MOT

Car mechanics are buggers, aren’t they? I had to put my Volvo in for its MOT on Friday. I knew it would fail because the nearside front wheel nut sheared off last year when I had a tyre replaced. (A few years back, when I was living in Bedford, I arrived at the station car park after work on a very dark and very wet Friday night, replete with three children in tow, only to discover that I had a flat tyre. I changed the wheel but, on screwing one of the wheel bolts, I mis-threaded it).

As I knew this was a problem (and a potential danger too) I pointed it out to the mechanic. He duly noted it and, once the test was completed, advised me that the nearside rear wheel had brake shoe problems and that too would need dealing with.

So, £400 lighter, I collected the car this evening. Guess what he told me? When they had worked on the rear brake shoes they discovered that there was wheel nut missing on each of my rear tyres. So I’ve actually been driving around with three of my four wheels only having three nuts in for the past year, not just one of them. ‘That must be dangerous’, I said, to which he replied ‘not really. Some cars only have three nuts anyway’. ‘But should you pass my car with the rear wheels missing a nut each even though the front is now repaired?’ I inquired. ‘Well', he replied, 'if it had come up when I did the MOT I would have had to mention it. You see, we don’t take the hubcaps off’. I thought for a second. ‘So what you are saying is if I hadn’t told you about the missing bolt on the front wheel you would never have noticed it, and what’s more it isn’t actually dangerous driving around without it?’. He nodded. Great! I looked at the £400 bill, £207.97 of which was for the replacement of the front hub, wheel bearing and labour (including VAT). So that’s £200 I just paid him completely un-necessarily. Fan-bloody-tastic! I must remember to keep my big gob shut in future.

Double Bass Lesson Number One

So this evening I had my first double bass lesson. Now I know I don’t actually have a double bass but I have been playing the bass guitar since I was a teenager and, to be frank, I’ve had a hankering for one for a while (a double bass that is, not a teenager). So, on the basis of try before you buy, I thought I’d take a lesson to find out if I’d get along with the aforementioned instrument. And you know what – I now have three parts of my anatomy aching as a result: my left shoulder (due to my arm being placed at an angle of seventy degrees for an hour), the little finger of my left hand (due to it being stretched to assume the correct fingering position) and the small of my back (because I had to stand up very straight indeed as the double bass rested onto my fat belly). However, I did get to practise Paul Chambers’ riff to ‘All Blues’ and a very simple blues scale too. I can, of course, blow this kind of thing out of my arsehole on the electric bass but it was all about learning the technique and, equally importantly, the mind-set of the jazz double bassist. Next step is – of course – to buy one of these beasties so that lessons proper can commence. After that, of course, will come the beret and the open-toed sandals.

Three Gigs (attended, not played)

With OD still not in residence, I have been having a reasonable break from the young Madam and using that time get out of the house a little more. On Monday before last (12th) Matron travelled up from the wilds of Southampton to join myself and Pete at the Hammersmith Apollo to see The Flaming Lips, and what a fine evening's entertainment they provided. Fifteen people dressed as Santa one side of the stage; fifteen dressed as aliens the other. Wayne Coyne entering encased in a Zorb (a giant inflatable transparent ball), which he then rolled over the heads and hands of the audience. There were giant balloons, confetti cannons, projection screens Nun hand-puppets, and roadies dressed as superheroes to give the whole thing the atmosphere of a millennium eve party as organised by acid casualties. They encored with a cover of 'Bohemian Rhapsody', the words flashing-up on screen behind them so that it became like a giant karaoke booth. Tremendous.

My next gig came on Thursday (16th) when FM and I nipped down to Spitz to see two very different acts in a double-headliner as part of the London Jazz Festival. Troy Miller is currently tipped as Britain's hottest young drummer. Despite dressing like a hoodie-wearing ASBO kid who would seem more at home smoking crack and stealing your car stereo, he plays like a youthful Billy Cobham and his band - all of whom were both older - were all crack musicians too, especially his rather top notch double bassist. After him came Julia Biel. Whilst Miller's set was geared to show of the musicianship of both him and his outfit, Biel's were there to create a setting for her laidback, sultry vocal style. With nylon-stringed acoustic guitar, clarinet and cello to the fore, her music was hypnotic and lulling as she created a unique and sultry mood. I will confess that by the time she reached the conclusion of her set, I was finding myself nodding off (although the volume of Guinness I'd consumed by this point was a contributory factor). She is clearly one of those acts who, like Corinne Bailey Rae, only needs one appearance on 'Later…' for demand to sore through the roof. Interesting to see where she'll be five years down the line.

And on Saturday, for the second time this year, it was the joy that is The Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band. Myself, the Wing-Commander, Kev and Gary hoofed down to a packed-to-the-gills Shepherd’s Bush Empire for the final night of their two-week tour of the UK and they were, as per last time, quite marvellous. They were also considerably slicker too and their three guest members - Ade Edmondson, Phil Jupitus and David Catlin-Birch (‘Paul’ from the Bootleg Beatles, although he plays with Robbie Williams too so I shouldn’t be too harsh) – flittered on and off the stage throughout. Bill Bailey sang ‘Keynsham’ and Paul Merton turned-up again, although thankfully they confined him to spoken word parts and didn’t make the mistake of letting him providing lead vocal on ‘Monster Mash’ again (‘Legs’ Larry Smith handled that). The highlights were, once again, Sam Spoons (pictured) and incredible jumping spoon solo (not pictured) and the household saw playing of Vernon Dudley Bohay-Nowell in ‘Lily Marlene’, although seeing all six original members muck-up the Head Ballet for the first encore was a treat in itself. A sure sign of the advanced age of the audience were the lengthy lines for the Gents at intermission (five minutes queuing to get out of the toilet, let alone in!).

So, with Cardiacs, the Flaming Lips and the Bonzos all within eight days of each other – and with each playing an absolute blinder of a show – I feel as if I’ve had a rare treat of a time. Nothing in the diary now till Willie Nelson at the end of January, but I’m sure something will crop up before then.

well.. so much for 'I'll give it a week'

Spoke to OD late Friday afternoon:

ME: "How was school?"
OD: "I didn't go in"
ME: "Why?"
OD: "I was knackered and Mum said Chris couldn’t stay round even if I did go in, so I didn't bother. Can I come over to yours tonight?"

ME: "On your own?"
OD: "No, with Helena and Lesley. And Niamh. And Alex".

Ahhh… business as usual then. Apparently she did make four out of five days at school this week, so that wasn't too bad. Plus, I believe this afternoon would have been double PE so only three proper lessons she missed then.

And come-up they all did. So with YD and her friend Rona here too, it was quite a full house. But fun. Especially when Helena downed the majority of half a bottle of vodka and then threw-up (yes, nothing I enjoy more than cleaning-up sick at one thirty in the morning). I spoke briefly to the Beast on Friday night to ask how life with OD was going and she said remarkably well (although as we are hardly talking to each other at the moment it was a little tricky). Things seem to be going OK at school (more or less) and her relationship with her Mum is more like it was two years ago. In fact, it all seems fine and dandy. I did feel a little surprised that things have clicked back in to place so easily (for it would seem that she shows no sign of wishing to return to Watford full time) but as BotS pointed out when I discussed this with her, if you consider what an emotional mess OD was when she moved to mine the fact that she’s gone back to her Mum’s in such a mature and stable frame of mind is testament to the effort I put in while she was here. That made me feel better. I do miss her though. Place seems empty without her here (although she has left the cat behind ).

Eeeeeeeeeeee.... grand!

Well, what a lovely weekend I’ve just had. Bereft of children (I’ve hardly spoken to OD since she hoofed back to the Beast and as it was the girls’ great Aunt’s sixtieth birthday party on Saturday I didn’t see YD either) I had the kind of weekend I used to have twenty years ago: Friday night I went to a gig with my mates; Saturday daytime I pottered about, including a run to the supermarket; Saturday evening I went to the cinema with a beautiful woman; Sunday we stayed in bed till lunchtime (bar a quick hoof down to the newsagents) before heading down to see some live jazz at a local pub; we then came home, watched a film and fell asleep snuggled up on the sofa. It was, as they say up north, reet grand.

So what did I get up to? Well, actually if we go back to Thursday I went to see We Are Scientists at Brixton with MM. A very mediocre band who have a couple of reasonable tunes but very little else yet seem fantastically popular at the moment (a bit like The Automatic who I saw at the Astoria a couple of weeks back). They started the set by playing Phil Collins’ ‘Against All Odds’ as an intro tape (post-modern irony; don’t cha just love it) before jumping in mid-song and finishing the rest of the number themselves. That, sadly, was the only interesting thing they did all night.

Friday though was a different kettle of fish. I think (and I may be wrong) that this was the twentieth time I’ve seen Cardiacs in twenty years, which is not a bad average especially for a band who I didn’t like at all the first time I saw them (although, to be fair, they weren’t that great in1986; however by 1990, when I saw them for the second time, they were amazing). Seeing as they tend only do one gig a year (every November at the Astoria, and - before you ask - yes it is always packed; I think they realise any more than that might dilute their fan base), and as this will be their last show their (the Astoria is due to be demolished early next year), they announced via their website that if their followers e-mailed their favourites in, they’d construct their setlist accordingly. Thus Friday’s set included some fan favourites that they’d not played in a few years. Plus former their former lead guitarist, Jon Poole, and that Ginger chap from the Wildhearts (both of whom were playing in the support act) joined them for three numbers, including a blinding four guitar version of ‘Bell Stinks’. A cracker of a show and, at just under two hours, you really felt that you a good night out.

Saturday night was cinema with FM and we saw ‘The Prestige’. This could have been such a good film but it just didn’t quite hang together for a number of reasons. Firstly, whilst the character motivations were made clear (the rivalry between the two magicians; the assistant who becomes lover to them both) these weren’t really conveyed to the audience. Thus we knew why they behaved they way they did, but we never really felt emotionally engaged with them. Aside from David Bowie once more proving that he simply cannot act, the main irritation for me was the in the dénouement where – for a film which constantly resides within the realm of realism (the magic is always explained so that it is more of a period piece than anything else) – it briefly enters science fiction and, to me, that was a such a complete cop-out that it spoiled everything which had gone before.

So, Sunday lunch time and it was the Northside Jazz Band at The Horns. Very trad, no-one on-stage under pensionable age, but would you want it any other way? I think not.

The music continues tomorrow night with The Flaming Lips at Hammersmith and then the Bonzos next Saturday at Shepherds Bush. Grand!

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Well, I shan’t make any bones. I feel so hacked off at the moment I could quite happily strangle the cat (especially as it pissed on the living room floor the other night). I tell you, I am:

• annoyed at OD for having unprotected sex (“the condom split” – yeah, right)

• annoyed at her Mother for allowing her to sleep with her boyfriend despite what we had agreed

• annoyed at myself for not handling it better (after I wrote Saturday night’s blog entry I went downstairs and explained to OD that I wasn’t angry at her but at her Mother. I then ruffled her hair in an affectionate Father/Daughter way. She told me to fuck off. I lost my rag and ended up throwing a tube of Pringles at her, the top of which opened mid-flight and the contents went everywhere. Now she isn’t talking to me and I feel as though I acted like a child (which, of course, I did).

• I’m really annoyed at the evil bitch Anne. I believe that her presence (and her obvious influence) at the house of the Beast was definitely one of the reasons that OD’s Mum decided it was OK for her fifteen year old daughter to sleep with her fifteen year old boyfriend.

• I’m still annoyed at myself because of screwing up that job interview last week

• I’m annoyed at my job which – to be frank – is boring the absolute pants off me

• I’m annoyed at my Boss’ boss because I know he wants to get rid of me (although, clearly, I do see it from his perspective; I am crap at my job and have no bloody interest in it. Nonetheless I still work my fucking arse off while I’m there and it is hardly doing my morale any good. I will also add that it is not just me he is trying to get rid off but most of the team I work in).

• But I’m chiefly annoyed because I’ve put an awful lot of time, effort and – dammit – love into making OD feel wanted and cared for at my (our) home. However, as soon as Mum (the woman who threw her out let’s not forget) allows her to spend the night with her boyfriend, I become the cunt she’s not talking to whilst Mum is fab and great again. Don’t get me wrong; I want OD and her Mum to get along, and if she can get her to attend school regularly and without pain then all the better. It just galls me that I’ve tried so bloody hard to make things right (with not so much as a fucking thank-you along the way) and now – emotionally immature twat that I am – I feel rejected.

I’ll still give it a week before they are at each other’s throats again. Having stayed over at her Mum’s on Friday, when she turned-up at mine on Saturday she was wearing YD’s jeans, YD’s earrings, YD’s scarf and carrying YD’s bag. YD, of course, was less than pleased and her nose is going to feel well displaced once she has to start sharing her home with her sister again after five months of ‘me and Mum’. Battle will, I’m sure, commence.

A week I tell you.

Fucking stupid moronic bitch (also known as OD's Mother)

And so on Friday evening, having learnt of OD having taken the morning after pill and knowing that she was staying at her Mum's and her boyfriend Chris was due to visit, I rang the Beast to relay what I had learnt. We agreed that as they are both fifteen they shouldn't be sleeping together yet and so she will make sure that Chris spends the night on the sofa and OD goes to her own room like they do at my house.

Tonight I pick OD up from Watford town centre. What's the first thing she tells me: "Mum let me and Chris share a bed together". I get home and ring her home number. No answer. I ring her mobile. She picks it up. It may be only 9:45PM but she's asleep. "OD tells me you let her and Chris sleep together". She hangs up.

So much for acting in a joined-up way on this. "Its Mum's house and I don't think you should have any say in what goes on there" OD says. And why should she think any differently, after all she's now got the OK for her and Chris to sleep together there whenever they please. Good old Mum; she's great. In fact, I can't remember why it was we didn't get along now. Unlike Dad, the miserable sod. Always trying to get me to go to school.

She announced earlier that she is staying at her Mum's all next week as it will be easier for her to get to school. So, all fucking hunky dory over there then. How long will that little piece of fucking nirvana last before the two are at each other's throats again?

Woe indeed

It’s been a funny old week – and, as you would expect from me, I don’t mean funny ‘ha, ha’. In fact it really began last week…

Friday two weeks back I went for an ‘informal’ interview at the British Library for the post of Partnership and Project Manager in their Higher Education department. I thought it went well and held out hopes for being called back for a second. “We’ll let you know either late today or Monday” I was told. Monday came and went. So did Tuesday. Then Wednesday and by that point I felt sure I was not being called forward for a more formal second interview. I will confess that I felt rather disappointed by this as having been told that the role was essentially to “launch a charm offensive on the UK’s University librarians’” I thought if anyone is capable of doing that it is me. Anyhow come last Monday, I get a phone call at 2:30 in the afternoon asking if I’d be available for interview in two days time. I was then told I’d have to give a ten minute formal presentation, preferably using PowerPoint, and that this would have to be submitted by Tuesday afternoon (i.e. in less than 24 hours). Yikes! So I promptly set about drafting a presentation, which I submitted in time, and completed writing the wording of on the Wednesday morning. I turned-up for my interview, gave the presentation, and then the questions began. Of course, having spent the entire two days working on the presentation I hadn’t given a moment’s thought to what kind of questions I might be asked and how to tackle them. So, in short, I then proceeded to completely balls the thing up. Marvellous! “Can you give us examples of how you have influenced strategic thinking in your current role?” – errrrrrrrr……….. fuck!

The annoying thing for me is, of course, had I listened to the Wing-Commander, or indeed paid heed to Wendy Bristow’s horoscope in the ‘Metro’ (which spent the entire week telling me how now was a really positive time for Aquarians looking for new jobs), I might have done the interview preparation in advance rather than just thinking “they ain’t called; I ain’t got it”. Doh indeed! Trouble is, I find it so incredibly difficult to locate a job which I have even half an interest in that when one comes along which really gets me excited (as this did) it is quite rare. A lesson I’m afraid; I shall try not to be a jackass in future.

The other thing troubling me is, of course, OD. When doesn’t she? Towards the end of half-term she decamped to Richmond to send a few days with boyfriend Chris whose Mother had gone to Ireland for a long weekend to visit her family. Clearly I knew what this meant: non-stop shagging for a few days, despite the fact that they are both only fifteen. So on Thursday morning, I left her a note before I went to work saying ‘ALWAYS use a condom. If you run out, don’t have do anything’. I returned home to find her handwriting beneath my own: ‘Jesus Dad, you’re so embarrassing!’

Sunday night she was due to return as half-term ended on the Friday and she had school. I spoke to her in the afternoon. I texted her in the evening. At 9:15 I got a text back: “I feel sick so I’m staying at Chris’ house. I will be back in the morning and go in for the afternoon”. I rang her and instructed her that she needs to get a bottom on the train and get home now as school was important. She hung up. She didn’t come home. In fact, she returned on Monday evening, so the afternoon lessons went the same way as the morning ones. Tuesday morning she got up as I left. The school rang at 9:45. She wasn’t in. “She must be”, I said. She wasn’t. She didn’t get in till break time. I quizzed her about later. “Do you want me to be in school or do you want me to be pregnant?” she asked. I took this to mean she had been to the family planning clinic to get free condoms. “It shouldn’t be an either/or” I said: “You should go to school and sort the other stuff outside of school hours”. On Wednesday she didn’t get to school until break time again, except on this occasion she was sent home sick at lunch. “I’ve been feeling ill for about a week” she explained. I sniffed. However I went to work late on Thursday in order to take her to the Doctors who informed me that she had a virus. No school for her that day either. And on Friday, I left her in the bathroom but she texted me at 9:15. “I feel sick; I’ll go in lunchtime”, which she did. So, about two days attendance out of five then.

Hanging her school blazer up last night something fell out of her pocket. It was information about that which is commonly referred to as ‘the morning after’ pill. So that’s why she had to get to family planning on Tuesday morning; she had unprotected sex the day before. Brilliant – doesn’t that girl know anything! I rang the Beast to tell he as OD was spending the night at her house (for the very first time since she was chucked out last June). She said she’d have a word. Great. So that’s smoking, drinking, unprotected sex and truancy all in the same week. Fucking marvellous.