Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Those were the days...

I was reminded recently of my weird childhood imagination. As the eldest, every evening I was in charge of making my dad his cheese butties for work the next day. This was back in the days before cheap cafes and Boots sandwiches. For years I stood in the kitchen making the same old cheese butties every night, with piccalilli, not too much mind! And white bread, none of that fancy stuff. To get through the monotony, I used to pretend I worked in a cafe while I was making the sandwiches. At the time I had a thing for the lead singer of The Farm Peter Hooton. Yeah I know. I lived in a small village. Men were scarce, you had to take what you could get. Anyway, in my crazed teenage mind, luscious Peter would come into my cafe quite by chance, but immediately be taken by the beautiful young lady behind the counter. He would order a sandwich. When he had been seduced by the lovely tasty sandwich he would rescue me from my life of drudgery and take me on tour with his band. Luckily for me this never happened, The Farm only had one album to speak of, the world tour wouldn't have lasted long and I would have been supporting him. Making sandwiches. For money.

I also used to pretend I was Cinderella and sweep the garage clean. My parents must have thought they were on to a winner. Or they were very good at reverse psychology to make the kids do some housework...

Brangelina - be scared be very scared!

It amazes me how Brangelina took over an entire country just so they could have their baby in privacy. They were in charge of pretty much the whole of Namibia, who catered to their every crazy celebrity whim. Most celeb mums go to an exclusive hospital in America, not Angelina. I suppose the country will now benefit from increased tourism and those buses following the celebrity trail will start up there. "And here's the hospital Angelina gave birth in...here's the shop she bought her first nappies from...and here is the tree where Brad carved the baby's name..."

When me and Mr Barbara start reproducing, I am going to have the whole of the Isle of Wight under my control. Nothing less will do. No Librarians in or out without my written permission.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Sitting, waiting, wishing

If I could be one person in the world at the moment, I would be Jack Johnson. He lives in Hawaii, spends most of his time surfing or chilling on the beach, knocks off the old million selling album every now and then, is super environmentally responsible, and everyone seems to love him. Now he has announced he's had enough of this world tour malarkey and is going home to surf. His last album, the soundtrack for Curious George ("Show me the monkey!!") was self produced and released without a record company apparently, and has sold shedloads. The man is a genius. How can you be so laidback yet set yourself up for life within a year or so of popping into the music scene? And I bet he doesn't even care about the money, he will probably give it all away to koalas or orphaned goats or something.

But if I couldn't face being a man, I'd have to be Jack Johnson's wife instead. That would be cool too. But don't tell the old man this, I think he'd have enough problems coming to terms with me being a surfer dude.

The differences between us...

My Dad rang up on Sunday and I said I'd been to a Eurovision party. He said "did you see that terrible song that won? It was awful!". I had to admit that I loved it and had bought it. This prompted him shouting through the house to my stepmum (a bit like Little Britain): "Carolyn?! Carolyn!! She only went and bought it! She likes it!" to which shrieks of disgust and outrage reverberated down the phone lines.

They liked the Lithuania entry. That godawful one where men in suits sang (very hopefully) "We are the winners! Of Eurovision! Vote for us!". Nobody did. And please Lithuania, if you enter again, don't let that fat bald man humiliate himself by dancing again. Thankyou.

I also had to sit through lunch yesterday with all the oldies I work with denouncing Lordi. I didn't tell them I bought it, they are all so narrow minded it wasn't worth it really.

In Lordi news, they are having a square named after them in Finland! I so have to visit!!

Sunday, May 21, 2006

Douze points to ... LORDI!!!


What a night. Lady L can't speak from screaming so much, I don't remember leaving, I forgot to vote, I spent most of the night shrieking and it's a wonder I can speak today, Miss S sure put on one hell of a party.

Lordi will now take over the world. Don't be scared.

Saturday, May 20, 2006


What was the last song I downloaded before my credit ran out? Why, it was Hard Rock Hallelujah by Lordi. Oh yes.

Friday, May 19, 2006

Oh Lordi!!

Oh if the semi finals are anything to go by, Eurovision is going to be bloody brilliant!! And Lordi must win!! They were fabulous. Fire coming out of their guitars, the lead singer had wings and a Finland top hat, even the song was great! I voted for them three times, on two mobiles and the land line, to ensure they went through. But I was nearly sick when they were reading out the ten who made it to the final. Part of me thought it was all a fix and they wouldn’t be allowed to go through. But they did!! As well as that awful Lithuanian number “We are the winners of Eurovision” – subtle as Lady Librarian said. And it’s a good job me & Lady L are going to be in the same room for the actual final, I dread to think how much money all the text messages we sent cost us!

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Da Vinci craze

You know, the thing that still upsets me most to this day about the Da Vinci Code is the bit where the librarian at King's College lets Tom Hanks in without an appointment and then makes him a cup of tea. In a library. Rule 1 of librarianship: you NEVER make it easy for random people who aren't supposed to use your library to get in. First of all they have to face a surly face at the equivalent of reception, then after several minutes of arguing and tutting, they are taken to see a more senior person who repeats all the points above. When they are feeling as small as absolutely possible, and possibly rethinking their urgent need to consult your material, then you have a generous change of heart and finally let them in, but only to see the book they wanted and no browsing! Rule 2 of librarianship: NO FOOD AND DRINK IN THE LIBRARY!! (The capitals are necessary). Where are all the librarians saying the book makes librarians look bad? I might start a petition. Or march outside Odeon Leicester Square (it's where all the important film schmoozers hang out, well it's that or Cannes) with a banner.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

"Appalled of Hackney" speaks again

The most ridiculous accusation in the news today? That the portrayal of a crazed albino monk in the Da Vinci Code makes albinos look bad. Excuse me? Which bit of "fiction" don't these people get?! And why not say it makes monks look bad too just for the hell of it? So, in these people's minds, Donkey in Shrek means that donkeys talk and dance and date dragons? It's like saying that the portrayal of Damien in the Omen makes small boys look like evil demons. Oh. Hang on a minute, there may be a grain of truth in this after all!

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Too busy for non-work related correspondence?

Ye gads, I think I am still in shock. I am "in charge" (you lucky lucky people!) of the library for the next two weeks and, I tell you, I haven't had a minute to myself for the last two days. My line manager who has a very anal grasp on all mundane library tasks, who doesn't even delegate opening envelopes, has gone on holiday leaving me to run the joint. And because of her failure to delegate AT ALL when she's here, this previously unheard of responsibility has thrown me somewhat. The days are certainly going faster and I'm sure I've lost several pounds through constant running around, but I have no time. Normally I have time to do all my work, help all the happy shoppers, and spend a good proportion of the day emailing back and forth between Lady L and Miss S. Not today. But then they haven't emailed either. Maybe today was the official "Busy at Work Day" and nobody warned me?

I can't decide whether having a Very Busy Job is a Good Thing. I know I am often bored out of my tiny mind, and scanning the BBC website obsessively every five minutes loses its appeal. And just last week I thought I was developing alzheimers. So this week just goes to prove my mind does still work, it was just bored. And I have no problem with delegating things to other people myself. Make the workers work dammit! I'm corresponding with a very important client.

Monday, May 15, 2006

Nil points

Oh we're having a party!! A Eurovision party!! Whoo hoo! I am SO excited. Miss S is the hostess with the mostess, and it's going to be great. Especially as Lordi are representing Finland. The last two Eurovision parties I went to are a bit of a blur, I can't really remember very much at all but I am assured I had a great time. Hubby refuses to accompany me and I'm trying very hard not to take this personally. What man, even if he doesn't like (god forbid) Euro-pop can't fail but to be entertained by old Terry's gentle Irish brogue? And get to drink shedloads into the bargain? He'd rather sit on his own couch by himself than come to a party. Miserable sod. And I ain't coming home neither, so he'll have to make his own breakfast while I crawl home feeling very sorry for myself. On Top of the Pops the other day our entry was on, it's a rather odd affair. A grown man rapping while grown girls dressed like schoolgirls "accidentally" flash their white knickers while leaning over old school desks. It's a perverts' dream come true and should get us a few points at least.

Two things...

...would make my life so much easier.

1) A transporter like in Star Trek. So much of my life is wasted away sitting on the same stretch of road in the same traffic queues. If I could just transport to work five minutes before I started, imagine all that free time and lying in! And holidays. No more 12 hour flights to get to a lovely sandy beach in Hawaii, report to the holiday transporter at the local station, and whoo hoo, cocktails on the beach in no time. Now I can't believe that all the spods out there (yes there are lots) haven't developed this yet. I reckon it is in use already but they won't share.

2) A composter. More likely to happen I know. Having a garden does have its down sides. The amount of times I've filled a bag with grass and leaves and stuff, then 3 days later gone to move it and there's all worms underneath!! Urgh. Worms. And slugs and I wouldn't be surprised if there was a bear in there too. I had to pay a fiver to get 5 special bags that the binmen will take away. So I've been looking into composters. You stick it all in there with your onion peelings, old bills so the identity thieves won't get them, coffee granules, tea bags, and it just goes away. And you don't see the worms coz they are hidden at the bottom. Then you get lovely compost to grow roses in. If you weren't spending half your life transporting around the world that is.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

I've Lost it

Series 2 of Lost has kicked off and it’s doing my head in already. 3 episodes in, and I am debating not watching it anymore. I spent half of last night’s episode torn between switching the damn TV off, and wanting to see what happens next. I think the problem is that I don’t care what happens to the characters anymore. Once it was established that they weren’t going to be rescued, what’s the point? At one point last night, Doctor Jack (who is being very cross this series) had spent the last 45 minutes shouting at everyone, been reminded about his wife who may or may not be dead, and was facing imminent death in some random unexplained disaster based on playing a scale on a bontempi organ or something equally stupid. He was VERY cross at this point and he had a gun in his hand. Why didn’t he just shoot himself? I would have considered it. Stuck on a crazy island with a load of loons whose idea of looking out for each other disappears the minute they see a yorkie? No thanks.

In series 1 they at least had some light relief. Isn’t it filmed on Hawaii? Couldn’t Jack Johnson just pop in and play them all some of his happy tunes about his favourite banana daiquiris? It would make as much sense as the plot so far.

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Blaine pain

Poor old David Blaine. He failed his weird underwater stunt thing and turned into a shrivelled prune in the process. His latest feat wasn't really publicised over here so much, but oh it takes me back to the summer of 2003 when he was hanging above the Thames in a glass box. How he misjudged the people of London. He was besieged with people throwing eggs at him, waving sausages at him, whacking golf balls at him from Tower Bridge, and general rudeness. One man tried to cut the cord holding the box up. Quite a few bottoms were waved at him too. The "magical genius" was not recognised in the slightest.

Lady L made the mistake of going travelling and missing this summer of entertainment. I had to become the David Blaine London correspondent and fill her in on all the crazy shit that was going down. Me & Miss S even went along one balmy evening to see it for ourselves. It was weird. The area immediately under his box was cordoned off with burly Sky security guards operating an access policy that only seemed to apply to young blonde girls. But we really had gone to see some "poet"* (for the want of a better word) who wanted to do his stuff under the Blaine. Apparently it was supposed to be a satirical rant against him. But when we actually got there, he got stagefright and dragged his audience off to an abandoned ampitheatre where he proceeded to bore us all senseless with some weird reading aloud story. It only got amusing when he dragged one of his audience in to help, which involved ad hoc pulling down of the trousers (in an innocent way obviously). Then we were beset with the local "youf" who tried to intimidate us with their bicycles. It didn't work. It might have scared old David Blaine though.

What will he do next though, this poor misguided "illusionist"? What was wrong with sawing ladies in half, or being locked in a case then stuck with lots of knives, only to appear with a flourish at the other end of the stage riding a tiger? He's thinking too much if you ask me.

[* Ah yes I remember now, he was supposed to be a comedian but was so unfunny I had forgotten. We knew a few unfunny comedians that summer that's for sure!]

Sunday, May 07, 2006

Lucky number seven

Ok after saying my love affair was over, I caught Deal or no deal yesterday and it was very exciting! Though saying that, I only caught the last 20 minutes which means you bypass all the boring stuff where the person playing talks lots about their wooden leg/poorly Grandma/dodgy car and says they want to win at least £250,000.

So, when I switched it on Morris was doing rather well. And it got better and better. Down to two boxes. One with £20,000 and one with £250,000. Oooh!! How exciting. He had box number 16. The other box was number 7. The banker offered him £101,000. He turned it down so sure he was that his box had £250,000 in it. The banker offered to let him swap the box. He turned that down on the basis that loads of people have 7 as their lucky number and that had Noel estimated they had done about 160 shows and his box had 1 and 6 as it's number (weird reasoning if you ask me).

But he was wrong!! So wrong!! But bless him, he didn't cry. Still £20,000 isn't bad. But then Noel reminded him he had turned down an extra £80,000. That's it Noel, pile it on!! Make the poor man cry like a girl.

But I knew he didn't win the jackpot. The show's are pre-recorded and it would so have been reported in the papers before they actually showed it. Like they do with Millionaire.

Poor Morris. Seven really is a lucky number.

Wednesday, May 03, 2006


Some lady was fined £75 for throwing a cheesy wotsit out of her car window today. Littering will not be tolerated in Luton it seems. I disagree with the council's reasoning. Throwing the cheesy wotsit out of the car window wasn't the problem. It seems to me that they are missing the bigger crime that was committed. WHY DID SHE THROW AWAY THE CHEESY WOTSIT??! I would NEVER throw away such a delicacy. What was wrong with it? What could possibly have driven her to such extreme measures? Was it slightly out of shape? Not cheesy enough? Too cheesy? If Miss S had anything to do with it, wasting cheese products would mean a lengthy spell in prison. I am not kidding.

Down with cheese wasters! I am talking to YOU lady.

Monday, May 01, 2006


Lady L got spliced at the weekend, and it was a fabulous affair. She looked fab, and Mr L looked very smart, and there were tears and laughter. The cake was never ending, and everyone hankered after the special cake that was for the kids only (it had smarties on the top). I saw loads of people I haven't seen for ages. At the Reception the music was brilliant and I had to download "Where's me jumper?" from the wondrous Sultans of Ping the minute I got home. I missed the Darkness though which I am very upset about. Lady L was very drunk at her Reception, something I failed to do at my own wedding, and there was dancing - including the Timewarp! - and it was all over far too quickly. What is the relationship between time spent planning a hen do or a wedding and the time the event takes when it actually happens? It's related to the leisure time vs work time ratio, and it's just not on!

No Deal

Oh my love affair with Deal or No Deal is over. I caught it again recently and it's all gone wrong. The contestants think the show is all about them. Who cares if they just got the sack or want seven grand to go kayaking with? The crazy people, like the woman who channelled her dead parents, were great entertainment, but the normal people are so dull. And they are all given 45 minutes of fame. Usually they don't win big and the banker makes them cry when they realise they turned down thousands in pursuit of the big win. And there's always some sad old bloke who has watched all the episodes and thinks he knows the formula. Then of course when it's his go, he walks away with a tenner. I've seen people go with numbers based on birthdays, the colour tops the other contestants are wearing, the position on the floor, and none of them have done very well.

But I suppose I'll still watch it. For the day that the Banker is unmasked as Mr Blobby. It will all be worth it. Blobby blooby blobby!!