So you want to be starting something?

Well I’ve blogged for a while, but not very well and not here. I created this blog a few years ago but immediately ran into the problem of having nothing meaningful to say. I still don’t have anything useful to offer but as I reasoned before, I’m not going to let this stop me… although I did. Instead I posted the occasional iffy poem before finally taking the plunge last week and… customising my page.

Now customising pages is something else I can’t do particularly well. After many hours tweaking the CSS, I finally came up with something I really liked which, after randomly browsing some other pages, became something I could just about live with. Tomorrow it’ll be something I wish had never happened.

But all I’ve really done is duck the issue – if you have a blog you have to… blog. I can’t vouch for the quality but one advantage of having a blog that no-one reads is that it doesn’t really matter. And if I write often enough who knows… maybe I’ll manage something passable once in a while. Of course one of the drawbacks of having a blog that no-one reads is that no-one will ever know.

Game over, man

“How are things?” you might ask.

To which I’d reply “Lieutenant Gorman has just seen his ship crash, most of his platoon wiped out by Aliens and arranges a meeting the following day to discuss any concerns the marines may have...”

Pop star uses bad language, crowd has orgasm

Lest I sound like some Daily Mail anti beardy-weirdy tree-hugging lentil-loving pinko-hippy type, I ought to say up front how much I enjoyed Glastonbury this weekend. I didn’t go of course. The idea of me trying to survive in a tent overnight, let alone three, is ridiculous. Instead I relaxed on the sofa, navigated my way through the various BBC interactive channels and caught up on their website.

I wasn’t taken with Bruce Springsteen, I fell out of love with him a long time ago, and Blur were a little rusty, seemingly desperate to get to the end of some songs with some band members quicker than others. Franz Ferdinand suggested the crowd had carnal knowledge of their own mothers and, judging from the resultant roar of the crowd, they may have been right. I liked their set but, even with the more electronic sound, I’m beginning to find them a little predictable.

There was a whole load of stuff I hardly dare admit I hadn’t heard before. White Lies overcame the cheap suits, lyrics such as “and all we heard was lies about the truth” and my short-lived mean-spiritedness; enough to persuade me to buy their album. Pendulum were loud enough to damage my hearing with the sound muted and were huge fun to watch. There were Doves, who I’d heard of but until now never listened to… and I finally discovered why Lady GaGa is “whack”.

However my favourite thirty-or-so minutes came from The Specials who managed to induce a big cheesy grin throughout their show. Terry Hall has understandably filled out a little and appeared to amble around the stage, leaning forward earnestly every so often; then I remembered he’d always moved that way. My favourite song, “Friday night Saturday Morning” didn’t really work, but that’s a minor quibble.

There was a lot of great music. Even acts such as Status Quo take on a new light when your seven year old daughter starts jumping up and down… though I may attempt to steer her in other directions next year. If I could stay in a hotel I’d take her…

Consistently inconsistent

I seem to have a haphazard approach to films recently. Of those I've seen recently, only two (In America, Metropolitan) would fall into a 'recommended' category. The others were either rubbish (Lady in the Water, Curse of The Golden Flower, Wolverine, Paycheck), not as good as I remembered (Cop Land) or guilty pleasures (Star Trek, Taken). The last group is a particular problem for those sad people who have a compulsion to score what they’ve seen; I’d give Star Trek seven out of ten… I enjoyed it but, at the risk of a few Klingon death threats, I can’t quite find it in me to call it good; just to make sure I saw it twice. Taken is problematic because despite the formulaic setup it’s executed well and is a lot of fun. I’ll be watching that again too.

Then there are the films I hardly dare watch again. Is the moment as beautiful as I remember? I watch and am often disappointed... but sometimes I am reminded of how great it is to be. There are those who would argue this reticence is misplaced, that we shouldn’t be afraid of moving on and leaving the past behind us. I’m not sure I care for this brand of progress, or even whether it’s practical or representative of the truth; the past may bind us, but isn't it part of who we are? If we can wipe it away so easily what does that say about us?

Damn… and I only had 8,401 days until retirement

Everything annoys. People leaving shopping trolleys in parking bays. The able bodied using disabled parking spaces. The government for suggesting fundamental changes to our democratic system; when the main mistake was made years ago in breaking with tradition and appointing an incompetent half-wit, from their own party, to be leader of the house. Racist idiots using the expenses scandal as an excuse to vote BNP. People who don’t vote. Adjusting the thermostat up and down or switching the heating off altogether rather than letting the thermostat do its god damn job. The mess in the kitchen. Bullying. Bullying at work. Physical bullies. Intellectual bullies. Men who hit women. Men who hit men. A pack of crisps from a multi-pack is smaller than an individual pack of crisps. It’s the same with chocolate. People talking in cinemas. Big Brother. People who watch Big Brother.

It's entirely possible I may need a break...

Noise

"I’ve started using Ariel for washing the clothes. Sarah’s children have eczema and she says it’s much better for their skin and we have sensitive skin so I thought I’d try it though it’s a little more expensive."

"You’re listening to Five Live breakfast with Nicky Campbell and"

If I had another chance tonight

"It doesn’t hurt to give it a go does it? I spoke to Melanie about"

"Shelagh Fogarty. In the studio we have"

"Mum and she said she’s being very difficult. She won’t talk as it’s"

"Sheila to tell us about RBS. They’ve announced their quarterly figures which are"

I'd try to tell you that the things we had were right

"about Nana and you know what she’s like. She won’t acknowledge"

"a pre-tax loss of 44 million pounds which is round about"

"what the doctor says, or take her medicine when she’s supposed to. Which is just"

If I had another chance tonight
I'd try to tell you that the things we had were right

"…what we would have expected."

Is this my wonderful life
Or the tale of another
One other solitary soul
With an abstract goal
Of happiness

It’s madness
This sadness

I don’t like this beautiful house
Yet the music shrouds me

And it’s not such a bad place to go.

The curious case of Harriet Harman

What’s up with Harriet Harman? I was rather troubled by an interview I heard last week in which her argument for future leadership of the Labour party, thinly disguised as a presentation of the ‘equality’ bill, was “either you agree with me or you’re a sexist egotistical pig”. Well it was something along those lines.

Most politicians tend to paint the world in broad colours, it’s when they deal in absolutes that we ought to worry; and this isn’t the first time Harriet has indulged in a little rabble-rousing. Not so long ago she suggested Fred Goodwin, disgraced former chief executive of RBS, “shouldn’t count” on his pension, deliberately giving the impression that the government would intervene despite knowing they couldn’t. It might have been popular but the law, after all, is the law; much as Harriet might like to ignore it, which is odd since she’s a solicitor.

And then there was this…

We know that inequality is grounded not just in gender, race, disability, age and sexual orientation, but also by class.

Whoa… full house! Is it possible our wannabe leader is living her political life in reverse? Inequality of opportunity exists in many of these areas, and has blighted far too many lives, but perhaps someone could remind me just how long this champion of the working class, this Labour party, has been in power? Upper and middle class socialists such as Harriet spend more time agitating over class than any other people I know; you’d have thought they could have managed an effective law or two by now.