Simon Amstell - innocent smoothie?

We met for some stand-up comedy Sunday evening. Simon Amstell describes himself as a skinny Jewish homosexual comic and we had an entertaining evening listening to his stories, with him presumably powered by Benylin or some other form of medical assistance.

After a short introductory session by an accomplished warm up, Simon took us through two halves of conversational musings about life, existence, one-ness and relationships - with more than a dash of comic despair included in the ingredients. Quite a thoughtful act delivered slickly and with occasional dives into asides with the audience. There was ranging philosophy being used as a vehicle to make points and deliver a payload of humour too.

Plenty of laughter and notably better than another recent standup I'd seen, who co-incidentally was referenced during the act.

I'm not sure how the jellybaby got onto the stage or if Amstell was as ill as he sounded, but he showed a trouper's spirit in the second half, despite some sort of bug. An enjoyable evening and I hope he gets some more entertaining write-ups to add to his collection on chortle.com.

Throughout the show, his stage sign displayed his name in reverse, perhaps symbolising that he's kind of running parts of his own career in an unusual order.

it'll be a breeze

Idyllic Sunday with early morning gentle bicycle ride and kudos to the various folk who say 'hello' as we pass one another at that time of day.

Then followed by an amble through the newspapers, but things have now begun to become trifle hectic.

I've just realized my 'end point' for the day has been brought forward to around 17:00 when I'm supposed to be be heading out to meet, eat, then off to a comedy show, then home, then pack for a madly early start tomorrow.

Little chance for a carving out a cognitive surplus here today.

And I've got a couple of hours of 'proper work' to squeeze in today, so I'd better stop this 'architecture of participation' blogging malarky for the day.

Well, maybe after a cup of coffee (not gin or sitcoms).

Ooh, that was the ice- cream van passing.

bohemian rashbre

I tried to stand clear of the freezer, but the song kept ringing in my ears. I feel a lot better for liberating a little of the ice cream. And its still sunny.

tipple topple

coinic

A quick zap to Cheltenham on Friday morning and the nostalgia of street parking with ordinary pay and display - coins and little tickets to put on the dashboard.

In Westminster now, unless its the weekend or after hours, the act of parking can trick unsuspecting irregulars with the dial up parking meters.

Its simple enough in theory.

The individual meters have been replaced with a monoblock unit for a number of bays and you buy a ticket for around 20p for 3 minutes or multiples thereof. Except the units all have mysterious faults and it is necessary to pay by phone instead.
"No problemo", I hear you cry. Well it isn't after the first time through the system.

The first time involves enrollment and the act of typing in about 25 numbers, at the end of which you get flipped to a real live operator who is there to take the money. The receipt is't a ticket, just a text message back to the phone. Oh, and an automatic text reminder x minutes before the end if you ask for it.

Its amusing in some areas with notoriously regularly broken meters (like behind Oxford Street) to watch people struggling their way through the system. The interesting thing about it is the difference compared with the act of feeding a meter.

There's a kind of coinic precision to the calculation about "how long will I stay here?" when its done whilst feeding the meter. Adding 20p and 50p at a time and watching the little clock go around. On the phone it becomes "Oh, say eight quids worth, please" (thats 2 hours in the middle zones).

Travel smart and use Oyster, of course.

glitter and doom

Yes, it includes Europe - and - a rarity below.
Always keep a diamond in your mind.

urbanissimo

Time for a segue from greenery and sunshine back towards the city:

"Photograph caption : Inside the Bohemian Grove : This photoessay captures the spirit of the fine balance between rural surroundings and the encroachment of the City. In most versions of the story, the City wins and farmers and rural folk become parts of the ever-radiating machine. In this scene, it seems to have worked the other way around where the apparatus of city life is captured and annulled by the elemental forces of nature. First, Fire quenches the power of the city's machine to move, then Earth starts to sprout vines to surround and ensnare it. Water plays a part by creating the corrosion of the remaining skeleton and Air carries away the specks of rust as this manifestation of the struggle is played out. What is left is a Bohemian Grove, with a trophy of Moloch as a center of worship."

Ok, so I made it up.

bucolic

More greenery Wednesday as I took a meander whilst mulling the options in my current work assignment. Not a red bus in sight today. I'll be working late, but its good to have seen the sunshine.

Oh, and the brown sheep.

Baaa.

bluebells

Don't leave it until May to dispose of last season's Christmas tree.

Not high on the priority list, it was tucked away forlornly and then Tuesday I remembered to ask Alan with the flatbed if he'd throw it on along with the grass cuttings. I was just about to head out for a short bicycle spin through the sunny lanes and didn't give it a second thought.

And so the meander through the fresh green of the new leaves, enjoying the waft from the soft verges of bluebells and surprising a few noonday basking bunnies along the way. And mission accomplished, I returned just as Alan was lobbing the tree onto his truck.

"Quick word", he said, "I think I've annoyed one of your neighbours", and then described a minor altercation, "See ya", he said, as he jumped into the truck. "Which neighbour?", I mused.

sliding doors

I'll admit a certain scepticism using a Bank Holiday Monday to go out sliding door hunting for the bedroom. It could have meant time in traffic with lots of other shoppers in mad pursuit of bargains, but actually, it felt more like a quiet and pleasant visit to a sunny riverside pub.

Which was exactly what we did after the informative visit to the slippy slidey door place.

bojomatic

 

whalesong for sunday

... or to just be chilled, listen to the beautiful whalesong. Via soubriquet and live here from the Alfred Wegener Institute.

Play loud and be patient, its live from the ocean. Amazing.