The Gardener

2012-02-10T01:27:00.000Z

My God it's been a long time! Ian in the Pitcairn's

So, I've just been reminded that I've been using this Internet thing for so long some of my original posts are on parchment and kept in fusty archives. You will know of course that parchment was actually invented after an order by a King of a city called Pergamon. He did so because the Egyptians wanted to control the worlds information as they controlled the production of Papyrus, until then the only portable thing you could write / scribe on. Shades of an early SOPA law there, but as if it hasn't always been about information and the masses. No change here.. Nothing to see, keep stupid, keep poor and we will keep rich.

So what have I been doing? All sorts but just an update. the deer are still here. my taste in bars clubs has become more eclectic, and I'm getting grey hair.. for Christmas. In fact I'm getting more of it every year from now.

That hasn't dimmed my spirit though. Oh no.. Time for more.

But this post I'm going to dedicate to my mate Ian who I first met in the Stanhope Tavern opposite Gloucester Road Tube station some 22 years ago. A few of you (friends) will know Ian. Yes him, the big hairy Australian with the massive vagrant-alike-beard. That Ian who spends his spare time travelling the world and returning with stories of adventure like a boys own explosion of testosterone and travel stores.

In the old days I used to get a letter or so a year.. then maybe two. Now, with phones and texts and emails we can find out where he is right now, and at 3AM this morning the text came in.

"Wake up mate it said" Are you still slaving to keep the BOE printing funny money? Thought so. I'm on Pitcairn island. Arrived a couple of days ago and all 48 of the islands population met us on the landing dock. just as we arrived the rain hit and we had 6 cm in an hour.. The weather station broke and a mud slide nearlhy wiped us and the tiny town out (check the news) Anyway, I've been staying with Steve Christian the great, great, great, great etc etc grandson of Fletcher Christian and his folks and have spent the last three days shoveling mud and drinking beer. All good. Off to Chile tomorrow and then to the Falklands the next day. Its my Ends of the Empire Mini Tour"

That woke me up. Some people just do things you don't, don't they? But the good thing about that is that they tell you.

Ian says he sent me a post card from the Pitcairn's, but it will be "inshalla" if it gets to me and he's promised to get me a pic of him and Prince William in the Falklands. I did ask him to try not to annoy the Argentinians but his response was "Why, they f*cking lost didn't they?" Always a diplomat Ian.. And we both know he's been personally responsible for at least 3 proper wars. We don't count skirmishes.

So before you fire up your laptop or order your skinny machiwanko coffee bear in mind that some people still have proper jobs and there are bits of this planet that are being visited just in case you can't make it.

Makes the mortgage and the Quantitative Easing seem really important doesn't it?

Right scotch, Cuban cigar and then bed. I still have my standards you know.

Back soon.

The Gardener.

2011-04-15T12:45:00.000Z

April 2011 - Doesn't Time Fly?

One minute there we were thinking blimey I wonder what I'll do tomorrow and suddenly you notice that six whole years have gone. Whoooa.. hang on? Not six weeks, but six years. Take a deep breath, look around. What's changed, whats the same? Everything hmm, yes, and errm nothing. Hang on! Whats that? I've got a handbag on my shoulder?!

I think we'd better sit down and start slowly at the beginning my lad, this could be an interesting trip.

TBC shortly..

2005-01-03T17:27:00.000Z

2005 AD

Its hard to believe its 2005 already. I remember when I was a teenager that the year 2000 seemed a long way away, but whoosh! Here we are five years on from that already.

Its been a busy time over the holiday, Hampshire for the start of Christmas, London for the days after. The Midlands then Scotland for New Year. Slinx and I even managed to fit in a wedding. No, not ours, someone else’s.

The Wedding

The bride and groom had decided that it would be amusing to hold their wedding in Scotland, Gretna Green to be precise. They also decided that 6PM on New Years Eve would be a good test of their friend’s loyalties. It was. We went.

They were very happy we were all there, and so I would think were the hoteliers judging by the looks of horror on peoples pale staggering faces when the bar bills unrolled like party streamers at check out time on New Years Day.

Resolutions

A number of people have asked me recently what, if any New Year resolutions I would make, or what my plans for 2005 actually are. I don't normally go a bundle on resolutions but over the last few days a few have sprung to mind.

One of them involves alcohol. I resolve to drink less this year. Or at least for a while. This might be quite tough as historically drink has been an important part of my being. You regular readers of this column will know this well and might, even now be spluttering with laughter at such a thought. After all, where would we be with a blog written with the aid of a bottle of red. Or indeed the thoughts that sometimes spring to mind as I’m sighting down the barrel of that 6th can of Stella around about midnight? I've given it some thought and decided to tackle this one in stages.

I feel its to much to expect me to not drink when I'm out, after all there is a limit to the amount of time I wish to spend in places that don't serve drinks. And I do so adore the dreaded stuff. All flavours, colours, tastes and effects. No drink is to difficult to tackle. So, I’ve decided to see if I can cope with not drinking when I’m on my own.

Some people view the solitary drinker as a sad individual. I think these are the kind of people who were captains of school cricket teams or the types that keep plastic bags in a special tube that hangs in a cupboard lest they fill a drawer with their messiness. I on the other hand applaud the solitary drinker as someone who knows what a good time can be had even when there is nothing on the telly.

I am not averse to a glass or two of wine on arriving home a beer with dinner and a glass of brandy or a cocktail or three before bed time but as of now I'm going to go without.

This shall be known as The Gardeners last stand and I shall let you know whether it makes me miserable or not.

I’m going to have to tackle smoking as well soon. I may not like it but I know it.

Amongst my other thoughts are to buy more bookcases, learn to write better, write more and read more. Be nicer to people and be less irritable and smile more, preferably when most inappropriate.

Thank you to all of you that made 2004 such a good year and huge smile to everybody else. Even those of you I don't much like.

I’ve decided not to write about the disaster in Asia. After all, what on earth can one say. Other than the world might quite cruelly but understandably be very, very fed up with us.

Time for change, all round.

2004-12-16T23:22:00.000Z

Gosh!

Gosh my writing has been a bit crap and dreary lately!.. Lets try and resume normality and struggle through. I've been getting complaints you know?

Enough, On with the blog!

Andrew Edmunds

I am assuming Andrew Edmuds is the owner, or perhaps the chef that has lent his name to this establishment in Lexington Street in Soho.

The beautiful Slinx had organised a Wednesday night treat for me. It was full of thought and kindness as she wished to take me out to somewhere new that both of us had not been to before. Now, this isn't an unusual occurrence as Slinx is very much the independent type and likes, where she can to dip her manicured hand into her varied collection of purses.

If you take the time to read the reviews that the link points you to, you will note that most patrons mention that they felt the establishment is quaintly 'cosy'. Cramped to the extreme would be a more accurate description. It reminded me of a small submarine that had been bedecked in the style of a French Bistro. I also noted that there was almost more room behind the spacious bar/ waitresses counter than there was in the dining area. I now realise that they need a decent retreat to escape the swinging punches of suffocated and angry patrons.

This, by the way was my impression of the 'upstairs' which is actually at street level. There is a rumour that there exists a downstairs which alas I did not spy, but I have to assume, judging from the upstairs, bares more than a passing resemblance to a dolls house coal hole

The restaurant was mostly empty when we arrived and the waitress checked our reservation and motioned us to a postage stamp side table nestling, in corridor style next to another postage stamp sized table occupied by two of Soho's finest, camp, chain smoking media types who were already in loud full consumption. We asked politely whether there was another table? With a nod of the head we motioned toward one in the window or one near the back. All were booked. We sat down and viewed the menu with a small measure of British humour. At least our neighbours were very thin.

On the face of it the menu had promise. Here was a restaurant that wanted to serve proper, mostly French influenced food in season. Slinx plumped for the smoked salmon followed by the shoulder of lamb. I tried the mushroom bruchetta with a poached egg and the special of the day, the braised haunch of hare with Swede mash and cabbage.

A note about the service here. Our waitress had asked us if we would like an aperitif, that of course is expected. I do wish however that she could have kept the disappointment from her face when we smiled and insisted that some still water would be fine. It was a little early really for anything else, even for me, as Slinx had been informed on booking (the only available slot) that we would have to be prompt at 7 and vacate by 9.

Voila, the food arrived. The smoked salmon appeared smoked but looked a mite limped, and my poached egg had been rushed. It ran clear as well as yellow. Now, you might not know this but I'm very partial to a poached egg and in truth, in your own kitchen on a hung-over Sunday morning the timing can be a bit tricky. it shouldn’t however be remotely tricky to Mr Edmunds or his namesake. And, if you don’t mind me ranting, my bruschetta was soggy. The mushrooms were ok though. Just as I like them. Overcooked.

Perhaps there was a rush on downstairs? As I said I hadn't seen it, there could have been a party of 20 demanding dwarves down there creating havoc with an impromptu game of skittles and I would have been none the wiser.

A slightly mis-timed starter can be forgiven. It would be cruel of me to dwell on a review so long if that were all. Oh, if only that were all..

Slinx and I soldiered on. By this time we were leaning across the table to kissing distance. Sadly this was not as we overcome by romance but to try and hear, as the Christmas party of five was seated next to us.

What with the camp brothers on one side and the loud but very dull departmental bash on the other it was like a high pitch, incessant cacophony.

Dunkirk spirit kept us going. Now dear reader I know that you can't hold a restaurant to trial for the behaviour of its patrons, especially if that behaviour is displayed in its glory in the festive season, but in my humble opinion you can make your floor space deal with the problem. In short either lose a table or two or price it out and improve the food so that if you are forcing your customers to taste each others perfume, at least their the kind of neighbours you might enjoy getting to know.

The main courses had arrived by now. When we had ordered Slinx was warned her lamb would be served pink. "Good" she'd said dreaming of some proper blood to eat. It was pink, but barely, oh.. and grey.

It tasted ok though.

I on the other hand had ordered the 'special' The waitress had said to me when I'd ordered it and commented that I'd not had hare before. "It has a game taste, very gamey in fact" Id been a bit worried about this as some game can be very gamey indeed. Often even crawling and I didn't fancy that. I needn’t have worried. The waitress had declined to mention that what little game it had left had been well beaten out of it. This may have been because the poor hare had been braised to well beyond an inch of its death and was as tough as old boots. When I did manage to cut into it, a not insignificant effort, I found what was left inside to be as dry as old Mother Hubbard’s shoes. The chef also showed his sense of humour at this point. He served the hare in a large bowl on top of a foundation of Swede mash and cabbage with sauce. This of course meant that you couldn’t hold it steady as you attempted to break through the leather exterior to expose the dainty wood pulp beneath.

We smiled allot. Well we couldn’t hear so we had to. Slinx was mortified, I was happy and truly very grateful. I'd finally found motivation to review somewhere again.

The false smiley voiced waitress tried to tempt us with desserts. I think we'd had enough. The camp boys had left and were replaced by a Russian billionaire with his escort. We went and had a quick glass of champagne at Kettners and shot off home.

A vodka and tonic on the sofa was a lovely, quiet end to the evening.

Footnote: Incidentally, there was a table on its own by the window. It stayed empty all the time we were there. That ones obviously the venus fly trap table to lure you in. If you really want a decent French restaurant then go to Mon Plaisir in Monmouth Street, Covent Garden.

2004-12-09T21:05:00.000Z

Its The Darkness

No, not the band who I predict will drift into obscurity after their early summer fanfare. No, its the light, or to be more accurate, the lack of it. At this time of year many of us resemble packs of uniterested zombies. I just came home on the tube and in the harsh lights surrounded by dozing people clutching early bought bundles of Christmas wrapping paper, and others clutching half finished cans of Stella Artois (The experts choice) I felt like I was on one of the last boats out from some dying civilization. Its citizens too exhausted to feel relieved. Or was that just me?. And this was only in the evening.

Pale skin, lank air and bad attitudes marked the journey. Every natural being on the planet slows down and cosec up in its den when the sun goes in. I suggest that we should to.

On a lighter note.

Ernie?

Oh yes!

Jerry Sadowitz was good. Judging by his stage persona I reckon he misses the sunshine to.

Now... Where's my drink?

2004-12-01T13:13:00.000Z

Bus Fares, What Bus Fares?

On the way to a meeting the other day I had to get to Waterloo station. I hopped on a bus. Or at least I would have if there were still any proper Routmaster buses left.

We have a new type of bus in London now which we call the 'bendy bus' This name makes it sound sort of well, cute, like a child's toy. It's not. Its a giant articulated monstrosity that can barely fit through the streets.

It also explains to me why 'Transport for London is swallowing public funding quicker than you can count the cash.

You see, the bendy bus has 3 lots of doors and there is only a driver and no conductor anymore. So everyone just gets on and sits down.

In short, bus travel in London is now free.

Has anyone been told?

2004-11-29T21:01:00.000Z

Almost Here, Sometimes There

It was only a few weeks ago that I was bereft of ideas and wondering how I would ever get a few words down here again. I've had a bit of a break since then partly as I've been fighting an on-and-off lurgy interspersed with a torrid time at work. In short, I just haven't been in the mood. I wonder sometimes how it would be if I was paid to write. Not having the alcoholic or self destructive tendencies of the late Jeffrey Bernard I might well have just starved.

As it is, time is the enemy. I could tell you here about nights out, or even lunches in high places but that would be mere reportage. Instead I would rather focus on observations for a while.

Like the things I observed on a train back from Southampton the other day.

Now that's a funny place isn't it?

I'd give you more but I'm saving it up. And Half Life 2 came out last week after a 5 year wait, and well, computer time is precious of an evening.

Keep reading.

A proper post may come tomorrow.

2004-11-19T18:38:00.000Z

Things Coming Soon

A big night out at Heaven and would you believe it, lunch at The House of Lords.

It's all go you know!

2004-11-08T21:21:00.000Z

Traditions Carry On Regardless

I'ts always a shock when things move on. I'm happy to say though that providing you know what you are looking for things are often more unchanging than you think. Take November the 5th for instance. This night has been responsible for accidents, maiming, pleasure and silliness for a very long time indeed. Well at least since the attempted French / Scottish pact failed to blow up the Houses of parliament.

Now I don't know about you but fireworks on 'bonfire' night were always mandatory in my history and over the years I have expressed disappointment that the fireworks that you buy seem to have got smaller and smaller, safer and safer so much so that its almost not been worthwhile having your own. Sure you can go to the big display in the park and I think that you should do that anyway but I also think that not much beats being slightly dangerous in your own garden.

This year I thought I'd buy a few, and where better to go than a newsagent in Whitechapel. Not necessarily an area in town you'd want to visit, more the opposite, but I don't mind as I used to live there.

I didn't know the laws had changed. The safety boys have been at it again and now you can't even buy a sparkler without being accompanied by a government nanny. I wonder about future generations. I mean a 13 year old can't buy a model kit anymore lest he or she notice that the glue fumes make his playstation look possibly enjoyably weird for a while.

Anyway. I decided that I would re-visit the newsagent of old.

Myself and The Duke walked the perilous route to the shop itself only to find that the man who runs the shop wasn't allowed to stock them anymore! This was a shock, akin to finding that National Armaments now only makes teddy bears.

Luckily, just as I was wondering what the world has come to, the friendly historical shop keeper who remembered my silly spending habits from years past happily introduced me to his brother.

A smile and a chat followed as we were led around the cornerish to another shop and taken in the back door. There, like an illicit arms dump in various states of undress lay the fireworks I was looking for.

Some of them were as big as small domestic fridges and all of them carried messages pointing out that standing closer than about 100 meters could lead to death.

As we browsed around, younger guys came in and loaded up for more illicit sales around the streets.

We hauled away some alarming incendiaries and headed off and not for the first time, my rocket was shot some admiring glances. And some people (as usual) ran away.

In short it worked out well due to the fact that often, if you know where to look, traditions carry on regardless.

As we meandered, the night sky above East London was torn apart as rival gangs immolated each other and fought fireworks duels 20 story's up between tower blocks.

I love the smell of cordite on November the 5th.

A Box Room. Circus

Last Thursday found me at Circus. Its not often I don't really like a bar. Well in fact I can't remember a bar I didn't like before. This one though irritated me. Its in a basement under a restaurant. Its swanky and severely designed. It reminded me of a long box room. Or perhaps even a corridor.

There is a bar area but it hasn't enough bar stools and those that exist are very high leather chair types. The swivels on them had obviously been lubricated in Teflon and the seats themselves had been polished by silicon soaked dusters. If you were silly enough to sit on them you span round alarmingly and then slid half off. I soon realised that like the bench seats that run down one side of the bar they had been designed by someone who didn't drink and who probably never left their Aeron.

I arrived alone and the beautiful Slinx and an old friend were expected shortly. The few seats that were in the main seating area were busy and there was no where to sit or perch. Near the bar though in a great space big enough to turn a tractor was a rectangular table that could easily seat 3 or 4. There was one chair there. I asked the waiter whether it might be possible to find additional chairs to enable a civilized meeting. The waiter was polite and as far as he could be helpful. But he couldn't.

As you may know I'm sometimes a fan of style over substance but in this case the designers have excelled themselves. Its a bar that looks good empty but simply doesn't function. As a last note I'll add that the very expensive sound system has faithfully recreated the sound of a tinny walkman in an open space. And just as welcome.

Don't go.

Do Go However to Aperitivo

I've said this before. This Italian tapas outfit is just the ticket for a meal with friends or any occasion. We were three people. We ordered 9 dishes. We were hungry.

Monkfish cooked in white wine, king scallops with mushy peas, divine lamb cutlets, hand made meatballs, a poached egg seemingly cooked inside a fine pastry parcel, fried aubergine, smoked chicken salad and the rest. The menu is great and the room is quiet enough to enjoy. The food just keeps coming and there is a good, though short wine list too

I'm hungry again just writing it. And great value to. Are you mad? Next time someone wants to catch up and have dinner just go here.

Worth it.

2004-11-01T21:33:00.000Z

Lots to Do

Time flies when you least want it to. What I mean by that is if you are busy and active with lots going on you suddenly realise that the thing you meant to do yesterday, last week or increasingly even, last year has slipped by and still remains un-done. In fact sometimes when you pause to think about it you can't quite remember what it was that was the thing. The thing obviously that you meant to do.

I think its probably age. There are good things about being in ones thirties but they often come with the thought "Gosh, I wish I'd been able to do this, felt like this, or viewed this thing in this way a few years ago. Don't get me wrong I'm not moaning about age getting on. At least not yet, but I have managed to write some long sentences here without actually saying very much at all. And I didn't do that a few years ago. Perhaps I wish I had.

Many of the things I refer to are to do with writing things down so that when I come to this blog I can write the witty piece that I thought of whilst walking down the street on the was to the barbers, or the thing I thought when I saw a certain building. It seems that many possibly excellent writing subjects pop into my head when I'm walking about. And then, when I sit down here at my keyboard, I can't quite remember again.

With this in mind I plan to purchase a small electronic MP3 thingie / dictaphone so that I can look even odder as I perambulate about muttering to myself.

It might pay off.

The last week or so has mostly been very good. There have been cocktails at the Savoy, lobsters at Christophers in Covent Garden, walks in the beautiful autumn gold forest by my abode and even an extreme all night of clubbing at The Cross. And these are just the things I can mention. Any one of them could have fuelled a rip roaring piece but its not here.

This weeks looking just as busy but on top of it I'm actually busy at work and have two new cats in the house.

They have been named 'Persia and Martin' Don't ask why.

In other news the ever lovely Slinx has been a bit poorly. It won't last long though I'm sure.

2004-10-28T20:40:00.000Z

Goodness

Eight days have passed. Its been busy. I'll be with you in a minute.

2004-10-19T18:18:00.000Z

Bright Lights and Theivery

After a busy and sad week last week, Slinx and I made a rare trip to the West Madlands. To be specific Walsall. Keen eyed readers with good memories will remember that this is the home of an excellent butcher, an enormous amount of pubs, a not very good football team, the highest percentage of teenage pregnancies vis a vis population and currently, my Mother.

The trip was three fold in purpose. Firstly I wished to take the ever lovely Slinx to see some of this authors history. Secondly it was to take my Mother a gift of a personal computer and introduce her to the Interweb for almost the first time and thirdly to visit the very famous Walsall Illuminations. Or as the locals call them 'The hallucinations'

Now don't say you have never heard of them. Indeed stop saying "what Walsall? In Poland? Your ignorance of the parts of Staffordshire known as the black country is shocking. Then again I had never heard of Coppull either until I just looked it up. Its in Cumbria. Come to think of it, where's Cumbria? And what's it for?

Now. The Walsall Illuminations are held for a month or two every year in the Walsall Arboretum. The Arboretum is a large park in the town with a lake or two, paths, green bits, tennis courts, bowling greens and at least one bandstand. In the summer its home mostly to drunks and the occasional dog walker. In the winter people first started 'lighting up' in 1872 and on and off this happened until 18982. After that it seemed people got bored and decided to go to the pub instead and the practice died off. Someone must have remembered as in 1950 it was started again and has been happening ever since.

I bet the people of Walsall don't know that Arboretum actually means.."A place where an extensive variety of woody plants are cultivated for scientific, educational, and ornamental purposes." (Dictionary.com)

I bet they do know that its second only to Blackpool Illuminations in this country. Its a smorgasboard of bulbs, tableaux, strings of light and laser shows. Its bloody good actually. And it has a fairground in the middle.

Slinx bought a pair of flashing bunny ears to wear around the park. I agreed that's its not fair to let children have all the fun.

The night was finished by a great Chinese meal with some old friends of mine. If your up in that area you can't go much worse than eating at 'Simons on the Chester Road near Aldridge.

The Unexpected Case of the Stolen Pound Coin

I had an unplanned day off today. It was unplanned in the sense that I only decided to have it last night. I felt a sniffle coming on and not to put to fine a point on I felt knackared. A good sleep and a make myself useful day beckoned.

As part of this theme I visited that national institution B&Q. These purveyors of home improvement and hardware tools were going to sell me some loft insulation. Yes, its true. I too think of such mundane subjects as keeping warm sometimes.

As I parked up a man was unloading his shopping trolley which I noted contained packs of laminated flooring into a wholly unremarkable maroon ford car. He to was wholly unremarkable with wispy hair and I'm afraid to say a neatly trimmed, ginger, Nigel Mansell styled mustache. I waited a few moments for him to unload and with a polite smile he gave me his empty trolley. I reached in my pocket and handed him a pound coin as at this particular branch of the hardware shop 'trolley theft is obviously rife. You need a coin to release a trolley from its neighbors.

He took the coin and said thank you. I trolleyed on and shopped.

You can guess the rest can't you. I purchased the insulation and filled my car with it and then returned the trolley to the pack.

Guess what? My trolley was broken and had no pound coin to eject. In fact the mechanism was broken so it couldn't be used.

What a shylock!

And one that thought quickly on his feet at that.

That's my pound that is, and I'd like it back. Watch out for the man with the mustache at B&Q. I bet he does it every day, dozens of times.

One other thing. There is a nice Turkish chap outside this particular shop that sells hamburgers, teas and hotdogs from a van. Being a touch peckish I sampled his wares. Inside his little kiosk was a sign. The sign read "B&Q employees please note that from next week tea and coffee will be 50p"

I wondered if it were an old sign and as such that week was last week. Or whether it was placed weeks ago and every week impoverished employees had to plead with the man that it couldn't have gone up because next week is, well next week and not this week.

What did tea cost last week. Was it more or less?

This world sometimes confuses me.

Other Momentous News

My Brother who lives far away in Seattle America has conspired with his wife Kristy to grow a child. Liana Morgan Palmer was born a few days ago. Good luck to her for at least the next 90 years or thereabouts. I wonder if she will be another reader?

TG

2004-10-12T20:56:00.000Z

Mouse: The Cat: 1996 - 2004: Approx

Mouse was a noble black and white cat about eight years old. Age is often a mute point with cats. He was always bit odd, even when he was a kitten, but he was my friend, and others to. I know he was only a 'furry friend' but I shall miss him an awful lot.

It seems he didn't have proper kidneys. Then again I'm surprised I do.

He left for good. Today.

Normal blogging will resume after a moment or two of silence.

I'm burying him in the garden in the morning at dawn. With a view.

Please paws for thought, especially if you knew him.

I will.

Thank you

TG

2004-10-05T08:17:00.000Z

Update Today

I have added the second part of the Ibiza story below.. Scroll down for part two.

It seemed more sensible than adding part two above part one...

2004-09-30T19:52:00.000Z

Ahh There You Are...

Part One

Well all is back to normal again. I'm almost looking forward to good night out again. A knees up if you will. I might be at one this weekend, or it may wait a while. We shall see.

So I Went to Ibiza

It was all a bit weird as I was there without Slinx. I did however pull my socks up and get down as it would have been very remiss not to. My company for the week was luckily The Duke who can always be relied upon for a rolled up sleeves approach to any project.

I'm not going to give a complete review for two reasons. 1) Other people's holiday stories are a little like other peoples holiday photo albums. In short, like rotting fish, they are usually best avoided. Unless you are a good travel writer of course? Which I have not yet attempted to be. 2) My memory isn't that reliable. Yours woudn't be either after what I've been through so don't complain.

I would also add as an addendum that I didn't see enough of the island to really give a proper story. The bits I did see though, and the people that peopled them were, on the whole, bloody good.

Bars of note:

Base Bar. At Ibiza town on the harbour
Rock bar. Next door
Bar Mambo. Sunset strip San Antonio
Savannah, 2 doors from Mambo
Bar Tahiti, On the beach next door to the now dead Bora Bora in PDB. Music OK.. At least it has some. Their Tahiti chicken, bacon and all the rest sandwich is worth a mention. Number 16 on the menu if you are served by the big bald French bloke who, perhaps can't read words.

The bar by my pool Errm by the pool obviously.

Clubs / nights ticked off:

El Divino. Hed Kandi Closing Party. Saturday 18th September.

My god! Don't bouncers get born with clickers in their hands for a reason? Well obviously they do in Ibiza to, but they don't use them for number controlling in clubs. Nah, in Ibiza they just use them to tot up the takings as its quicker than counting the cash.

Hed Kandi nights are now obviously seen as the place to be if you are on your hols with 10 lads from Scunthorpe. I assume that they must have flogged all the stock at night from the cake factories and car part manufacturers they work for back in Blighty to afford a few drinks and the entrance fees. They must have been seduced by the cd covers and believed that the night would be populated by curvy, perfect, pert, high heeled girlies who would just smile at them at the mere raise of a puggy eyebrow. At least I think that must have been the case as they couldn't even afford shirts. Now I'm all for an access for everybody policy in theory, but I inhabit a real life world and I'm happy in it. Being as its my real life world I hate theory and can I please be in charge of the door policy so that the people who really, actually want to dance and get into it can actually enjoy themselves I almost expected a conga to break out. Fights nearly did. Hail me.. The night clubbers Stalin.

The Duke and I shoe-horned ourselves outside onto the terrace and mostly shuffled for a long time. Women, for there were some there, occasionally struggled through the crowds to get air. They didn't stand still for long as the stark choice of suffocation inside or having Gary from Humberside stuffed in his shorts with a sweaty back, mouth dribbling on them whilst gurning pitifully at them made them make a choice. Some, of them honestly hurled themselves on to the harbour rocks over the VIP area in a spatter of blood and gold high heels rather than face the truth. The truth being. Die from lack of air, or die from Gary's lack of charisma and very old fashioned mating tactics, circa 10,000 BC. Class.

We had a result at about 3AM! Someone had left 2 small unopened bottles of water on the table we were leaned against. I'm not normally like this but being as the bar queue was longer than a printout of Iceland's central heating bill we eyed them for an eternity. That's the frozen food store if you wondered, not the country.

In the end we drank them with no consequences. Result £15 whole quid saved.

I have to say it did improve as the numbers thinned. The San An boys faded away and only those with real stamina and good pharmaceutical tolerance remained. The joint rocked from 4.30 ish till 8 AM when I left. Don't quite know what happened to The Duke, he was last seen talking to a small and pretty, female blond thing...

Defining memories...

1. The Duke jumping up and down on the dance floor pointing at me whilst grinning like a loon.
2. The bloke in the shirt behind me from the North who suddenly shouted "Yes!. Lets Haaave IT! so loudly the whole floor (and DJ Box) turned and cheered him.
3. A peck on the cheek from a pvc clad female nurse on stilts.

I won't mention that I also kept getting chatted up by chaps batting for the other side, it must have been The Duke's little joke of stuffing in that hanky hanging from my arse jeans pocket.

I managed a small amount of fruit for breakfast and slept till 12.

Space

The defining club. They had said that "its a unique experience" They had said, "There is no where quite like Space" In fact a day later I was describing what it was like on the outside terrace at Space when a passing Ibiza veteran, all bracelets and bone walked over and interjected with the statement

"There are not enough suitably good superlatives in the world to describe the terrace at Space on a Sunday afternoon". He was right. His name was Henry. I hold with that statement.

Back to Sunday. We did Space from early afternoon and subject only to an early evening break I left at nearly 3 AM. The terrace which is the main floor and sort of outside shuts at 12 PM. The terrace is what its all about. Expect beautiful people, ugly people, munted people, lady boys, bikini girls, posers, freakers and a friendly, packed wasted crowd. Also expect extreme chemical excess and pumping uplifting noise. Party until you simply don't care.

Inside after the terrace shuts is hard and repetitive. People in there were simply past caring (or in some cases even seeing) but I still see the flashing lights when I shut my eyes.

One word of advice at this juncture. Male or female, animal or vegetable. Don't text and then phone your significant other. In my case the beautiful Slinx to tell them that you miss them and that you really wish they were there to share it with you.

Even though they will wish the same and in reality be pleased that you care, you never sound quite as compos mentis as you would like (because you arn't) and, truth be told. They want to be there to. Leave that one in the theory box.

People don't appreciate it. Give your mobile to your mate and the battery to another mate. Or even a stranger. That way everything will be cushtie.

3.30 AM to 9AM Sleep

Breakfast
Beach
Pool
Kip

10PM Monday: Rock Bar Ibiza Town.

We met up with some fellow clubbers from London including the infamous Harry who we had bumped into at Space on Sunday. Its like that. Its a funny thing.

Manumission Closing Party Monday Night

Manumission is held at Priviledge which is officially the biggest club in the world with a capacity of 10,000 people. Its run by a bloke who's real name is actually Mike Manunission. No really. And his wife. What a job eh?

Everyone had said that you might not go back but its a must see for a one off visit. I hadn't been to any of these places before so we went.

This place is enormous. I can't begin to describe it. Just the car park approaches remind you of an Olympic sports venue. Only grubbier with more wasted people staggering around. If you had arranged to meet someone there you would have needed GPS systems and a team of scout dogs. And that's before you get in....

Intermission

Its a long blog this and I will update it with the final and concluding episode soon. In the meantime I shall carry on bouncing in my chair to this album.

The Album

Its Space.. And the first CD IS the terrace, buy it, bounce and weep with joy!

More to come...

And some more non-clubbing stuff too.. A taster for those of you with long memories. I saw the bag man today. He's selling Poncho's.. don't get me started...

TG - To be continued.

PS: Dont worry. Slinx and I are very fine.

Part Two

Ibiza Continued (Written 4th October 2004)

Well you didn't have to wait long. Then again I couldn't wait long either as my memory (as mentioned in part one) is fading as quickly as my hardly noticed tan.

Without further ado I shall knock the last bit out. Oh please... This is literature, keep that thought to yourself.

Manummision Part 2

As I said, its big. The main room / floor is like a football pitch but without the grass, and indeed the terraces. Instead of a centre area it has a swimming pool. In the middle of the swimming pool reached by a slender walkway across the water is the DJ booth which is like the bottom half of a large Dalek. The walkway was guarded by a monolithic bouncer. I'll leave you to picture that.

I'm assuming the bouncer was there to stop anyone from getting within 60 feet of the DJ's as at a number of moments during the night, charging over it and hurling them into the icy depths seemed like a laudable idea.

To give you an idea of the ego of Mr Manumission you only had to follow the signs for the toilets. There at the top of the stairs going down was a sign which said "Welcome to Manumissions World Famous Toilets" I did use the facilities and I have to say that other than in scale they were unremarkable. The only slightly unusual sight I did see on one visit was an elderly Spanish lady replete in traditional black mourning lace who was armed with a toilet duck and a bucket. She was giving the urinals a good old clean seemingly oblivious to the clubbers milling around her.

This was at about 4.30 (or maybe later?) in the morning, and a more questioning man might have spent a little time pondering whether the move from agriculture and peace and quiet to an economy entirely driven by drugs and clubs can be good for a people. She did however take pride in her work and whilst stoically ignoring all around her wielded her damp cloth and bleach like only a proper mum can.

The Shows

Now, the thing about this place is that its all set up so you can all (in theory) see the enormous stage at the far end from the entrance. The stage is indeed huge and its backdrop is in keeping. At the rear of the stage there is a wall. It acts as the backdrop. Its about 6 or 7 storeys high (perhaps its only 5, I can't quite remember) Anyway it was filled at various times by scantily clad femmes wearing not very much, who, with the help of a hunchback and Mike M and his wife broke into theatre like shows during breaks in the music.

It doesn't really work. The only good spots to view it from are high up VIP areas which you can only access if you're really in the know, or on the main floors. Sadly the main floors were populated by gangs of orcs with numerous Gary's as their leaders. The floors were also covered with broken glass and were in main traffic areas making things a bit tricky. Also once you have half seen one, you have seen em all. Sure the girls dance reasonably well but the shows would make Busby Berklay spin in his grave. Its a nice thought and for many people there it was obvious that this was what they had come to see. Perhaps they don't have TV?

Perhaps its just me. I applaud anyone who can fill this place but would I go again or recommend it. No I woudn't.

And that's before you pay 10 Euros for a glass of coke from a siphon.

It was a curates egg. The music tried to please everyone and chopped and changed every 10 minutes and the crowd tried desperately hard to please themselves.

We weathered it till nearly 7AM and headed for the laid on bus to Space for the afterparty.

As we were about to board the bus a Manumission rep worker person encapsulated the issue. He didnt mean to but he foolishly said, "Why are you all going, there,s another hour or so yet?" A dozen eyes swivelled, some quite erratically, toward him and in a few words people just said "errm, it was a bit shit"

Space The Final Frontier

The bus of oblivion lurched off with me, The Duke and a chap who we had met called Ritch onwards back to Playa Del Bossa.

Space wasn't open for another 40 mins or so. The bus poured out its contents outside a bar. Drinks were in order.

Its been a long time since I have been in the company of such a rag tag band of determined. The after party at Space was to go on till 4 PM and then there was a beach BBQ party till god knows when which would follow it.

It was going to be a hard slog and was patently already to much for some of the jockeys. I had a lovely conversation with a chap who coudnt actually speak at all. His brain was willing but his mouth and vocal chords simply belonged to someone else. He nodded and used his eyes a lot.

The people who served us at the bar were charming. To be hit by 100 zombies at nearly 8 in the morning didn't seem to bother them at all. Back to that economy changing debate I think.

We went to Space. The Duke went at 8.40 for his plane which was a bit sad. I stayed.

By about lunchtime the music was getting harder and the terrace was packed. All I was really doing was nodding my head. Even though I was with a good group of nice people (Big hello to the Cork crowd!) I realised that continuation whilst medically possible wasn't medically advisable. I skipped the rest of the carry on and left them all to it.

I was all clubbed out.

Tune in soon for part 3 which I promise will be an amusing even perhaps well written summary of the other bits that was this trip.

2004-09-28T21:00:00.000Z

Scurrilous Rumours

I've' heard em. Some of you obviously forget that I know all. I can tell you know? Well I'll put a stop to that sort of scaremongering right now! I haven't stopped writing. I've just not been around to write. Those of you that have held faith know the truth. This blog will be properly updated and my thoughts will once again be focused on the necessary.

So without further ado. I shall begin.

On Thursday.

2004-09-27T13:44:00.000Z

I've Been Away..

In Ibiza mainly. Also my PC at home had a disk failure... updates coming soon.

2004-09-07T19:00:00.000Z

The Summer Appears (Albeit in September)

I'm naturally not one who revels in the icy gloom. Not for me a tingle of excitement as the trees begin to lose their leaves. No. I'm a summer person by nature and happiest sitting back in the sunshine idly idling. Preferably with a large drink.

I can understand it that those of you that are blessed with pasty skin and freckles by the bucketload who are ancestors from the Nordic branch of the family don't share my penchant for the hot burning sun but I think I possibly have some Mediterranean blood somewhere and given a few days of the aforementioned idling I feel, proverbially 'happy as Larry'

I don't know who Larry was but I did find this quote

"The word may well have come from English dialect larrikin for a mischievous youth, once common in Warwickshire and Worcestershire, which itself is closely related to larrie. "

So, it seems that as is now, Larry was a simple happy Chav in pre-burberry days. For an explanation of that please refer to my last post. It warms your heart doesn't it?

Weekend Report

After drinking far too much as was good for me on Friday night in the bars of Old Street, home of the Hoxton haircut I launched myself into some heavy duty gardening on Saturday. Calm yourselves I know. The excitement of it is palpable.

Not withstanding that I made excellent progress and cleared large areas of garden including the pond which had taken on jungle like qualities. The garden looked good. I was indeed pleased. Especially as the sun beamed whilst I worked.

I'm very disappointed with the tomatoes though. I shall have words with them. I can only assume that the monsoon like August stunted their development.

Saturday evening was spent with a BBQ and Sunday was spent idling in the garden, with drinks, and a lovely Slinx.

All was well.

Next week I'm off to Ibiza. I don't think things will be quite as relaxed. After all I don't have a garden to sit in whilst I am there...

On a Serious Note

I watch the news. I read the news. I have been moved (like you) by the tragedy in Belsan.

What man does to man, and in this case child is unbelievable and unforgivable. The men with power have to talk with the men that have none.

If they don't. As has always been, tragedy will breed new tragedy which will always hurt the innocent more.

Bush, Blair, Putin. You are all in charge as are others.

Ambition is a double edged sword. Sometimes you can end up being responsible for far more than you bargained for.

2004-08-31T20:06:00.000Z

Munter

Its my favorite word at the moment.

Munter: Disagreeable. Often ugly. Person with no style. Visually and perhaps mentally inferior to your current state. Possibly grubby. Possibly wasted or drunk. For wasted, see munted below. Source currently unknown.

Example use: Look at that munter!..."

Munted: A state of muntedness. Can self describe without the derogatory meanings ascribed to others. Drunk, stoned, wired, wasted; Munted.

Example use: That night in Ibiza I was well munted!

A quick google will show that Munter is an old surname dating from Kent (A county in England) circa 17th century. Kent is not considered the best place to hail from though there are worse. Try Walsall for instance the part origin of your author.

It is possible though that Kent could be its origin as Kent is also where (I believe) the word 'Chav' was coined to describe some of its more socially challenged inhabitants. See this site and watch the videos for the idea...Chavscum.

2004-08-31T19:21:00.000Z

Tired Me

Crikey!. Another feature packed weekend has left me looking forward to a good long sleep tonight.

Rollerblading Road Ride

On Friday night I thought I'd try something a little different for a change. So instead of piling into the nearest bar I popped to shop on Friday lunchtime and bought myself a pair of shiny rollerblades. On Friday evening assisted by my good friend the Duke I assembled, if one person can 'assemble' on Park Lane by Hyde Park for an organised Friday night skate. There was about 100 people. Most of whom where obviously accomplished skaters, and one chap riding a recumbent bicycle with a very large pair of speakers strapped to the back and an amp in a trailer.

At the stroke of 8 o clock the skate marshals who were wearing safety first fluorescent jackets piled into park lane and stopped the traffic. We took to the roads like a Tour De France peleton. Only with more wheels per person obviously.

I'd chosen a bit of an extreme event for a first time skate outing as this was a 3 hour epic 20 mile hack through central London.

It was fun and at times it was fast. It was also quite scary, particularly on the downhills. The traffic didn't like it as we took over the roads but the tunes were banging out of the cycle stereo and at the end, happy but knackared The Duke, a friend of his and myself found a nice boat moored in St Katherines Dock and relaxed with a well earned beer.

I had only wiped out once. At speed. Skating backwards on the pavement over Tower Bridge. No damage was done, I just rolled spectacularly along the concrete and got straight back up. I'll pretend it was a stunt fall.

So, all in all, I am quite pleased to report that my early mid life crisis is progressing from strength to strength.

Next week: Base Jumping.

Saturday

A quiet one with Slinx and a DVD evening.

Sunday

A trip to Cambridge was quite nice but I have to report that for an ancient town, and one that is packed to the gills with students, it is very very short of pubs. Though I did note that it has a healthy population of wasps. It was an early night in preparation for a big bank holiday Monday.

I did buy a T Shirt though. I'm not normally one for witty slogans but I liked this one. It says.

I can only please one person a day
Today is not your day
Tomorrow is not looking good either

Thames Boat Trip

Some friends had organised a river booze cruise from Surbiton. We had to be there at 10AM and picked up a boat that fitted 12 people. This was good as there was 11 of us. As soon as we were aboard we cracked into the beers and this was to be the theme of the day. We cruised up river past Hampton Court and it was a little like being on holiday. If you get the chance to do something like this I recommend it. The homes on the river banks are often stunning and there are a lot of houseboats that look like great places to live. Especially I would imagine in the summer, should we ever have one.

We stopped at pubs and pootled about. A lot was drunk and we delivered the boat back at 6PM before weaving home.

All in all it was a top flight wheeled and ruddered social smorgasboard.

Hence my tiredness.

2004-08-24T19:40:00.000Z

The Good Times Are Back

Friday

Saw me with the car. This was intentional as I hadn't planned to go out. In the end I did but due to my rattling car keys was responsible to the point of vicardom. Ended up in the Bunker Bar in Covent Garden. We liked it here. Good beer brewed on the premises, funky music and quite funky clientele. A new haunt I think.

The reason that I had bought the car to work on a Friday is that Saturday was going to be a big event day out and I knew that my will power alone would not necessarily get me home at a time suitable for an early start come the morn. In the end I made it in with time for bed.

South West Four, Clapham Common

Its an innocuous sounding title that isn't it? It sounds like a postcode. It is. It could be the name of a rubbish boy band or perhaps a bus company? What it doesn't sound like is an afternoon party in the park with 10,000 people. A main stage playing host to world famous DJ's Sasha and Erick Morillo amongst others. A tent stage of uplifting house music from the infamous Bora Bora beach bar in Ibiza and another tent of harder stuff. In short it was a serious party fest.

The weather has been crap this summer. It has rained nearly every day and I was dreading the rain for this day. Luckily it held off and for most of the time the party was in sunshine. We danced and partied hard through till close at 10PM and I can't remember such an enjoyable day. There were some sights to be seen. Most noticeably the smiles everyone had. I didn't see a policeman in sight nor any trouble but I'm sure the unlicensed pharmacies had done a roaring trade.

Day time clubbing is the way of the future. It might sound not quite right but to be getting up on Sunday morning around 10 rather than getting home on Sunday morning after a night out at around 10 makes a big difference to the rest of your weekend. And what's left of your physical state.

It wasn't like the England I know. I hope its on again next year!

Other News

Rain, rain, rain, rain and more rain. I'm a busy lad. I don't have that many gaps in my time and keeping on top of the garden is always tricky. The problem this summer has been that every time I have a gap it chucks it down. Its been so bad that water cress that was growing in the pond has migrated 20 yards to the veg patch. Its handy to pick I grant you but If I wanted a watercress farm I'd hardly have planted tomatoes, runner beans and gladiolus. Would I?

I got burgled this time last year. It sparked me into writing this blog. Its my anniversary then. Cards and gifts please.

2004-08-15T17:00:00.000Z

Wasps and the Leaflet

Good Mooorning Vietnaaaam!

Oh *ahem* sorry. Wrong script and I don't have a hairy enough back.

Waspish Wasps

What is it about these creatures? They really are the football thug of the insect world aren't they. They share the same intelligence are just as randomly aggressive and if they could, I bet they would wear Burburry caps, chav like jewelery and have their knuckles (if they had hands) dragging along the metaphorical ground.

Even The Duke has been victim. At the weekend he was on a fact finding mission to Cambridge. Whilst taking a breather he phoned me up and laughed at me for saying how the bloody wasps were making my garden time a nightmare.

He soon stopped laughing however as unbenowns to him, whilst he had been enjoying mirth at my expense, a couple of the aforementioned yellow and black troglodytes has slipped into his cool can of beer.

Oh yes. I said "Told you it was no laughing matter" as he later hove into view with a face reminiscent of John Merrick due to stings on the inside of his lips.

A state of emergency

It was with great excitement that I received the booklet from our beloved government entitled "Preparing For Emergencies, What you need to know". I nearly missed it completely as it was shoved through my door along with double glazing leaflets, pizza delivery menu's and stanahh stairlift adverts but I digress. I also tell lies, as there ware actually no pizza delivery leaflet. That's just one of my fantasies. Can you believe that I live somewhere within 40 minutes of the very center of London (on a good day driving very fast) and no one will deliver pizza to my door. Its no wonder I'm not eating at night properly...

Where was I? Oh yes. The "Preparing For Emergencies" booklet. I am afraid I must report that it does no such thing. There is no sections entitled.

"Its a week before pay day and you really need a big night out, ring this number and we will give you the money"

or.

"The girl / boy I love doesn't fancy me"

or even (for some)

"Which shade of blond is the right blond for me, right now"

In fact as an emergency handbook it ranks in usefulness terms along with 'Where's my kippers' a story of a lost Scottish fisherman's struggle to cope with divorce on Shetland, and 'Lassie'.

You will get one to, you will see. The really hilarious thing about it are the photographs of the people that are responsible for reassuring you / us / me that all will be fine providing we stay in doors, watch the telly and wait for them to sort it all out, The lady at the top is named "Debbie Spargo" and she is the "Chief Executive of the emergency Planning Society"

Take a look you will see what I mean. She looks like she would be well at home in the WI meeting of Frinton on Sea. She doesn't look anything like the person I want in a crisis. She doesn't for instance look anything like Bruce Willis in Die Hard or any James Bond, nor even steely like the retired Paddy Ashdown. In short I want some grit and determination.. not a nice cup of tea. And I love the fact that she obviously musn't be calledd 'Deborah' lest we think shes a bit up market. Ahh the joys of writing something to appeal to everyone. Dammed impossible if you ask me. Oh you didn't?

I think what I don't like much about our current administration.. (oooh did I say administration? Sorry *cough* government. They think we wont notice anything if we all have a nice cup of tea down at the WI and stay in.

I think I'll keep going out and looking around ta.

Other News

My cat seems to be worried I may not be eating enough and for the past few weeks been trying to feed me mice, at night, usually at around 3 AM. He shouts in cat voice "look what I have for you". Its not nice, he keeps getting blood on the sheets.

Even worse I returned home recently after a heavy night out to find that he had, with precision, dropped a mouse into a glass of water by my bed. It had obviously drowned there unable to climb out. Nice!

Going to this this weekend.. \o/

South West Four

2004-08-08T19:28:00.000Z

The Apple Tree

Cycling to work one day last week I was just crossing the tow path from the Lea River to change over to the metropolitan canal which would then take me on through Victoria Park in Hackney.

I was in an industrial estate in Bow where the waterways (strangely enough) look at their most industrial. As I crossed the bridge over and threaded my bike through the gates to then continue down the slope back onto the other towpath I noticed the tree. In fact I passed under it as you have to there. I had passed under it before of course but this time, for some reason I looked up.

There, a good 8 feet above me was an apple. I stopped for a minute and pondered, and looked again. It was still there. So I thought, here, at the top of a canal bridge in the middle of an industrial estate is an apple tree. I wonder how old it is? It certainly looks old. 100 years? More?

When I have time I will look into this and find out the story of the old apple orchards of Bow.

Circle Line Tube Party

On Friday afternoon at about 4PM someone emailed me this link..

The Cirle Line Tube Party

Its different now as it says "You missed it".

In short it was invite to a spontaneous party to be held on the last 4 carriages of the 8.04 circle line east bound underground train from Liverpool Street. We were urged to bring drinks and sweets and our best smiles.

The Duke and I turned up on the spur of the moment and the whole of the platform at Liverpool street station was crammed full of people waiting for the off. The allotted train pulled in and we clambered aboard and as soon as the train pulled away it went wild. There were musicians, sound systems, streamers and crazy people as far as the eye could see. Which incidentally wasn’t very far as in fact the shout had gone up perhaps a little early and there were so many people it wasn't really practical. It was also sauna time. Despite this is was quite good fun. At each stop we tried to be quietish as bemused London Underground staff and indeed bemused ordinary passages looked confused. The train kept lurching on in a cacophony of banging, strumming, laughing and pole dancing.

We made it as far as Sloane Square. There were to many people really and I suppose they didn’t know what to do with us. Apparently the train behind was also crammed with spontaneous party goers, and the one behind that. When it bacame clear that we would be getting no further we all slowly trooped with glittery strings in hands out of the station to Sloane Square itself. And there, everyone had a party.

There was music and dancing and it was great fun. It went on a bit late. We then somehow ended up at a carry on in a park near Spitalfields and even later I bizarrely ended up on a sofa in Victoria.

I do have photos of all this weirdness. Part of me wonders if it was really appropriate behaviour for a gardener like me but I think it needed doing.

The Weekend

Its finally been proper summer for a few day or so and its been scorching over the weekend. I haven’t done very much. As you may imagine Saturday was something of a write off and if the Japanese, or any one else for that matter had decided to invade at that point I wouldn’t have offered strong resistance.

Sunday however was more civilized with a stroll and a contemplate along the South Bank. I was armed with a Sunday Times and fortified with a couple of beers. In between all this I watered the garden and worked on my tan.

I have been pondering my purpose lately. It's a tricky one. The possibility is beginning to occur that I might not actually have one. This is not entirely comfortable, as my ego being what it is, I have always assumed I did.

I'll keep you posted.

TG

2004-08-04T08:37:00.000Z

The Apple Tree

Oooh, I meant to write about the apple tree last night. In all the excitement I forgot. I shall try to in the next post. This might not be until the weekend though.

We shall see.

2004-08-03T20:02:00.000Z

A Suitably British Event

Sunday saw a visit to some corner of London Docklands to watch the London Triathlon. I wouldn’t normally do such a thing but it was a nice day and The Duke was taking part. Cripes! I never realised he was fit, though I had noticed he doesn’t smoke that often. He fairly shot round the course. First the swim which saw hundreds of chaps bobbing about in the docks for a while before they thrashed off for a mile and a half. Spectating this part wasn't to exciting as they can't hear you and you don't know who is who as all competitors wore the same blue hats. We cheered all the same.

Then the 40 kilometre bike race. This was the reason I was there really. He was using my bike as his bike was built by hand in a barn in 1945 to celebrate the end of the second world war. I think it was built from fossilised baguettes in France by a soldier with one eye and the last time he took it out the front wheel amusingly fell off (as did he) at traffic lights. My bike on the other hand, actually works.

Most of the field were professional / serious type athletes. This didn’t deter the man himself though oh no! We saw him go past, legs flailing and elbows at regulation postman height as he didn’t dare change gear as the last time he had tried that on his bike the handlebars broke. It was all very British. Not to much sweat and get there in your own time. Even better he spurned expensive kit and for this part of the race wore a very visible pair of black Calvin Klien underpants over his shorts to stop any "flapping about" as he put it. He said later that a very fit and attractive female triathlete had slowed down slightly to give him a playful smack on his arse whilst shouting "Come on Calvin". Knowing him I bet he managed to get her number before she disappeared into the distance. All very excellently Chumly Warner.

Then they all had to run 10 kilometers. A kilometer I am informed is a little less than a mile but faster in a continental way. The Duke was in his element in this part and breezed around.

We. For there was indeed a "Team Duke" saw him come in past the crowds at the finish. We thought it was only fitting that he crossed the line grinning and puffing on a large cigar.

He romped home a very credible 273rd out of 306 competitors in a shade over 3 hours and 15 minutes.. Well done that Duke!

Team Duke and the support team then retired to the pub.

I might try it myself next year. You never know.

Spurred on by this I again cycled into work and back today. I'm starting training early.

2004-07-31T19:42:00.000Z

Falling Over

This week I've mostly been falling over or off things. Sometimes I’ve been walking into things. I obviously haven’t been doing this on purpose and I think it must just be one of those easily explainable things, a sort of; I haven’t fallen over much since I was a kid and, well that was quite a long time ago so I shouldn’t worry about it as I'm probably just due a few; type of thing.

I fell of my bike first, that was on Thursday. It happened as I crossed over the canal bridge at Picket's Lock that morning on the way to work. I had forgotten that I had changed my bike types for smoother faster ones and as a consequence I would have less grip on the rough stuff but be faster on the road. I remembered I'd changed them suddenly as the bike shot away from me on shale and I was reminded again of a school physics lesson on gravity, mass, friction and enforced deceleration or some such that I hadn’t listened very hard to.

I was alright, sort of. The back wheel on my bike was a bit bent and the path scratches on my shoulder and back are healing nicely but overall there was no real harm done.

Then on Friday I walked awkwardly into the back of a tall chair. Whilst this doesn’t sound like much the chair was jammed against a table so didn’t give way. It just scratched my side quite painfully.

And today I fell over whilst being chased by a wasp in my garden. It was a similar event as the cycling accident in that the sandals I was wearing at the time (Yes I know! But it is my garden and I was alone) don't have much grip at high speed whilst trying to turn sharply.

Ah well, another grazed knee.

Wasps

Yes, the wasps have not gone away. They are just pissed off. Cutting the lawn today or even just trying to sit out and read the paper was not as serene as it usually is. I'm pissed off with them to, and whilst their puny and aggressive little brains might think they have the better of me they are wrong. And they are shortly dead. I have a phone, and fingers to dial numbers on it with. The wasp man will come back and finish the job. Oh yes he will...

2004-07-26T18:57:00.000Z

Ibiza Madness

It was The Duke who suggested, planned and manned the '24 hours in Ibiza Trip' So I should have realised it might be a long night. Some regular readers may recall that this lad and myself have had some good nights out before and this was obviously to be no different, just slightly far away. And I had never been before, so it seemed important.

The four of us, The Duke, Mike, Lu and Me arrived at Ibiza airport on Saturday at about 10 AM. The sun was shining and it was warm :) I had almost forgotten what proper sunshine felt like.

We got in to a cab and Mike turned to the driver, smiled and said two words "Bora Bora" The driver (late thirties, all Spanish stubble and chest hair) threw his head back, laughed out loud, smiled at us and turned some funky music on. An unusual reaction from a cabbie I thought but much better than a scowl.

By 10.30 we were on the beach right in front of the apparently infamous Bora Bora bar. The bar has some big speakers hanging around and these were pulsing Balearic beat gently and not to loudly across the beach. We had drinks in hand and all was nice.

As it was so early it was quiet but as the day wore on more and more people arrived. The music kept picking up in time with the arrivals and by early afternoon it was busy and everybody was swaying, laughing chatting and foot tapping.

Very different to Hyde Park on a Summer Saturday afternoon I mused. I was foot tapping to, and smiling. The crowd on the beach seemed to be mostly Spanish, I guess its their holiday destination too?

4.30PM, As if a switch was thrown it suddenly seemed that everybody was either swaying or up on their feet dancing, I looked toward the bar and it was packed with people dancing, some on the tables. The music was fantastic and there were arms in the air. I suppose you have your idyllic quiet beaches around the world where you can be fed hand-reared lobster ice cream and hardly see another sole for a week and that’s certainly one kind of trip. This beach though was amazing and the atmosphere was something else.

Pacha

We left the beach around 7.30 as Lu and Mike had managed to find us a hotel shower room for a small fee for an hour. We changed for the evening and headed to the restaurant at the super club Pacha for a 10.30 table.

I had found out before the trip that if you ate at the Pacha restaurant and spent over 40 Euros a head you didn't have to pay to get in. Being as entrance was going to be 40 or 50 Euros anyway this seemed like a free meal. It was excellent food, wine, ambiance and service.

The restaurant is lovely, very hacienda in style. We were the first people there other than one table where a man sat alone, immaculate in a fine tailored blue linen suit. He was in his 50's or older and had an impeccably trimmed white beard. The staff kept smiling and various people came and spoke briefly to him. He had the air of a very wealthy man and this was his domain. He was possibly one of the owning family? With his age he may even have been a founder. Pacha opened, though was tiny then, on the same site 31 years ago. It would fit? By the time we left the restaurant it was packed with European fashion conscious and monied types. It was a bit over the top. This was obviously one of the places to be on a Saturday night.

The club was extraordinary. We were early in, so it was quiet, but people kept arriving and arriving. We spent allot of time on the upstairs terrace just swaying, sitting and people watching. We had various dancing forays and lots of conversations around the stupendous drink prices. 8 Eros for a glass of water, 15 Euros for a voka tonic etc. It didn’t really matter as there cant really be anywhere quite like this place anywhere else can there. It reminded me of the restaurant at the end of the universe from Douglas Adams hitch hikers guide to the galaxy.

There must have been 20 bars in the club, numerous rooms, the huge terraces the massive sunken dance floor, the dancers and the music simply got better and better. In truth it really got to busy to dance and the main areas were rammed. There must have been thousands of people there. It doesn't mean much to me but The Duke was quite excited that he had been standing right next to a chap called Mike Manumission.

We were all feeling the pace a bit by now as we had been awake for around 24 hours straight. I had been mixing my potions a bit and I have to admit it was all a bit to much and I took a funny turn. All was ok though, I had simply been out-partied.

Around 5 we left the club past some people still queuing to come in!. (It finishes at 8AM) and took a cab back to the beach where we slept on the sand until we were woken by the dawn and small knots of clubbers dancing in the half light to car stereos playing that same, never ending Ibiza beat We walked up to the super club Space to get a cab to the airport. Space was just opening to start its "We love Space" Sunday through to Monday 22 hour dance fest. There were queus to get in... people were arriving after Saturday night to carry on. They had more stamina than us ;)

We were back at my house for much needed BLT's by lunchtime on Sunday.

We were absolute wreckage. I can't wait to go back! It may be in September....

In other news the man came and took the wasps away today.

2004-07-20T21:45:00.000Z

Joined Up Government

I went to Westminster today to meet some government mandarins. The great, the good and the irrelevant had been asked to come in for an afternoon of discussion about the perils of email spam.

The nice chap who introduced the discussions was from our Department of Trade and Industry and his business card said he was their 'Director of Broadband' I pointed out that sounded like it might be a narrow subject on its own? He agreed and didn't notice the irony. Instead he talked about how he had managed to expand his remit to embrace other Interweb and electrickery problems. Well, those are my words not his.

I don't have much hope that he will get that far as I think to succeed and push things through you need a strong vision and some determination. When he addressed us all for the introductions he opened with an apology that he wouldn’t be able to stay for the evening reception, as "his wife wouldn’t let him". He then went on to use his memory of school dinners to explain why he was possibly so angry about spam. At the end he gave the floor to a nice young lady who was nervously called Heather and would be chairing us. He closed as strongly as he began by saying he had to go to find out what he was supposed to do next from his PA as she didn't let him keep his own schedule in case he lost it.

These attempts at humorous endearment didn't really raise a chuckle from the assembled throng as we could tell from the weak smile that sadly, they were true.

However we soldiered on throughout the afternoon and after much heated debate between consumer and business bodies, international law enforcement agencies, ISP's and Spam experts (i.e. me / my company - see ArmourPlate) We really nailed the problem for future generations.

We all agreed the following..

1. Spam is a problem and spammers are bad people who make lots of easy money whilst we don’t necessarily.

2. Someone or everyone should try and do something about it.

3. Your basic computer user doesn’t know anything.
and
4. None of us including the DTI could decide how the government is going to get good press out of it.

Aren’t you proud?

At the end of all this we were given canapés and wine whilst an actual Minister in the thin, crow like, yet intense form of Steven Timms (Rt Hon Minister for Communications) gave a small speech saying how pleased he was that the problem was being tackled in an organised fashion. He then introduced the Managing Director (UK) of Microsoft who told us how spam was their number one priority and that he wanted to work with us all. I don’t think anyone believed him as his portly fingers, fresh from many a palm greasing lunch kept trying to stop themselves crossing.

Microsoft had paid for the nibbles.

It was interesting in a way though, and to see the wheels of government in slow operation was as always an eye-opener. In short, expect nothing much soon.

Saturday Night Ibiza Madness

I haven’t been sleeping very well lately, and I am a bit under the weather. It’s been a stressful time. I hope however that I have restored myself by the weekend as my good friend The Duke has organised a weekend trip of serious financial and mental irresponsibility.

Flying out on Saturday morning early we shall be on the beach in Ibiza by lunchtime, after that it will no doubt get blurry as we are all of to Pacha. We shall leave Pacha on Sunday morning and fly straight back to Blighty. I shall obviously be here on Sunday afternoon. We shall see whether I manage to write anything other than a plea to my bank manager before Monday.

Wasps

Wasps have their place I’m sure. Just not around me. I have a nest of wasps in the garden in one of the compost bins. I don't like this. On Monday a man is coming from the council to make them go away. He's charging me £37. I wonder how they reached that figure? Is it per wasp averaged by how many wasps in a nest over a period of years or what?

I don't know. Do you?

TG

2004-07-18T08:00:00.000Z

Cricket at Lords

On Thursday I went to see some cricket at Lords Cricket Ground, the headquarters of the game. I had never been to watch a cricket match before even though I do enjoy listening to it on the radio (test match special, BBC Radio 4 of course)

It was a new type of game, called 20 / 20 cricket; in short each side has to score as many runs as possible in just 20 overs. For those of you aren’t aware an over is a series of 6 balls bowled. For those of you who are even less aware than that I am not going to use this opportunity to explain what cricket is, or its rules, now even its subtleties. 20 overs though is not very many and the whole match including the half hour interval for the sides to change over took from 5.30 to 8.30 in the evening. Its a taster game if you like to attract impatient types and new viewers as a 'proper' cricket match can last up to 5 days and often obscurely neither side will actually win.

This is possibly why it has never really caught on in America.

The other thing about this type of cricket is that the cricketers don't even bother to dress properly in white flannels. Instead Surrey wore dark blue 'pyjama stile sports kits whilst the other side (Middlesex) wore black.. or a darker blue. I'm not quite sure if I have that the right way round but you get the idea. Sadly the umpires didn’t wear shirts, blazers and ties either but some red polo shirt and 'slacks' ensemble that made them look all the world like strangely middle aged holiday reps. Or possibly golfers. Also the ball is white rather than deep lustrous cherry red. All a bit rum really.

Lords in an excellent sports ground though and apparently has been there since Roman times (I exaggerate of course). Though I'm not sure it was cricket they played then? The sun was shining (for a change) and I enjoyed the game. It was a one sided affair and Middlesex might have achieved just as much if they hadn't turned up but the atmosphere was enjoyable, the ground was full to capacity and I recommend going to one of these things if you get the chance. Oh, take your own drinks as the bar service was awful. I missed 10 of those 6 ball overs just waiting at the bar...

The Weekend

As I write it’s Saturday evening. I’m experiment with being quiet, thinking and deciding what direction to go in lots of ways. If I figure anything out I shall let you know. In the meantime I may open a bottle of wine, or I may not. I will however go for a decent cycle ride through the forest tomorrow and I shall potter in the garden.

I rarely figure much out during these brief excursions into the introspective but I shall persevere nonetheless. If anything happens tomorrow I may well post it here.

2004-07-14T20:04:00.000Z

Flat

I'm flat at the moment. Lots of things are transpiring and quite frankly I'd rather they weren't.

I'm sure its a blip though. Life after all isn't that bad.

At the risk of being repetitive I'm sure some sunshine would help.

A full and more cheering post tomorrow or Friday I would think.

I had an idea today...

-TG

2004-07-07T22:16:00.000Z

Orwellian Society

Hmmm. Just watched the news and things aren't right. Then again they haven't been right ever really. What I mean is they are becoming less right.

All over the news today is the fact that a Muslim cleric chap should be kept out for the county because his views insight religious hatred. Well I've read as much as I can and it all seems to come down to the fact that he has said that he understands why the Palestinians have resorted to suicide bombers and whilst he doesn't condone it he doesn't quite condemn it either.

I seem to remember the wife of our Prime Minister, Cherie Blair said something similar last year. No one seems to be having a go at her. This seems to me a case of inciting religious hatred in reverse. Should Mr Blunket and crew be charged with this new crime that he is trying to create?.

Make your own mind up and look at the facts rather than the froth by reading here.

Who's Marbles?

Another news story I saw today concerned the removal from Iraq under cover of the tightest security of tons of nuclear material including 1.7 tons of "enriched uranium". The article reads like the USA have saved us all from terrorists who might have used this if they had got their hands on it to create a so called 'dirty bomb'

The funny thing is that I did a bit of digging whilst I was eating my lunch and discovered that enriched uranium and many of the their radioactive bits and pieces the Americans have hoovered up is really really valuable. In fact its so expensive the Americans can't make as much as they need for their military and other (some good) applications.

So. Who owns it? That's my question. It seems to me that on the one hand the UN could have been given it to look after and should they conclude Iraq doesn't need it anymore they could sell it and give the money to Iraq to help with the problems. Or should it just disappear into the US for free.

Once upon a time there was a boy who liked to play marbles. He was a very bad boy so the teacher stamped on his hands, breaking them and he couldn't play marbles anymore. So the teacher collected all the marbles and instead of giving them to the boys parents so they could help buy bandages. He wandered off and sold them.

I call that theft?

I suppose though in a funny sort of way that given the Americans (in the main) make their tank and other rounds out of depleted uranium because its so dense that it blows through most defending armour, and given that they used thousands of such rounds so poisoning Iraqi land and children for generations to come, they are in fact giving it back with the other hand. I bet they collect it all again much later too. And this time probably sell it back. Thats all right then?

A rant? Or a comment?

I could do this every day. But I won't. Just occasionally I become vexed. I also suppose I'm now on certain hit lists for illustrating something.

I had better do it now. If this carries on our lifetime will see a law against it. Thought police. Orwellian after all?

The weather doesn't help.

Though,, it was nice yesterday and I cycled into work. I will find the flamingo's again. For now you have to make do with the Swans.

What noise do Swans make?

2004-07-05T20:26:00.000Z

The Light Bar

Friday night was supposed to be a quiet evening. Civilized even. Well it almost stayed that way. Regular readers will have noticed that excess fuelled evenings have become something of a rarity with me lately. Not last Friday though...

The night began quietly enough with a drink or two at Two Floors with Slinx and a couple of friends and then on to that old haunt The Rex for a viewing of Shrek 2 in their excellent cinema. We enjoyed the film. A few more drinks on the premises and the Rex was getting busy and we were getting lively. At this point going on to the Light Bar was mentioned.

I had not been here before. Though I shall visit again.

The bar is in the reception of The St Martins Lane Hotel. The reception area is all white and straight ahead of the main doors the bar sits enclosed in its own long, wide rectangular room. Once through the doors, past the man that only lets members, stars and hotel guests in you are seated by a very nice lady who finds you a table. The bar itself is a little like a very wide railway carriage but with better lighting, comfortable seating and a lack of windows. In fact it doesn't have any at all. The far end of this long room has a large display cabinet full of cut glass glasses. It reminded me of a Selfridges shelving display. No matter. The whole thing is apparently designed by Phillipe Stark. You don't crowd at the bar as their is only table service.

Wow. What a drinks menu! Its all about cocktails and boy, these cocktails are worth waiting for. Slinx went for a Raspberry Martini which looked about as raspberry as it could be. It tasted divine to. I went for a new twist on an old theme and tried a Mexican Mule.

Tequila
Creme de Cassis
Limes
Ginger Beer
... 3 blueberries on top.

I have just realised (as I write this) that I have all of these ingredients here at home. It is only that I am drinking a nice Torres red wine that is stopping me working out the measurements and attempting a recreation. I will though so expect this to be a cocktail of the month for July.

Where was I? Oh yes. It tasted fantastic. Or at least it did to me. Considering that by this point I had drunk white wine, gin and vodka liberally through the evening it seemed only right to switch spirits.

The crowd in this bar is rich and shows it off. Expect the Beckhams or the Minogues, visiting American film brats and London Bling. Hats teemed with perfect tans and perfect teeth. The music was great and people were up on their feet dancing. The people we were with said it was very quiet that night. It was busy enough for me as the space is wonderful to observe. It is, in my humble opinion the best bar in the very up market category I have been in. You might think that given it has no windows it may feel a little oppressive. But it works just so.

If you wish to go, phone the bar in advance. If you don't sound too ugly and ask nicely you may be placed on the guestlist. Note; I don't say "put" on the guest list. No people "put" you on the list for a taxi queue or a decent new car. Here I feel your name is carefully placed. Neatly.

We had three drinks each. I 'think' I finished up on Mojitos. I 'think' they were the best I have ever had.

Its all a mite blurry after that and it was too much for Slinx, who whilst sometimes showing the determination of the late Oliver Reed, thankfully has a rather smaller and more beautifully formed physique.

We woke up in our clothes.

Saturday was very quiet indeed.

If you only get to go to one expensive bar ever. Go here on a Friday night after midnight. If you can get in of course. 5 Stars.

Tour De France

Some of you may have noticed that the Tour De France has started again. And I would guess, more of you have not.

However, it has.

In the spirit of this, or more probably an early mid life crisis, last week I cycled to work. So what I hear you cry, isn't he in London, doesn't he work in London. How hard can that be? Well its not quite like that as I actually live just North East of London in Essex and work is right slap bang in the middle of the teemimg London Town. It is, in fact 23 miles each way.

It was hard work on the way back I can tell you as its mostly up hill. I travel in along The River Lea Towpath for over 10 miles of the journey. It is beautiful. I saw Swans and Herons and a Kinfisher and Sheep and an Eagle and even Flamingoes around the river. Oh and some passed out drunks neear Tottenham. I am doing it again tommorow. This time though I shall take my camera and prove it. Especially about the Flamingoes...

TG

2004-06-22T22:14:00.000Z

Life is Good...

Shame about the weather though?

Yes folks, London is warmish but, sadly London is grey. Now I don't mind this in weather, we do after all live in a temperate climate. It would however be nice to have a little less grey in the daytime.

Sunday morning found me and the ever lovely Slinx wandering hither and thither in the lovely Columbia Road flower market. I lived very close to this and the other East end markets for years and I have to attest that they are a great day out. Get up early for a Sunday and head to Liverpool Street Station for about 10AM. Walk through Spitalfields Market and enjoy the atmosphere. Head across the road and cut up down Fournier Street and past Gilbert and George's house then through Brick Lane Market. Enjoy the sights, sounds and people. Hell, even buy some things or eat something. In short just mingle. Then head up to Columbia Road. If you have been following my albeit loose directions you should suddenly find yourself in a 'Garden center gone mad in a street thing'

It wasn't raining on Sunday which helped the walk. Have a cup of coffee or something to eat and buy flowers till you can carry no more. This market, as are all the Sunday markets here is wonderful and part of the fabric of London. All have been established on the same spot for well over a hundred years and they reek of history. Only the costumes have changed. I haven't even mentioned Petticoat Lane market as its not really what it was. But it is in Petticoat Lane and the name alone is reminiscent.

Where was I? Oh yes Columbia Road. Should you happen here you may notice a pub at the one end going east. Its called The Royal Oak and in years past it was machine gunned by the Kray Twins in real life, machine gunned again by the Kemp twins in the film about the Krays and then used (tongue in cheek I think) as "Samoan Joe's" in the film "Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels"

These days it has forgone its time as a rather lifeless market traders boozer and been taken over by strange types.

To be more specific it has become a day center for clubbers who really aren't going to make it home after a Saturday night (or maybe not ever at all..) With great music on the decks (if you like anthem, real music songs) it serves alcohol and humour to a whole selection of miscreants. Think fag ends on the floor, fags at the bar (its quite gay, but not in an intimidating way if you arn't) people dressed in T shirts or all black, dancing and posturing in a very happy way and you are half way there. It's difficult to describe but I like it. The music was great, people were alarmingly friendly as they all seemed to be friends of a friendly herbalist and I completely recommend you visit for a snifter. Just to see.

If you do get sat down some of the best entertainment is had watching ordinary (read; non drugged) market visitors coming in for a quick drink or a pee. The tourists especially..

"Come on, don't be scared, you're perfectly safe....;)

Sadly, they usually run off.

Oh. We liked the little dog on the bar. It doesn't belong to the pub but it seemed very happy.

Its a Westie you know...

Don't stay to long or you risk joining in....

We moved back through to Spitalfields Market where we shopped and then had some very good Tapas at Meson Los Barriles. Go there and watch the market watch you.

It's all worth it and I'm not issuing any refunds at all.

Do you ever feel like you are being followed?

-T

2004-06-15T22:44:00.000Z

Chrysolina americana L

It's a new beetle. No not the VW car with the engine in the boot but a new pest. Apparently it eats Rosemary and Lavender. Hence its other name as the Lavender beetle. I know all this because I've looked it up. I've looked it up because I've got em on my Lavender. I shall not poison them because this would harm the bees, and I like bees. I will however keep a close eye on the little buggers and see how much damage they cause. If it gets bad then there will be a soapy water of death moment in my quiet hamlet.

They are beautiful to look at, like shiny metallic VW cars with purple stripes on their silver reflective backs. You woudn't think you would see mirrored surfaces on creatures would you? Terminator beetles even. Have a look..

See?

In other news I have done the sum total of nothing today. A random day off in the week (although pre-arranged) is one of the great inventions of our time. I got up late, lazed about. Had a pleasant pub lunch with my good mate The Duke and slept on the lawn into the afternoon. In short I frittered away my time in the fashion of a carefree immortal. Which of course I am not.

I truly recommend it. Back to work tomorrow...

Not Dead Yet

Just in case you think I have retired you should be aware that life a pace continues on all levels. The beautiful Slinx is delightful as ever and London's night haunts are still frequented. In fact only this Saturday past saw another Wapping mad house party. Slightly smaller than previous efforts there was only 60 people or so. As usual though it was gone 6 AM when bed was reached..

I'm off to the cinema tomorrow. What shall I go and see?

thegardener@gmail.com

2004-06-10T16:58:00.000Z

Pants

Well to be more specific for the moment, Trousers. Men's trousers to be exact. I am bringing the full weight of my focus onto the thorny subject of, yes, men's legs, and what to wrap them inside. We might get to pants later, we shall see.

First a mental experiment. Try and envisage men's legs through their trousers. I don't know, just think of the last time you were in the proximity of a crowd of ordinary men. That's it. Hold that picture. It may be the tube this morning, or the bus, or the street. If you are very unusual you may be a camera man in the house of commons. Or even odder, the presenter at a photocopy sales conference. I don't know? It's up to you, this is after all your visualisation. If you are girl or bat for the other side on occasion you are not allowed to cheat and think of good legs, like those on a rugby team, or indeed a football team. Unless you are Rebecca Loos. If you are that Rebecca and you are reading this then you are allowed special dispensation because the legs you often see aren't the ordinary type of random white nobbly hairy stick or lumpy things I am imagining that most of you thought of on first thunk.

And MEP, think of accountants, not Military Fitness. That's cheating.

Right. Are we all there now? For most of us its not a pleasant thought is it? If it is then you might wish to refer back to the above and read again. Or you are odd.

Anyway, I don't have time to address the minority as this is a democracy. I have the pen, so I win.

The problem is this, at least from a male perspective. We have to cover them up in some way mostly, often when we go to work. Which trousers are really suitable?

I, for the most part lately have been wearing jeans. Yes I know we can't all wear jeans to work every day and quite frankly I'd rather not all the time but what are the alternatives? I have been looking around and there only really seem to be two options for the relatively non media office that's not in the city and therefore does not warrant a suit.

Option one: Black trousers that all seem to have the same characteristics, namely the consistency of an onion bag, with patchy shine after 3 wears and a high nylon content to attract cat hairs and fag ash in equal measures.

Option two: Faux, smart combats that I'm sure only work if you work somewhere where you think its cool to have a stupid haircut and you do web design.

So dear readers. Help me with this one. What is man to wear as an alternative to jeans? In the summer so he looks smart (but not too smart) and doesn't suffer either 'rucking in the arse / crotch area or enough static to drag children from across the street(now there's an unseemly thought...). And I don't want to model the 'post room' boy staypress creases either!

Your advice stencilled in red on the GPO box outside 11-14 Southampton Place WC1A please. Or your money back...

I may comment on pants later. We don't like to throw them away do we?

2004-06-08T21:30:00.000Z

In the Spirit of Things

I thought I'd try again. After all, if you don't try what's the point? To soften you up first is a picture I took on Sunday. Its hardly exciting, but then again its Garlic from my garden, picked by me late on Sunday afternoon.

Garlic Indeed

There, that's us all grounded then.

I took a risk on the tube tonight. Obviously I'd had a couple of pints. Unusually I found myself in a scene reminiscent of a Spike Lee film. Onto my carriage walked a crowd of eight guys, all young but aspiring to be in the hood. I have never seen so many Nike clothes outside a Darren Chambers benefit sale. The fact that they all were wearing 'left ear' gold with diamond cluster earrings marked them out as boys in a fraternity. They entertained themselves by trying to smile, jab the peaks of their baseball caps into the faces of fellow passengers and invading everyone's personal space. As there were seats either side and opposite me, some of them sat down, all legs and bling chains akimbo. I was surrounded.

The atmosphere was tense as the mostly knackered office types around smelt the testosterone and tried to hide. The boys sensed it and went into show off mode.

Much slapping of hands and cuffs round the head were exchanged, and much talk of "linkin" in the morning.

At this point the guy next to me decided to make a point. He took a picture of me on his Nokia and gleefully showed it around. I noticed the four fingered gold knuckle duster, they laughed at the shot. Much fun was being had. People were cowering.

He thought he had the upper hand so he shouted out "Look, I make this guy a movie star". His gold teeth flashed. He filmed me for a few seconds with the phone then raucously laughed.

Never one to do anything sensible I took my own phone from my pocket, and surrounded by a sea of muscles and sports wear, hit the video switch and held my phone inches from brave boys face.

His teeth flashed again, this time with bravado I thought he blushed. The carriage went very, very quiet indeed. Sharp inward breaths were quietly drawn. I stopped, hit the play button, showed him the video and laughed at him whilst smiling...

There was a pause..

He looked me in the eye.

His mates looked at me

I looked at them

They cracked up and the boy next to me was toast, out fronted by his target. They took him down in a sea of piss-takes.

I may have been being very stupid I don't know, but it said to me that however people try to be, a group of blokes is a group of blokes whatever. A useful lesson there I think.

It may have been dangerous? But I always advise not acting the victim. Unless you really are of course, in which case its already to late. Not that I'm casting aspersions on the lads with the gold chains, teeth and probably even prosthetic limbs on the ride but they were a bit scary to those not in their group.

As someone once said. In the land of the witless, the half wit is king.

Summer is Nice

Enough said, Its lovely.

Oh, I shall be having a garden party next month. It should be good.

2004-06-07T22:42:00.000Z

Arrgghh

I spent an hour writing for you tonight, only to have some computer gremlin fuck it all up at the last minute...

*sob*

I'm off to bed. It will have to wait untill tommorow.

It was good too. I'm most vexed.

Hum a happy tune....

2004-05-24T22:02:00.000Z

Here we are Again

The early summer is a funny thing. Here you are thinking its great because the nights are so long. Bizarrely though, there still doesn't seem enough time. What with social life (more later) garden life (hours of it) work life (ever present and life (the time you need to sort out bills, washing machines, hair, clothes, crap etc)

It all, as usual seems to go to fast.

In short we have a time deficit.

This makes me think I should hurry up as you don't have that much time to read this nonsense.

Due to the fact that my digital camera caddy thing was left in France and is winging it way toward me by paper post I can't give you a new picture tonight, so you will have to wait. Instead I shall regale you with my Birthday drinks night out.. Or perhaps at least part of it.

The Anchor (Bankside)

The Anchor is a fine, very old, if large pub. I picked it for a few drinks as its on the river and I expected a nice, hot day. I didn't pick it because I expected a robbery but then again fate is a funny old thing.

There was me at the table drinking and laughing, there was Slinx, The Duke, James with others just arising. Also, unseen till it was too late to notice were fagins children who with aplomb stole my mobile phone from under my nose whilst pretending to beg as a diversion. Crafty little things they were and I really don't want to think what they will grow up into. Evil little bastards I expect, but then, I always was the romantic.

Ah well the large Glenmorangie that the manager gave me by way of a cheer up, washed down with pint I had to start with, followed by the champagne that Tommy and Ivano and crew (who arrived just after) supplied seemed to do the trick, or at least knock this trick sideways a bit.

Slightly hazy after that though I believe the Monglian barbecue provided foodstuffs and the Pheonix Artist Club on Charing Cross Road swept up the bits.

With regard to the Mongolian barbecue, I'm intrigued as to how it originated? I didn't think Mongolia in central Asia being landlocked had much of a reputation for fish, but their cod was very good. Perhaps I was just drunk but our self created meals which are then cooked for you seemed to get harder and harder to eat. I blame shaking hands in the spice bucket. Though the Duke ate the lot! I still owe him a fiver...

On Sunday I didn't feel quite as busy as I would have liked to be.

I haven't had much time to write this tonight. Oh, you could tell? I shall attempt to get back up to full blogging speed shortly, but not tomorrow as I'm off to see Jack Dee.

And god knows what's happened to the Cocktail of the month. Perhaps you should recommend one?

thegardener@gmail.com

2004-05-20T20:02:00.000Z

Hurrah for Blogger :)

Now you are really in trouble. Pictures a go go.

Prepare for the worst. i have a camera and a warped attitude.

I'm smiling again. Oh you can add comments to.. not that you will. There's only one writer round here and thats, errm, errm, someone, somewhere?

Gravy on the peas please.

Fat Crabs. You see some funny things on the way to the pub...

2004-05-19T21:47:00.000Z

Update Warning

I've been away for a while. Much has happened.. I even went to France.. I know, its not very far.

There will be a new improved blog soon.

The music is dancing and I shall return...

I know, I know.. I'm not that strange, just bear with me.

Soon.

-TG

thegardener@gmail.com

2004-04-26T19:57:00.000Z

The Return of the Party

Well folks it happened again. The Duke and the Wapping mad house threw the end of the world of party's.

Saturday night saw near enough 250 people including the beautiful Slinx and I having a wild old time. Five great DJ's, kept the place moving until the early hours. We think we left at near enough 9AM on Sunday and boy did we need a sleep.

Highlights of the evening included...

..The guy that fell out of the balcony floor above, 15 feet down onto the floor below (luckily narrowly missing other party goers) who immediately sprang back up shouting "I'm fine, nothing to see here".

I bet he hurts today!

...The 7 foot tall rubber clad dominatrix in towering platform shoes that kept asking a certain girl if she'd like to 'do something unrepeatedly rude'

Anyone who did sterling volunteer work on the bar.

The Italian Mafia for spontaneously cooking pasta for a 100 people or more.

The Duke (Andy), Tommi, Ivano and Richard for throwing possibly the best party in London, ever.

We found this chap and friends in the morning.

If anyone knows who he is, please let me know..

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-04-22T21:02:00.000Z

Being Remiss

I've been quite remiss at blog entries lately. What does this mean? Does it mean that

a) I have a life?

b) I'm lazy

or

c) Someone has kidnapped the real Gardener and I am just a mere secret service fill in?

Answers stapled to a small leopard and delivered by parachute please.

Right I'm off to grade my t-shirt collection into amusing categories. After all Summer is coming and oh god what a difference the sunshine makes. I swear I even saw the bag man try to smile the other day. It hurt to watch.

Gravy

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-04-17T22:22:00.000Z

Gis A Job

A funny thing happend the other lunchtime. There I was minding my own business having a quet lunchtime pint in a pub (I forget the name) in Covent Garden and who should pull up right out side the window that I was facing, driving a black cab and pick up a fare but none other than Nicholas Cage. Yes the actor.

Very strange I thought. I assure you dear reader that it was him, or at least his long lost twin. The cab was interesting in that it was an old hackney cariage but with immaculate paint and seemingly extra chrome fittings. He was wearing a brown leather jacket and smiled that smile he does when hes looking slightly mad at the girl he picked up.

I was the only person that noticed and put it down to my imagination, but...

... on Thursday morning I was driving to work and as I stopped at some traffic lights near Holborn a man got out of a white van to deliver (or collect?) something. Dressed in a black jumper and jeans, stomach straining and hair like a mop, it was, Dan Ackroyd.

Somethings going on and if you don't believe me start looking around. Rich actors are moonlighting in London town to earn extra cash. I don't know why. Do you?

I will write more soon, I should have some time. Its been very busy lately.

Mail me when you spot another celeb.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-04-10T16:33:00.000Z

Flora and Fauna

A short blog today. Whilst sitting in the kitchen looking at the garden a Pheasant flew in and wandered about. I was tempted.

Yesterday at almost exactly the same time I was sat in the same spot and a Mallard Duck flew in and crashed noisily into the pond.

Where will all end? They are getting larger by the day. I'm hoping to get a Giant Penguin tommorow. I might not be so lucky though. The fact that they can't actually fly might be a hindrance. I shall however keep an eye out.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-04-05T19:57:00.000Z

Dead But Only Resting

In the last seven days I haven't half been busy. I'm thinking of hiring a ghost writer to write this Blog but I figured that they may end up being a better writer than me and I can't have that, so I will soldier on.

Looking For a New Job

Keen eyed readers may remember that I lamented Alistair Cooke's retirement a few weeks ago so ending the longest running broadcast show in history "Letter From America". Sadly it looks like he's rested his typing fingers for the very last time. He was 95. One thing that is a touch ironic is that he was really miffed a few weeks ago because some laggard in the BBC had leaked news of his retirement the day before he had decided that he would broadcast it to a shocked world. I bet he would have laughed if news of his death had been leaked before it happened. He would probably have stayed up...

I was surprised he hadn't made a rushed cameo in

Shaun of the Dead

Another visit to the Rex last week saw us seeing another film pre-release. This, romzomcom, 'Romantic Zombie Comedy' was a good laugh and had its moments of pathos to. The 'girl in the garden' scene is a classic and it has its laugh out loud moments throughout. Sadly there are couple of flat bits and I'm not sure how well it will export or really do at the flicks. It will, however though grace many a DVD collection though and I can think of few films better to press the play buttun to if you have some mates round after the pub. Go and enjoy, but leave your brain behind. Lest someone lurch slowly toward you and eat it. Go on, you know you want it.

Kettners

In other news I've been cooking roast dinners, sharing great company, gardening and generally doing what I usually do . Last Friday saw me catch up for a rare meeting with the Walton. It was an evening meet that took in a number of venues including a quick stop at Kettners. This establishment has been serving champagne to the loaded and desperate for attention crowd for what seems like for ever. I managed (only just) to not take the piss out of Ainsley Harriot for being so short, and who was the ageing rocker with the mane of grey hair down to his jeans who visited the gents to powder his nose four time in the 30 minutes or so that we were there? Or perhaps he has prostrate trouble? Go anyway if you've not been before. The gents toilets have an excellent no-cost shoe shine machine. Its under the plant pot, you will see it.

Later that night at 12.17 precisley, I foolishly missed my last Tube home. Normally if i'm on a mad one I don't care, but this time I did as its an awful long way for me in a cab. Its the one thing that I really think holds this city back from really exploding with fun. The Tube should run, at least at weekends till 3 or 4. C'mon people, lobby Ken the plastic Mayor!.

Cocktails

I know!. Its the 5th already. I'm having a dilemma as to what you should drink. I'm still thinking so I'll take a tip from Mrs Mills and just for the moment, recommend a glass of sweet sherry. That will stand you out from the crowd and possibly start a new trend.

Party!

There is a party soon. A big one. Possibly the biggest one ever. If you want an invite then email me and we shall see. It promises to be very good indeed.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-04-03T13:56:00.000Z

A Short Break

Normal service shall resume shortly.

2004-03-31T22:26:00.000Z

Close

I know, I know.. I'm a day late, there's not long to wait.

2004-03-28T21:40:00.000Z

Rural Pursuits

After a late night spent with the ever badly behaved Slinx, her work colleagues and strawberry vodka in a busy and quite fun bar called Nordic and some Italian food I remembered that I had to do something relatively important on Friday.

I had a meeting to go to in the middle of nowhere.

Fenland Council in North East Cambridge is not a place that many of you will have heard of. Quite rightly so in some ways. Imagine a large field surrounded by other large fields also surrounded by very large fields interspersed with run off streams that the locals would obviously have you call fens, though that is a wild overuse of artistic license, and finally chuck in more fields and the occasional badly planned village with lots of broken windows and you have the idea.

From a traffic jam behind a tractor I saw the biggest hay bales I have ever seen. They were as large as a Bethnal Green tower blocks and I wonder if they are built by giants, who even then would have to call on major industrial mechanised equipment? I took a photo. If you would like to see it just ask. You won't believe it if you do.

It was as I imagine Kansas to be, only with the occasional fish and chip shop.

Its easier to get to France than get to there. If you look on a map it pouts beguilingly at you like a saucy dancer and calls you on with come hither eyes "I'm just here sexy, look, I'm within your reach just come and get me". Just like most aforesaid dancers however it plays you, to tease you. When you get there you discover the dancer has long since danced off laughing to the wind and you are left surrounded by tragic, "I've no home to go to" regulars.

You might be able to tell but I thought it was a journey too far. However the meeting was OK, though my form, hampered by the previous nights vodka could have been sharper.

It was a long journey back.

Earth Moving

Saturday was spent starting some of the heavy work that the garden requires. I sometimes think I may have bitten off to much in having this space, and about this time of year is when the work starts. I got in a few hours of hard yards and then settled down for some TV Rugby before heading over to Slinx's for the finale.

England vs France (Six Nations decider in Paris)

England lost. France played very well.

England lost. Oh I said that?

The company I had the privilege to be with made it all less painful and I had a lovely dinner and evening.

Today.. Or it was.

I really threw myself at that outside space and began to make some dents. I laid 20 meters of edging. I dug the grass out from around the trees and made them neat. I cut the lawns. I rollered them. Blimey I worked hard. I even dug out what looked at a perfunctory glance to be, half a hectare of baby nettles.

Let me tell you a thing or two about baby nettles. Firstly, they lie. They are not babies at all. They look small but secondly their roots are like grown men’s legs, only they travel for miles each and every way, and on to the very center of the earth.

On a more enjoyable note I also sowed carrot seeds to join the parsnip seeds I let my visiting American Jason fella sow the week before.

Another few days like that and I may begin to have a semblance of control.

The cat did not witness these heroics. He stayed indoors. Instead the Deer looked on occasionally and the birds smiled.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-03-24T22:25:00.000Z

The Secret

There is a secret book shop near where I work. I pass it on my cut through after I have been to the gym.

The shop is in a quiet and secret alley. Its a small shop with windows mostly obscured by old book jackets and it seems to sell only second hand books.

There are always interestingly titled tomes in the window and on a bookcase outside. I have never seen anyone inside the shop other than the book shop keeper.

He sits with his back to the window and always seems to be reading.

By the front door is a doorbell and a small handwritten sign. It says "If the shop is closed, please ring"

This intrigues me as the shop always appears to be open at all times of day and night. I assume that one night I may pass and it will be closed?

I wonder if the man lives in, or above the shop somewhere and would be happy to be woken or interrupted to allow someone to browse the collections of once, other peoples books?

I know a thing or two about the cost of living in London. In short, its dammed expensive and the occasional sale of a hardback copy of "Ideas of Future" circa 1978 in its tattered glory at £2.80 (marked in pencil on the inside cover) can't keep the wolves from the door...Unlesss.

a) The man is the great grandson son of a once great industrialist and has forsaken all wealth for his love of words.

b) The shop is a money laundering operation connected to international crime.

There are probably countless probababilities.

I think its touching and I will get to the bottom of it.

In the meantime I shall create a story based on this starting point.

I may share it with you soon. Or I may find out the truth and spoil it for us all.

I shall buy a book though.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-03-22T21:05:00.000Z

Normality Returns

The week ended loudly. The Duke and his friends had a spare ticket for dance music loud people, Basement Jaxx who were playing at the Brixton Academy. They kindly invited me.

I went along and moshed with the rest. It was indeed loud and very hot. In fact parts of me are still trembling.

I'd like to comment further but I'm still making my mind up.

As for the rest of the weekend I spent it mixed up with Rugby, pub, gardening and Slinx. An unusual combination I grant you but a pleasant one most definitely.

So now its Monday and I'm beginning to find my equilibrium again. I last saw it under the sofa I think?

I shall post something observant and hopefully witty later in the week, for now I'm just checking in.

Hope you are good.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-03-21T18:13:00.000Z

I'll be Back...

Tommorow.

2004-03-18T21:11:00.000Z

The Things I put Myself Through

Bloody hell. The things I put myself through in the interests of lightening your coffee break. Sometimes even I can't take the pace, and like now, find myself with a throbbing head and slight tremors in my hands.

It all started when I received a visitor on Tuesday evening who I haven't had the pleasure of carousing with for a number of years. Jason, for that is name, is my Brother's wife's' stepbrother and he was visiting this fair isle from his home in the US of A. He's a very well traveled American having spent nearly 10 years living and working in The Czech Republic. That place taught him to party!.

Tuesday night was a catch up in the pub followed by a large amount of scotch.

Wednesday saw us take in bits of the British Museum. Jason is studying to become a Marine Archeologist which seems to me to be a strange but watery profession in that should he find a shed load of solid gold dubloons from the spanish main while grubbing about at the bottom of some abyss somewhere he's not allowed to keep any of them? In fact when these types get their accreditations they sign a pledge not to. A strange old business indeed, apparently Indy was shabby thief!

I bought a pad and a pencil from the gift shop in case I felt the urge to write anything down. The pencil was not sharpened so I enquired of the kiosk whether I could borrow a sharpener. I could. I sharpened. And sharpened. My sharpening was in vain as the lead was broken throughout and in the end I was left just holding an eraser. The kind lady found me another unsharpened pencil and sharpened that one instead until it worked. She blamed schoolchildren who like tap the pencils and then put them back to be sold to unsuspecting types like me. Be warned. Anyway, enough pencil action for now. More later...

We started off the evening in the secret pub and then charged in to West Soho to

Two Floors

Good bar. The review is pretty accurate. We got into the drinks and were joined by the beautiful and ravishing Slinx who stole the show in a cherry red Trilby hat. Men were dropping their drinks all around. She really seems not to realise it though? We were soon treated to an unexpected guest appearance by The Duke. Eight armed and forewarned we got into some more drinks. We then started drawing Elephants in the pad from the museum with the successfully sharpened pencil. Jason broke the rules by drawing a very good Flamingo. Apparently he entertains his two year old daughter like that. It worked on me and The Duke. At this point Slinx, unusually sensibly reminded us that food would be a good thing.

Busaba Eathai

Wardour Street. Slinx led us here. This place is great! Some reviews have complained about the service. We had no problems even though it was rammed busy. Perhaps that cheeky red Trilby got us noticed? You sit on communal tables that seat about 10 people, so don't expect a private chat but a lively time. The good thing about this is that you can see up close what other peoples food looks like. And, if you ask nicely like I did you can taste other peoples food to help you make your choice. Thanks leather clad Soho biker fellas! I had a fantastic chili, duck and tomato Thai Curry. It was the best meal I've had in long time. Not bad on the wallet either, Our dinner for four with rice, a beer each and water cost just over 50 squid not including the little squid tentacles in Slinx fish stir fry. Sadly she didn't like those but Jason and The Duke weighed in with heavy artillery and hoovered them up.

The evening for Jason and I ended at Lab with Sidecars from Tim the barman.

We rolled home...

Wednesday...

After a late start courtesy of nightcap vodka's we had a watery day and went to see the Cutty Sark and The Maritime Museum in Greenwich.

Luckily we also found a good pub to have a late lunch in, after all it was St Patricks Day.

Then we nipped to The Tate Modern. If you haven't been you should go. Forget the art perhaps? Just marvel at the building.

The tide on the Thames was the lowest I have ever seen it and Jasons eyes lit up as he pointed out rotted posts and wooden walls that were hundreds and hundreds of years old. Well we had to didn't we? We went on a Marine Archeology dig on the beach opposite the Tate.

I am now the proud owner of very old clay pipes and bits of ceramic. Yet more lovely clutter for me!

A couple of pints and the evening was upon us.

The Cantaloupe

Out Old Street way this is a really good place to start a wild night. The bar is funky, loud, boho fashionable and lively with plenty of Hoxton haircuts to amuse you. Also the restaurant was really very good indeed. The drinks were good. They mix a great Bloody Mary.

More bars happened. Things started to get silly so we cranked it up to danger time.

Mother

So good I'll treat you to two reviews

ViewLondon Review

ItchyLondon Review

This place is why my head is throbbing and my hands have the tremors. What a great night, and this was a Wednesday!

The DJs were fantastic, the place was exploding. By 3 AM the place was flying and everybody in it was seriously but happily wasted on their drug of choice. Who knows if anyone there had to work on Thursday but this crowd was going for it. We joined them. Its not big, but it is clever. Go and be properly decadent children.

Luckily I had booked the morning off.

I thought I felt bad when I got up but when I saw Jason I knew I'd fulfilled my mission.

London is a seriously up beat and wild city at the moment. Other than the nagging fear that someone will blow up the tube...

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-03-13T18:54:00.000Z

Starsky And Hutch

I really thought that we all agreed that the late 70's were best forgotten. In fact I thought we had decided that other than of course the Mowtown sound, the memories and any left over 'fashion' items should have been squished under a giant rolling pin, wrapped in newspaper and thrown to the bottom of the deepest hole in the deepest flooded disused and condemned mine that one could find. Preferably on another planet.

Well I must have been wrong? Watching Starsky and Hutch, the new Warner Brothers comedy remake of the TV cop show of the same name from that unspeakable decade at the Rex on Thursday Night I found myself wishing they were back.

That's all because of the fantasy though. In reality we were all poor and lived in damp caves in the 70's.

Who cares though? For a hundred odd minutes I had a really great time and judging by the smiles on everybody else's faces when the lights came up so did everybody else. So its not going to change the world but it made a refreshing change to the usual Hollywood comedy fare of slapstick teenage flicks or slightly over saccharine takes on growing up, or indeed getting old . Or perhaps there is lots of good stuff out there? I just might have missed it?

Mismatch cop partners/ murder/cocaine baron/THE CAR/That theme tune/chunky knitwear/Wry humour/affectionate homage/Big hair/Huggy Bear... Oh and girls snogging each other...mmmmmmm Carmen Electra...*sigh* mmmmmm Amy Smart, mmm *cough* sorry , yes right.

Feel good all over with the great smell of Brut.

On the stereo 'The Scissor Sisters' Funk comin atchya..

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-03-12T21:50:00.000Z

The Magic of Theatre X 2

Wednesday is always a strange night, you should be at home, you should be at the gym, you should be speaking to your Mother. Who knows, you should be doing something sensible because there are two full working days left ploughing the furrows of commerce.

I went out.

The Duke had tickets to the theatre, but that show didn't start until 9.30 so we had a small drink first then headed on foot toward Soho. Our journey at around 7.20 led us past the Shaftesbury Theatre. As we walked past I was accosted by a heroin addled beggar. You see this a lot in London and when it is as cold as it was that night most of the non drug dependent homeless have moved off the streets. The olde phrase "Brass Monkeys" come to mind.

This chap was persistent, 10p for a shelter" he asked. I said "Sorry I won't, besides a shelter is free and whilst there might not be enough you can, I'm sure get in somewhere" He tailed me as I kept walking, and he kept asking... He gave up.

He re-focused on The Duke who, was by now 50 yards behind me. Where the "f**k?" I thought as I turned round.

I should have guessed. There he was talking to an attractive young woman. They said goodbye and he chased up to me. He was followed by the beggar who was looking for "`10p towards a cup of tea"

I tried to ask him what on earth had been going on there? He tried to tell me. Through all this the now animated but still polite bedraggled chap looking to collect small change bobbed and weaved between us in an lively but sadly desperate way.

In the end it turned out that The Duke had been stopped by a femme fatal who had decided she didn't fancy the magic of theatre after all that night. And her friends hadn't turned up. I don't know, that kind of thing doesn't happen to me. Perhaps its his hormones? Did he get her number? I'm beginning to realise that there is a reason his phone has an extended memory chip.

So there we were.

It was 7.25 and we had 2 free tickets for the show starting in 5 minutes.

Ahh, The West End. The theatre, the magic, lights, chorus and errrm, a bar in the stalls that didn't sell alcohol. What is this town coming to?

We found another bar. Wisely, it sold Gin and Tonic's. The highlight at this point could have come straight out of a silent Ealing comedy.

Picture the scene. I am ordering the aforesaid Gin and Tonics. The Duke's eyes cast around the half empty bar and spot a glossy (and possibly expensive) program lost on the back wall leaning counter. He picks it up and says "Oh look a program these cost few quid you know!" The group of half a dozen businessmen a few yard down the counter all have programs in their hands and other than them any other punters are well away or filing towards the door for the imminent start of the show. I pay for the drinks as The Duke nips casually into the gents.

As he enters another man leaves. He is wearing a suit. They pass in the doorway. They have to make way for each other. The business man heads towards the back wall leaning counter. The Duke disappears.

I hear the business man (possibly on a once in a year junket to the big smoke) speak to his colleagues "Errm, has anyone seen my program?

His friends laugh. "Your always losing things you plonk" says one. And with that they charge for the seats.

A couple of minutes later The Duke returns accompanied by his program.

I said nothing. After all it would be shame to spoil it.

If only he realised that his timing was comedy perfection.

Thoroughly Modern Millie

Big show. We sat on an isle seat, a good view. The Flappers went flap. The chorus screeched. In fact they really did screech. Oh, and danced. Whilst it was clear that the cast was working hard something was very broken. It really is not good to be screeched at by whole choruses of women intent on pretending that they have Neow Yrrrk accents from 84 years ago.

After 20 minutes The Duke looked at me and I looked at him. We fled.

There are better things to be doing than that

Food Theme On a Stick

We continued on our way. The beggar having harvested the change he needed for shelter/tea/horse had gone. It was still cold.

I felt uneasy about the restaurant we choose for some pre-theatre nibbles. I was right.

Nadines 23-24 Greek Street

This place looks the part. Think Greek, Lebanese and Moroccan as a mix and add Conrans baby son. You might say "Ok, the food should be as good as the cushions". It wasn't.

We had a few starters each. Eastern Tapas if you will. Mezzo of you won't.

Don't go. The food is edible but it all tastes the same and leaves an oily film on the roof of the mouth that is not pleasant. If that's authentic I don't want it.

The manager (or owner?) to his credit agreed with me. He said he was still working with the chef. I would have liked to have suggested that he should try working with the chef by actually speaking to him as obviously the telepathic hints weren't working. I am however far to polite and we parted on amicable terms. Though with funny breath?

One memory I do have of this, is that the manager-owner never blinks. A little like James Earl Jones as 'Thulsa Doom' in the old (but memorable) flick Conan The Barbarian. Only fatter like Omar Sharif. Oh, sod it! Go anyway just to see if his eyes ever move...

Theatre Finally Works

We got there in the end.

All I Want Is A British Passport!

This was fabulous. Just under one hour, a monologue touched with poignancy and excellent humor. If you get the chance, go and see it. I say that unreservedly.

There is so much I could add but for once its better to go yourself. In the face of such excellence this Gardener will sit quietly and enjoy.

We ended up at Lab..

I haven't even started on Thursday night.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-03-09T19:46:00.000Z

Orchids a Go Go

Last week was busy, but by the time Friday came I was ready for a break. I ended up at The Albany. This is a big pub at the top of Great Portland Street. That's if you regard Euston Road as the top.

The pub was fun as it was full of nice people, most of whom seemed to be friends of Slinx. Which I suppose you wouldn’t regard as odd being as it was drinks for her birthday.

How on earth do you accumulate so many friends? Well that's girls for you I suppose?

Us chaps make do with a small handful of long standing ones. In many cases these are from our younger years and even if you have moved apart or even don't actually like each other you still get close when you can. A bit like old pants I suppose? After all, us blokes don't like to throw things away, and we don't much like shopping either. Ahh I think I just worked out the friends thing. Friends and pants, these are constants that a well grounded man likes to keep until they are properly dead and beyond any use at all. Perhaps we should take a leaf from the female of the species and replace the worn out ones occasionally? Nah, that would be too complicated.

Anyway, as I was saying. I was in The Albany which was lively and very North Noho media-chicken in terms of clientele. It also had a downstairs after hours club type thing which we didn't venture into as we (or at least I on account of forgetting to eat) were lashed by 10 PM. As indeed was everyone else I think?

The only thing I will say is that the "Cor Guvna" Black cab driver that whisked me there informed me with many a nod through his rear view mirror that when he was a lad that it was a place of much notoriety. Indeed he said when he was a younger buck about town "There were strippers downstairs and it was well hokey, cos they didn't just strip!". He tapped his finger to his nose "all sorts went on, the nights we had you wouldn’t believe" He had a wistful look in his eye.

I did look around but I assume the girls must have retired by now?

Kew Gardens

On Sunday Slinx and I went to view the Orchid exhibition at Kew. The traffic was murder and as is the way of places the coffee shop was packed with very slow moving people and children. Whilst I was in a queue for a coffee and some water a small child on a tiny three wheeled tricycle kept rolling back and forth and attempting to run over my foot. Parental control isn't what it should be so I simply placed my foot on his wheel so he couldn't move. I looked very, very stern as he looked up at me wondering who had dared to stop him being so special that he could always do what he wants. He looked a little nervous. He should have. Seen and not heard, that's what I say.

Don't get me started ;)

The Orchids were wonderful, but then again the whole of Kew Gardens are wonderful. For a day out I recommend them to anyone. The Victorian built 'Palm House' is especially fabulous. Climb the wrought Iron staircase and hang about in the tree tops.

I'm going out to the theatre tomorrow, then I'm out on Thursday and then its Friday so don't expect an update till the weekend. Though you never know I may surprise you.

Oh yes I nearly forgot...

Odontoglossum Crocidipterum

I bought some of these as baby seedling Orchids in a flask at Kew. I've just potted them all up and they are now sitting all warm and cosy in a propagator. These are apparently from Venezuela though the label says a nursery in County Durham. I've never been to either of those places and I have no idea how they will turn out. I shall keep you posted. There are 6 (or possibly 7?) If you would like to name one please send me your suggestions and I will write a tag and send you school reports.

In other gardening news I cut the lawns today and installed some 'easy lay' edging. Gardening Time is here again. Hum a happy tune!

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-03-07T22:22:00.000Z

Still Thinking

Odontoglossum crocidipterum

... baby ones...

Now thats got you thinking hasn't it?

Soon my beauties...

2004-03-03T22:59:00.000Z

Bournemouth by the Sea

The jury is still out on this place. It's enough for me to admit that it does exist. It also has a pier, which I walked on. The shop that sells rock was shut though. I'm not often denied so I shall muse on for a while.

More to come, soon...

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-03-03T20:32:00.000Z

Dubious Recognition At Last!

In a totally unexpected display, The Hoathster has created a blog page that contains just the best bits from my column.. for some anyway (and we will have less of the 'column' jokes please you at the back)

I'm very grateful to him, and flushed with good feelings that he understands genius when he sees it. He has complied a list which contains nothing but my Cocktails of the month.

Thank you Hoathster!

Note: For an interesting evening simply print the page out and hand it to your Cocktail barman so removing the need for unnecessary conversation. Whether you start last or first or in an order of your choice you can bet the conversation will falter before to long anyway.

Enjoy!

I give you

The Cocktails Of The Month in one 'easy-wipe' blog..

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-03-02T23:24:00.000Z

Scotch, Sea Sides and Sad News

I seem to have a minor cold developing. I do hope I'm not sniffling away all week! Especially as Slinx has returned from a holiday in Goa and is seems to be sickeningly sexy, healthy and tanned. Jealous? Moi? Never, I love toil and a lack of sunshine.

My cocktail for the month of March, which I know you have been waiting for, is partly influenced by my shivery state. Its another classic, harking back to the bad old days when life was much simpler.

Cocktail for the month of March

Rob Roy, also called a Scotch Manhattan

You will need

Yourself...
Some whiskey
Sweet Vermouth (that's the reddish martini usually)
Ice
A mixing glass
An implement for stirring
Cocktail Glasses
Cocktail (glace) cherries

Instructions: This is so simple that an imbecile can do it. Yes.... Even you.

Chill mixing glass, the implement and the cocktail glasses.
Place a few cubes of ice in the mixing glass
Pour 1 measure of Sweet Vermouth over the ice
Pour 2 measures of Whiskey over the ice
Stir gently with your implement in a slow, Kung Fu Master type of way
Strain into cocktail glasses (i.e leave the ice behind)
Garnish with a cherry

Enjoy. Its warming but not to everyone's taste. Though it is a beautiful colour.

Notes: This drink is very variable depending on which whiskey you are using. If you shop at Netto and only have own brand whiskey called "Highland Tiny Grouse" that was made from tap water and flavorings with an alcohol pill added later, then you may still enjoy it, but it will improve with a better brand. If you make this drink with a blended whiskey it is of course then a 'Manhattan' If you use Glenmorangie Single Malt (Sherry Wood Finish, as I do if you wondered) then it is of course a Rob Roy.

And a very nice one at that.

Sea Sides

Tomorrow I foolishly have to drive to Bournemouth for a meeting. I agreed to this when I really couldn't remember how far it was away. I now realise its 134 miles away and oh! am I looking forward to it. Bizarrely (at least to me) I find I also have a meeting in Margate next week. Now I don't normally travel from the Fortress that much, lest I get lost, but two seaside towns in two weeks is more than a coincidence. I shall bring back rock!

Sad News

I read the news today, oh boy...

I actually watched it. Those few of you loyal readers that actually know me in person will be aware that I have a serious side. My serious side was moved tonight. This blog can't always be light and banter you know, sometimes I have to say.

170 dead.

In one day.

I woudnt like to be in Iraq, I woudn't have liked to make decisions about whether to even send someone else to Iraq. Normally I would rather just argue why I think we shoudn't have done it.

The news I saw today was so sad and so pointless it defies arguments about policy or direction. It is currently, obviously just a terrible, terrible place to be.

I think we are all very glad to have grown up in a different world entirely. I feel for them.

The Last Letter

Alistair Cooke, one of the last great English broadcasters has retired aged 95. He had been broadcasting since 1946 and is, to me an icon.

Those of you that do know him will know his thoughts and amazing presentation skills from his weekly broadcast. "Letter From America" I urge you to seek his broadcasts out and listen. Sometimes I didn't agree with him, sometimes you wont, but, he always had the most magical ability to keep you hanging on every, properly pronounced word. I hope he doesn't fade away completely and keeps spluttering on to break the century.

Respect to Alistair Cooke

And the Rob Roy's going down well to.

Tomorrow I shall tell you what I think of Bournemouth...

2004-02-28T18:10:00.000Z

A Nice Quiet Week?

Civilised was the word for the start of the week. I took it nice and easy through the start of it and on Wednesday had a couple of civilised pints with my long standing friend James (The Electron) Larsson. He's not to well at the moment and I wish him all the best. It seems years of messing about with high end hi-fi, VERY loud music and headphones has permantly damaged his ears. Apparantly its now so bad that he can't go to loud places any more and even the noise of the underground can cause pain. Oh, and there is absolutely nothing that can be done about it, and its going to steadily get worse.

So you, yes you with your IPod cranked to stupid level. Turn it down or you too may suffer this, forever. Cheers James.

Thursday Badness

Oh dear, its seems that even an art event can get out of hand if your foolish enough to meet up with The Duke. He happened to have a spare ticket for the Time Out private view of pop artist Roy Lichtenstein at the Haywood Gallery.

The paintings were as expected. Some made my eyes go funny. Or was that the free wine?

A rather good pizza in Villiers street followed and then we walked up the road. As we neared The Savoy The Duke foolishly said "I've never had a drink in there" I smuggled him in and within minutes were on the Cocktails. As we worked our way through a round of Sidecars followed by Champagne Cocktails, followed by Martinis (gin and vodka respectively) and then god knows what else, we joined a nice American lady who was drinking large amounts of neat gin (Sapphire) with a lemon twist.

She was a charming, witty lady who it transpired was visiting her daughter for the week. Her daughter, who is a 21 year old student studying art appreciation was asleep and Mum had taken the opportunity for a few quick snifters and some secret ciggarettes.

Art appreciation? I ask you? It sounds like an excuse for a young wealthy American gal to arse about in europes major cities for a year or so distracting blokes who should know better. Well fair play to her, thats what I say. By the sound of it shes a bit of a lightweight though as lunch at Gordon Ramsay's had finished her off. I'm sure we can work on this and get her up to speed.

Elodie (for that was the lady's name) took to the Duke and snaffled his card. We were all quite elegantly wasted and she said that he was a charming man and that he should show her daughter (and her daughters single friends) around London.

As we left The Duke was propositioned by a very gay man in a tuxedo who was flushed with port. "Ding dong"....Highly amusing.

We didnt get far, some friends were around the corner and the evening finished up in the early hours. I finished up on a sofa somewhere

I always recommend the American Bar at the Savoy. The service and the drinks are amongst the very best in the world. Yes its pricey but late at night everyone is lashed and strange things can happen at the party. After all, if you are in London you might as well experience it.

Suprisingly I was rather quiet at work on Friday...

The email I got from a befuddled Duke amused me. Elodie had called and he's off to dinner with a gaggle of young, lively American girls on Monday. He's a good lad so they will be very safe... the thing is though, will he?

Duty Calls

Two trusty workers were leaving on the same Friday from Fortress Towers and I took them out. Well, I took the whole company out. Tired as I was sometimes you have to go on regardless.

Blend was great and the night ended at a large shiny fairly new bar full of more drunk people off Oxford Street called Wax.

I finally faded away and lurched into my bed at about 3 o clock. It was a good night.

Muse For The Day

One hair on my left eyebrow has taken to growing at at least twice the speed of its comrades. I keep having to pull it out as it starts to look like a curl on my forhead. Why should this be? Come on. I want to know.

The Hoathster

The link to his pages are up on the right. He is finally beginning to appreciate the finer things in life. Well done sir! And good luck with the dodgy back.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-02-22T22:28:00.000Z

Bam-Bou and Bamboo

On Friday night the very kind Slinx took me to dinner to Bam-Bou at No 1 Percy Street. This is just opposite the south end of Charlotte Street.

Bam-Bou

This is an interesting place. The building, originally a town house is over set over four floors. The restaurant is on the ground floor and the bar is up top on the fourth. Its a network of small rooms with interesting places to sit and decor that's dark, semi eastern and charming. We bought drinks on the fourth and found somewhere to sit on the third. It feels very much still like a house and having our drinks in a third floor room felt very much like being in someone's private party. I got a splinter off my chair. This used to be a members only bar but that's changed now. I would imagine due to competition. I recommend going for drinks if you would like somewhere with no bustle to sit and chat whilst relaxing. Oh, I got another splinter in my hand from the door edge.

This bills itself as a French Vietnamese restaurant. At our allotted time we went downstairs to eat. I have never eaten French food in Vietnam so I can't comment as to its authenticity. It was quite good and I liked the twists. My stir fried beef was cooked perfectly and served with salt pepper and lime to mix to taste. The food is not crazily priced but the wine is heavily marked up. Expect to pay £30 for a bottle of anything half decent. Later, as we were having coffee I moved my chair slightly and got yet another splinter in my hand.

Hmmmm I thought.

I pointed out the splinters to the manager in a concerned, you should be aware, type of way. I was most surprised when he came over a little later and insisted I have a drink on the house. He was most surprised when I opted for a glass of port. He wasn't to know that my eagle eyes had earlier scoped that they only had one port on the menu, and that was priced at £14. It was very good. I resolve to run my hands over the woodwork in every venue I visit from now on.

Overall. Recommended for just drinks or for just food, or indeed, just both.

Free the Trapped Children

A few of the adoring millions have shouted about my last post. It seems that I am harsh to the tiny children of London Town and should refocus my attention away from their tear stained faces and aim it squarely at their parents. Apparently parents don't let the little bundles of joy out any more. They drive them to and from school instead of letting them catch the bus or walk, and they wouldn’t ever allow the gifts to the next generation to wander about looking for cars to clean or paths to sweep for extra pocket money. No, it seems the Daily Mail, Daily Express and co have won. All parents believe that a paedophile lurks on every corner and in every house. Except theirs of course.

I worry for the little sods. How on earth can you grow up with any nous whatsoever if you are hermetically sealed? After all if you don't learn on your own to recognise the scary bloke that lives in the overgrown house on the end of the street how will you know to recognise the scary ones later on? hmm? Who's fault is it all?

Don't get me started...

Bamboo

Today I spent some time in the garden. Spring is stuttering in. I removed the winter nets from the pond, I cleared the paths around the vegetable beds. I began to tidy. God though! there is a lot to be done out there. All the playing out I've been doing over the last months means that there is lots to do.

That mole is toast...

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-02-18T10:03:00.000Z

Children - Who Needs Em?

This morning I drove to work. I'm not going to feel guilty about it either. I got to listen to the radio (XFM today) I got to chat on the phone to my Mum (Yes with a headset thingie) and I got to travel with lots of light and occasionally crispy hazy sunshine filling my world. My air conditioning system meant I breathed relatively fresh air. I had a comfy seat. It was bliss. My door-to-door journey took 56 minutes.

Yesterday I caught the tube to work. I got to listen to someone else radio (tinny crap FM I think?) I got to hear two, exceptionally boring, dead from the neck up, shoe shop assistants discussing Heat magazine with lots of accompanying cackling and rabid donkey noise laughing, and I got to travel surrounded by the bizarre lighting which London Underground deems is necessary. I reckon they bought the lighting from some ex-dictator who had decided to change his ways and join the hippy trail. He obviously didn’t need the lights from his torture cell blocks any more as he had turned them into wine cellars. I breathed in other people’s aromas. It could have been worse; at least I had a seat. My door-to-door journey took 65 minutes.

Hmmmm.. I should point out that normally driving to work isn't half as nice. It normally takes an hour and 20 minutes or if really nasty much more….

So why the luxurious drive in through empty streets with smiling pedestrians and happy relaxed old people I thought, as I courteously waved the scaffold lorry on in front of me with a cheery, devil me care wave.

I'll tell you. No children, yes that’s right, you heard. No children, anywhere. Its half term you see and the little darlings get yet another week off school and as they are off school their parents aren’t driving their huge, stupid space wagons to school either. Ergo empty roads.

This led me to thinking. What use are children in cities anyway? You don’t see them as they are in school in the daytimes and mostly in homes (or on street corners) at night. They don't contribute anything useful at all. For instance in my 10 years of car ownership in and around London not once has an enterprising child with a grubby bucket tried to earn a few quid by cleaning my car. You can't even use them to clean chimneys these days or even air conditioning ducts. So in short our lives are made more difficult by lazy, noisy, non-productive children who just take, take, take and get in the way. Whilst wearing bad clothes.

I say move them into the countryside, into camps. Just think, all the teachers would be happier as they wouldn’t have to moan on about not being able to afford to live blah, blah, blah. Even better we could spend less time listening to them moaning! Many of the old people would get some piece of quiet and even the children might benefit whilst they learn such things as peas don’t grow in packets, or that meat comes from animals with eyes, and most importantly of all. I could drive to work every day and enjoy the trip at the same time.

I think I should be in charge…Vote for me on the ‘put kids in camps’ ticket! Or perhaps make them go to school all night and sleep in the day?...

2004-02-17T21:24:00.000Z

MARCO PANTANI 1970-2004

The Pirate is dead. Such a shame, he was an incredible force.

I'm not really a massive cycling fan but the Tour De France is a special thing and Marco Pantani bought it to life.

Raise a glass.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-02-16T09:57:00.000Z

A Long Wait

Welcome back fans!, Oh sorry, you're right, its me that’s not been here. Yes I apologise for leaving you a whole week without a new, action packed episode of this, the literary classic that you crave. I'm not sure what’s more tragic? Is it that I actually write this stuff, or is it that you actually read it? Anyway, I'm digressing...

Get your self a cup of tea, sit back and have a rest. This could be a long blog.

The last seven days have been busy and tiring. I'm thinking of cloning a double so I can have more time to muse in the bath while my doppelganger could go out and about, working, partying and generally wearing itself out. Is cloning allowed yet? Has science made it into the mainstream? Can I keep the cloning vat in the back garden? Would it need planning regulations? Does it smell funny and what colour would it be?

More importantly would The Gardener Mk1.0 clone have my taste in style, drinks and ladies? If you think about it, that could be the real industry killer for cloning. I shall go to the next cloning debate and shout from the public gallery "You can keep your complex ethical and moral questions mate, what we really want to know is whether they will it be exactly like you or will it have their own mind?" For instance I can just imagine coming home whistling a jaunty tune and looking forward to donning a silk dressing gown, twiddling the stereo to something ambient with a Sidecar in hand and leaning back whilst a selection of beautiful masseurs dressed only in small amounts of exotic finery gently rub essential oils into my tired feet and kiss each others ears whilst serving delightful canapés and instead finding that TGMk1 has filled the house with his chav mates from the estate drinking cans of Kronenburg, wearing 'sports' clothes and shouting "geddermoff" at Men and Motors. Hmmm..These are important issues, I shall do some research. On second thoughts I think I should work harder towards me coming home to the currently imaginary masseurs whilst whistling the jaunty tune. I know I'll use the cloning vat to make wine instead...

Uber Geeks and Cognac

Last Wednesday found me and The Duke at Dorkbot London This is a monthly meeting of assorted phreaks, electronics experts, net heads and people that I noted seemed to have something in common. They all either had far to much hair, or hardly any at all. It was held in what I shall call an 'urban barn' near Brick Lane. This building was mostly held together by pigeon droppings, cobwebs and corrugated iron. God knows where the electricity was being generated from. I surmised that perhaps these uber geeks were powering it through shared cagoule rubbing. Anyway, it was quite fun and the subsidised bar which was basically a man, a trestle table and some boxes of very credible Pilsner Urquell only charged £1 a bottle. Yes! Its true! I have found a bar that sells beer at cheaper than cost. I know where I’m going next time I need stock for a party. For a while we watched a nice but nervous lady waffle on about art and shared electronic studio space as the audience rustled their cagoules or creaked their leather jackets whilst eyeing her with anticipation. She eventually stuttered to a stop and the next speaker came on, literary. I say literally because the speaker was in fact a speaker. Yes that type of speaker, the one that normally sits in a cabinet and allows you to waggle your feet to your favourite tunes. The speaker sat there whilst a man with a beard, who I think was American waved bits of metal near it so that it made funny sounds. Both tribes of audience member seemed to like this. The South Park alike anorak wearers and the Gothy orcs crossed with Edward Scisserhands wunderkids smiled or grunted dependant on their evolutionary quirks.

The Duke and I moved on. As we walked we noted that bizarrely (at least to us) there had been a handful of spectacular women there. "So its true that some women find brains attractive?" I said. The Duke sagely shook his head and said "Some of us have just got to work with what we’ve got son. Get used to it"

We popped around the corner to Lounge Lover This cocktail bar, restaurant thing is very flash and very expensive. I agree its eclectically decorated and has nice pieces of furniture but I am going to surprise a lot of people when I say I thought it over rated. Ok so the decor cost lots, but if you covered it all with a fat layer of dust you might think it was Steptoe and Sons house (without the skeleton admittedly) I also think its a bit rich to get charged a 12.5% (or was it 15%?) service charge to be served at the bar, especially when the drinks are around the £8 mark anyway. The one good point here was our barman 'Simon Sheema' who does deserve credit for being expert, witty and inventive in his approach. For instance whilst we were there he was mixing up a Cognac and cream based cocktail of his own invention that used the herb rosemary. He called it a Mrs Robinson and I would think that a few of those could leave any young graduate corruptible. I'll stick my neck out and give this bar a year to live. Simon the barman should go much farther though.

As we left after a Mojito and a Sidecar each I began to think that eating earlier might have been a good idea. The Duke had sensibly munched though an oversize Upper Crust baguette on the way to Dorkbot.

I wanted to go home but accidentally ended up at Corney and Barrow Broadgate again at someone’s leaving do.

My evening ended at half eleven in the always reliable and always horrible Mcdonalds. Ah well when you need to eat you need to eat. The Duke ate again.

When I got home he texted me proudly to say that his flatmate had cooked dinner and left his in the oven. He'd eaten that to!. I’m thinking of re-titling him as ‘Three Dinner Duke’. I don't know where he puts it? Note to self: Research Tape Worms as I think he must have one?

This view was further strengthened after he got drunk at my house on Friday night and finished the evening by alarmingly cooking, then eating the entire contents of my fridge. If you ever fancy a huge plate of Pizza followed by Beef Tortellini, sausages, mash, ratatouille, tomatoes, new potatoes strawberries, beetroot and pickled onions (yes all, sickeningly piled, steaming on the same plate) Then you know who to call. I took one look at my Desperate Dan sized portion and felt sick. You wouldn’t believe it but he’s hardly a fat chap.

I went queasily back to drinking instead. He polished off the lot.

Flowery Chocolate Silk Things

The rest of the weekend passed swimmingly with the lovely Slinx. Roses (the flowers) Chocolates (from Paris) Champagne (from Oddbins) and Knickers (for her, not me) all added up to a very lovely time.

Save The Routemaster!!

I have known for a while that Ken the Mayor Livingston has wanted to hatchet the beautiful, functional and iconic 'proper' hop on-hop off Routmaster London Bus. and I had noticed the huge bendy, stupid monolithic cattle trucks trying to struggle around corners in the center of Town but I didn’t realise that all of the Routmasters were to be axed!. Yes that’s right all of them. I know they’re not that clean and that the old and disabled can't clamber on to them well, if at all, but that’s surely not the whole point? They are a part of the fabric of this great city and I love them. I love the noise they make whilst idling at the traffic lights and the roar they make whilst they are accelerating. Also they have conductors, some of which can be proper characters. I fondly remember a conductor on the No 38 who used to sing Motown classics on a summers morning. He was so good everybody loved it. That was a few years ago now. I seem to recall he actually got signed for a record deal in the end.

So, they say that by next June all of them will be gone, leaving us all the poorer. Join me and campaign against it. Kick up a stink, write or email your MP. Better still start a street leafleting campaign and organise some marches!

Take to the streets and join the revolution! Alternatively email me and agree.

Until next time sweet things...

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-02-08T21:03:00.000Z

The Weekend

Prologue

Now, don't think I'm selling you short. As usual there were cocktails a plenty on Wednesday at Lab which I still think serves some of the best drinks in town. And of course restaurants. We went to Mon Plaisir. This is the oldest French restaurant in London and is always good. Its very busy sometimes and is set over a number of smallish rooms but it doesn't feel claustrophobic. Take a date there, or even your parents. Very French yet also very friendly.

The whole working week was a blur. It seems I'm working hard again, I'm not sure I like it!

With that in mind the end of the week was inevitable yet also unexpected.

The Main Event

The Duke, James 'The Dane' and myself moved through Friday London on a small mission. A few beers, then a few more. A laddish start to the night. The Duke left early as other engagements pressed. The Dane and I started at a safe spot, Blend, where due to my long term patronage my favorite barman experimented with new ideas on us. Some were nice, some were not, but my oh my, they were all strong. On, on, we thought and attacked Lab (yes I know again). I must note though, that their Sidecars are special. Then on again to The Phoenix for a stabiliser and a headcount. As far as we could ascertain there were still two of us. A blurry two of us admittedly but still standing.

Food at Eds Diner restored a little balance...

We toddled off to The Rex...

...where we bumped into Slinx and a couple of her female friends. At this point, the night started to become (as billed) unexpected.

Now as I'm sure some of you will know. I'm not averse to a quick pick me up and the three muses were not short. Soon I was chatty lucid and awake again. James at this point had a rest. His eyes were tired. Quite sensibly he made a gallant exit. He had fought valiantly considering he, unlike me, had managed to keep to his detox, no booze January.

3AM

It was decided (possibly by me) we should all travel to my house for more drinks. This doesn't happen often as I live quite a way out of town. None the less, we made it. On our arrival at Cat Cottage I think I may have said to someone that I had a headache. Slinx friend who seemed quite caring insisted that I should have an aspirin. At least I think that's what she said? Are aspirins also called "h'eees"?

From this point on I shall refer to Slinx's friend as the 'friendly herbalist'

I'm also beginning to realise that under that demure, butter woudnt melt exterior, Slinx is far more dangerous than previously thought. Where will it all end?

I didn't get out much for 10 years or so, much to the amusement of some. After Saturday morning I wish I had. I have a tiny inkling into why on earth people dance around for hours and hours, sometimes with happy grins on their faces.

Its a shame all good things have to end. I had a lovely time. I think they did to...

Was there a Saturday?

On Sunday we went and lay on the floor and watched the ceiling and the sun at the Tate Modern.

All in all, a charming weekend...I want it all over again.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-02-02T23:03:00.000Z

A Storm, Some Pervy Weather...And Some Mice

Slinx is a very dangerous girl. I met her on Friday evening having a few drinks with her work colleagues. Within an hour she had them knocking back rounds of Tequila Slammers at La Perla. Bear in mind this was only 8.15. Protesting did no good. As soon as she had led her work mates on the road to an early collapse we left. As we left she smiled to herself saying "My work here is done" We, sensibly tripped off to the Theatre.

Hurricane

We went to see a one man play about the Snooker playing self-destructor Alex Higgins. The performance is one hour long and Alex is portrayed by Richard Dormer who, with his wife, choreographed this wonderful show.

It's powerful, humorous at times and enthralling. If you ever watched Alex Higgins play or heard talk of him you will be transfixed. Mr Dormer has created a masterpiece. If you never knew who Alex was and perhaps couldnt care a stuff about Snooker you will still be amazed at the story and the portrayal. With that energy, no wonder he won a stage best actor award.

I hear that Richard is only playing this until February 6th before the show goes to various venues here and around the world. After this, he has said, he will not be playing Alex any more. He says its too grueling and completely exhausting.

I don't doubt it.

Buy, beg or steal to go and see it. If you can get a ticket that is.

After that we went out and got very, very drunk.

Secretary

Watched on DVD:- Mmmmm. I recommend this film highly. Watch it with someone you are comfortable sitting next to and not (for instance) your Mum. I bet your Mum (or Dad) would rather watch it without you as I'm sure they would enjoy it. Sweet, sexual and dark, its rather enjoyable. A love story with charming fetish corkscrewed throughout. Perfect for a Sunday evening, a bottle of red and naughty company.

The review I have linked to captures it better than I have time to do...But don't be put off. I don't know anybody that woudn't find it positively enjoyable.

Buy or rent now. Oh and eat with ice cream.

Life is always stranger...

A good friend of mine has a friend. Now (you might say) that's not unusual. Her friend has a husband which is also not unusual. The thing is that her friends husband likes to dress occasionally in women's clothes, and also, serve.

Its not a new, sudden thing you understand. Apparently he always has, and my friends friend doesn't really mind because that's as far as he wants to take it. Almost.

He has asked my friend whether she would mind very much if she arrives home one evening after a hard day at work to find him dressed in a maids outfit. He will then cook her dinner, serve it to her, wash up, run her a scented bath and then leave.

My friend deserves to to be pampered without the usual pressure to reciprocate. My friends, friend would like a break so that when her husband is at home he plays like a man, and the husband wants to feel whatever it is that from time to time he would like to feel. I think, having been around a bit that they all will be happy. I hope that I'm not wrong.. I will keep you informed.

Do you think that they are playing with fire?

I wonder if the husband is the Bag Man?

Bag Man

I have new theory about the Bag Man.

I think he is really a modern day Pied Piper. I believe that late at night when London sleeps he whistles on his flute and skips between tube stations. As he plays, the underground Oliver Twist mice come to the surface and follow him, dancing.

From Liverpool Street to Earls Court they scurry the gutters with their smiles and shaggy coats and they clean the streets of detrius. If you are very late you may see them, I have...

The Mice Sing This!

Thank you to the search meister himself jonathan@sirtis.org.uk This is a man who knows the Interweb better than I know my own home... Hang on where am I again?

In reality of course the Bag Man is probably a right bastard who crushes small mammals for fun. What do I know eh?

Cocktail for the month of February

I'm late with this. Sorry teeming fans!

Its a short month, so...

This is a short cocktail

Sidecar (A 1920's classic)

You will need

Brandy
Triple Sec (Cointreau)
A Fresh Lemon
Ice
Cocktail Shaker
Somewhere to collapse

Hum the Dambusters theme whilst making this. Or have some one nearby to spank, for fun whilst mixing.

Place ice in the shaker
Add one quantity of brandy
Add one equal quantity of Triple Sec
Add the juice of a quarter to a third of a lemon

Shake hard for a while and serve into cocktail glasses.

Voila.

Be very, very careful with this. Do not attempt to be suave after a couple of these. Just face the fact that they damage you. Perhaps even permanently. They were built of sterner stuff back then.

The Gardener recommends that you take the bus or just sleep.

Has anyone noticed that Johnny Rotten is looking more and more like Darth Maul every day?

Is it just me?

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-01-29T20:44:00.000Z

Blow Out

It was a frustrating start to the week at Fortress Towers where I ply my trade. Or at least I would if I was entirely sure what my trade is. Anyway I digress. By Wednesday lunch time my business partner in crime and I had had enough so we popped out to lunch. At 5 o clock we weaved back to the office fortified against the elements by a vat or two of Australian Chardonnay. In case you wondered I had Penne with tomato sauce and roasted vegetables.

At 6 o clock I should have gone home. You know what's coming don't you? A couple of drinks later with a work colleague found me in Blend and after a cocktail and a very large Cytrynowka I was going home. You know what's coming again don't you? Yes I hit the oblivion button. Oops.

The Duke had foolishly texted me to say he was at a drinks party and the object of his affections was there. Well I had to see, as having heard so much it seemed rude not to so I ran from Holborn to Liverpool Street, in the ice, and didn't fall over.

I didn't want to run you understand but the vaguely cold snap we are having seemed to have paralyzed the Tube network and those lovely Black Cab drivers had obviously decided that as it was cold they should stay at home. This often frustrates me as most of them live in million pound houses in my village. I think as soon as they earn enough money to buy such houses they should be stripped of their licenses which should then be redistributed to poor, struggling would be cab drivers so ensuring that enough of them are hungry enough to work of an evening.

As I was saying. I arrived hot, drunk and slightly sweaty. I met with the siren and noted that she was very tall. So tall in fact that I think she must regulary need oxygen. She was very nice but should the Duke ever succeed he will need a stepladder. And he's not a short arse by any stretch.

After that things become somewhat hazy, true, I do remember upsetting the barman after we ordered large brandies of an expensive nature at the death. Well he poured them over ice! Without asking!! I ask you, its not like I'm an ex trader from Essex who lives in the 80's am I?!

I remember laying in the snow like a starfish outside my humble abode and phoning people up to tell them how beautiful it was. I also remember making myself a fantastic triple decker BLT. I don't however remember eating it but I obviously did. Going to bed at some time around 2AM when completely lashed and getting up for work early in the morning is not a nice thing to have to do.

The one item worth mentioning though is I met someone just as pissed as me on the tube home. She kept dropping her handbag whilst trying to look sober. It turned out that she had gone out for lunch to, and not made it back either. So 'Lisa Fox' of Snaresbrook you deserve a mention in the Gardeners mid-week booze up hall of fame. I love the last tubes home they are so much more fun than the one on the way in. Cheers!

I've been next to useless today. Ah well, it couldn't be helped. I had a nice time.

Tube Mice

I love the mice that live on the Tube, or rather live in the Underground tunnels and stations. I love the way they scurry about in the minutes between the trains. I'm sure you have all seen them? If you haven't they are very small and have dirty shaggy coats but they all seem to be smiling. They remind me of Fagins children from Oliver Twist and I think someone should write a children's program about them. I'd watch it. For extra entertainment though London Underground could release snakes and cats into the network. Imagine the scenes whilst your waiting for that last tube home. Here Kitty Kitty....

The Bag Man Diversifies

Whilst I was getting a sausage sandwich yesterday morning (with HP sauce of course) I saw something I never thought I'd see. The 'Bag Seller' outside Holborn Station who regular readers will remember never EVER seems to sell a bag has diversified. The bags are still on the stall and still placed strategically just out of reach of any prying potential customers but he now has a whole range of winter gloves, hats and scarves. Better than that I actually witnessed him sell a hat and a pair of gloves to a passing chap. It may have just been his MI6 handler though? Further Investigation is necessary.

Audio Valium

Ahhh. Make sure your PC has speakers and that they are switched to the on position. Sit back and visit this page

The Tune

Recognise that tune? If not email me and I'll explain. If you do recognise it you will already understand.

The world is a lovely place again.

The current government we have should have been forced to listen to this along with the board of the BBC. If they had, perhaps we wouldn't be heading down the slipperly slope we appear to be on. Soon Private Eye will be the only place that actually dares to tell the oh so obvious truth.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-01-26T11:24:00.000Z

Dish Of The Day

Some of you will know that as well as being a little green fingered I'm sometimes a dab hand in the kitchen, so I've been thinking of giving you lucky people a recipe or two now and again.

So to start this new feature off here's what I cooked for Slinx and I on Sunday.

Drumroll

Foil Roasted Monkfish with Baby Spinach and 'Cheats' Mashed Potato

To serve two you will need.

A piece of Monkfish Tail (about a 1lb in weight)

NB: Ask the fishmonger to remove as much of the skin / membrane as she/he can as they will no doubt have a sharper knife than you do.

I Lime
Lemon Thyme
Garlic
Red Onions
Salt & Pepper
Olive Oil
Silver Foil
Baby Spinach (1 Bag)
Cheats Mashed Potato (In this particular case Tesco's Finest with caramalised Red Onions)

Obviously you can use real mashed potato, new potatoes, or any other potato theme. I was just lazy.

Cut your fish into fillets, say 4-6 pieces, lay them in a bowl and season well with salt and pepper. Squeeze the juice of the lime over them, work in some roughly sliced garlic and a few splashes of good olive oil and leave to stand for fifteen minutes or so whilst you have a drink.

Then, take a couple of decent sized pieces of Silver Foil and rub one side of each with some olive oil, and place half the fish on each one. Add a bit more garlic and some thick sliced red onion to each parcel along with a good few sprigs of lemon thyme.

Turn your oven on to Gas Mark Fiveish for a bit and after carefully wrapping the silver foil parcels up so that they are sealed, put them in the oven.

Have a drink or two, chat and generally entertain yourself for 20 to 25 mins, unless of course you are doing non-cheat potatoes in which case, slave over hot steamy pans with them instead.

Chuck the cheats mash in the microwave.
Melt a little butter in a pan and throw in the baby spinach. Hear it scream, season a little and stir for a minute or two.

To serve simply place a foil parcel on each plate and dole out some spinach and mash.

Tres Bon!

Total cooking and prep time 45 mins.
Technical Grade: Easy Peasy.

You can of course use any old herbs and spices with this for a different theme. Try Thai for instance with some Lemon Grass Thai Basil and a little Red Chilli.

Mmmm, I'm hungry now....

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-01-24T20:15:00.000Z

A Class Act

At the close of the working week I hot-tubed it to meet The Duke for a few Friday evening beers. He was with a work mate 'The Gimp' who's nick name origins elude me. This was at the swoopily shaped Corney and Barrow wine bar, pub thing that stands on stilts overlooking the ice rink in the middle of the Broadgate complex by Liverpool Street Station. The Gimp left early and we observed the skaters for a while. Now The Duke was a few beers ahead of me and after we dissected his love live, or rather, his lack of current such diversion and then, further discussed his seemingly futile and long standing battle to capture the heart of his current affections, or at least her G string, he broke the conversation by stating "Lets do something tawdry". At least I think those were his words but if I have misquoted you get the drift.

We tramped off and had a few more beers in some cattle market bar that I didn't catch the name of, and then, when at the beginnings of blurriness headed to Old Streetish to Browns and then to Ye Old Axe, two pubs on the city and Old St end of the Hackney Road. I love their Web sites. Pure Class!

These are good value, old fashioned pubs with the added advantage that whilst you are supping your pint (or your G&T) lots of very friendly and remarkably underdressed girls wander about, and, from time to time twist themselves around poles, chairs and very occasionally punters before removing the last of their Victoria's Secret's. Good for them. I'm all for freedom of expression, especially as they seemed to be coining it.

The night was finished with a chilli laced Kebab of some note before I alighted the last tube home.

As nights out go, it was certainly fun. I blame The Duke.

Today I shall wear a hair shirt. Honest? I don't think so...

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-01-23T15:24:00.000Z

Who Are These People?

Can anyone tell me what a 'Metropolitan Community Police' Person is? Holborn and the West End seems to riven with them? I can't walk down the street without having to sidestep little clutches of them wandering about in their Police alike uniforms with dayglo orange jackets. Presumably the jackets are so they can't sneak about looking unobtrusive like a proper Copper should.

Can someone please explain?

The bag man seems to be watching them to. Maybe he's bored, maybe he's MI6, who knows?

2004-01-22T22:00:00.000Z

Oops blog error below..I'm missing my headers in bold and the whole thing is unedited and hence full of typos. That's what hapens when you have a twitchy trigger finger...

The bar reviewed below is obviously called 'Mai Tai'

Never fear, we get there in the end.

2004-01-22T21:59:00.000Z

Reports From The Front Line

This correspondant replendant in the invisible hard hat that London life requires has been quite busy.

Phuk That!

As the captivating Slinx and I met early on Wednesday with a view to film going we thought a quick drink before an early meal would be in order. We chanced across a bar that looked promising on Shaftsbury Avenue. You can't miss this place as its on the North Side of the avenue about 100 yards from Piccadilly. It looked promising. The decor and seats were very welcoming in a pink and wood fusion. We decided to follow the ancient rule of 'When in Rome' So a 'Mai Thai' and a 'Pleasure Punch' was ordered from the waitress. The promise ended there...

These were the worst so called cocktails I have ever had the misfortune to be served. Did they come in a can? The supposed Mai Thai' semed to consist entirely of Sunny Delight, which would be fine had you ordered that, whilst the 'PLeasure Punch' was anything but. On the cocktail menu it stated that it (obviously) contained "Lime Juices" The whole glass seemed to contain undiluted 'Roses Lime Cordial' Which again would be cool if you suddenly felt a need for acidic sugar and had a bout of scurvey coming on.

After a sip or two, an argument and a polite frown they went back.

We left and did not pay.. Do not ever, ever go here.

The Gardener has spake.

Things got better

We skipped elsewere for a quick snifter and then went to the Thai Pavilion for nice food. If you go here expect reasanable prices, good service and pretty authentic food. Also either book or arrive early and ask for the top floor. This is only applicable if you are stretchy of limb as it is traditional Thai seating. eg you sit on the floor with low tables. Not being a girl and hence not being manufactured from sweet flavoured rubber bands I didnt find this quite as easy as perhaps I would have liked but I perservered and enjoyed it.

A Movement of Air

The film we went to see was 'The Mighty Wind' which is a send up Folk Music from the late sixties from the same team that years ago brought us the classic 'Spinal Tap'

I was expecting a cruel and hilarious piss take of everything folk. Instead what I found was a very sweet film in which the team had obviously really fallen in love with the the idea and coudnt bear to tear at it to much. I watched our fellow film watchers. For the first 30 minutes or so every sweet (and sometimes effective amusing observation) was met with laughter and expectation. Then the audience was slowly drawn in untill I noticed that the characters had won everyone over so no one wanted to believe that this was a spoof. The end spoilt the illusion by trying too hard to remind you that this was all make believe. I wasnt dissapointed by what I found, but would have been happy to pay to see it? THis means to me at least that it works as a fantasy.

I wonder though if this film would have got anywhere had it not have been preceded by the great 'Spinal' comedy.

Hmmm. Its up to you.

As this was obviously at The Rex the evening was finished off with a couple of excellent Vodka Martinis. Civilised cinema is a beauiful thing.

The Possible Return Of The Great

I appear to have rediscovererd some of my verve. I have projects in mind. Watch out small world.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-01-19T23:29:00.000Z

Leading Down Garden Paths

Now Im sure that you, my teeming fans think that writing this diary is easy. Please allow me to educate you. Sometimes its bloody vexing! Sometimes the fact that I went out on Friday night (of course) and then had a wonderful weekend with many sights, sounds, experiences and lovelyness is not quite enough to give me a theme to entertain you with. So I muse, and indeed sometimes ponder life's rich tapestry.

So for once I wont tell you what i've been doing and where, or even, perhaps with whom.

I'm not being petulant. Im just having an off 'writing' day.

I also have my garden paths on my mind so will be regailing you with that thorny issue soon.

Watch my space, I insist.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-01-15T23:52:00.000Z

The Magic Of Theatre

Last night I accompanied a slightly tipsy Slinx to The Rex to see a flick. Its a small cinema and you can hear the projector whirring in the background.

One Last Chance

This is a sweet film, with a tight perfomance by the cast. It has pathos, laughter and a hint of dirt. All of these things encouraged me and I shall look out for more from this director. Lets just hope that Stewart Svaasand doesn't get any more sentimental than he already is, or I think he might go downhill.

I enjoyed it.

Faster Faster Till The Thrill Of Speed Overcomes The Fear Of Death: - Dr. Hunter S Thompson

This morning, two men in a high sided truck tried to kill me. After they (though I will assume that there was only one of them actually driving) had swerved in front of me on the scenic North Circular road forcing me to not only brake, but lock the wheels of my chariot and skid slightly sideways for a second or two, I swore.

I also hit the car horn. In my naivity I thought this might have woken the driver up to the fact that he had nearly mashed an innocent.

But no.

As I regrouped behind the red and white 'stupid-mobile' the window was wound down and an arm came out expressing what he thought. That's odd I thought a friend of mine once owned a company called Index Finger.

I wonder sometimes whether eugenics was such a bad idea?

Shaken, but please note NOT stirred I arrived home. Perhaps they knew it was me?

The Longest Day

The day off was not productive. The man didn't arrive about the paths and I didn't catch the bloody Mole. In the end I sought solace in my friends, and so, we have a naughty, out of time cocktail, just for you. (Yes you!)

I assume this is a variation on a common theme? I wonder what its called?
You will need.

Chilled Martini Glasses
Shaker
Ice
Grapefruit Juice
Limes
Brown Sugar
3 Year Old Havana Club Rum
Triple Sec

Pour the following into the cocktail shaker and shake.

1 measure of fresh lime juice (approx two and a half limes)
1 measure of Havana Club rum
1 measure of fresh Grapefuit Juice (from a carton will do)
Half a measure of Triple Sec
1 full tea spoon of brown sugar

Voila!

Garnish with a lime twist.
Drink
Make another six or so.
Update your blog
Worry about your diction
Collapse

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-01-13T21:47:00.000Z

Mouse the Cat

My Cats name is Mouse for reasons that I may explain another time. I felt as he doesnt see enough of me I should treat him, so I just gave him a plate full of prawns.

He loves me dearly again, fickle little beast.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-01-12T21:07:00.000Z

Ashes to Ashes...

Friday found me full of good intentions. Luckily a long lunch soon put paid to them! On Friday evening I found myself having drinks with The Princess in The Enterprise which is a funny little music fuelled pub in Old Street. It turns out the owner of this establishment grew up next door to The Princess in Yorkshire, wherever that is? Its just opposite Browns (the long established strip pub) A few beers here and the evening was finished quite early by my standards in a bar/club that I like a lot, - Mother. As I said it was an early finish, so midnightish saw me glassy eyed in McDonald's, Liverpool St and tucked up in bed by one thirty. It had to be an early one. I had work to do on Saturday...

I rose early (well about 11) and carefully had breakfast whilst planning my assault. Armed with gloves and secateurs (my weapons of choice) I set about various pruning tasks in the garden. No bush was spared the cutback and I even dug out a particularly huge, vicious but badly placed Buddlia Davidii (Black Knight in case you were curious) Some of you forget that I am indeed "The Gardener".

I laid out an old wooden pallet and the bush trimmings then charged screaming at the house. I grabbed the creature feature curtain and the bonfire was built. After flames that would have easily melted Joan of Arcs amour and charge of the Light Brigade smoke effects I emerged victorious, covered in ash like an extra from Lord of the Flies. I chanted "The king is dead! Long live the king!" and I do believe that the neighbors were reminded why they sometimes think of moving.

Its amazing how small things please simple minds isn't it?

I shall keep a vigilant eye out for more of the little buggers.

A Party, The Wheatsheaf and The Phoenix.

Saturday night found me with the captivating Slinx at a party in Waterloo. We didn't stay too long but it was a nice crowd and faces needed to be shown. We moved on to see Mr H and other stand up comics perform their craft at The Weatsheaf pub in Rathbone Place. Sadly we arrived to late for Mr H's set but as usual "Crazy" Ivan the compere was excellent, as were the other funny people. It only costs a fiver to go to this and (I think?) its on every Saturday night. Its only a small room above the pub. I think it can seat about 35 but when its full and the mood is right its a lot of value for a fiver!

At around 11.30 the comics were gagging for a proper drink so we decamped to the Pheonix club on Charing Cross Road. This was another new place for me and 'Oh yes' I shall be returning. Properly titled the Phoenix Artist Club this is a members only club where lots of comics, compare's and struggling thesps go to get very trolleyed after attempting to entertain the struggling masses. Its open until at least 3AM

I would describe it as a big, underground student union bar with velvety drapes but no smell of vomit and a very relaxed attitude. The crowd was very mixed as was the music. Did I hear Eminem followed by the theme from Flashdance? The odd semi-famous comic was also to be spotted lying face down in drinks.

Prices are, well cheap. Which was good as I am on an economy drive

It was a much needed change. Mr H enjoyed himself, Slinx enjoyed herself. I did to, but when more Lemon vodka shots were bought I lost recollections. Was ANYBODY sober in that place?

I am becoming a member.

Sunday Quietness

There was only one thing for it. I wore sunglasses in January and went for breakfast at lunchtime at Smiths. Whilst I didn't have one, the fishfinger sandwiches looked very good. After food and a rather unpleasantly spiced Bloody Mary I nearly felt well enough to take my shades off. I didn't.

Instead a quiet Sunday ensued. I made nice cocktails and watched Mad Max (the second one) in the evening. It seemed fitting after the garden carnage at the beginning of it all.

Until next time children, sleep tight.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-01-09T00:04:00.000Z

Strange Creatures in My Curtains

Now I know its still darkest January but London does appear to be developing an almost spring like attitude. Albeit early, the papers talk of bullish forecasts, people are hiring again and there are rumours that we will all be rich by the end of the year. Well if this is the new economy these days then it will do for me. Perhaps even the bag man is selling?

Right! You can all wake up now. No snoozing at the back or I may have to order a detention!

Oh The Hoathster seems to be still employed. Which is nice.

I had a lovely lunch today at a new place. Its a bit out of the way for me in 'Noho' (that area above Soho and in the hinterlands to the north)

Navarro

I really didn’t think you could find proper Tapas in London. I was obviously wrong. This is an old fashioned Tapas restaurant, eg. its been going for years and years. I was taken there by Slinx for a much needed escape from executive toil. If you know me you may laugh at that statement but heh? I had to work once, quite hard (well, for a bit at least) to get to where I am now. The food is authentic, i.e not over fussed, nor truly extraordinary, but it is truly Spanish. I should know. My Mum lived there for 10 years or more (or at least in the Canaries). I recommend this place and will go again. If you find yourself lost at the top end of Charlotte Street then go. At once.

The Creatures

I returned home this evening to find a cryptic note from my cleaner. Now Anna is not chatty at the best of times, but the post-it note read....

"Happy New Year
looks like
something has
been chewing
at your back
door curtains"

Hmm I thought?

I looked at the big white drape to the left of the patio doors and mused. It seemed fine to me. So I unhooked it and delved into the fabric. Horror! Fragments of white heavy cotton fell out like confetti. The curtain looks indeed like something has been chewing on it. Anna had neglected to mention the numerous 'scary' slow moving black grubs about the size of a match head that seem to have caused the damage. I didn’t like the look of them and didn’t want to hang about in case they panicked and swarmed at me. So I went out to see my friend Mike W (who currently has a broken toe in case you wondered)

I’ve just got back. They are still there. I’m sure they can sense my fear and are hatching a plan, especially as there are lots of curtains in the house.

What do I do? Do any of you know?

Answers on postcards please and quick!

If you don’t hear from me soon assume the worst.

thegardener1969@msn.com

PS: I’m sure they are watching me.....

2004-01-06T17:01:00.000Z

London Lurches Into 2004

Like a tortoise staggering slowly from hibernation, London lurched into a new working year. It seemed to me that whilst most people were in town on Monday there was a certain lack of fighting spirit about. Possibly, for many people including myself it was an all day horror due to getting up in the dark and trying to remember where we worked and what it is that we do when we are not lazing about and having a nice time.

Well, moping just wont do! We shall see if the energy switch goes on in the next few days.

I went to the gym after work. Now this is not an unusual thing for me to do, but it was tricky due to the sweating, pink massed hordes in their new sports tops who obviously scrawled "Errrm, get fit!!" on their New Year resolution list. I'm sure they will get bored by next week and free up some locker space again. I do hope so...

The battle against cigs continues... I may cave in to patches at this rate...

thegardener1969@msn.com

2004-01-02T17:21:00.000Z

One Down, Lots More To Go (We Hope)

Alternatively: Where Am I?

A happy, prosperous and healthy new year to all. And good luck thoughts to the poor blighters still alive in Bam.

Well, what a year that was! Many changes and much carousing. I expect to have a calmer 2004, health and wealth demand it. It has indeed been a excellent year though with many new friends and lots of new opportunities beckoning.

Many thanks to the cast, old and new (in no particular order)

JM
Mr H
The Hoathster
Steve the bald one
The Duke and everyone in the Wapping mad house
James (wear an earthing strap) Larsson
SoozieQ
Taya (Porn Queen extraordinare)
Pink Haired Girl
The lovely Walton
Alison (How many pairs of shoes?)
Dani
The Minx
The 'other' Minx
The Princess
Basia (fashion is spinning around like a satellite darling!)
Zzzzz
Slinkx (good things come in small packages)

Thanks to Location crews at

Blend
Detroit Bar
Lab Bar
The Rex
The Wellington Club
Smiths of Smithfield

...and too many other crews to mention.

Cocktail for the month of January

My New Years Eve saw me at a party in the Wapping Mad House. It was quite wild. 3AM found me behind the bar seeing what more damage could be done. This drink worked as a serious hammer finisher to a number of people I served it to. Errrm including me.

You will need

Lots of very pissed people
Lots of very stoned, wired and happy people
Lots more people in between
Light Show and Glitter Ball
Cocktail Bar
Pool Table
Fireworks

Ice
Vodka
Campari
Orange Juice

Martini Glasses (they were all I could find as the very drunk, "look at me I wear a parka and try and be Liam Gallagher" guy fell over a few times, once onto a table full of glasses breaking dozens. Sadly he didn't hurt himself..)

Throw ice in glass
Drunkenly fill to about half way with Vodka
Slosh in a slug of Campari
Top up with Orange Juice

Serve trying not to spill it. It was quite nice this.

A special mention to 'James' (another James) who kept making Vodka Martinis, a man after my own heart, if not my liver.

There are pictures on the Interweb from this party, email me if you'd like to see.

Oh I went to see Lord of the Rings (part 3)

I really liked the giant elephant things.

I'm going to try and give up smoking. I'm very scared. Please email me encouragement.

All the best to you all!

thegardener1969@msn.com

PS: I forgot to add a good lunch at the Victoria Stakes in North London. Go here, the food is good and its also a great pub. They also do some cocktails....

2003-12-26T19:19:00.000Z

Midlands, Meat and Merriment

I went to my ancestral home for a couple of days before Christmas. The Madlands and particularly Walsall (visit this site its funny and true..) Its still quite a grim place. Whilst I didn't grow up here as such half the family did and I spent much time there. My Mum (Bless her) lives there again now after many years abroad. God knows why!

All the available shops are now pubs, bars, bookmakers or very cheap supermarkets.

Knowing that I would be 'up there' till Christmas Eve afternoon I shopped for my celebration produce and must give mention to the one non-pikey establishment there.

This was Hills Butchers, a family business established by Mr Hill in 1888. I have to say he looked younger than that? Anyway He supplied me with a 7lb piece of Beef (Sirloin on the bone) that he had been hanging for a good 3 weeks or so. He described it as "Orgasmic!" I'm not sure I share his sexual preferences but he was a happy butcher who loved his work... I promised to return one day to tell him whether I agreed.

I have to say that I feel slightly ill having eaten so much of it yesterday and today but shall return to tell the mighty Mr Hill that it was the best bit of beef I have possibly ever eaten!. Does anyone fancy a beef Sandwich?

My friend PHG (Pink Haired Girl) came and shared it with me as her family were inconveniently in Germany for Christmas. The afternoon was cocktails (obviously) and then more cocktails until oblivion set in.

I have one of the best hangovers of the year today, so I shall take it easy and stare in a tired and over exhausted way at the Kylie Calendar that the thoughtful Slinks bought me.

I think I may have to detox in Jan.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2003-12-21T19:47:00.000Z

Bad Behavior and Christmas Baubles

Well well well, the Company do was lots of fun after all! Sadly the staff and ex staff that attended left for last tubes just as I got a severe thirst on. Though it has to be said I probably should have gone home at that point...

Instead (well I could hardly disappoint, could I?) I crashed The Hoathster's Company do instead. It was at Hush in the private and very swanky top floor. I arrived about midnight and was greeted by an excellent bar and excellent service. Being as it was also free I took full advantage to top up. After all I had had to walk from Covent Garden!

The Hoathster was in fine form. Considering the industrial quantities of Absinthe he had consumed he was hanging on well. I thought I was to, but now I'm not so sure....

After a short while, his company, with me in tow was off to Pangaea I loved this club! Even though I was heading towards the dodgy side of trashed I found the staff friendly and the atmosphere good. Mind you I was with a good crowd so its hard to say whether I would have felt so warm had I not been in a large group. If you like your bars cheap do not go! This place is wallet busting stupidity with a serious hangover! Thanks to The Hoathsters bosses who I talked at till about 4 30 AM...And special thanks to Sanjay without who I might have not have stayed awake. It was nearly 6 when I got home, almost a record. I'm sure I disgraced myself? Does The Hoathster still have a job?

On Saturday afternoon, after a serious reconstruction job I met up with the gorgeous 'Slinks' who still wishes to remain anonymous...

Lots of rest for the wicked

Hurrah, no more work till next year! This is a very happy but tired boy.

Watch this space, though there may not be an update until the 25th or so.

thegardener1969@msn.com

PS: Ah yes baubles. They are glass ones that weigh nothing, yet shatter if you drop them. They make my Christmas tree look beautiful.

PPS: whoever you are, Merry Christmas! x

2003-12-19T11:01:00.000Z

The Walton and The Duke and Sharon Davies

Had a lovely evening last night out drinking and eating with good pal 'The Duke' and my lovely friend 'The Walton'

We ended up at The Cantaloupe at Old Street which is always good fun with Tapas style foods and excellent beer through to decent cocktails at good prices. We were quite entertained at the end of the night when a number of pissed punters became convinced the Walton was in fact the swimmer Sharon Davies. It never occurred to me before but there is a slight likeness. The Walton though is much prettier. She's off to Canada for Christmas so it was nice to catch up before she went. The Duke had a nice time to.

Today will be messy. Its the Company Party later. I'm not really looking forward to it, as I've said before I much prefer other peoples company 'do's But, saying all that I shall be getting lashed...

Its at Blend

Shocker!! Advance warning... You could track me down and unmask me for who I really am!!.... but I'm sure you've got other things to do... Saying that however, alternative, after 'do' party invites gratefully received.

Ah well lets see what happens.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2003-12-16T09:57:00.000Z

Steamy Windows

F*%K Me!! Its brass monkeys this morning. Its almost time to wear a hat lest your ears drop off and your brain freezes.

It was getting that way last night when I walked though the crisp dark air up the hill to my lair.

The village light brigade are out in force now. Almost every house and garden tree has Christmas lights festooned upon it. Some flashing, some not, mostly tasteful I'm pleased to say. The notable exception to this being the vulgar purple flashing attempt at a Reindeer that's hanging off the front of the cottage called "The Gables"

That aside, its all very lovely and being as there are no street lights where I reside the illuminations sparkled beautifully against a clear starry sky.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2003-12-15T12:19:00.000Z

Accelerated Fuzziness...

Ah Christmas. A time for reflection. Well, perhaps? Also I hope that it will be a time for recovery. The good times are lately keeping on rolling.

Friday saw the annual gathering of the clans. Well not really, that's somewhat of an exaggeration. It was the official 'Founders' Christmas lunch. This sounds much more grand than it is. The three of us, for that is the number, had lunch.

We were upstairs at Bertorelli's. You might have seen us? We were still there when the evening shift came in. The food bill was only £100 odd butthe booze bill topped out at at £300 plus. It would have been more but the other two faded out just as I was warming up...

Then I went to Lab for a couple of cocktails.

Then I went to the pub. I've made better decisions than that one

A Saturday pub lunch restored my strength before a late dinner at..

Le Mercury (Islington) Do go, excellent value french food, unstuffy and lively but do book or you simply won't get in!

Then a small but lively and fun house party with really nice people somewhere in North London.

I was accompanied by the person who wishes to remain anonymous. I also can't hide them behind the 'Charming Company' tag any more as they think it makes them sound like a "maiden aunt" They certainly are not in any way maiden aunt-ish. Especially not with those shoes...

thegardener1969@msn.com

2003-12-12T09:45:00.000Z

Thursday Tomfoolery

Blend

I Moscow Mule
3 Mojitos
I Singapore Sling
I Gibson
1 very large lemon vodka

Sing to the tune of '12 days of Christmas'

Note to self: Please remember to eat before or during going out, it aids stamina and recovery...

I have to do it all again today to, ah well, someone has to.

The charming company I was with wishes to remain anonymous and as I have journalistic integrity I feel, for the moment at least that I can't tell you any more. I might whisper later though...

Oh yes. I recieved a Christmas Card this week (not unusual at this time of the year you might think?) This one was from "Dave (Your Postman)" it said. That was nice of him I thought. Do you think he wants something?

thegardener1969@msn.com

2003-12-09T23:36:00.000Z

Petty Note to Blog Copycat :)

The Hoathster - for it is he. (link on the right if you have a lazy eye...)

Is talking Lawyers. The cheeky tyke!. Now he is welcome, as he is a rangy fella. But I must set the record straight once and for all. It was I that got us in and was the first to be served at the legendary HalfWay House.

We are half way
No one likes us
We are half way
No one cares..

The band played on...

I don't know if teenage reminisces work on a public blog.. hmmm I'll muse.

Cheers me dear :)

-TG

PS That review link is a laugh... we didnt need adults present when we were 14?
PPS Is the lovely Peggy still alive? Bless her.
PPS And dont even start on blogging styles. Sheesh these newcomers.. ;)

2003-12-09T23:21:00.000Z

I know I know!!

*Sigh* Where does all the time go? I don't know, I can't even get to work on time let alone work out the answer to that one.

Life has been moving far to fast lately and this Blog has suffered. For that I offer humble *arms sweeping to ground* apologies.. Anything to stop the complaints!. God!, its nice to be wanted but ENOUGH ALREADY!..

Right, where was I?

Its going to be quick and messy (but sometimes that can be really good ;)

Simpsons on the Strand. Well I had to. After all an afternoon getting stuffed and then drinking 1965 Armagnac till it comes out of your ears doesn't come often enough

Skating at Somerset House. Get ticket and go. I can skate you see. Hehehehe.

Red Bar. Yea ok you can go if you want. But the barman only 'thinks' he knows a Moscow Mule.

In other news but in no particular order. Clothes / Money / Tiredness / Charming Company/ Sunday lunch / Christmas Muzak / Good shoes / Caipirihna's / The Italian Job / Gardening / Friends all around / The Duke / The Queen Vic / Oh.. And Rugby World Cup Heroes return...

Things should get back to normal soon. Other appliances may vary.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2003-12-03T23:13:00.000Z

Nights on Tiles

The Tube system. Whats that you say? Where is the drink fuelled review of the worlds hotspots?. Well, sorry but you will have to wait. (though I was in Bar 38 earlier)

When you are scurrying to catch your tube train do you notice the corridors you scatter through?

If you do, then nod with me. If you dont, then do in future!

Tonight I was in Covent Garden Underground Station. This is not unusual. However, I thought I'd share the historic and wonderous orange and green glazed tiles in the corrridors with you. Look next time please (properly). Compared to the corridors around Stansted Aiport these could uplift you.

And don't start me on the sublime tiles at Hampstead!

The lesson today is that whatever you see everyday, you should always try to look at again, afresh.

Exit stage left.

Oh and also, dont even think about starting me on the beautiful RM Buses...(shouted from the wings)

thegardener1969@msn.com

PS: If you dont understand this post you shouldn't be reading.

2003-12-01T22:28:00.000Z

Cocktail for the Month of December

November seemed over long to me, what did you think?

I've been searching for a drink that's easy to make and can be used as a nightcap with added oomph.

I've found one. (are you really suprised? ;)

Godmother

You will need.

Vodka
Amaretto
Ice
Tumbler
A clean stick or spoon-like implement of some sort

Take tumbler, add a few cubes of ice, pour in equal measures of Amaretto and Vodka. Stir well with implement and sip until bedtime.

Nice and simple eh?

If only everything in life was as reliable as alcohol.

Now where did I put my penguin?

thegardener1969@msn.com

2003-11-30T19:44:00.000Z

Closing Thought For November

Remember, a Web Site's not "just for Christmas"

-TG

2003-11-30T14:24:00.000Z

Pink Pop and a Minty Aftertaste

Pop

It was 'Pink Haired Girls' Birthday party on Friday night at Pop. She as usual was resplendent with her trademark pink hair and a good crowd was in attendance. I'd not been here before. I recommend it, especially if, as in our case you are with a group and have a table with a great big orange circle sofa to use as a base camp. Eg. think stupidity rather than romantic date

The decor is 60/ 70's kitsch and its quite bright, think oranges, reds and acid yellows, though thankfully the lights dim about Midnight.

Bar staff were good, overworked but friendly. It does get rammed though, so organise drinks in large batches. Its open till 4AM on a Friday (and I think 5 on a Saturday). Punters were good fun but my memories fade early as myself and friend 'The Duke' seemed to be on a Mojito oblivion mission. Hence the minty aftertaste and a morning sense of confusion...

I feel the December party season is just beginning, as if I'm not busy enough!

Cocktail day tomorrow. HuzzaH!

thegardener1969@msn.com

2003-11-27T19:52:00.000Z

Old Memories and New Places

Wednesday evening found me escorting my friend from years ago (The Minx) to see the Gothic Exhibition at the Victoria and Albert Museum.

Nooo, not that kind of Gothic, silly!

Victoria and Albert Museum

The exhibition is entitled "Art for England 1400-1547" This period covers the reigns of amongst others, Richard III and Henry VIII and I recommend you visit. There are some wondrous things to behold, most of which you would never think still existed, or at least if you did you would probably assume that your eyes would never see them. Richard III 's crown for instance or Our Henry's swords, handgun (no really) and a full set of jousting armour for both him and his horse. There are some wonderful manuscripts and numerous ephemera.

The one thing that is truly worth seeing even if you insist of being led blindfold through the exhibition to it, is the life-size painting of Henry VIII by Holbein (the younger) which was painted sometime after 1537.

See it here

Its the image that everyone recognises. Henry standing imposingly looking you straight in the eyes with hands on hips and shoulders wide.

Having seen it on postcards, tea-towels and in magazines a number of times, to see it for real is extraordinary. You can't appreciate how powerful it is from any reproduction. You really wouldn't want to go to sleep in a room with it staring at you.

I implore you to see it. And its not often I implore anyone.

The Exhibition is running until January the 18th.

The Collection

Gosh! After all that culture we needed sustenance. Dinner was at The Collection on Brompton Road. This is a very large, flash and lively bar and restaurant that if my memory serves me right was once a public transport depot. If you know what it was please email me as many years ago I used to live next door (no really!) and it certainly wasn't a swish, rammed, hanger like place full of the Chelsea / Knightsbridge set flicking their hair and jangling their jewellery then.

Definitely a place to go for impressions. Once you have navigated security you enter the place by walking down an 80 foot lit catwalk.

Strike a pose, there's nothing to it.

Take a fat wallet, toss your head back, look richish and book in advance. Not a place for a quiet meal as its very loud and ra-ra. Was that Kylie I saw?. I wish!..The sea bass was excellent by the way.

Funky Buddha

Being a Wednesday We went on to Funky Buddha's in Berkeley St. Nearby, a song once purported, that a Nightingale sang. (I'm checking with Max Clifford)

Having not been here before I had heard a lot and expected much. This place failed to deliver on a number of counts. Now don't think I'm over critical! As you know I'll drink a Martini, or even a Mai Tai anywhere.

Company 10/10 (The Minx is, well, a Minx)
Surroundings 7/10 (not bad, flash as expected but the leather sofa we sat on was ripped)
Drinks 6/10 (would expect better at top notch prices)
Bar Staff 6/10 (This would be higher as they were friendly and attentive, just undermanned)
Crowd 4/10 (C List and rich kids. I've seen more character at a school disco)
Atmos 4/10 (see above : Crowd)
Music 4/10 (Thats not a taste thing, it was just watered down all over)
Security 0/10 (Overbearing, aggressive, rude and generally disdainful, in fact this deserves further comment)

I've experienced more polite riot police (honest!) clearing a party than at sweeping out time here. As those of you that know me will vouch I'm hardly a troublemaker but being forced to carry your drink to the cloakroom queue at 3.09 AM when you've just spent more than Liberia's national debt does not leave this Gardener with a good taste in his mouth (other than the nightcap Amaretto of course). Attempts to politely complain about the rudeness of the BA Baracas modelled lump were simply met with a so what air, a verbal, "do you want some trouble?" and a final "now get lost"

Sadly (some might say) I didn't actually get punched.

God knows why they need goons like that? After all its hardly a Portsmouth bar after a task force has just docked?!

Don't visit, it's not worth it.

The evening airs out

Old friends can have a moving effect. It seems there might have been much left unsaid all those years ago and much water has since passed under the bridge. Some things though, never quite pass.

If you have any old friends with unfinished business I recommend you seek them out and confront it. What you may find could pleasantly surprise you and indeed, give you pause for reflection.

Smiths of Smithfield.

After a night like that the soul may be happy but the synapses need feeding. Myself and Mr H went to Smiths for brunch. He was necessary in case I collapsed. As usual they supplied the best breakfast related food in London and even though they lost our food order I forgive them, especially as they insisted (by way of apology) that I had a very large and sublimely spicy Bloody Mary to accompany my poached eggs, mushrooms and bacon on toast.

I've just had an afternoon nap and feel much better. I was sort of hoping that someone might give me a full body transplant whilst I was under though..

This one almost "canna take the pace Captain Kirk". Its going to blow a rod at this rate!

Till next time children.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2003-11-24T00:25:00.000Z

The Perfect 10

It was a perfect 10 all round this weekend. After the usual excessive Friday night mayhem I awoke bleary eyed and watched the men in white beat their demons and fight with guts, skill and sinew to lay the great Australian challenge bare.

England expected! And for once England was rewarded by bravery unmatched. Every one of the steel men created history, with no small part held by our number 10.

There were tears in my eyes.

10

The other perfect 10 was an unusual Sunday afternoon.

As many of you will know I am not averse to a good bar, or indeed good company. It was by chance of both that I arrived at 25 Canonbury Lane

Good food, good drinks, lovely wine and charming company. I was happy in the extreme.

Go to this bar. Its friendly, intimate and does good food and excellent drinks. Asking for anything more, is often asking for too much.

In other news (again) England won the 2003 Rugby World Cup...!

World Cup = 10
Bar = 10
Company =11

Total = More Please Vicar!

thegardener1969@msn.com

2003-11-20T00:17:00.000Z

Of Mice and Men

Mice

Last night, just as I was cleaning my teeth, my eye was caught by a slight movement to my left. I looked. Hmm, nothing but the bath. (large, white, deep, free standing) In the bath was a mouse. It was sitting on its back legs by the rubber duck. It was a field mouse and it seemed quite happy by my yellow friend.

It also seemed happy when I caught it with a pint glass and CD combo and put it outside. Me thinks my cats playing tricks on me...

Men

Errmm, I didn't actually have a natural link from this sub title but I liked the "Mice and Men" main title as an eye catcher. Now before you complain about cheap advertising tricks just think a moment. I could have been obvious and said what I thought about George W Bush and his current visit to this fair city, but I won't as I'm sure you think it already.

The real link by the way is that it was Mr H's Birthday today and along with the bloggers, gardeners and comics of this world we wish him all the best for the coming year. May your shirt collection grow and know no bounds and may all your bonuses be in pounds. Happy another Birthday!

Raise your glasses!

thegardener1969@msn.com

2003-11-17T22:41:00.000Z

Ohhhh Errr

I seem to be suffering from bloggers block! Fear not I'm sure there will be some entertainment here shortly. I think my synapses may have temporarily unraveled due to over soaking.

Whilst you wait play musical chairs. Its great if your on your own because you always win! If your not the sporty type and don't like competing why not just sit on a chair and image that its picked you instead.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2003-11-16T18:29:00.000Z

Oooof

Full update tommorow, exhaustion is here today..I hope your all well.

-TG

2003-11-13T22:08:00.000Z

Whoo hoo!

I just couldn't help it.. I bought myself a treat (again) well why not :)

I have a new toy.. Its a new phone (sort of), it does all sorts as well as take and play videos. So it will be full of smut in no time... errrm *cough* sorry I do of course mean business presentations.

*Slinks back to corner* and struggles with the manual whilst the evil empire known as 'Orange' skips off with his soul and all his worldly possessions.

For the those that care its one of these 'Hee Hee Fun on a stick!'

Back soon I promise...

thegardener1969@msn.com

2003-11-09T20:58:00.000Z

The Big J Returns And The Little M Departs

The Arrival.

Yet another old friend was around this weekend. Big J, so called due to his towering height, which is always handy at the bar, has returned to this crazy city after, oooh more than 20 years away in a dark place sometimes referred to as the 'Madlands'

I went to school with him. Yes dear reader I did indeed, once go to school. At least occasionally.

We met for a quiet Friday night drink.

He had been reading this page so persuaded me to show him some of my grubby haunts.

Oh dear, it happened again. Mojitos at Freud (no link cos I can't find one and even if I told you where it was you still woud'nt find it) Drinks at Blend (of course) then on to Lab which I do like, especially as the barman mixes my own Mint Martini Hoof to perfection.

Mint Martini Hoof - My Cocktail of the month for September, browse on the right if memory eludes you.

Oh god! Even worse! We ended at the Rex (again). I think I do actually mean ended as well.

My weekend was rather quiet after that. Why on earth do I put myself through it?

Top notch fun. Welcome back J!

The Departure

Some of you will know that I have long been the keeper of two wards. Morgan and Mouse.

Morgan departed this evening and has gone to join her former, part owner. She's one pussy I will certainly miss. Mouse is still here. He's a faulty cat as he dribbles when stroked and often cries at the wall for hours on end. We are both sad that Morgan has gone and as I speak Mouse is lying near Morgon's old sleeping ground with a wistful, heartbroken look in his eye. I don't know why, she really never liked him at all.

Cest La Vie...

2003-11-06T21:07:00.000Z

Public Mingling

My goodness, isn't this great city just a melting pot!. Or do I really mean a noodle soup of oddballs?

I ventured onto public transport today for a change. There was a weirdo sitting opposite me on the way in. You know the type? Slightly suspiciously clean, but note. Not shiny. He kept staring at the woman opposite him in a scary way whilst pretending to read the Metro. Fine I thought (as I assume, did she), there's my one for the day.

But no! I got a proper, good value one on the way home.

This chap was actually a giant. You may think that if you were at least seven feet tall to start with that may be enough? But no!. Are you sitting comfortably? I shall describe him.

He was as wide as he was tall.
He took up two tube seats.
He was wearing a blue boiler suit.
he was perhaps late forties.
He had grey hair.
He was wearing glasses. But not ordinary ones... These were like dentists goggles with big clear shield sides.
Where his boiler suit was open, if you looked, you could spy spandex.
He was dressed underneath (I believe) in a big daddy style wrestling suit (in faux leopard)
He was carrying a large grey sack (like Father Christmas might have)

He kept pulling out books wrapped in paper bags and reading a page here and there. He would then snort in derision before returning the book to the sack and (after a pause) rummage for another.

And! - he smelt very, very odd. (Of libraries?)

To cap it all he muttered loudly, but sadly unintelligibly.

He didn't look stupid, nor did he give the impression that he wasn't aware of his effect on others. I think he knew that his presence was noticeable, and he was proud!

Normally I like to chat to people like this but even I felt slightly odd (or even nervous). So instead I broke the spell by chatting to the lady next to me and discussing her extensive collection of photographs of leaves.

You think I'm joking? Move to London and enjoy as I do if you don't believe me. These were just the notables.

There's a drink somewhere around here and I'll find it, just give me time...

If you are either of these people please email me as I have a screenplay that I could use you in funnily enough.

Fireworks

Last night I was heartened on the way home. Whilst driving through the East End I noted a particularly heavy Judge Dredd style firework war between two hulking tower blocks.

Obviously the local newsagents had done a good job in arming the warring clans and volleys of powerful starburst rockets and shells shot back and forth between the twin towers with serious intent to maim

I'm truly pleased that today's youth haven't gone all soft. It brings back good memories.

thegardener1969@msn.com

2003-11-04T14:43:00.000Z

Poorly Boy

I know how much you all care that I have got Flue (or some such). The steady stream of emails and the flowers and cards piling up in the kitchen says it all. Oh go on someone send something? OK, OK forget the flowers, errm just a ribbon? At least the cats could play with it and leave me alone to practice sniffling in a pathetic way.

I've always had a good record with colds and things, eg. I didn't get them. Yet this is at least the third one this year (at least!!) Hmmm. Some musing on this topic has indicated that perhaps there is a correlation between me historically, not being single, and my current 'fly by night' status.

So there's another mystery solved. Mingling with the general public makes you ill.

Cocktail of the Month for November

Green Dragon

Gosh, the things I do for you. Much auditioning has gone into this one.

Only drink last thing at night, not at the beginning!. The usual warnings apply.

You will need.

Vodka (as usual I recommend Stolly)
Green Chartreuse
Ice
Mixing Glass
Mixing Spoon (or other suitable implement)
Cocktail Strainer
Cocktail Cherries (or Cocktail Onions if you like that bite)
Cocktail Sticks
Cocktail Glasses (Martini Type)

Fill the mixing glass with ice, add two measures (up to you how large. How many of you are there?) of Vodka and one measure of Green Chartreuse. Stir for a good while until its all very, very chilled.

Strain into the glass(es), and garnish with a cherry or an onion speared on a cocktail stick.

Drink then recline. As this cocktail contains nothing but spirits over 40% vol you will have no choice before long. Oh, and be careful near any naked flames... (there is a pun there)

The Green Dragon is a truly lovely colour and even if some would say it does taste a little medicinal its been responsible for me forgetting where I live once or twice lately.

Speak soon my pretties!

thegardener1969@msn.com