I'm still getting myself in a state about this possibility of going out tonight. Shall I or shan't I? HELP!
And if I do go, shall I wear make-up? And if I don't wear make-up, then what the hell do I wear? Oh dear, this whole thing is much too difficult.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 4:18 pm
Hhhhhhmmmmm... what to do tonight? I don't know. I'm not usually very keen on celebrating this New Year malarkey, and often will do anything to avoid a New Year's party. But Gillian phoned me just now and asked if I want to come out tonight with her and Jo. I said I'd think about it and ring her back. Sounds pathetic, doesn't it? Thing is, I'm nervous about going to crowded places like pubs at this time of the year. I just don't like the sheer volume of people, and end up having panic attacks.
But the other option is stay in. And Karen and Chris are here at the moment (fun! ... NOT), and there is utter shite on telly tonight.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 3:08 pm
It was hardly worth going into work today, as they closed the office just after midday. Oh well, I'm not complaining. So, seeing as I was in Oxford anyway, I thought it'd be a shame to miss out on the opportunity to have look around the sales, despite telling myself that I wasn't going to go mad at the sales this year.
And didn't I do well! I found a gorgeous dress in Debenhams: long and velvety and a deep purple colour (I'm going to regret that colour description I know it... will most likely start getting hits from people searching for a certain heavy metal band). And in Next I found a gorgeous pair of very classy and sophisticated stilettos. So, that's my birthday party outfit sorted!
posted by Gina Snowdoll 3:01 pm
Here's another picture of Sherri, Tamsin and I from the 22nd December at the WayOut Club:
And before you ask, I don't do hats.
A couple more piccies for you:
Left: self portrait taken at Tamsin's at the end of the night out (in which I'm looking much too serious).
Right: the now legendary shoes which I wore that night, and which the bloody postal service took ages in delivering (the blighters).
posted by Gina Snowdoll 10:00 am
Watched The Truman Show last night. It kinda struck a chord with me, which in a way I found quite depressing. I can't count the number of times that it seems to me that somehow life is a con; that's it's all just a big set-up and that someone is pulling the strings. I've been waiting for the perpetrators to reveal themselves for ages now.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 9:07 am
Grrrr... I've had to come into work today. It's cold, and there was hardly anyone about on the way into work or in Oxford. It's quieter than a Sunday. So, here I am - freezing in the office, with lots of stupid stupid emails from the American office and not one giving me the information I require to do today's work, i.e. update all our prices for 2002.
I despair of some people, I really do.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 9:04 am
Sunday, December 30, 2001
It's a bit of a nothingy sort of day today. Not doing much really. Nowt to report.
Utter rot on telly tonight, so earlier I put on a video of The Mosquito Coast starring Harrison Ford, River Phoenix and Helen Mirran. It's one of those films that I've seen the beginning of countless times, but never seen more than 20 minutes or so, due to an assortment of reasons. And I've always wanted to watch it all the way through. So, I asked for a copy for Christmas, which I received, and tonight was the first time I'd actually seen it right through. What a fantastic film! Mind, I loved the book by Paul Theroux, so I thought I was going to like it. Obviously a lot of the scenes and action had to be compressed, but I loved it.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 10:23 pm
So Christmas. Yeah, well, I spent it at my sister's with her family, and our Mum and Dad. I neither ate nor drank too much. The kids got far too many presents. It snowed on Christmas day but it didn't settle. And that's about it really. Just some time out with my family, so please forgive me if I don't comment on it too much here.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 4:09 pm
The snow has stopped now. It never settled; I think the ground was too wet. And it was real snow too. None of this "Didcot snow" stuff that we get here sometimes.
Didcot snow? I hear you ask. Pray tell us, what the devil is that?
Well, because of the lovely power station here in Didcot we get bizarre weather conditions sometimes due to the warm currents of air created by the cooling towers. Or something. And when these currents of air hit other currents of air of a conflicting temperature, or something like that (I'm not very good at this science bit), then sometimes we get this bizarre "snow" type stuff falling from the sky. Faux-snow if you will. It is indeed icey, but is much lighter and more powdery than true snow. So, sometimes Didcot can be white when the rest of Oxfordshire isn't.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 4:02 pm
Back home! ...but Phew! What a journey. Today's travelling was much morre stressful than it was on Christmas Eve. It was actually quite nice and relaxed then... but today. Yuk! Horrible old Virgin 125 train, packed full, buffet car as far away as possible... Oh, but I don't want to bore you with talk of trains.
Actually, I'm knackered. It'll be so good to sleep in my own bed tonight - I've only slept in it once since this time last week.
I'll write some more later. It's just that I haven't long got in, so need to compose my thoughts. So for now I'll just leave you with these two things:
How come none of you other guys haven't posted to The Liar in my absence? Have you all been away too? Let's get some more silly stories up on there, soonest, eh?
Thank you dear Secret Santa, whoever you are, for my The Cure "Greatest Hits" CD... I'm playing it again now! Wonderful!
Eeeeeks! Only about an hour before I have to leave the house, and make my way up north to my sister's. And Arggghhh! I've only just remembered that I need to take my nail varnish off. The gold sparkly stuff on my toenails is so tough though. Anyone got a chisel?
posted by Gina Snowdoll 10:31 am
Sunday, December 23, 2001
Saturday I woke up with a bit of a headache to start with. Eeeeeks! That's free booze for you. Went out with Sherri and Tamsin in the daytime to get various bits and pieces that Tamsin wanted, and in the afternoon I decided I wanted to nip out to get some money for the evening. Tamsin asked me to get some eggs, mushrooms and juice from Tesco while I was out, so I went to Tesco, and for reasons best known to myself I didn't get cash back from the till with my purchases (as any normal sensible person would), but went to the cash machines. Which weren't working. Grrrrr...
So I went back to a cash till in Tesco and was told I couldn't get cash without a purchase, and had to spend at least £1. I explained that I'd already made a purchase, but the guy at the till was having it. Pissed off, I left the shop and wandered without and went in search of a bank. And couldn't find one or a cash till anywhere. I walked right along the Seven Sisters Road as well, until the shops ran out. Was getting in quite a state by this point and rushing about in a tizzy I managed to pull a muscle in my right knee. Ouch!
Eventually, I decided to admit defeat, went back to Tesco, grabbed a copy of The Guardian which I know Tamsin reads, and got my cash back from the till that way. Fool! Why hadn't I done that to start with? So I got back to Tamsin's flat after about an hour and twenty minutes and the whole trip should only have taken me twenty minutes. Whoops.
In the evening, got made up and ready to go out. I used some bits and pieces of make-up that I had found in another make-up box back at home, including a pan stick of a lighter colour which was good for colour contrast around the eyes. I also used various different blushes and a bit of smudged lipstick on my cheeks. I was very pleased with the results, and the brilliant job Sherri had made of re-styling one of my old wigs just topped it off perfectly. The dress I wore was a gold satin dress, which is in fact a few years old, but I've never worn it out in London before. Last time I wore it was the New Year party at Yazz's in Brighton beginning of 1999. That was when we did "Happy Talk" with Captain Sensible.
And of course there were the infamous new shoes, which I've already hinted at several times on this blog. Well, these were gold sandals, platform stilettos with a clear perspex sole and heel. Most yummy! And they went with the gold dress perfectly.
So, we got a cab to Storme's. Quite a busy night with lots of people there: Debbie and Nicky, Jo and entourage (!) ... Oh, loads of people, my mind is too fuzzy now to remember. I do remember Debbie's feather boa though - she asked me to look after it whilst she went onto the dance floor. It was heavy. I don't know how many ostriches must have gone into its making.
But, remember my bad knee which came about during my little walkabout in the afternoon? I don't think my new shoes were helping it too much, so I went to look for somewhere to sit down. Only place I could find was behind the door in the corner in the entrance foyer. Near to this little ageing Indian looking man. Who preceeded to move over next to me and was soon trying to feel me up. I tried explaining that I'd hurt my leg and could massage it on my own perfectly well enough. He still tried groping me though, but eventually gave up and left. Must have been my icy coldness towards him that put him off. Thankfully.
And then Michael, who's this Israeli guy who'd been after me for about five years now, came over and sat by me, and blow me if he didn't start bloody well trying to grope me too. Grrrrrr... How many times do I have to tell him? The man just does not give up. He makes out that his English isn't very good, but I think he can understand more of what's being said to him than he lets on. Anyway, Tamsin came and rescued me, so that was quite welcome.
We didn't actually stay at Storme's for too long... we soon nipped on over to the WayOut Club. But I'm sorry to say that what with my leg and all, I was well and truly flagging by this point. At the WayOut I stuck to orange juice and lemonades... no more alcohol for me - I think I'd overdone the free booze the night before! And then - disaster! I developed this awful cramp in my left foot. It was agony. I think what with trying to be careful with my right leg, I'd put too much strain on the other leg by way of compensation (or something) and my right foot was killing me (it still does hurt actually). I took my (rather fabulous) shoe off, and it hurt even more! I tried leaving it off for a while, and then putting it back on. Still painful.
Oh, and Sherri and I were accosted by this lovely (yeah, right!) drunk. Gawd, he kept on and on at us. And guess what? He tried groping my leg too. Grrrrrrr... What was it with men this night that made them all think that the act of sitting next to me means it automatically gives them the right to grope me? He told Sherri and I that we were "cute" pair (was the the word, Sherri?) and Sherri said, "wait until the third one of us comes back". And sure enough, when Tamsin re-appearred he started on at her. Thankfully, we somehow lost him. And good riddance.
Chatted to various people and stuff, but roundabout 3:00 am (ish), Tamsin and I reckoned we were ready to call it a day, so when we'd rounded up Sherri who'd been off doing the rounds of something or other, we got a cab back to Tamsin's. Where I was able to take my shoes off. Hurrah!
Tamsin went to bed pretty soon after, and Sherri and I stayed up a little longer taking pics of one another on our digital cameras. (Pics to follow at some point, I hope).
And today, I came home. And am knackered.
But tomorrow it's all go again when I have to pack and then get a train up north to my sister's for Christmas. Will try to post in the morning...
posted by Gina Snowdoll 11:54 pm
Whoah! I don't know where to begin. The last few days have been such a blur. I suppose it started on Friday evening when Tamsin, Sherri, and I went to the Hackney Ocean to see The Damned for their Christmas Gig. The place was heaving, and it was a large plush venue too. As the support act started up, I said to Sherri and Tamsin that I was just going to nip on over to the merchandise stall, as I'd heard that there were going to be vinyl copies of "Grave Disorder" on sale.
But over at the stall I saw that the "History of the World Pt 1" gravestone was on display (it was a competition prize offered on the Damned message board over at www.officialdamned.com), so I went over to have a closer look, and who should I run into but Captain, who was busy signing autographs. I mentioned to him that Sherri and Tamsin were at the gig too, and he said he must say hello, so I went and fetched them (bit of background info here, we all knew Captain from a few years back when we all used to go to Yazz's in Brighton). Then I asked Captain if TinTin was about and he said she was backstage, and then asked if we'd like to go backstage too. So, of course we said Yes Please! and off he went and got us backstage passes.
So met up with TinTin, Becci and Louisa who all looked very fetching in their Santa outfits, stripey socks and boots! They were set to appear on stage with The Damned for the encore. Also met various people from off the Damned message board, and said Hi and tried to explain who I was and why I wasn't in glam attire (because we were saving that for the following night). Also got to help ourselves to wine and beer. Which was good. *hic*
Then there came the gig itself, for which we went out into the main hall again. Brilliant set - the band's playing just gets better and better. Lots of songs from the brilliant "Grave Disorder" album, plus favourites like "New Rose", "Wait for the Blackout", "13th Floor Vendetta", "Neat Neat Neat" and "Eloise". Nice to see The Damned on a decent sized stage too and not on something just marginally bigger than a matchbox (I'm thinking Dingwalls here). Captain was looning about on guitar as usual, and introduced a few of the songs in his own inimitable style: he lamented the death of George Harrison before "Would You Be So Hot (If You Weren't Dead)" which he explained was really about John Lennon, and he spoke about the band's affection for Michael Jackson before "Neverland".
For the encore we were treated to Dave Vanian (vocals) in a santa outfit accompanied by the aforementioned TinTin, Becci and Louisa dancing about in their Christmassy outfits, whilst Captain was looking rather lovely in a tutu and pink wig. The songs were "(There Ain't No) Sanity Clause", "She", "Love Song" and the most chaotic version of "Smash It Up" ever which ended which Captain on the floor with the girls jumping on him, whilst Pinch on the drums had set his kit on fire, which he then proceeded to knock flying and pour on further lighter fluid. It was mental, but a brilliant ending, and looked quite scary for TinTin and Co being so close to those flames. (BTW, Becci had asked me to take some photos of this part of the gig and handed me a disposable camera, so I obliged. I hope I can get some copies of the pics to post here).
Went backstage again after the gig and quaffed more drink, and yapped to more people. I nipped back to the merchandise stall and grabbed a vinyl copy of the album, went backstage again, and got as many of the band to sign it as I could, so ended up talking to each and every one of them. I did talk to Pinch (congratulated him on the finale) but didn't have the record on me at the time. Monty (keys) noticed my Gong t-shirt so we yapped about that a bit, and Particia Morrison (bass) showed me that the record was actually on purple vinyl but you had to hold it to the light to see. (I'd thought it was black). At one point when I was trying to pin down Captain for his autograph (which he finally singed as "Captain Birdseye") I found him talking to some fellow who looked familiar, then I realised it was Glen Matlock of the Sex Pistols. Captain got me to take a picture of the two of them with his camera.
Anyway, as you can gather, it was a hectic night, and totally brilliant, and I was probably running on adrenaline and alcohol and hope I didn't piss anyone off by being loud or anything. I felt quite embarrassed asking the band to autograph the record, after all I've known Captain for about four years now and I've never asked him for an autograph before. But I just wanted a nice momento of the night. Wonderful night, and Damned good fun, as they say.
I'll write about what happened on Saturday night in the next entry.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 11:51 pm
OK, nearly time to go. I'm off to London shortly. Nipping over to Tamsin's, meeting her and Sherri and then we're off to this gig by The Damned in Hackney. Looking forward to it! Might see TinTin and the others there too!
Then tomorrow night we're out at Storme's and WayOut. Might see you there!
posted by Gina Snowdoll 3:05 pm
I had a postal delivery while I was out at Tesco. A parcel from amazon.co.uk... something from off of my wish list even. Oooh err! First series of Randall & Hopkirk (deceased) on VHS. Hurrah! and Emilia Fox! Yum!
Big thanks to the person responsible - you know who you are! (As do I having read the message inside the package). I ws not expecting that. You naughty thing, you. You shouldn't have!
posted by Gina Snowdoll 3:00 pm
Eeeeeks! I've burnt myself. Bloody Nair. And I didn't leave it on longer than 15 minutes. Still, this de-fuzzing malarkey has to be done, doesn't it? I just wish it wasn't such a chore.
Speaking of chores, I nipped round the corner to Tesco just now to get a few items for lunch. Blinkin' flip! The place was heaving. People go mad at Christmas time, hurling everything in sight into their already over-stuffed trolleys. And they suddenly lose all their manners and go barging into people, pushing and shoving. I hate it. And kids in supermarkets should be illegal too. There's no need for it.
And there I was in the 10 items only queue with a baguette, a packet of soup, a jar of coffee, a couple of cans of self-heating coffee for the train journey next week, a KitKat (chocolate bar), some Kit-e-Kat (cat food... and not to be confused with the previous item), and that was about it. I may as well have had a neon light over my head saying "Bah! Humbug!"
posted by Gina Snowdoll 12:37 pm
Hurrah! I'm off work now until the 31st December. Phew!
Lots to do today, though, mainly revolving around getting myself ready for going to London tonight and packing my things for tomorrow night out at the clubs. Will need to look fabulous!
posted by Gina Snowdoll 9:05 am
Thursday, December 20, 2001
I didn't wear the new shoes in the office yesterday... the opportunity didn't really arise, although one or two of the girls wanted a peek. One of them said to me, "You never show us the things you buy. Like when you bought that dress from Debenhams, you wouldn't let us see it, so we all went and looked it up on the internet."
I hadn't realised everyone was so interested.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 1:02 pm
Very very busy today. Loads to do at work seeing as it's my last day here until 31st December. And I got into the office early this morning so as to get a head start. But just now during my lunch hour I nipped around Oxford and got all the bits and pieces I need. Very successful shopping... it helped having made a list of places to visit and following it exactly.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 12:59 pm
Wednesday, December 19, 2001
Feeling very delicate right now. But then today was the office Christmas lunch. And quite a few drinks in the pub afterwards.
When I got home I tried the new shoes on. I need to try to break them in a little bit before Saturday night, but not tonight; with the combination of my sore head and very high heels I ended up feeling dizzy. Would you believe it?
posted by Gina Snowdoll 9:56 pm
Hurrah hurrah hurrah! I've got my shoes and they are FABULOUS! Exactly what I needed to finish off my outfit for Saturday night. They are from the Jayne Winters Footware Collection - who, by the way, I would like to thank for all the help and assistance they have provided me with, depsite the Post Office's attempts to throw a spanner in the works.
By the way, I'm not saying yet which pair I bought from that page. I don't want to give it all away before Saturday night.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 10:21 am
Tuesday, December 18, 2001
What's with the current Gap adverts on telly? A bunch of musos singing that Supertramp song "Give a little bit". And is that Shaggy being really peculiar? I mean what's with the scarf, and what's all that malarkey with the leg? And why?
posted by Gina Snowdoll 8:22 pm
Sad pathetic bastard alert: see this Yahoo Search that somehow ended up here.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 8:11 pm
Alright alright alright... when I arrived home tonight I found a card from my dear friends the Post Office saying that they had tried to deliver a package but "it's too big for your letter box".
So, I shall collect the package from the depot on my way to work tomorrow. I think - and hope - that that the parcel contains these now legendary shoes that I've been waiting for.
Thing is, tomorrow is the office Christmas party and I'll be turning up at work with this parcel. Shall I put the shoes on for a laugh? We're talking very high heels here, folks.
Oh yes, and I still think the Post Office are a shower of bastards, by the way.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 7:19 pm
Backtracking a bit to last night now... I met Gillian after work for a couple of drinks in the Goose. Then - as we inevitably do - we ended up at the Chinese Eat As Much As You Like place. For some reason I really fancied some chinese food last night, but I regretted it later when I got home. Ohhhhh dear!
posted by Gina Snowdoll 2:42 pm
And another thing for all you pervy Google searchers out there.
I don't have any photos of Emilia Fox nude.
I don't have any photos of Robbie Williams nude.
Nor do I have any photos of Jamie Oliver nude.
(BTW, I've used special characters in HTML to spell out the final word in each sentence there, in the hope that this entry isn't picked up by search engines.)
posted by Gina Snowdoll 2:25 pm
I'm in an absolutely foul mood today. Partly because of the incompetence of the post office as discussed in today's previous entry (below), and partly because Christmas shopping is stressing me out. I've already bought the presents for the kids, and my Mum and also my brother-in-law. They were all quite easy. But my sister... I'm just drawing a blank. And for my Dad?... no ideas are forthcoming. Why didn't he just tell me a piece of music he'd like and I'd get him the CD? Couldn't be easier really. Also, Oxford is full of idiots, just generally getting in the way, pushing and shoving, and not being able to comprehend that a person within their field of vision is actually SOLID and cannot be walked through as if made from gas.
So, I've still things to get, but tomorrow's out of the question (office Christmas dinner), so it'll have to be Thursday. That's cutting it fine. Friday is out of the question as I'm getting ready for going out and travelling up to London for The Damned.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 2:13 pm
The parcels I'm expecting - including the shoes I NEED by Friday - have still not turned up. The post office in this country is a fucking disgrace. And there's that fat smug bastard Elton John on that advert being attended by an army of postmen and women bringing him parcels. The post office need to get their priorities right. Stop pandering to the likes of Elton John and start SERVING the country. Which is what they are supposed to do.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 9:44 am
Monday, December 17, 2001
More sad news. Stuart Adamson, lead singer and guitarist with Big Country, has been found dead. (More on this)
posted by Gina Snowdoll 2:51 pm
Waited for postman this morning before setting off to work. Still no sign of my shoes. Which I NEED by Friday.
Another Blog of Note on Blogger that's only been going five minutes and is the biggest pile of crap. Yeah, the Crazy Apple Rumours Site. (No, I'm NOT linking to it here). How do they choose this shit? Not funny, unless you're a techie spod, I suppose. But I read something like "Oh, and we're pretty sure Lindquist was wearing women's underwear. We forgot to mention that" and I see red. Yeah, just take the piss out of us trannies why don't you? This is the kind of ignorant bigoted crap I've been fighting against for years.
Decided not to drink tonight, after the quanity of alcohol I put away last night. And now bloody Heartbeat is on telly - oh dear it's such an insipid production. And in the ad break I noticed they've resurrected the concept of the talking loo in the Bloo adverts. Which poses a question. Why are toilets camp? In this new advert, the loo is voiced by Julian Clary (or someone that sounds a lot like Julian Clary), and of course in the classic Bloo ads from yesteryear, Kenneth Williams provided the voice for the toilet.
So yeah, answer that one, me hearties. Why are toilets camp?
posted by Gina Snowdoll 8:51 pm
Thank goodness for Ibuprofen.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 2:59 pm
So, there I was on the phone to Sherri, late last night, saying "...actually I've had loads to drink. And I can feel a headache coming on. But that'll be it. I'll have my hangover now and I'll be OK in the morning. It's always that way with me."
Errrmmm, yeah, famous last words. My head is killing me right now!
And I've been having the most peculiar dreams all night. There was one in which TinTin and I were off on some quest and we called in at some guy's house who she needed to talk to, but then the two of them went out for a hour or so leaving me to look after the cat. Did I mention we'd taken the cat along with us on this venture? So then I had fun and games chasing after the cat around this strange house, then encountering the three cats in residence, which were all black too, just to complicate things, and then the guy's wife turned up, and there I'd been scrabbling around in her bedroom, looking under the bed (for the cat, naturally) and it was all quite embarrassing. Even more so for her, as she didn't have any fabulous shoes stashed under the bed.
And there was this other really weird part of the dream which was like a television expose of the government and all the ways in which they'd been deceiving us, and this one point was reiterated several times: "...and what was supposed to be three mines, was in fact an independent dwarf mine..."
What on earth is an "independent dwarf mine"? Was I subconsciously thinking of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves?
posted by Gina Snowdoll 11:48 am
Saturday, December 15, 2001
My shoes - which I need desperately for my outfit next weekend - haven't turned up yet. Come on Post Office, Royal Mail or whatever you call yourselves these days - get your act together!!!
posted by Gina Snowdoll 3:44 pm
OK, I'm a bit happier about all this Christmas malarkey now. The big problem was that I was supposed to be working the Christmas week, the 24th, 27th and 28th, so it'd be near to impossible going away to visit anyone, be with family, whatever. And staying at home would mean being here with Karen and her boyfriend, which has the potential for awkwardness.
But I've checked with the other people in my department at work, and we're going to take the days off between us - as long as at least one of us is in the office on each day. The funny thing was that no-one wanted to come in to work on New Year's Eve, and I can't give a stuff about that, so, that's the day I'm working and I've now got the whole of the Christmas week off. Hurrah!
So, I've phoned my sister and have said I will be able to go to theirs after all (parents are going too). Which means I'd better get some little bits and pieces by way of gifts for people now. Nothing major; as you may recall I ranted about this a week or so ago.
So, I'm a lot happier now!
posted by Gina Snowdoll 10:43 am
Friday, December 14, 2001
Ben Hammersley refers to me as the 'self-styled "Imelda Marcos of Didcot"'. I feel the need to add that this is only in the sense that I have a collection - dare I say it - of high heeled shoes. I'm not married to a ruthless dictator, or anything frightful like that.
Late Friday afternoon impatience has set in. I wanna go home!
I was going to visit a friend this weekend, but that's been called off. I could do with saving the money that I would have spent on the train fare, to be honest. So, tonight will be a repeat of last Friday, I should imagine. Fish and chips on the way home, bottle of wine, and Friday night TV such as "Have I Got News For You" to entertain me.
Sounds alright to me.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 4:51 pm
"...probably the funniest thing on The Liar yet. I'll never be able to listen to Brian Perkins doing the forecast without making little snorty noises- sea area J-Lo, forsooth..."
"I have to quibble with sea area McCartney - you were thinking "Mull of Kintyre", weren't you? Well, the Mull of Kintyre is at the bottom of Scotland's embarrasingly knob-shaped peninsula (God's entry in the Hilarious Landforms competition) ... I think that you've gotten confused with the Isle of Mull ... Swap Madge and Macca and you're laughing."
Actually, I took quite a while trying to work out which names would be best where on that map of the Sea Areas. I wanted Madonna to be somewhere adjacent to Ireland because of her penchant for singing in a faux-irish accent ever since the "Ray of Light" album. Perhaps that was me being too subtle. I was going to build that into the storyline as well, saying that the people of Ireland were also not happy with the UK Government's decision, and also with Madonna, because of her sudden habit of putting on an irish accent.
And McCartney... I kinda suspected I had him in the wrong place, although the way I saw it was that Madonna got her bid in first, so Macca had to make do best as he could.
It's true... I'm not making this up after the event. I could've made the story twice the length, but thought people would just skim-read it if it was any longer than three paragraphs.
I will admit that placing Britney to the southern coast of Brittany in France was sheer fluke. I hadn't planned that. Actually, I only just noticed this morning that that was what I'd done. Spooky, eh?
Actually, I think what is really scary about this story is that, all joking aside, it's not outside the realms of possibility.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 11:59 am
Why does Amazon seem to think that the items on my wish list indicate that I also might like books and videos featuring the so-called humour of that complete cretin Ali G? Amazon should amend this feature with a feedback button to let them know that There is no way I would touch this product with a bargepole. Please do not suggest it again.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 11:14 am
The following email has just gone around at work:
The lift is out of order as the ropes holding it up have worn out! They have ordered new ones but the lift is likely to be out of order until Thursday or Friday next week.
Sorry folks - you'll have to use the stairs!
Ropes? ROPES? That hardly inspires confidence in the lift. (BTW, my US chums, lift = elevator). They may was well have said strings or elastic bands. I don't want to be at the mercy of mere ropes. I want great big thick metal cables.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 10:49 am
Today's most bewildering search that somehow ended up at this blog: celeb shoe size web board. Why would anyone want to know the shoe sizes of celebrities? Sounds obsessive to me.
But, the really disturbing part is this: I have found what that person was looking for. See here.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 9:36 am
I found a copy of the free London rag Metro on the train this morning, and it prooving to be as reliable as ever, I've gleaned a stupid "news" story from it:
TV chefs are bad for your cooking CELEBRITY chefs such as Jamie Oliver and Nigella Lawson are undermining people's confidence and giving rise to a new syndrome - kitchen performance anxiety. New research claims that nearly half of us feel under pressure to make out dinner party meals look as good as those on TV or in recipe books. And seven in ten people hold fewer dinner parties than before as a result of the increasing pressures.
The tell-tale signs of KPA include freezing up while cooking, a lack of concentration, sensitivity to noise and onlookers and physical symptons such as a rapid heart rate, difficulty in breathing, nausea and headaches. But the good news, according to the University of Reading study, is that for 87 per cent of guests food is less imprtant than good company and wine.
So, to sum up, I'll use my current favourite word of the week: Preposterous! A "new syndrome"? Says who, exactly? Is this a medically recognised syndrome? And whoever's been wasting the taxpayers' money on this pile of shite has been arrogant enough to give this highly dubious "syndrome" a name that can be handily condensed into a snazzy sounding acronym. University of Reading, eh? (BTW, for my US friends I'd like to point out that it's pronounced "redding" and not "reading" as in reading a book, which is the pronounciation I've heard used by American tourists. Anyway, it sounds like they get up to lots of serious research at their University in Reading, doesn't it?)
posted by Gina Snowdoll 9:16 am
Thursday, December 13, 2001
Triangles, Porcine Music Teachers, and Bloody Jingle Bells
Triangles. What were they all about? As a musical instrument they were crap. Just a bit of bent metal that you hit with another bit of metal. Ding! One note, just like that. What was that supposed to teach us about music? Yet, that was what most of us ended up playing in music lessons at primary school.
For music lessons, the teacher would select a couple of kids to go fetch the music trolley. This had all the school’s musical instruments on it: a xylophone, a handful of glockenspiels, some woodblocks, a few chimebars, about four very sorry looking drums, and about 5 million triangles. Then there were one or two battered tambourines for those of us who might later on in life decide to join the Salvation Army, and there was a guiro too (very Latin! very exotic!). The emphasis was very much on percussion, although some kids used to bring in their recorders. What a vile noise!
Only the brightest sparks musically got the real instruments, such as the glockenspiels, i.e. those instruments upon which you could actually play more than one note. A couple of the rougher boys would always snatch the drums - the most macho instruments ‘cos they could beat shit out of them. And only the very special chosen few got to go anywhere within sneezing distance of the xylophone.
So, it was the bleedin’ triangle for the likes of me. That or one of the battered tambourines, but these were more complicated to operate as you could either hit the skin like a drum, or else shake it so the cymbally bits rattled. The triangle was a safer bet in my hands as far as the music teacher was concerned. I couldn’t cause quite as much havoc with it.
But the irony of this situation was that I really wanted to be a musician. I really wanted to play, but I wasn’t going to get anywhere fast this way.
And singing. They would never let me in the choir with my voice. Once I did pass the choir audition to appear in some show that the school was putting on, which was a very strange turn of events. Until I, and a handful of my partners in crime, discovered that we were only there to make up the numbers. “Stand at the back and mime” we were told.
Things didn’t improve much in secondary school. There we were all forced to play recorders. Which are vile instruments, as I may have already mentioned. And you couldn’t use the excuse that you didn’t own a recorder, because they had a supply of school recorders available. These I hated. That horrible noise they made, and the fact that they were so disgusting; they accumulated saliva, you see. It wasn’t a very pleasant thought to think that you were sharing these unsanitary instruments with the other brutes. Buying your own was an option, but I wasn’t going to shell out my pocket money, which was scarce anyway, for one of those vile instruments of the devil.
I was absolutely hopeless with the recorder. It shrieked and it schreeched, but it would never make sweet sweet music for me. The music teacher really used to despair of me. He positively sneered at me when I announced I was going to take guitar lessons. “Guitar? You can’t even play a note on the recorder, preposterous child!” I never quite saw the link there, personally. On the one hand you had a vile shrieking instrument that you blew through, and on the other hand there was an instrument which had the potential for much coolness and which required a totally different playing technique. You didn’t have to blow through it, for starters, so that was something in its favour.
But let us return to the sneering music teacher for a moment. He was as vile as his beloved recorders. He seemed to think the recorder was The Way to teach us music so he must have been a raving psychopath. He resembled a large and perspiring pig, and a sneering one at that. In a Land Rover. Yes, he drove a Land Rover. We kids used to say that it was the only vehicle that had the room within into which he could heave his bulky porcine body. Well, we wouldn’t have said “porcine”; we were kids and we were used to plain speaking. “Porky” was what we said.
One time my English teacher sneaked up behind me and caught me doodling. “Mr Williams would be very interested to see this,” he said waving a page featuring a drawing by Yours Truly of Williams the music teacher (for it was he) looking somewhat porcine. Or porky. As it was fashionable to say at the time. And in a Land Rover. Funny thing was, how did the English teacher recognise that it was Mr Willians in the picture, eh? He must have thought that the music teacher was porky himself to have made the association in the first place. Or perhaps the Land Rover was a dead giveaway?
But guitar lessons weren’t much better than my irredeemable attempts to learn the recorder (which wasn’t something I put my heart and soul into by all admissions). When signing up for guitar lessons, we kids wanted to play cool stuff. We wanted to learn a few chords so that we could string songs together. And people would think we were cool. And then we could start bands, and people would admire us and want to watch us perform, and want to buy our records, and… and…
But, oh no! It wasn’t to be. We had to learn the classical way. Starting with the upper E string. On its own. Then, when after several months we had learnt about the potential the first string had to offer, we were eventually allowed to move onto the next string, otherwise known as B. Two strings, and we’d been at it already for how long? Six months? Nine months? A year? I don’t remember. I do remember, however, that one Christmas I taught myself to play “Jingle Bells” off by heart, using only the high E and the B string - for G, D, A and low E were forbidden until the teacher’s say-so (I’m surprised we were allowed to have them installed on the guitar in the first place). I drove my family mad with that bloody “Jingle Bells”. But when I returned to school following the Christmas holidays and played my party piece for the teacher (who was a different teacher from ol’ Porky Williams, by the way), instead of receiving a “Well done!” I was told off for learning it off by heart. “You must always follow the printed music.” You just can’t win sometimes.
Anyway, soon after that my family upped and moved away to Wales. I had to go too ‘cos I was a kid, and fending for myself was not really an option in my parents opinion. So, it was a case of new house, new school, new lifestyle. And no guitar lessons. It was to be a quite few years before I returned to the guitar, and this time it was to be personal. This time it was going to be electric. But that’s another story.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 4:49 pm
I see that BlogSnob has a squidge of small print that says "note: potentially offensive sites not allowed". I wonder if The Liar would be considered "potentially offensive". It's not a nasty site, but it does take the piss out of people just a little - celebs for the most part. What, do you lot reckon?
posted by Gina Snowdoll 3:25 pm
I've just realised that this 'orrible Christmas malarkey has come lumbering up really quick, and it's like SOON. Eeeeks! I've not done any Christmas Shopping at all. I was determined not to, but I suppose I'll have to get the kids (niece and nephew) something, and most likely ought to get my parents, sister and her husband something too. Nothing much, just a little gesture. I refuse to go mad and get taken along with the con that is Christmas. And I AM going to give some money to charity as previously mentioned. And, by the way, I never do Christmas cards - I hate them - so please no-one send me any.
As to what I'm going to actually do for those couple of days, well, I have no idea as yet, and really ought to make a decision pretty damn soon. The weekend from Friday 21st to Sunday 23rd will be spent in London. There's The Damned Christmas gig at Hackney Friday night, and Tamsin, Sherri and I are going out clubbing on the Saturday night. So, if I'm going to go travel anywhere I'm going to have to do it on the Monday which is Christmas Eve so that train travel will be hectic and most likely very expensive as those fuckers who run the trains will most likely raise the prices specially. As they do.
There was talk of me going to stay with a friend, but that's not possible now. I could go to my sisters (parents will be there too) but that's a long journey and so the above problems will come into play. Also, as I have to come into work on the Thursday or Friday after Christmas, I won't be able to stay long wherever I'm going. Grrrrr...
You know, I'd really rather stay at home, but then Karen is having her boyfriend over so that might be slightly awkward.
What to do... (and I've not even thought about New Year's yet)
posted by Gina Snowdoll 11:17 am
Wednesday, December 12, 2001
I think I've tracked down a fabulous pair of shoes (high heels, of course) that I can wear to the Storme's Christmas do on the 22nd. Let's hope they can deliver them on time to me. I so need these particular shoes - they'll be perfect with the dress that I want to wear.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 1:52 pm
There was a very interesting programme on BBC2 last night in which Louis Theroux met Neil and Christine Hamilton. (See also www.neil-hamilton-is-innocent.com). Theroux was filming the documentary with the couple when the allegations of indecent assault were made against them. I remember at the time thinking that the allegations were preposterous, and despite my belief that the Hamiltons were a pair of prats (file under "Mostly harmless") they certainly didn't deserve to be the butt of such fabricated and wholesale nonsense. Very interesting to see how they turned a bad situation to their advantage, with photo opportunities, which the press had to shell out for!
posted by Gina Snowdoll 10:59 am
Tuesday, December 11, 2001
I'm really having problems thinking up funny stuff for The Liar at the moment. I thought up some real good'uns last night, just before I dropped off to sleep, but can I remember them now? Oh well... I will just have to resort to insulting Britney Spears, 'cos if anyone deserves it, she does.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 10:56 pm
Whoops! It seems as if I got all my Harry Potter movie characters wrong. So, I was incorrect in thinking that Hagrid was played by Brian Blessed... turns out it was Robbie Coltrane which sounds like a much much better idea. Thing is, that I was reading the book, and erroneously believed Brian Blessed to be in the part mentioned, and it coloured what I read. And spoilt it a bit - I mean Brian sodding Blessed. Mr I Can Shout A Lot. So that was annoying. (Was he actually in the film? Anyone know?)
Also, it seems that Zoe Wannamaker played the part of Professor Hooch, the Quidditch coach, and not Prof McGonagall, as I previously stated. That part was played by Maggie Smith, which again, makes a lot more sense. Still, it's very disturbing to think that Miss Wannamaker was sporting that dreadful hairstyle in the movie. She'll look back at that in years to come and seriously regret it.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 10:27 pm
I've been very busy, which is why I've only just now been able to get around to doing this blogging malarkey today. So, not a lot to report really.
I see that Eddie Izzard is on the cover of one of the dailies, with a daft quote "I'm going through a very butch phase at the moment" or something like that (I was paraphrasing). What? Still? This "butch phase" of his has been going on for ever. He must confuse the hell out of the public, cos he'll go on telly shows wearing very obviously male clothes, and with facial hair, etc, and then he'll talk about himself as being a TV. He talks about it, just doesn't do a lot of it.
"Oh, you're a right one to talk, Gina!" I can hear you all saying, "I bet you're not all glammed up right now." Well, too right I'm not. I've just got in from work and have climbed into some lounging about the house baggy clothes. And I don't go to work in girlie clothes either. I don't have the time, and there simply aren't enough hours in the day to enable me to get shaved and made-up in the morning before work. So there.
I dress up for going out, social occasions, etc. If - and I know it's a very remote if - I was asked in my role as Gina Snowdoll to appear on telly, then of course I would appear as Gina. Not just some guy who claims to be a transvestite.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 6:44 pm
Ooh-errrr! It's Secret Santa day. I just had the email telling me who I was buying a present for, so I nipped over to her Amazon wish list and have already bought her pressie. Well, she didn't have a great deal of things on there so it was pretty easy to choose.
Wait a mo', you're all saying. Is this Gina who hates Christmas? Well... errrrmmm... yeah... it's a fair cop, guv. I'll come quietly. Actually, I signed up for this Secret Santa malarkey before deciding that I wasn't mega into the whole Christmas trip this year, and that I'd rather give money to charity instead. Yesterday, I headed over to the RSPCA website and followed the links so that I could make a donation on-line, only to discover that that particular function of the website isn't working yet. I suppose I'll have to make a phone or mail donation instead. Grrrrr... I hate using the phone. I know, it's pathetic isn't it?
posted by Gina Snowdoll 12:04 pm
Sunday, December 09, 2001
So, the other night I finished reading J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone". As you may remember, I thought I had to give it a whirl, just to see what all this Potter-mania is about at the moment. Well, I was quite pleasantly surprised. It was well-written, the characters were 3-dimensional (i.e. they had a depth to them), there were plot twists and the story didn't neccesarily follow the direction you thought it might. It was nicely descriptive, well thought out, evocative, good fun, and yes, dammit, a damn good read. One or two areas, re: Harry's background, his parents, etc, were glossed over, but I suppose that was deliberate so as to return to these themes in the following books.
One thing that did piss me off was that mid-way through reading the book, I somehow heard that in the film Hagrid was portrayed by Brian Blessed. But I had already developed a picture in my mind's eye of what Hagrid was like, and it most certainly was not Brian Blessed! But after finding out that nugget of information, bloody Brian Blessed kept springing to mind whenever the character Hagrid was mentioned, and I thought "No, I want the Hagrid that my imagination dreamt up back, not Brian Bloody Blessed." I also found out that Professor McGonagall was played by Zoe Wannamaker, but she wasn't such a key character in the story, so the only thing that annoyed me about that was imaging her character with that ridiculous hairstyle. (PLEASE someone tell her it looks shit).
Back in July I commented on an episode of The Simpsons in which Ned Flanders is sitting beside the fire reading a Harry Potter book to his two sons, Rod and Todd: "...and Harry Potter and all of his little friends went straight to Hell for practising witchcraft." Then Flanders throws the book on the fire. It's true that there has been some reaction from certain Christian groups against the Harry Potter books, with complaints that the stories promote witchcraft - which ultimately must lead to devil worship (of course). Well, with this in the back of my mind, I did spot a couple of things in "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" which such people might've pounced on as evidence corroborating their claims. Firstly, there's Harry's name; the initials H.P. bringing to mind H.P. Lovecraft - and you can get all sorts of witchcraft connections from that one. Then there was the Nicholas Flamel character, the alchemist who created the Philospher's Stone. Firstly, his name, Nicholas, could be interpreted as "Old Nick" the devil, for he certainly was old. Indeed, we learn that he "celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year", which must make him six hundred and sixty-six this year. 666, you see. Number of the Beast and all that. Ooh-errr.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 9:20 pm
This afternoon I started having a bit of a clear out in my bedroom. I filled up two big bags with rubbish; mainly bits of paper - unwanted mail, old catalogues, crap like that. Ridiculous. So, my floor is nice and clear now, but I don't think I'm going to be able to get into bed for all the shoes that I've moved off the floor and piled up on it.
Also, I've been on the internet looking for some comedy portals to which I can submit details of The Liar. We really want this new site to start getting a decent amount of hits. It's been getting a modest amount of visitors, and yeah it's only been running a week, but we can do much better! And if anyone else would like to write stories for The Liar, please contact me.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 5:20 pm
And another thing I noticed. At Victoria Station in London (see this photo) it would appear that they have toilet facilities for men, women, disabled people, and daleks. It's true! You need to see the sign over the toilet entrance - which if you look at that pic is about two thirds of the way along, beneath the "Tickets" sign... but too blurry to make out what I'm talking about.
I so need a better picture of this.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 11:48 am
Oh yeah, one of those bizarre little coincidence things happened to me yesterday. I was a little late in leaving the house to get myself down to the station for the London train, so I just whizzed around the house in a flash and grabbed a few things I needed for the journey: mobile phone, personal CD player, and three CDs chosen more or less at random... that one, that one and errrmmm... that one will do. So, this was how I ended up listening to "The Pleasure Principle" by Gary Numan on my way into London. It's one of those CDs where they've bunged on a bunch of extra tracks on the end - b-sides from singles. The last song is a live version of the classic "On Broadway" - on Gary's version there is a scorching synthesiser solo which more than makes up for his half-assed singing on it. Anway, this was the track that was playing in my headphones as we pulled into Ealing Broadway. Weird eh? Or maybe not.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 10:58 am
Hhhmmmmm... On the ol' Sitemeter site statistics thing, I'm noticing quite a few hits from people doing searchs for "Emilia Fox nude", "Emilia Fox naked", that kind of thing. Oh you naughty naughty people.
She IS nice though. Yum!
But no nudie pics here, so go away.
Oh, and I'm still getting hits from people searching for "Coronation Street Gina", and I suggested that they might want to search for "Geena" as played by Jennifer James. Well, it seems there was a "Gina" spelt my way on Cozzer a few years back. Wasn't she Martin's girlfriend? I don't think she was much of a looker though; I think you'll be best off with the Jennifer James "Geena" (who may or may not be the new landlady of the Rovers Return. Ooh-errr!).
And I can't believe I'm talking about bloody Coronation Street on here. Must stop it. At once.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 10:51 am
Saturday, December 08, 2001
I've just got back from London. It's been a busy day, and a veritable escalator fest... I've been up and down so many bleedin' escalators that it's ridiculous (mainly on the Underground)! I've feel like I'm the Fonz! Eeeeeks!
"analyses the presentatuon of the male and female nude in Britain during the reign of Queen Victoria (1837-1901). The exhibition is arranged in six rooms, which focus on different issues concerned with the production and reception of images of the nude. [...] The exposure of the body through images of the nude was one of the most controversial issues in Victorian art. Nudes were presented not only in painting and sculpture, but also popular illustration, photography and film, fuelling intense debates about the relationship between art and public morals. This exhibition charts the precarious development of subject matter which was both prestigious and dangerous, highlighting concerns about sexuality, desire and censorship that are still relevant today."
When we finished looking around the exhibition, Gillian checked the time and we must've been in there for two hours! Streuth! And our legs were knackered. We caught the tube to Leicester Square, where we visited a dance shop that Gillian wanted to look in, and whilst we were in the locale, we nipped along to Covent Garden and to the wonderful Charles H Fox shop where I stocked up on some essential make-up supplies.
Then it was back to Leicester Square to to that Mexican Place that I can never remember the name of. Chiquitas? Something like that. Yummy food, and Gillian bought us each an enormous Marguerita! Eeeeeeks! Then after more chat and more drinks in a pub, it was time for us to go our separate ways (Gillian was catching the coach back to Oxford, whereas I was training it back to Didcot). And here I am, back home. And my legs are SO tired.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 11:30 pm
Friday, December 07, 2001
It's been quite a while since parts 1 and 2, so I've decided it's time for another one of these:
Tales of Crossdressing #3
I've already described the lengths I'd go to for a night out trannying - the getting partially dressed at home, the travelling there on public transport, the funny looks, the travelling back home as knackered as hell on a Sunday morning. Looking back I just don't know how I did it.
Thankfully, for me, this was all to stop. I was at the WayOut Club's New Year's Party (1997 - I think) with my mate Samantha (usually described as being "as mad as a balloon") and she got talking to another tranny in the ladies toilets. Samantha had asked, "Where do you come from?" and Sarah Phillips - for it was she of chocolates in guacamole fame - replied "Didcot". So, Samantha introduced us, and we compared notes, and Hey! she lived in the very next street to me! I couldn't believe it - she lived just a minute's walk away from my front door.
Sarah told me that she would stay overnight at the Phibeach Hotel in Earl's Court when she was visiting the clubs. Very expensive. She lodged with a family who didn't know about the transgendered side of her lifestyle, despite the fact that Sarah had transsexual leanings as opposed to merely crossdressing. So, we arranged future trips to WayOut together... Sarah would change at my house, and as she had a little Skoda, she'd drive us there and back. Very convenient for both of us, although more tiring for Sarah as I would later discover, what with all the driving involved.
There were various funny stories involved with our trips to and from WayOut in Felicia (the Skoda). On one night we were stopped twice by the Police, the second time when we were getting our route in a muddle we were stopped on Tower Bridge... ("Excuse me Madam", "It's sir, actually...") Ha! I recall Sarah jumping out of the car and chasing after the policeman to ask directions.
On another occasion when we were taking a creative route home (!) we somehow found ourselves south of the river Thames and in a district known as The Elephant and Castle. This is an area with a large "ethnic" population. We were driving along and this BMW driven by a cool dude and his girlfriend came racing up on the inside of us, in the bus lane in fact, and drew alongside. "I'm not having this," muttered Sarah and put her foot down on the accelerator. But the car drew alongside us again... So, Sarah accelerated again to get away from them. Once again it happened, and I could see the occupants of the car waving. "Yes, jolly good - you've spotted a couple of trannies - well done" I grumbled to myself, and wound down the passenger window, and shouted out at them "WHAT?"
Pointing at the roof of Sarah's car, the driver called across, "There's a handbag on your roof!"
Sarah had put it there when we got into the car outside the WayOut Club, and it had been there for about 5 miles! We had to laugh, but also felt humbled by our mistrust of the people in the BMW. Not everyone is out to get you!
After several months of these trips Sarah was getting fed up with the whole tranny scene. It wasn't really what she was about, she decided. She wasn't really enjoying being at the clubs, and the driving was very tiring. Sometimes I wouldn't drink at the WayOut either, so that I'd stay sober and be in a fit state to partner her on the journey home. But I usually fell asleep. So, I tried ProPlus tablets and Red Bull energy drink. I still would fall asleep.
On the last occasion that Sarah drove us, she had to keep calling in at motorway service stations on the M4, to give herself a break from driving. Poor thing could hardly keep her eyes open. We had to split the journey up into little segments, so what should have taken an hour and twenty minutes must have taken best part of three hours. At the final service station, which was in Newbury so we were nearly home, we decided to go inside to the restaurant and get a coffee... Hell, Sarah needed the caffeine to wake her up for that last homeward-bound stretch of journey! Boy, did we get served promptly or what? The guy behind the counter say us approaching - me in a leopardskin dress, with leopardskin stilettos and coat to match - it wasn't exactly subtle - and obviously the guy's brain went into "No Information On This" and he started just blabbing out, "What can I get you, coffee is it?..." blah blah blah... just keeping himself talking kind of thing to try to cover up for the fact that this whole experience was foreign to him.
Sarah moved away to Mitcham, which is near Tooting in South London (Citizen Smith country - "Power the the People"). I used to visit her occasionally; I really ought to pop in on her again sometime, though I think it's going to have to be next year now. She is also now a post-operative transsexual and last thing I heard, was getting along very nicely.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 1:32 pm
Childhood Friday Nights in Wales, Teds and Punks, Trying to be Cool, and The Damned
Phew! Friday is nearly upon us... and about time too - it's been a difficult week. I expect I'll just stay in and have a few glasses of wine and unwind in front of some trash TV.
Ha! I remember our idea of what constituted a fun Friday night when we were kids living in South West Wales. In the next village there was a youth club in the village hall on a Friday night. This was somewhere you could do exciting things like... errrmmmm... well, not a lot really. Just a bunch of kids in a draughty village hall. There was a full sized snooker table, but this was always hogged by the tough older boys, so that was a total no-go area. Oh, there was one of those hover games where you knocked a disc about on a cushion of air, and you had to get it into your opponent's goal. That's most likely a crap description of the game, but it's a fitting one as it was a crap game.
And there were bottles of Corona lemonade, limeade, orangeade and cherryade, which you could buy by the plastic cup full for 5p. And there were crisps available too for a similar sum. So, yeah, it was mainly sitting about in a draughty village hall with a bunch of obnoxious kids and drinking the occasional cup of fizzy sugary crap and scoffing crisps.
Oh, wait, I'm forgetting the record player. That was the other diversion. The "responsible adult" who ran the youth club had brought in a pile of his old singles... mainly a load of scratched records from the sixties. They were crap. I think there were about three that were actually playable, two of which were "Speedy Gonzalez" and "My Boy Lollipop". I don't remember what the other one was. Sometimes the kids would bring their own records in, but this was a risky thing to do 'cos if someone didn't like your taste in music they'd just rip the record off the turntable and most likely scratch it to pieces in the process. On one occasion one of the tough older boys put on a Jimi Hendrix album which totally freaked out us younger kids. What the fuck was that noise?
Actually the guy with the Hendrix album must have been a loner, someone expressing his own musical taste. Individuality was usually frowned upon, but no-one argued with this particular lad... he'd already left school and had a big important job working on a milk round. And he had false teeth - he'd lost his own in a fight - or so legend had it. So he was someone not to be crossed - he was a big cheese. If he said we were listening to Hendrix, then Hendrix was what we listened to. But, in general the musical tastes of the kids in Wales was basic to say the least. Old rock'n'roll resurrection acts like Darts and Showaddywaddy were popular, for chrissakes. I remember in the school playground kids would come up to you and ask "Are you a Ted or a Punk?" You had to answer Ted if you knew what was good for you. Answer "Punk" and you'd get beaten up. Conformity was absolutely insisted upon.
So yeah, the old mock rock'n'roll went down well with the kids, and things like Abba and songs from the Grease soundtrack were popular too, whilst acts such as The Wurzels or Father Abraham and the Smurfs were considered to be the height of wit. But if you were a really cool dude you liked Status Quo.
In 1979 our family moved back to Greater London. I soon found out that such simple countrified musical tastes were laughed at here. The kids at school would ask "What's your favourite band?", so I'd say Status Quo, expecting everyone to comment on how cool I was - after all it was cool in Wales - but they all laughed at me. Here it was the kids who liked punk and new wave who were the cool dudes. There were a handful who were into progressive rock, Genesis and Yes and shit like that, but these guys were prats and not the sort of people you wanted to try to impress anyway.
Pretty soon I was making my mark as a Boomtown Rats supporter, who I'd secretly liked back in Wales (I think I'd even bought the "Like Clockwork" single from Woolworths in Haverfordwest). But the "real" punks still laughed at this.
One day in English class we each had to write an essay about who our hero was. I was stumped. I didn't have a hero, as such. So, I just wrote some nonsense about Batman, and was trying to emphasise the whole "naff is good" aspect, the irony behind my choice. I don't think I had the correct words to express myself back then though.
But the kid next to me had his head down and was scribbling away ten to the dozen, filling up page after page. He was obviously very passionate about his hero. "Who are you writing about?" I asked. "Captain Sensible," he answered. "Captain WHO?" I returned. "He's the bassist of The Damned, the first ever punk band. At least he was... they've split now..." and he went on to tell me stories of the antics of this looney bass player in this mad sounding band. I thought they sounded brilliant and was sorry to hear they'd split as it sounded like I'd missed out on something really good.
A few weeks later, I tuned into Top of the Pops, and the programme started with this mental band with a singer who looked like Dracula, and a madman guitarist in a furry suit cavorting all over the place. The band was the re-formed Damned, with Captain Sensible now on lead guitar, and the song was "Love Song". And it was brilliant - it totally blew me away! For me, it was the most exciting thing I'd seen on Top of the Pops up until that point, and since come to that (and I've seen the clip again recently, and don't retract that statement). Needless to say, I bought the record as soon as possible afterwards. All the cool kids in school bought it. Red vinyl, and in a choice of four different sleeves, each one portraying a member of the band. I bought the one with the Captain on the front.
And I've been a fan ever since.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 9:58 pm
Elton John has - as expected - done a complete U-turn on his decision to never record again. Bah! As for that TV advert that he's in - the one for the Post Office - well, it's enough to make me scream out "Sorry Jamie!!! All is forgiven."
posted by Gina Snowdoll 4:58 pm
Folk music groups are demanding an apology from junior culture minister Kim Howells.
They are upset after he said listening to Somerset folk singers was his idea of hell.
A spokesman for the MP says his comments were "throwaway remarks."
Mr Howells made the remarks during a parliamentary debate on the number of musicians permitted to play together on licensed premises, which is currently restricted to two.
In the House of Commons exchange, David Heath, the Liberal Democrat MP for Somerton and Frome, said: "Is it not ridiculous that in the unlikely event of Michael Jackson and Madonna teaming up to do a gig down the local pub they could do so, yet three people singing Somerset folk songs would not be able to do so?"
Mr Howells responded: "For a simple urban boy such as me, the idea of listening to three Somerset folk singers sounds like hell."
Ian Smith, organiser of the Musician's Union's new folk, roots and traditional music section, has described Mr Howells' remarks as a "bad joke" and is calling for him to apologise immediately.
"If it's a joke it's not a very funny one," he said. "For the minister responsible for culture to make an off the cuff statement like that shows that he does not have the first idea of the wide variety of music we have in the UK."
Tim Walker, chief executive of the English Folk, Dance and Song Society whose founder Cecil Sharp was one of the first purveyors of West country folk music, says Mr Howell's remarks are "totally outrageous." He added: "The least we would expect is a formal apology."
A spokeswoman for the Department of Culture, Media and Sport refused to say whether Kim Howells would be apologising, but insisted his comments were "throwaway remarks." She said: "Mr Howells is a music fan and he did not mean to cause any offence."
I personally think that it's the folkies that should be apologising. All that diddly-dee crap. I was in an Irish pub with some friends the other day, and it was a very touch and go situation. At any moment I expected some vile diddly-dee Irish music to start up. And I was sure I saw a man with a beard and an acoustic guitar as we entered the pub. I was on tenterhooks all night.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 9:52 am
Wednesday, December 05, 2001
Hurrah! I scored a full 10 points on the latest Celebrity Network Quiz. But then again I ought to have done pretty well as most the questions concerned stories that I myself had submitted to The Celebrity Network in the first place.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 1:34 pm
GeoCities was once great. Free websites for all! What a wonderful concept. Nowadays it's a complete joke, what with all this "The web site you are trying to access has exceeded its allocated data transfer" nonsense. I am seriously tempted to take down my own Geocities site - hell, I never update it anyway, all the new stuff I write is in blog-form these days - but I think the only reason I don't delete that site is so many other sites have existing links through to it, which in turn link to stuff like this blog. That is if people can ever access the bloody GeoCities site. Grrrrr...
posted by Gina Snowdoll 12:09 pm
I've decided that it might be prudent to add a disclaimer to The Liar before someone gets upset or silly accusations are made of libel and/or slander. There've been no complaints as yet (although I'm not entirely sure about the "foul nonsense" comment in response my Phil Collins story) and I'd like to keep it that way.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 11:30 am
Apparently "Gimme Shelter" has been voted the Rolling Stones top song (see full story here). And if it was you that I lent my copy of the "Hot Rocks" CD to, can I have it back please?
posted by Gina Snowdoll 10:35 am
Do you mind if I talk about Jamie Oliver? No, seriously, this time. Last night I decided I really ought to tune into his TV programme "Happy Days With The Naked Chef" and see what all the fuss is about re: this cheeky chappie. The programme was basically about Jamie and his mates (his kitchen staff indeed) visiting Cornwall for a weekend of surfing and fun on the beach, and Jamie demonstrating some recipes for the barbecue, etc. To begin with, I though it slightly irrelevant that here's a bunch of people having fun in the sun, when here in real life it's December and it's cold and wet. But I have to be honest, the lad did come up with some interesting ideas recipe-wise, such as cooking a salmon wrapped in newspaper on the barbecue (!), and also the savoury and sweet breads with fillings already baked inside them.
But the way he splashes his olive oil about, just pours it on liberally saying "that'll be about six teaspoons"... How does he know? And he just bungs in great handfuls of herbs "stalks and all" and whole cloves of garlic everywhere. I mean, where do you actually get copious amounts of fresh green herbs like that? I'm sure Sainsbury's don't sell them. But if you grow your own, fair enough, I suppose.
I wasn't too impressed with the dessert he presented for his mates to scoff at the barbecue though. Ice cream. Which he'd bought. From a shop. As you do. "Here's a nice recipe: Ice cream. What you do is go to a shop and exchange a few tokens of the local currency for it. Couldn't be simpler." Also, ice cream on the beach? Where'd he keep it whilst everyone was scoffing their salmon and steaks? There's not many beaches I've visited with refrigerators handily dotted around the place for folk to make use of. Hmmmm...
posted by Gina Snowdoll 9:31 am
Tuesday, December 04, 2001
I accidentally tuned into "Are You Being Served" on UK Gold, which is absolutely fascinating in a slowing down on the motorway to gawp at a car crash kind of way. I can't believe we really used to tune into this sub-Carry On trash back in the 1970s. The word "awful" just does not begin to describe it.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 7:55 pm
I haven't had a good rant for a while, so here goes:
I don't know why, but for some reason my thoughts have turned to holidays. Perhaps it's because it's December and it's cold and it's dark. Or perhaps it's because I was looking at Gillian's holiday photos of Venice the other day.
And my thoughts have turned back to those childhood family holidays camping in France. Camping! Just why? I never saw the attraction of taking a holiday and living like a primitive for the duration of it. Fun? FUN? Camping was torture. Memories of camping in france: trying to sleep in a tent throughout a force 9 gale with water flooding inside and the whole damn thing trying to take off; uncomfortable and claustrophobic sleeping bags; yukky food cooked on a camping gaz powered stove; french kids continually yelling out "Can you speak english?" (especially if they saw the GB sticker on the car); those awful hole in the ground campsite toilets... My GOD! Those toilets! The french must've designed those especially to piss off tourists. They are the most undignified unhygienic unnatural evil lunatic convenience - and I use the word lightly - ever dreamt up. The sadistic bastards.
And my mother used to say to us kids, "You'll have to be on your best behaviour because the French aren't used to British children" and "British kids have a very bad reputation over here", which didn't really work, because it got our heckles up and made us think, "Right we'll show the bastards some behaviour, how dare they assume we're trouble. They want trouble? They've got it!"
It's a bit like when someone says to you "You're in a bad mood" when you're not. If there is one thing guaranteed to put me in a bad mood it's being accused of being in a bad mood. I hate people making uninformed assumptions. Years ago I had a colleague at work called Julia, who'd phone up from her part of the office and say "Don't sound so pissed off." And I wasn't, but her saying that made me really pissed off. And I wouldn't really have minded that much except for the fact that she was the most miserable pissed-off sounding mare that you ever could meet. Pot calling the kettle black and all that.
So, camping, yeah. It sucks. And my mum has asked if I want to go with them on holiday to France next year. Errrrr... I think I'll skip it.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 6:18 pm
Did I ever mention that I really hate the NME, i.e. the so-called New Musical Express? It has over the years consistently been the worst written music rag imaginable. Here an example of their impcompetence, a review of the new Feeder single:
Feeder : Just A Day EP 'Just A Day' seems to have been around for an age (and, er, isn’t that much cop), so let's have a look at the B-side. And hey! Showing unnaturally canny taste, Feeder have decided to cover the only good song The Police ever recorded, 'Can't Stand Losing You', and it's – wa-hey! - alright. Quite gruff. Shouty in a good way. Nice drums. Actually, this is a really good song. Whatever happened to The Police? Oh yeah. Nevermind…
"Nice drums" indeed. That's about their level. "Unnaturally canny taste"? Why not use the word "uncanny"? The standard of journalism is appalling. The writing is consistently sloppy and full of errors. Take it from me, the NME is shite. Written by children for idiots. As for "the only good song The Police ever recorded"... what complete bollocks! The Police were excellent.
Incidentally, I caught the end of Jools Holland's Later programme on telly the other night, and saw Feeder performing this Police song, and they did it very well indeed, although one has to stop and wonder why. But that's often the way it is with cover versions, isn't it?
posted by Gina Snowdoll 11:59 am
Jon's spoof story on The Liar about J.R. Hartley being stoned to death has a macabre twist to it, as Norman Lumsden the actor in the famed Yellow Pages advertisements has actually passed away in real life (see story on Ananova here). Apparently Jon wasn't aware of this, but as Mr Lumsden died last Thursday, possibly it's evidence of this shared consciouness thing we hear about sometimes, you know, the theory that a newspaper crossword is easier to do in the evening than in the morning when the paper has just come out, because by evening more people will have solved it and the answers are out there in the ether - in the shared consciousness.
Whatever, I want to stress that we were not making fun of Norman Lumsden's death. May he rest in peace.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 10:56 am
I was listening to that Madonna bootleg CD on the way into work this morning. How on earth did she manage to get away with only performing six songs at that Brixton Academy gig last year? I think I would've been mightily pissed off if I was in the audience. Tickets for that gig were changing hands for silly silly money if I remember rightly.
Also on the CD were other Madonna tracks from elsewhere, including one from an MTV awards show with an introduction by Ali G. Am I really the only person who finds Ali G completely and totally unfunny? Yes, I appreciate that the humour is supposed to be ironic, but there's too many people out there who just take what he says at face value and think it's acceptable or even cool to speak like that. All this "my bitch" stuff; it's just not necessary.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 9:53 am
Why am I finding it easier to write stories on The Liar than write entries on this blog at the moment?
posted by Gina Snowdoll 9:44 am
Monday, December 03, 2001
Good News! Elton vows never to record again
Pop legend Sir Elton John has vowed never to make another album again - as a protest at the state of the music industry. The singer dropped the bombshell to shocked fans at a concert in New Hampshire, USA. He said: "I'm fed up with it. I like playing to you guys but I hate the record industry. As fans showed their disappointment, he added: "I've made 40 albums and it's about time for me to get out."
I'm absolutely useless at work today. I just can't get on with anything. I can't get my head around anything. I'm just in a total daze, probably not helped by having a restless night last night, freaky dreams, etc. I may as well go home for all the good I'm doing here.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 3:01 pm
Have you ever seen a ghost? I've had fleeting glimpses of things that I can't explain, but then fleeting glimpses are not to be relied upon; the brain takes in an image that it cannot understand, often doing so in the space of a split second, and tries to make sense of it, so it's no wonder people think they see all manner of strange things. For example, this morning on my way into work I was walking through an underpass beneath the railway lines in Didcot, the lights were all out in the underpass and the light outside was bright but the air was misty. At the other end of the underpass in the clearing outside I could see a man with a large deer with antlers. Bloody hell, that's a bit unusual, I thought to myself. But upon my eyes adjusting to the weird lighting conditions, I could see that there was indeed a man, but the "deer" was actually a normal sized collie dog standing in front of a small tree.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 9:12 am
Sunday, December 02, 2001
To the people who keep ending up here having searched for pics of Gina from Coronation Street, I think you'll find that the character's name is spelt "Geena" and she is played by the actress Jennifer James. And yeah, I agree that she is quite nice. Happy searching!
posted by Gina Snowdoll 10:16 pm
I managed to come away from yesterday's record fair with a few goodies. One stall was selling three CDs for £20 and I found three splendid ones: A Bryan Ferry and Roxy Music greatest hits thing, a Bowie bootleg of a live concert from '97 (best Bowie Live album I've heard too and I've got a few!), and another bootleg - Madonna at Brixton Academy last year plus a few tracks from here and there. Not bad, eh?
posted by Gina Snowdoll 9:16 pm
In case you hadn't noticed the new graphical link for The Liar in the left hand column, I'd just like to announce that this new site - which I was alluding to the other day - new project and all that - is now open for your perusal. Get yourselves along to The Liar where you'll find all the best all the latest exclusive news stories*.
* Only thing is, none of them are true. Not a scrap of truth on this site. It's all porkie pies, 'cos that's the name of the game.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 11:25 am
Saturday, December 01, 2001
Once I'd made sure everything was going to be OK, I really had to get out of the house before my head exploded, so I went into Oxford in an attempt to take my mind off things. I went around the record fair in the Town Hall for a while, and then I rang Gillian to see if she was in. I was in luck. She was. So, I spent the rest of the day with her. She's been a tower of strength to me in my hour of need and is a true friend. As is TinTin from Brighton, who'd seen my last post on this blog and telephoned me on my mobile to see if I was alright. Gillian and TinTin: I love you both.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 11:51 pm
I had a terrible terrible night last night, which I don't really want to talk about, so I may just resort to talking the usual crap to help take my mind off things.
posted by Gina Snowdoll 11:00 am