Darkness descends..

..and other such observations to enthuse you as we get dragged kicking and screaming (literally, if the Hallowe'en costumes are any good) into November.

As we leave work in the dark, the temptation to start the TV/DVD-viewing-wrapped-up-on-sofa-with-hot-drinks-and-optional-blanket the minute you get in at night is only going to get worse. For me, it was pretty bad anyway but then I'm a bit geeky. It really doesn't help if you're in any kind of on-line DVD rental scheme because that little envelope will be jumping up and slobbering on you, yapping for attention, the second you push open the door (now that's what I call 'special features'). "Watch me, watch me!" comes the muffled-by-packaging cry, "because if you get me back in the post tomorrow you can have *another one* the next day! F*ck Christmas, this rocks!".

It really, really doesn't help if your rental list is full of sci-fi series because each disc will have a cosy 3 or 4 hours of viewing time rather than the good ol' 90-120 mins film. Luckily for everyone, I recognise that Stargate remains either a)completely uninteresting to the average TV viewer or b) watched ad nauseum by the real fans, so I won't bother commenting on my attempts to get throught the 'backlog' of season 10. 'Scapers will understand the continuing interest.

Box-sets are evil things, and I must add, not helpful image-wise for singletons. Mad Men sits stylishly and patiently waiting for us to get to episode four (flatmates are useful things for stopping you gorging yourself in one sitting). The Wire was a faithful friend, but having to watch the final season on Sky+ carries the irritating ads and reminder (as you scroll through the menu) that there really are *other things to watch*. I've just been handed Arrested Development. Good gods, and this is addition to the joys of the new Autumn/Winter season.

It all rather begs the questions:
1) What on earth is anyone going to get me for Christmas with this abundunce of goodies already to hand?
2) How much blame for my TV addition can be put onto people who keep cancelling proper, sociable, public-place plans on me? (she says in jest. Sort of.) Some are born geek, some achieve geekness, and some have geekness thrust upon them.

Must. get. life. pronto.

Music madness

Well last night I walked down the red carpet in Leicester square, to take my place in the audience of a new premiere, and nod graciously as my 'thanks' appeared in the credits. Okay, sort of. I did get to walk up the red carpet in a fetching jeans, trainers and hoody ensemble, but only because I was brandishing a couple of Times BFI London Film Festival tickets a good while after all the important people (and in fact, most of the on-time audience) had gone in. Technically though we were thanked, being vaguely part of that valued and unforgettable group of contributors “the residents of Holloway Road.” For the premiere was Telstar, a biopic of eccentric/genius/disturbed Joe Meek (based on the play by James Hicks) whose recording studio above a leather-goods shop in North London led to multiple top ten hits in the 60s, and developed key new recording techniques in the music industry (for more details of his legacy - but may include spoilers -see Wikipedia.

The film is wonderfully and authentically British (albeit with Kevin Spacey's presence, but he carries the accent well) in feel, language, and on the odd occasion, quaintness. Being of the younger generation some of the music references were lost on me, but not so much as to detract from being gleefully swept up in the chaos of a man self-destructing from the taste of success and obsession. Meek is played by Con O'Neill in a superb performance (reprising his stage role – it tells in the quality), that draws you in from comedic first to tragic last. In fact, the standard of acting generally was very impressive, drawing you in to the complex and combustible relationships (all male, apart from the ever-present landlady played just right by Pam Ferris) unfolding in Joe's claustrophobic studio world.

I'm not too sure how wide the release of this film will be, but I'll be adding it to my collection when it's released on DVD. If you're interested in London's music history, behind-the-scenes 60s, music biopics generally or even just for the queer cinema element, this will be going in my top ten for the year.

Urgh.

Thursday - too many oreos
Friday - gigging and wandering
Saturday - oversleeping and housepartying
Sunday morning - thinking it's a hangover
Sunday afternoon - realising this may not be a hangover
Monday morning - nope, really was a more run-of-the-mill feeling ickiness
Tuesday morning - recovered, but like a Duracell bunny on sainsburys standard AAA...

Exciting tales and updates will have to wait.

Happy viewing

Today I am boring and can't be bothered to describe birthday celebrations (not mine, but good fun), or upcoming plans (film festival, gigs, dinners, parties). I haven't watched the news in days, so no astute or enlightening commentary available from me. I also won't admit that I spent all of glorious Sunday's weather sitting in trying very hard not to finish Season Four Battlestar Galactica (which is as good as if not better than the Wire. Oh yeah. Now you're interested.) I've also neglected to install my rather run-of-the-mill picture editing software, so I still haven't done anything to this really boring layout. Oops.

But, instead, my views on new-ish TV:

After three episodes I'm happy to confirm for you all that Breaking Bad (currently showing on FX) is fantastic and you should all be watching it. Yes, I know it doesn't look sleek and glamorous. Or even uber-gritty. In fact, yes, it conveys all the dry and dusty drudgery of middle-class white New Mexico suburbia. You may also have noticed that it follows the continuing adventures of (fanfare) a middle-aged high school Chemistry teacher called Walter. Played by the Malcolm-in-the-Middle dad. Did I mention Walter also has terminal lung cancer? Sexy starting point, huh? Well, as soon as our teacher decides that he might as well start using his skills to make crystal meth (better than all the other amateurs in town), it gets well...think Falling Down rumbling rage, with a dose of Very Bad Things calamity, and a smidgen of American Beauty frustration and wit. Or maybe, just think about one of those nights we all get once in a while when things just keep getting worse and you have only yourself to blame. If you really appreciate a show that will take the time and energy to portray a hastening descent into chaos of one man with a jet-black sense of humour (episode three opens with the two main characters wrapped up in marigolds and aprons cleaning the floor. Oh wait, they're cleaning up the quasi-liquified remains of a meth-dealer. Which fell through the ceiling when the bath of acid ate through itself. Because someone didn't pay attention in chemistry class), then please tune in. It only promises to get better as episode three introduces flashbacks of vibrant, passionate Walter in his younger days, juxtaposed with his current grim and sober choices of his middle-aged dying self, to fabulous effect. The acting is great, the script is fantastic, and hey you'll learn stuff about Chemistry. And that “coin-flip is sacred!”

John Adams is sweeping us along nicely. The contrast of Adams' blundering attempts at diplomacy in the European political arena, with the rallying passion and defiance that shaped the Declaration of Independence in last week's episode is well played. After watching Adams' rising influence over previous episodes we share his discomfort with suddenly being sidelined from the action. The sense of family sacrifice reaches a well-developed climax.

I read about Eli Stone a while back : Johnny Lee Miller stars as a lawyer with visions. Sans dancing babies, but still with singing popstars. Just more saving-the-world (but not in a pending-apocalypse Dead Zone way). Okay, so yes it's a bit like a Boston Legal/Ally McBeal/Medium mega-mix just with the classic Sci-fi elements thrown in (sidekick with sagely words and advice on the new 'powers', the need for secrecy and the awkward/guess-it's-just-geeky-me-Clark-Kent moments that come when that secrecy is threatened). But despite the slightly annoying presence of Victor Garber playing his usual authority figure, and the question mark over whether a girl who looks like Natasha Henstridge would every really go out with a guy who looks like Johnny Lee Miller (with slicked down hair, and an undeniable geeky air despite his former 'hot shot' status), I like it. Yes I know I like a lot of crap that ends up on Sci-Fi. But this seems very self-aware of it's own clichés, it's got a good pace, and some surprisingly sharp lines and good banter among all the fluff (Episode 3's discussion of how Eli's car had been towed, continued to note that he called it the 'Millennium Falcon' and always made the appropriate 'zooming' noises as he changes lanes. Shamelessly referential, and I like it). I'll keep watching, even if some of the 'visions' and subsequent 'oh shit how do I explain my strange behaviour' moments might be worthy on occasion of the Sky+ fast forward.

Tune in next week. Ha. Ha.

Dash to the midlands

A few months ago I was up visiting the family in Wolves and again seeing how life for the parents seemed to be mostly all work and no play (apart from the odd Friday night at the gastro-pub). When ma talks about coming down to London it's usually with a desire to take in a show. So, I start browsing ticketmaster for any upcoming concerts in the midlands area she might like. Hey presto, James Blunt at the NIA.

I'm not the hugest fan, I don't have a single, well, single, in my posession, but I'm very happy to hum along on the radio. Mum's very exciting, and gosh, Dad is up for coming too. Brother would have taken it as an insult. However some problems cropped up: firstly it was quite pricey. Second, it was mid-week, and third we finally realised that parents were only back from holiday that day. But hoorah it all worked out in the end, we all scooted back to Wolves from various directions and then on to Birmingham (scowling and swearing at the Satnav woman all the way). The NIA was pretty huge, and all you can think about for the first few minutes is watching Gladiators as a child (I have no comment on the Sky revival). Last big venue I went to was Kaiser Chiefs at Earl's Court which was good fun, but definitely reminded me that I prefer cosier venues. Sure enough, the support Teddy Thomas was so-so musically, and trying to be chatty, but was pretty drowned out by the surroundings (not to forget that even the main floor is seated which doesn't lend itself to a buzzing atmosphere).

The main act was all good fun though. Lots of variety in the songs, lots of cheeky comments in response to the enthusiastic audience response (including a surprising amount of oggling 18 year olds). Parents loved the 'stage show' i.e. lights, lasers, screens et al. Some of it seemed a bit old-school to me, and a bit unco-ordinated at times (lasers, and lights, *and* video screen *and* glitter , why not?) but it wasn't overly-destracting from the music. Nor integral to it's enjoyment (i.e. not a Kylie show).

Generally though it was a good night out and ma enjoyed it, which was the main point.

It was just very strange to shoot up to the midlands and back within 48 hours. Perhaps proof that I should get off my arse occassionally and make far more flying visits to people. I therefore issue an open invitation to any friends I've not seen for a while: if you have a sofa, I am happy to come and spend a night on it :D.

Meanwhile, we've moved offices at work into a cosy, envy-inducingly huge (wtf, I'm keeping that phrase in) room where - *gasp* - I can actually look up and out of a window. Not since my move from Deneke 30 (here be the car park, if you stand up and tilt your head *just* so) to Toynbee (roses! *ROSES*) have I been so overjoyed at a change of prospect, darling.

Being back in London though I also got overcharged for coffee. Grr. Nevermind.

and then there was September

Last month started with far too much drinking and dinners for my bank balance to be happy with. The last Friday of August saw a big work booze-up at the ever welcoming local. The following weeks however were comprised of much-needed one-on-one catch-ups with various friends (and hyphens apparantly). A return to a friendly, speedy and reliable haunt in Soho(where they a) demand that you have another go at pronouncing your order if you didn't get it right the first time and b) shake their heads and sigh, but nevertheless will put cheese on a fish-based pasta if you ask really really nicely), was shortly followed by a nice little evening in the window seat at the Camden Bar and Kitchen (friendly staff, great vibe). Two days later I was off on a trip down memory lane (in a good way, not a PTS way, as is often the case with Oxford haha) to see Maya for an afternoon of lunch and tea at the Nose Bag (complete with afternoon stroll to the river). Then a Monday night treat of wine, risotto and tiramisu at the Charlotte Street favourite Ooze (the last time we had gone, we figured out half way home that due to the bill-splitting we'd over-tipped by about ten pound. Ka-ching) was warmly welcomed before taking half a week or so off work for a much needed holiday and trip back to the midlands to see the family. Then, just before our Freshers' week I was back at the Camden Bar and Kitchen to drink far far far too much wine with Nat (I'm sure this only made my political commentary all the more sophisticated, and well-reasoned, right??).

Now at this point, I was only half way through the month and my debit card may have been silently whimpering. Like the callous bitch I am I just demanded more service of it, ignoring it's plaintive cries. Sure enough, stubbornness was rewarded by Emma finding a fabulous Top Table deal to go to Pont de la Tour. Yes, that's just a restaurant next to Tower Bridge, called Tower Bridge, but in French. The imagination of the owners obviously knows no bounds. Nonetheless we had a great table outside, overlooking the Bridge all brilliantly lit up to the left, with the collapsing (we laugh only so as not to cry) Canary Wharf to the right. True, the patio heaters on full were a bit (very) naughty. The food was superb (Chloé the ex-veggy to my right tucking into a bleeding bit of cow-flesh that really shouldn't have tempted me as much as it did...), service great, piano-playing entertainment gloriously cliché, and the company (Em, Hector, Chlo) brilliant as always. Being quite swish, it was also a welcome opportunity to finally put on a dress and heels for a night out (which I *really* miss from Uni days). My, didn't we all feel beautiful and smug. Shameful. The walk (zig-zagging, admittedly) back along the river was a perfect end to the night.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't fine dining last month (!). I was introduced to the camaraderie and general delightful bitching of X-factor night at G-A-Y , complete with cocktails named after the judges (Louis Walsh is a kind of coconutty green). Now, I never normally watch X-factor, and have in fact been known to attribute to it the fate of Broken Britain on more than one occasion. It was a damn good night though, and many thanks to Tom for a lot of silliness. A return a few weeks later was (sort of) dampened by a problem with the TV feed which led to a nada-factor evening, but the cocktails remained (the important thing).

Then nothing left but for Freshers' weeks to roll out across the country, which is always a great time for getting asked the widest variety of questions in one day you can think of (everything from 'I dont' know who I am or why I'm here, but could you tell me where I'm supposed to be right now?” to “what cutlery is available in my halls” to “where can I purchase those delightful logo-d bags for life?”.

It's also a time to put names to the faces of all those applicants you've helped finally walk through the door. Well, that's the theory, but sadly doesn't really work for me as I have a horrendous memory for faces (and boy's names, strangely). From what I've read my facial recognition and retention is probably about the same as that of a two year old child. I suppose then that f I can associate you with chocolate pudding or plastic blocks you probably stand a better chance than most. I have to therefore spend my life either a) going around smiling over-familiarly with everyone which just unnerves those who don't know me, and are adverse to accepting me as their 'hey' girl (see here for details) or b) keeping my cool British reserve until such time as clues suggest I should really not be stand-offish with dear X who I've already been introduced to fifty-odd times (I still think the greatest victim in all this is Tim, who has far far too many friends, about 2 of whom I can ever remember. It continually gives off the impression that I don't pay any attention to them. Which isn't true. Honest.) It also means that I can never ever ever remember individual students' names. I don't have that much to do with them once they're here, so it's not vital to my job. But if you've been dealing with some of them for over two years, you feel you don't want to appear quite so dismissive...

The solution? Name-tags people. Name-tags. In a friendly font. Not comic sans though, that's just passé. Smiley faces instead of dots on the lower-case-jays are acceptable if they have one raised eyebrow to suggest a smirking cynicism.


Trips to the cinema this month: were lacking. Only one film, the Duchess, because my ma wanted to, and we thought it might be a good all round choice for a family outing. Mostly it was all very sumptuous and Keira atually quite good in the more vulnerable moments. A bit of political history was even acknowledged. Sadly though I will now be loathe to watch anything with Ralph Fiennes in every again as his face is now associated in my head with nasty rape scenes. I have the same problem with DeNiro after seeing Once upon a time in America. Oh dear. For something a bit fresher I'm looking forward to going and seeing well, at least one film as part of the Times London Film Festival in October though. I tried to get in on the Quantum of Solace screening but missed it, and Frost/Nixon was a bit pricey as it was part of the opening night gala. Nevermind. I've also been very keen to see The Fall since I first saw the amazing trailers months ago, but it has shamefully limited showings.

TV this month: Well, Dexter Season Two finished on FX. It was as guilty-pleasure entertaining as usual, although I was slightly annoyed at how long it took for anyone to wonder about the immigration status of the the pyromaniac British chick (played by Jaime Murray of “Hustle” fame in a bare-all role) waltzing around Miami in her self-employed thief/artist way. Making the character British seemed a strange and distracting choice, unless they were purposely going for the 'exotic' contrast to Rita's homely Americana girl-next-door (who would have thought in the BtVS/Angel era that 'homely' would every have been used for a Julie Benz part?). Or maybe Murray doesn't do accents? Ah well, I'm sure such things are described in DVD audio commentaries, but I'm not that much of a fan.

We also finished Season Three (the 'schools' one) of the Wire The Wire which raised the bar of excellence yet again.It really is the best thing on TV but you must watch it right through from Season one episode one to get the best out of it/in any way understand what anyone is talking about. By all appearances it is militantly anti-exposition which just makes me appreciate it all the more. We're on to Season Four now, but as this is just sitting on the Sky+ box rather than on DVD we have the irritation of ads (don't get me wrong though: I'd rather ad breaks still existed than be faced with even more product placement). I am very very glad Time and I watch this together, because if I had free reign I would watch the whole box set back-to-back in a day, and probably not savour and appreciate it half as much. Flatmates are obviously there to bring you back from the brink and say,no, you *can* wait twenty four hours until you see those opening credits again...

What else? Oh yes, we were kindly leant AMC's Mad Men (ta Pete) which is a bit of a slow burned but I've been loving it from the start: again, patience is a virtue.Their next big gamble,Breaking Bad, has only just started over here, so I'll comment later.

When I was out in Washington DC for a poorly-chaired conference in March, I caught a bit of the new HBO mini-series John Adams with Paul Giamatti. This started last week on Sky and is extremely good, keeping it's focus on the political process and decisions around the declaration of Independence whilst not disregarding the violence that is normally the focus of the historical 'patriotic' US blockbuster.

What was happening in the world this month: Well, a lot, and hopefully you were there, and paying attention. For political and economical commentary I'll merely refer you to Nat's blog. I may start putting my BBC news postings here rather than facebook, but we'll see.

On hiatus :D

And then it'll probably be under construction.

Need coffee and cake fuel to complete. argh.