Revolutionary Rants

Yesterday all returned hurricane free from Cuba and we all returned to Devon. It seemed a quicker journey this time, with the CDs and a trip to Asda for yogurt (and Chicken brought me a lovely bag, see picture on the left!). France next week, and much sorting to be done before then!

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Today I am in great worry: Tierry Henry is apparently ’stalling’ on signing his new Arsenal contract! No! After losing Patrick, I can’t cope with the loss of the great man himself. He is only two goals away from drawing level with the great, great Ian Wright’s scoring record, for goodness sake! We’re moving stadium, the fans worship him, what else can he want?!

Anyone who says ‘Chelsea’ will be banned from commenting ever again…

On a bloodier note, why does ‘Messiah 4: The Harrowing’ have to be so foul and gory? I was put off all those years ago with the first in the series, when Jamie Draven decided to kill people in the biblical style. I thought he was very lovely at the time, but now I can never look at him the same way. It was horrific, and although the new series is somewhat less graphic (i.e. no one has been skinned or sawn in two yet) it is still a bit much. Is it necessary? No, look at ‘Prime Suspect’ (the first one, in particular), where horrible crimes took place, but nothing was seen except the room in which they were commited – that was much, much more spooky than any other murder mystery I have seen because it was not shown. Learn from this ‘Messiah’ I say!

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Well, unlike my other half I feel guilty if I do not update this site. I do not know why, I very much doubt anyone else minds at all if it is left untouched for months on end (after all, I received no e-mails of complaint when the sites went down last year). But here I am, dutifully, with a strange sense of Catholic guilt; why I even have guilt to such proportions in life is beyond me.

Anyway, things are trotting along here in Notts; Chicken and I went in to Nottingham and had a lovely vegetarian paella and a disappointing shop (as with all big towns and cities, all the same shops pervade the high street, over and over and over again). I have also been in to Mansfield and we have made trips to MacArthur Glenn (I am looking for sandals, you have no idea how hard it is to find sandals in this life, at least ones without flaming heels. God, I hate heels) and Home Bargains. I have, finally, got a few nice gifts for Mr C’s up coming birthday, too.
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Last night Chris and I sat down and watched a film together – a rare experience at this stage in our lives! It was one of my latest ‘3 for £3′ acquisitions from Blockbuster videos in Mansfield (I also got a video of 60 minutes worth of ‘Bertha’, a wonderful animation which I have not seen for many a year! Hooray!), the biographical film ‘Frida’, about the Mexican artist Frida Kahlo.

It was an interesting, but rather dislocated film, I thought. Salma Hayek and Alfred Molina were both on their usual good form, and the shooting of the film around Kahlo’s art was good, but there seemed to be almost gaps missing in the final cut of the film.
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Well, I am back in the town I spent most of my formative years in, and where, indeed, I say my ‘A’ Levels: Mansfield.

I have been back here quite a lot, as my brother still lives here with his family, but it is always funny to come back. It has changed so much since we left in the early nineties; there is now a BK, a MacDonalds and multiplex cinema, the river where I walked Beano is very different, tidied up a bit, new bridges and re-scaped banks in places. As the post Thatcher generation comes of age, often jobless in this area, it seems a little bit less safe. Like poor old Nottingham, I suppose; the old class divisions have changed, gone, to be replaced by a darker, deeper cut underclass and upper-middle England.

Hooray for the free market.

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Mo Mowlam, the former Northern Ireland Secretary has died at the age of 55. Although this is not a shock, it is still sad, as Mowlam was one of the few political figures in recent years who have had a humanity about them. And she did a lot for the Peace Process.

Rest in peace, Mo.

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I tried to watch BBC4’s ‘Britpop Night’ on Tuesday, partly because I love abit of ‘pop culture’ and partly because I find it both exciting and worrying that I lived through and remember things that are now being regarded with pop culture nostalgia (OK, yes, I watched ‘Live Aid’ but it does not have that hazy rose-tinted remembrance of the summer of 1995).

Warhol-esque it was not. As usual the first programme – ‘The Britpop Story’ no less – was presented by some sudo-intellectual (not like me at all then…) wazock NME ‘journalist and author of a definitive study of the Britpop era’ (according to BBC4). He waxed lyrical on the great surge of British re-birth music (apparently this included Sleeper, Elastica and Manswear…) and the brilliance of Blur, Suede, Oasis, Suede, Pulp and, er, Suede, whilst not actually talking to anyone involved more than Justine Frishman and Graham Coxon – who spent most of the time being aggressive about Damon Albarn. Nice. And what was the legacy of Britpop, prey tell? Oasis are still here, you know!
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I read about this in the Sunday Times last weekend or the one before. I like the idea, and some of the postcards are amazing:

Post Secret

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The chicken pox is slowly, slowly retreating. I am now -somewhat less – covered in small receding spots and black scabs. Nice. Everyday a few more fall off and become little red things under the skin, so, hopefully, they will eventually go. In about three weeks I would guess. I left the house for the first time in a week yesterday, so that was exciting.

Life goes on. We plan to head off to Mansfield at the weekend, to take over looking after the excitable Dalmatian from my Mum. In the mean time I am trying to sort out some books for my course in October. This means buying books on Marx, Rawls, Locke and the like; you would be amazed how expensive some books can be, one is £45! Think I’ll borrow them from the library…

I also have to find quite light (as we are flying out to C’s parent’s in France) presents for Chicken’s 21st. This is proving very difficult, so any suggestions would be gratefully received.

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I just found out that ‘a pox on both your houses’ (uttered by a dying Mercutio in Shakespear’s ‘Romeo & Juliet’) is a ‘Play it again Sam’-esque misquote! He does not in fact say ‘pox’ but ‘plague’!

Anyway, so I have had to think of another title for this (although it is still a Shakespearean one, thanks to Falstaff)! I have been away for several days as I have a very, very nasty bout of chicken pox.

For a couple of days my face was literally covered – it felt like a mask tightly placed over it – and I felt very low and weak. I am much better today, but still covered in spots and scabs… My advice is: get it as a child, if you can!

Being so ill – Alex is also now ill – has thrown out a lot of plans. Very annoying and unpleasant. Never mind.

Almost as bad, no-brainer-no-personality Anthony has won BB. Awful, what a waste of weeks worth of viewing!

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