I were playing it... I was all for a ska version as well, but my idea was silenced as soon as it was mooted. Bloody typical.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Getting started
Soundtrack: Franz Ferdinand demos for the new album
Good arvo this arvo.
So, here I am in the central reservation of Autoroute One...
Not really.
This is going to be my blog, before, during and possibly even after the Grand World Tour of The Steph. For those of you who care, here is my itinerararararararararary:
Right, time to watch lots of episodes of 'The OC.'
Good arvo this arvo.
So, here I am in the central reservation of Autoroute One...
Not really.
This is going to be my blog, before, during and possibly even after the Grand World Tour of The Steph. For those of you who care, here is my itinerararararararararary:
- Fly to Hong Kong on May 4thToday, I trekked round the banks in Trowbridge. And we all know what banker rhymes with. I was searching for a decent student account, but that was all very boring and I ended up sitting in Dodgy Tony's drinking tea. Again. And Katherine Mitchell rang me from St Louis's school in Frome to sort out me playing bass for her 'Make Poverty History' song. She said that we may end up playing Glasto, in which case, the World Tour may be cut short for an opportunity to schmooze backstage with Chris Martin and Johnny Borrell etc etc. In. My. Dreams.
- Fly from HK to Melbourne on May 7th
- Stay with my cousins
- Fly from Melbourne to Adelaide on May 15th
- Scrounge off my rich relatives with pool, Merc, Chinese restaurant
(next to mental institute) and hippy cult thing
- Make my way up the south-east coast by bus, going from Adelaide to
Melbourne, Melbourne to Canberra, Canberra to Sydney
- Fly from Sydney to Brisbane on July 11th
- Hang around in Brisbane, either with my cousin or with random cool
people from church
- Fly from Brisbane to Singapore on July 30th
- Somehow get from Singapore to the Old Man's
- Somehow get back to Singapore
- Fly home from Singapore on August 18th
Right, time to watch lots of episodes of 'The OC.'
