ropey moments

• get some sax
• O Winter!
• magic rabbit
• obscure heckles
• skating
• clothing

• singing
• agricultural development
• college friends
• foot and mouth
• paper cuts
• jester

• Clyne farm
• visiting Morriston
• Easter bunny
• trapeze
• work in 2004
• college 2002

Been tossing some emails around with Ian the alto sax player.

IC:
That red hot gig that my italian m8 mentioned in the city was a bag o shite' Went there and hit a Time oUt reccomended trip to the Soul Cellar, E14. Shouda been a George Benson influenced guitarist but by the time we got there was jus in time for a rather large sista singin her ample heart out Karaoke style. (a TO recommend!)

Walking through the firelight of the wintry market by St Bartholomew's and pressing your hand on the angel and making a wish, drinking a glass of mead (medovina) at any age to warm up. I bought the wool of sheep, tailored hat. Sausages and dumpling and gambrinus and Pilsener Urquell to remember forever. The Czechs brought their waffles to the US. The food was so good.

The magic of being alive, down in Mazany Kralicek you could meet the rabbit. Misha and I were there with Dennis the Briton, Josef (Pepe) and then a throng of young fun folk. I downed my fifth jug and got up to meet Jakob. For some reason I punched him, and he punched back. We slapped each other around for about twenty minutes. By the end he had my shirt off and we were forcing each other apart on the dance floor and then hugging equally closely. It was odd. Ivona mimed giving me a BJ with real theatre, hair flying around all over the place, me slapping her back and shouting 'bitch' and the crowd laughing. Ivona tried to touch Jakob but he shrank away. I asked him for a kiss, and he gave me the briefest kiss on the lips. I started crying in Misha's arms. O Wonderful Winter!

What does 'aren't you cold', 'mate you're in shape', 'corr look at that pigeon chest', 'what are you wearing?', 'when's your album coming out', 'it takes all sorts' - it all mean? I think I must engage with the hecklers. Not be afraid of turning down a different path.

Allister tossed me a teasing offer on 15 Dec. Skating on Kew Gardens. The steward said you didn't pay just to walk on the ice did you. I laughed out loud. I looked such a twat bent over almost double moving my feet like a penguin. The girls had me skating 'Mate we should be Torvill and Dean', said Mary 'that bum'. 'Yeah I know, so elegant.' said I.

I was feeling a bit ordinary.  I thought I would wear the tightest clothes I could find and head out.  Mr Average whistled at me. I next tried wearing a dress in a club. Responses ranged from revulsion, smiles from the fillies to fascination. I did my bit for glam I guess. I changed to streetwear, slinging a shirt round my neck, sweaty torso cooling off in the March night. I ran from the club, a little afraid of the power I'd unleashed.

I came across London Soul Gospel Choir on moveflat.com. I've sung before but never at a high standard and I learn quickly. This experience taught me much. How you can just stand in a choir and sing with them, just as long as you have a feel for the chords. The concert six weeks later on 10 Dec sounded beautiful. I should like a tape.

My college tutor recommended I visited a cute nook of a village on the edge of Dartmoor. I met Pam who wrapped her hands around a mug of tea and let me know about some Development Events that were happening in the area, and I got involved.
I never did get the Overseas Training Placement though. Gutted. I still keep up with John Russell though, trustee of Bicton Overseas Agricultural Trust.

"Things were looking pretty shit, but then I met you" said James.
James motored off in his decrepit fumey VW Beetle to his life in the Beeches as darkness settled. Rupert liked hedge-laying, charcoal burning, old tractors, stories about tractors, women, a good pint and a good landlord, who would probably have a dog. I liked the landlord personally recommending whiskys for us on the night of my birthday. 
We visited pubs, chip shops in Henley, Marlow and Maidenhead anytime from 1pm onwards. The three of us bundled in James's VW to bomb the three miles into town for our full English breakfast. I had already had mine at college, but it seemed churlish not to indulge James's "arrr that's perfect". He looked comical with a surly expression fresh from battle in the parking bay. It was the one he used with his daft fat dog Rosie. We had only a 15min break so would invariably have been late for the next lecture. Evenings with James were always going to be fun. This was long before I learnt how much alcohol I could consume before puking or hiccups came along. One surreal time I saw a naked man in HSBC Marlow.

Being with my buddies away from home was great but we did stupid things. One of us fell down the stairs and badly broke a leg. Another had a skin complaint from the disinfectant used. I was worse, needing stitches near the eye after sleeping on the ice rink and not long after finding I was driving my car at speed off the dual carriageway.
A wedding was cancelled. I held snatched conversations with relatives, after eating a minging late-night hotel sandwich. The phone accumulating ansaphone messages while I chatted.
It was 50 people and a lot of colourful characters who came together with a single purpose, many with dull regular jobs who were drawn to the anti-F&M war machine.  Three other couples got together.

I found many paper cuts on my person and maybe some  light scald marks of herbal tea and suspect that I have been carrying out some form of Work Experience in publishing.

I took part in the jester competition yesterday at the Festival of History.  The cameraderie and feeling of participation were great.  The number of cameras were scary.  I was booted off str8 away.  The French girl who read out some poetry was popular, but she wasn't French.  I bought some mead and Elderberry Wine for my folks and heard two lectures - an excellent one about Fonthill House and a piece of froth from Terry Jones (ex-"Monty Python").

I totally recommend rocking on down to do some outdoor activities out of the smoke. the alternative were a bit stark - working on my computer (nuthin useful to be gained there), drinking with Dazza & perhaps pullin a str8 bloke (which would only occupy about 10mins), or sitting at home waiting for a webmaster to call.

So instead I've been to Clyne farm. It's an outdoor activities centre in Swansea a city where all the husbands have a wetsuit and the family go out to the surf just about as often as they got McDonalds. I found this place more by luck than anything else.

I arrived at 5am mainly because I hadn't read the address properly. I was so relieved. There was everything they'd said, the farm, the porch with the light on, the envelope with my name on it, a map showing the barn where I was to sleep, the open door and the grrr of the vending machine from which I purchased a Twix. I stripped off my sweaty clothes, rucksack, got sleeping bag out and me in it and I spelt like a baby ready for the climbing wall at 10 am.

My first surf. The surfing instructor was brown to his brown brown toes. As a mode of transport, catching a wave sure beats hailing a bus.

The climbing instructors were on fire wiv desire for the climbing. An odd human desire though undoubtedly in existence as witnessed by the various 'do not climb' and 'anti-climb paint' messages in the world. Still it's about the only activity which actually uses all 4 limbs ;-)

In the evening I got the bus to Kwiksave, Woodfield street and had a wander. chatted to the fella in the Vicarage Road Stores he knew most of my cousins who lived nearby, Hedley Uren, Mary Calis and her granddaughter. I took a photo of Incline Terrace which is where the Hynam clan lived. 

The bus driver sped away leaving the tardy clinging to a pole, only to pull up a few yards down outside the chippy. We had a real giggle over this but it turned out the peaky looking girl up front had needed a good drink as she had a splitting headache. 

I had a laugh in the gay bar. One of the guys was chatting about a bad experience he'd just had having his hair cut. Well, what you gonna do about it, you can't stick it back on my head, he had said.

I was too pissed and sleepy to handle a pint and taxied it back to the farm.

I receive a text message: 'Easter shocker'. My rope class for Monday has been cancelled. (Easter bunny one nil up)

I had a great meal with my Aussie mate Ty in Hampstead, at the Holly Bush. The men held their women and wallets with equal carelessness. A mother barked out a series of instructions to her son, about to go on a rugby tour. The Easter Bunny lay casseroled in a mustard and pilsner sauce. (Easter bunny one nil down). Later in the land of flailing windmills that is a bar in town I am stubbed with a cigarette. My hand snakes into my glass to grab lemon to put out the singeing flesh.

I tend to do things because they pop into my head and I can't think of a good reason NOT to do them.

I have to say I'm feeling a bit weird at the moment. I spent the morning preparing for my first trapeze class and reading a book about US family history research. The Big Moment was at 2pm when our trapeze class began.

Arrgh!! My muscles ached within five minutes of the class starting. We climbed a rope. This was shit scary. I kept thinking, what if I let go! Next we grabbed the bar, swung underneath the trapeze, sat on it and later stood on the bar, swinging gently. Cool, huh? We did lots of exercises. By the end of the two hours my arms were knackered and I had rope burns. I will so be better prepared for next week's class!

After finally making it back from Isleworth, ditching contact lenses and cycling shorts it was 1am and time for sleep.

8am. Read my email which included Marjorie M's message. She had chaired a course at the Society on Saturday and had left her computer behind. I left a message on her ansaphone telling her who to call in the office. I rang her again at 11am with news of its discovery.

8.30am. Received an email from Phil R in California with a Maby family tree. I digested this and sent an 800-word reply

11am. Marjorie M called with feedback on Saturday's course which I circulated. I later wrote and sent out four thank-you letters out for this course.

Received telephone call from irate exhibitor, Gillian S, whose cheque hadn't been acknowledged. Asked her to send it again as we'd not received it. Later received revised text from this exhibitor for the Show Guide.

Ran round the corner to Lansons Communications and dropped off our press file with Rax L.

Sent receipt and confirmation of table number to Wayne R, ST-Imaging. Faxed a plan of the Hall for the Show to Duncan M, a potential exhibitor. Spoke to an exhibitor Neil R regarding arrangements including overdue cheque and revised text for the Show Guide.

Brief conversations with editors of Your Family Tree and Family History Monthly magazines about including their material in our delegate packs, and associated deadlines.

Phone conversation with Rax L about aspects of the press evening on Wednesday. Passed on request for missing report on to colleague.

Received second edition of My Ancestors were Gypsies by email from the author. I read the revisions, replied with comments about copyright on illustrations and forwarded a version highlighting the amendments on to a colleague.

Talked with Julia H, Hackney archives about the future Museum of London gallery of twentieth-century life. She ordered two tickets to the Friday event at the Show.

Took call from David A, who exhibited last year. Talked him through the process of exhibiting this year, and mailed him our exhibitor's pack.

Sat at reception to take office phone calls while colleague had a lunch break. While doing this I extracted 256 emails of recent members from the membership database and added them to my collection. I also talked to James Q about marketing opportunities and initiatives.

Chatted to Toby at Yale University Press by email regarding the forthcoming Society of Young Publishers survey and his suggestions for an inexpensive internet services provider.

Spoke to Judy R about whether she could volunteer at the Show this year, and we talked about her town's twinned village in Brittany.

4pm. Ordered hot toasted focaccia from local deli. While waiting, dropped a suitable record sheet at the front desk with Jason Lloyd at Lansons Communications. They're all so cleancut and good-looking, down to their skin. Picked up foccacia and ate back at reception.

Emailed Family History Library, Utah, to confirm the arrangements about their stand at the Show, and to request return of signed contract.

Spoke to John H, chair of our Show Working Group, regarding two meetings on 5 April which were not in the diary, amendments to the list of names for press night, and the fact that orange juice would be required on this occasion.

Drafted Health & Safety form for Halls. Mailed out four tickets to the Show where cheques and stamped addressed envelopes had been received that day.

Compiled and sent out weekly Staff Bulletin including details of our latest title and tips to remove gridlines/ repeat column headings when using Microsoft Excel.

Took a call from another irate exhibitor who wished to have the same stall position as last year. I was able to accommodate.

Sent off six legal deposit copies of the Society's latest publication, Tracing Births Deaths and Marriages at Sea, to the British Library Boston Spa and the Copyright Libraries Agency. Liaised with our webmaster regarding a Show ticket promotion deal with TimeOut. Replied to one of our authors regarding whether he would receive complimentary copies of reprinted titles as well as each new edition.

Replied to an email from Paul M, lecturing on 15 May, regarding the arrangements for the day. Sent him a planning form to complete.

Sent off 400 leaflets advertising our lecture programme to Paul C in Luton.
Emailed draft volunteer roster for the Show to John H and Marjorie M.

Put letter to Central YMCA in the post with a copy of my bank statement, clearing up confusion over room hire there in January.

Left at 6.30pm.

Ran from Great Portland Street past Regents Park on my way to the chorus rehearsal venue. Rang Jess, student at City University, regarding the Society of Young Publishers' Handbook. She seemed happy with the role of features editor for the handbook. This was a useful five-minute discussion, and I think she will get the ball rolling nicely.

During the break at rehearsals I rang Simeon and Rebecca from fluidImpro. Simeon was happy to lead the group. Rebecca would pass on my apologies, and make sure we discussed getting a new room.

Chorus 7pm - 11pm
Discussed section repping with John W and Rich.

Posted letters to Sound asing for a refund, and Maria at CityLit regarding a course. 9am walk/ bus to Angel. Talk with Stasz Gnych, MD Amber Books for one hour, poss w/c 11 Feb freelance rate! (would be responsible for own tax). Realising would be free next week, rang directory enquiries and Georgina Heathcote at Brook Street (Fenchurch St), said had nothing for such short period. Told BT at Angel about four faulty phones. Crap at FRC. Latte at coffeehouse opposite Angel Mall #1.70. Nicked a metro, wrote up notes from a talk. Looking for phone book (Kent) plus Writers &Artists Yearbook. Library shut, so ring central branch (1100), too far away. Walk to Metropolitan Books, Exmouth Market. Looking for something for Dad. Has modern books inc Granta 21 (anniversary item) and new lesbian works, grabbed free postcard, couldn't find Parapress in W&A (apparently in there). To Mt Pleasant Post Office: get stamps for Dad's parcel. Dir enq, left message for Elizabeth Imlay at Parapress mentioning availability next week. Pee at FRC, found William Maurice Swanton's children. Left quickly, decided would check email and wait few more minutes (for Parapress response) before calling Granta. Try another coffee bar, but find net at #1, message from Susan re grades (great), also Aaron K (scary). Left message with cow of receptionist at Granta 1200, 'will call me back'. I could now safely leave the Angel area. Was fired up as all hell and wrote down my spiel for Gail Lynch (Granta) in case I needed it.
On bus: rang Arts Factory (engaged), text Y-Lin (1210), read Granta on Cello. Walk from Waterloo to E&C thinking about Aaron's email, 'cross'. Print out recent emails, meet Luca in corridor. Grab #2.15 sandwich from canteen and see Y-Lin, Jenny in passing. Editing meeting, Boiler room. Penny fresh from Des, dreadful attitude, groupwork not her thing. Me angrily looking to make peace, at end read things from my list of ten ideas and state how little the history of printing interests me, very passionate (mmmm). 'Things for #1' item received well. Luca is a writer, he was mistaken for chairman, not meant unkindly, he does bumble the growly bear! Call from Elizabeth, booked for 0930 Wed 6/2/02 (lunchtime visit to sister) and Thurs (asst James @Cassell, 23, coming from London). Read parapress file, Granta books. Canteen: Mirjana, Shamish-bless, Faye-just great, professional. Told S about nightmare about Bob! Has work experience stuff he wants to tell me. Must send Shamish, Andrea email; check my hours worked. Matt and I in market, got hat #5, glitter 50p, badge thing 25p. Shamish rang about grades, was unhappy about B from Fred, had C+ from Harry. Meet Evan who has camera. Most interesting people for me were Margaret and customer (who wanted male students as lodgers but would lose tax/ benefit concessions). Contrast to wasted effort that was Chris Choi in internet cafe yesterday.
At 1745 straight to Absolut Nuts as no time. Their first night. Host Danny Bhoy more like Patrick Kielty. Other guys very good. I do like a Jeff Green. #2.80 hotdog, 'mockneys', know you're middle class- TV turned off when visitors round. Remote control out of flicking distance, Jordan's sheets. Wrote diary. Mexico logo- where did I see this (metro?) Type minutes of group meeting.
Voicemail from Susan, Jim can't talk tonite. Breezer at Minories. Bump into Davian in staffroom, briefest of at bar 'there's never a good time' (won't let him say goodbye 2mrw). Call from Luca, who is meeting Swk cllr Thurs pm. Tell Nick same hours as this week would be good. Coke at Jo's pub. Cook when get back. Conversation with Mike about his grades. Am irritated that college gave him lwr mark than me for e-media. Type diary. Text from Clare 'how is job hunt'. Must Ring Clare.
Emailed Aaron, Susan, Luca, editing group (minutes), Julie/ Adrian, Penny. Bed at 3.30am