And the announcement ran “This train is out of service”
Which wouldn’t have been so bad if there hadn’t been two trains standing at the Brixton platforms.
Consequently everybody decants and run for the opposite train resulting in a melee in the corridor between the platforms
“This train is out of service” chirps the less than informative platform monitor
A realisation that the train we got off is actually the good and not the bad train and we turn tail, the driver deciding that this is the moment to close the doors and depart.
You know he’s smirking as he does this.

Further down the line, 20 feet short of my destination, and the train comes to a shuddering halt, pitching the over-sized, ruck-sack wearing, asthmatic pink blamange in my direction, trapping me against the doors. There we remain for 20 minutes. The over-sized, ruck-sack wearing, asthmatic pink blamange passes the time by listening to a live version of Candle in the Wind on repeat. I know this because I can here every sodding word.
We didn’t exchange pleasantries.
If she had collapsed I may well have had to walk over her.
Natural selection.

She didn't hear the 35 fire engines at the end of the street.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/7531204.stm

Am I alone in finding this ironic?

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/west_yorkshire/7430668.stm

The fox curled asleep on the back lawn
The magpies, agitated, skip and shriek. A wardance.
The woodpecker skims and plummets between tree and feeder
Tree and feeder
Tree
I tend the onions, rocket and thin the spinach.
Would any of this hold the same fascination
If it wasn’t being played out in the heart of Brixton?

Dad, apparently, was most agitated following Mums visit last week.
This is a new development
Previous to this he has only gotten excited by milk chocolate.

One of the strange quirks of chezDaisy has always been the ability to pick up ITV2 without actually paying for it. I guess we’ve been piggybacking off someone else’s signal. Or somesuch. This all seems to have changed over the past week so I thought I’d facilitate a little re-tuning last night.
Stumbled upon a picture of a red vespa parked outside a residential block of flats that looked strangely familiar, and then the realisation that I’d inadvertently tuned into the local CCTV.
So, it would appear, no more Bruce Willis or Steven Seagal.
Not unless they turn up at the front porch.

Date:	2008-04-29 13:35
Subject:	GEM Awards
Security:	Public
Mood:	guilty

"Andy Thompson at Resolute wins this month’s GEM award – Congratulations to Andy.
Andy managed to delight the customer by planning, co-ordinating and executing the move of 99% of Resolute staff within the premises at St Mary Axe. Andy worked every weekend during February and March to ensure continuity during the moves and only took occasional mid week days off.
It is because of dedication like Andy’s that ISS Coflex has been able to retain the Resolute contract for the past 8 years and is now looking forward to providing ongoing service to the client with an ‘evergreen’ arrangement.”

There it is, proof if proof were needed, that I am, forever now and shall be ……. A corporate whore.
I feel dirty, (and not in a good way).

*‘evergreen arrangement’ how depressing is that? You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave.
** ‘99% of Resolute staff’ which may make you wonder what happened to the other 1%
*** GEM = Goes the Extra Mile. I am truly, truly, sorry and deserve to be punished.

Kindest regards
Matrix Skillset
(There are no problems only solutions)

Haven’t been here for a while and probably won’t do again this God forsaken year.
So, in brief:
Colin flat-lined in the ambulance
Ann crashed the car
Two Mothers, 12 months, 4 cars.
Nan smoked her way through it all
Yes minnietheminx 's family, possibly out of neglect, have made a late bid to out-do the mad family Thompson.
Weekends are no longer our own.
But, I guess, they haven’t been for some time now.

I finally have Enduring Power of Attorney
I also have a will.
There is something quite sobering about that first line in its dark gothic script declaring “The Last Will & Testament of”
Still, at least I now know who gets the drum kit and the PG Tips monkey.

Mother, having pestered to move out of the family home, and having found a buyer, has decided she doesn’t like the people enough to want to sell. This after months of gnashing & out-pourings of how she “won’t spend one more Christmas in this village.”

Father will be spending Xmas in Leicester General where he has been since March.
We have heard no more from the Primary Care Trust
Not since we related all the nonsense to Alan Duncan MP.

10:30pm in the Big Brother House

This years Christmas present for half of my work colleagues will be their redundancy notice. One of them apparently, will get a reprieve (When reality TV and reality collide). Consequently I have set up a voting hot-line. Premium rates apply.
I, as a ‘key retainer’ (ahem) am not a contender in this round, possibly because they need me to Project Manage a company wide office re-fit by the end of March. This usually is a 6 week, 7 day a week operation, which is going to be interesting, what with the aforementioned family stuff.

chezDaisy

Big fire in Tyre Town, 150 evacuated. I awoke abruptly ready to be very sick and feeling like I was chewing on a fire-lighter.
A couple of days later and the police are swarming outside.
Apparently not a rapid response team or a new Metropolitan initiative but an episode of the Bill.

And stuff

French lessons are finished for the year and I have survived
Moreover I am happy that it allows me to put my head somewhere else.
Joyeux Noel
Idiot son must for now remain as un-finished business
Facebook continues to grow, as do the plethora of applications I keep getting invited to
And keep ignoring.

I’m still haunted by the vision of the man on the Northern Line who sank two fat cream éclairs and a large block of Cadbury’s wholenut between Brixton & Stockwell.
That is some sugar rush.
I have taken a different approach.
Upon being informed that a bottle of red wine a night is equivalent to a 3 course meal
I have done away with the 3 course meal.

Oh, and never go to a SiouXsie gig and declare that they wouldn’t be half bad if they got a decent singer.
People may take offense.

Au revoir

So then she put it in reverse
And remained in reverse
Whilst traversing the curb
The neighbour’s fence
The neighbour’s 6ft hedge
The neighbour’s ornate flower pots
Before coming to rest immaculately parked
In the neighbour’s porch

Bent rear axle, front axle, reworked floor, passenger door, front and back panels.
And then they repaired the car, and gave it her back.
I was so hoping that that wouldn’t happen.

Despite admitting that all procedures were blatantly disregarded
And neither ourselves nor Social Services were aware of the content submitted
And all of our documentation from March 2007 was not presented
And the requirement for 15 minute, 24 hour observation was omitted
The health authority took his case to the Continuing Care panel
Where it was turned down.
They have agreed to re-submit with our input
And informed us
That it will be turned down again

Sort of takes the gloss off of the good stuff.
Sorry.
But hey, a weekend off from the maelstrom
And I spent all of last night cubing, dicing, crushing and a-chopping and stirring the vats.
For tonight we firework and feast
And chezDaisy will be alive with the sound of laughter
And we will remember that we do have friends
And the world will be alright

This morning on radio 4 we were subjected to Donovan and David Lynch, who were promoting their spoken tour of British educational establishments. And quite what were they promoting? Transcendental Meditation.

Donovan: “Me and the Beatles, blah, blah, blah. Maharishi, blah, blah, blah. Me & George Harrison, blah, blah, blah. It made me the musician I am today!”

And what sort of endorsement is that?

Mellow Yellow (released 1966)
F*ck Off.

(The radio got a sound thrashing for pedalling such nonsense)

Awoke blissfully yesterday to what I thought was the sound of waves crashing, and for a wee while bathed in this glorious state of limbo. Even the realization that it was only the wind and rain thrashing through the Brixton trees wasn’t enough to trash the cocoon.
That everyday could start like this.

Of course, this was also the day to discover the holes in my shoes and overcoat.
Preparation is everything.

I wasn’t prepared either for the sight of Burberry Wellingtons paired with tweed flat cap at the Monument Ticket Office. Can’t blame a girl for wearing her heart on her wardrobe.
Actually, yes, you probably can.

Births & Deaths

Welcome to the world Elvi Jane Henderson born 19/09/2007. 5lb 4oz.
Two parents and a.n.other (lurking) to be found here
copenhagen

Goodbye GingerKnob my Mothers adopted feral cat
And Marcel Marceau father to a thousand spray-painted odd-balls, statuesque upon a thousand spray painted tea chests down on the Embankment.
Thanks for that.

Soak

Whilst shredding a months worth of Tesco receipts I began to notice a repetitive theme:

2 bottles x Cotes du Rhone
2 bottles x Muscadet
2 bottles x Cava
1 bottle x Sparkling Water
1 x pkt Boasters

And the occasional bag of Rocket
Well you’ve gotta have some greens.

Welcome to the World #2.

I am now fully MyFaceJournalled up
And understand very little of it.
Not actually having Broadband is probably a consideration.

Finally got the string quartet into the studio. These days are always intense so I was very glad to have the rest of idiot son there with me. Bob & Mark had scored a couple of songs apiece and led the way. Jon had fixed the players and was a fine extra pair of ears. Turned out we needed his fixing skills more than we’d thought after one of the intended violinists dropped out the night before and then the replacement had to go at 3:00 requiring us to find a replacement for the replacement to finish the session. And when she arrived the other remaining violinist announced that she only wanted to work until 4:30.
Didn’t really help un-knot my stomach at the time.
Animals, children and string players.
But this makes me sound bitter and ungrateful, they must tire of hearing “two more takes and we’ve got it”. I know when it’s all mixed it will sound fantastic and I will want to hug and cuddle them.
So thank you everyone.
Next up, the brass section.
Lord help us all.

Scarily enough I’ve also written my first three new songs in about 2 years.
Well 2007 has certainly thrown up enough lyrical content.

Weekends away

Neil & Kirsa’s Manor in Sweden is stunning.
We BBQ’d
We drank
We took the outboard onto the lake, whilst picking the Deliverance banjo
(Until I drove it into the reed bed)
Buzzards and cranes, circling.
We didn’t join the locals in the local sauna
Nor did we run out of the sauna and jump into the lake
As is their want, of a weekend.
Perhaps next time.
We want to live there too.

Whilst there I dreamt that a small demonic child was swinging me ‘copter –wise by my ankles.
And in my outstretched hand my mug of tea was slopping over.
Woke up screaming in the pitch black
Only to see my reflection in the Amityville-esque windows of the bedroom
(You know the ones)
I hid.

We also returned to Lille.
I don’t remember dreaming there
Unless it was of Lobster and Pouilly Fuisse.

Basket Case(s)

Apparently Alzheimer’s, Brain Haemorrhaging and MRSA does not qualify you for Continuing Care. Maybe I should wrap him up, put him in a basket and leave him outside of the assessors door.

Mother to Solicitor: “Oh no, I never knew what I was signing, neither did Father”

Not forgetting the trashing of a parked car on the village high street before making her getaway at 20mph.
Needless to say I have since been in conversation with the Leicestershire Constabulary.
I fear she is making criminals of us both.


The best bit about LondonFreeNewspapers

“I saw you on the Bakerloo Line,
I was wearing an i-pod
And trainers
You caught my eye and looked away.
You were carrying a bag
I wait for you everyday
You get in the second carriage
At 7:52
I’ll be there again tomorrow
Waiting
Always
Waiting
Drink?”

(Thank you, the gorgeous Mrs H-D. I’m still waiting for my message).

Enough, there is obviously no thread to these ramblings what-so-ever
So please don’t look.
I could tell you about the home-made chilli jam, or the apple slices or the elephantine tomatoes.
Then again I could invite you around to chezDaisy for a feast.
But for now a new pub is calling me
And it has 15 Belgium beers on tap
Wednesday is, after all, the new weekend
Put a pint of water by the bed before turning off light.

Love the idiot son
x

Date:	2007-08-08 11:52
Subject:	Far, far too much information
Security:	Public
Mood:	surprised

Last night I was really rather ill.
Despite holding tightly to the porcelain I still managed to artex 2 opposing walls, the carpet and my legs, in shades of chunky wild mushroom risotto and white wine.
I tell you this only because it was all achieved with a faint admiration for the intensity of the projectile and the surface area covered.
Poor old Alan Bennett who at the time was sitting on the bathroom floor may never look me in the eye again.
I am 44
This is rock’n’roll.
(Tonight I best wash the carpet)

These boots just left the building

Lee Hazlewood died yesterday morning.
Once during the halcyon days when I could have been a contender we shared the Royal Box at the Festival Hall with Lee.
Him being the old curmudgeon and I forever the stream of light.
From the stalls it must have looked as if Stadler & Waldorf were in residence.
There, that’s my Lee story. Done.

Wheat @ the Luminaire.
We played with Wheat back in October 1998 (Yes it really was that long ago).
The minxstress coerced me into popping backstage.
Hugs all round.
Their songs can still make me cry.
Bastards.

Cortney Tidwell & Ungdomskulen @ the Luminaire.
Ungdomskulen: Made me laugh in the same way as Comets on Fire made me laugh. All those retro rock histrionics, I smiled until it hurt. This is a good thing. A happy buzz.
Cortney sang like an angel, with her boys (various members of Lambchop) weaving magical patterns in the background. If only they hadn’t then dropped my guitar out of the back of the van (the minxstress will be angry, I, just disappointed) I would love them still.
Never pays to be trusting, but should have learnt this by now.
I will patch it up with a large strip of gaffer on which I shall right “William Tyler did This” and then flog it on e-bay.

Bumped into Gilbert & George on their daily constitutional.
Got a friendly smile of acknowledgement from Mr.George.
I was quite chuffed.
They seemed most affable.

Idiot Son actually got back into the studio for a day.
Lots of Doo-wops, bah boo dah barp bar’s and tambourines.
The plan is to have the string quartet in before the end of August.
We make lots of plans ………..

mySpace

I’ve been making friends.
idiot son

Brixton

Falcons in the garden.
Hailstones the size of gobstoppers on the pavement.
Murder at the tube station.

chezDaisy

An abundance of chillies (Just because you buy a packet doesn’t mean you should sew the packet). Super F1’s (35,000 to 40,000 Scoville units). Hot.
And my first tomatoes struggling against the inclemency.
I have also, probably unwisely also got a broadband connection with TalkTalk. Thus far it has been rubbish and only succeeded in cutting off my telephone. I may now have to up-grade the yoghurt carton. The unhappy luddite indeed.

There, that’s my head emptied.

Apparently the current predicament that we find ourselves in is not due to global warming. It is, in fact, due to the hundreds of thousands of un-adopted drains throughout the country (Radio 4). So forget about the Work House, the Whales, the Panda's and Sidmouth Donkey Sanctuary, get out there and adopt a drain. We understand that Madonna is already laying claim to a nice little Nubian one.

I quite like the idea of owning my own little piece of sewer, at least it might be affordable and comes with en-suite.

Having wandered into the Trinity last night and noticed the absence of a good homely pub smell it struck me that Johnsons or Ambi-poor or whoever have missed an opportunity. The plug-in Marlboro 'Air Freshener'.

Whilst prodding wrightisgod in the general direction of working for a livelihood he happened to mention that this morning, at his local railway station, they were collecting for alzheimers.
"Wish I'd known" I replied
"They could have taken my Father."

Our trousers were quite damp after that.
I am the bad son.

So a week last Wednesday I made £45
A week last Wednesday I made £45 doing a voice over test.
For a new Japanese Sat-Nav system.
I spent an hour reading out lists of numbers and bizarre phrases such as luge wombat and creosote under-carriage.
The final phrase however came up as ‘Hit Single’
“Not one of yours then” quipped Toby the engineer.
Still if I get the gig it will be £12,000 for 3 hours work
Which is rock’n’roll enough for me.
Went to see Devo at the Royal Festival Hall, the minxstress had acquired us a couple of good tickets via e-bay, I know I shouldn’t encourage her. They were much fun, although running on the spot for entire songs whilst once, may have seemed fun, now looked as though it was resultant in major internal injuries. None of us are as young …..
Spotted Vic Reeves doing his best to schmooze his way into the aftershow.

Octagenarian chokes on Beatle.

Visited Dad for his 83rd birthday.
He continues to amaze and whilst still not having the faintest notion of who we are, picked up the birthday cards and started to read.
However he then picked up a plastic figurine off of the cake and tried to eat it
It was a figurine of Ringo Starr
(No, I know not why)
Much to his dissatisfaction (Dad’s not Ringo’s) I performed a hasty Heimlich and Mr. Starkey emerged moist and slightly gummed but otherwise intact.
Dad found solace in milk chocolate buttons instead.

We don’t have to take our clothes off.

My next door neighbour has cocooned himself in some sort of 80’s void. Last weekend his choice of record to have on repeat was 5 Star ‘System Addict’
Other favourites include:
Through the Barricades – Spandau Ballet
With or Without you – U2
And This is not America by David Bowie.
I actually want to tell him that I like that song but he avoids eye contact at all costs.
Guilt by association I guess.

Went up to Camden to see our friend Sion doing his warm up for the Edinburgh fringe. I originally met Sion on the Northern Line crush, he’s a big lad so I didn’t have much option.
He thought I was Morrissey.
I thought he was a git.
His show, the Good, the Bad and the Cuddly, however, was top.
The Minxstress and I had a pre-show snack at the Vegetarian café, the Green Note, and very fine it was too. This didn’t stop her from heading straight to the bar and asking for Cider and Pork Scratchings.
Classy Bird that one.

Defibrillators anyone?

Managed to corral the remaining members of idiot son over the past week in an attempt to breathe life into the ailing 2nd album. Consequently a day has been booked in the studio. That day, of course, being Friday 13th.

Defibrillators anyone #2

Our client has just announced the redundancy of one third of the company by March 2008. They have also sacked the IT team and announced that they shall be looking to move buildings.
They haven’t told us anything.
Is that a good or a bad thing?

Security Alert

Tonight is drinks at the top of 30 St. Mary Axe, otherwise known as the Gherkin.
Today of course being the day they found a Mercedes full of Gas, Petrol and Nail Bombs in town.
As long as I’m not queuing at the bar when they detonate.
I’d hate to go without a drink in my hand.

We will be watching the sunset from the top of the Gherkin in two weeks time.
Just before we smoke far too much and then regret that we will no longer be able to do it publicly.

Built to Spill rocked
Amiina shimmered
Cornelius left us strangely un-moved

Drumming is not as much fun on your own
Even with the full length mirror all to yourself.

Konditor and Cook should not have opened a shop next door to the workplace.

My Father will live forever and remember nothing about it.
Miracles aren’t always what they should be.

Clapham and burlesque are two words that shouldn’t appear in the same sentence.
However entertaining the company you are with.

Nature has a nasty streak.
If you can reach out and touch it, chances are that something is awry.

We always pass the ‘Welcome to Essex’ road sign just as we hit the tail back.

There is little else in the world more perfect
Than a Friday night curry
A bottle of Cava
And the best company one could wish for.

And tonight is Friday night.

Just when you think you really don't give a tinkers fuck about music anymore it comes around and squarely bites you in the arse. Wandered into HMV at lunch-time (there is very little else to do) scowling at whatever nonsense was on RadioHMV. Just about to turn tale when on comes a Rufus Wainwright song. I swear I stood there transfixed and choking back the tears, I can't remember the last time this happened. Bought the album there and then.
It may of course just be my present state of mind.
Had to buy the Grinderman album to balance the equation.
I will probably now have to grow a beard and sport a tattoo and litter my conversation with phrases like 'Would Ya?'..
And kill you all for admitting to this.

x

On opening the balcony doors at chezDaisy, the lounge permeates with the heady perfume of Jasmine from the rampant plant enveloping the flats. I appear to have missed the trees blossoming outside, and would probably have continued so to do, if the minxstress hadn’t pointed out that the last time she was here we could still see the bloated pigeons bouncing precariously on the naked branches.
On the dining room table spread with Lambeth newsletter, sits a watering can, cuttings and bags of compost, the latest tools of my escapism. chezDaisy is currently awash with mint, chilli, tomatoes, parsley, chives, basil, rosemary and a legion of infant spider plants. Gerald the umbrella now stands erect, solely because the upper foliage is wedged against the ceiling, likewise my now towering Swiss-Cheese has doubled over and is forming a canopy over the double bed. The succulent, a reject from M&S, pot bound and fat, stands aside my Chinese waving cat, hoping that between the two of them, they may conjure up a sliver of good fortune.
The two most insurmountable problems I currently have are a lack of ledges and sills from which to mount the thriving populace, and Woolworths not being able to keep abreast of my insatiable need for soil.
That I could keep my habit within the confines of Brixton, but no, I have now branched out to my Mothers garden. There is a reconditioned trellis with clematis and lately a structure of Sir Norman Foster-esque proportions to support this years green beans.
I fear I may have become a hippy.
I have begun to envy allotment dwellers.
And might, under interrogation, admit to watching the Chelsea Flower show.
I just may need to get out more.