Giant electric gnomes

A good weekend all in all, though as usual, rather too short. I really must start doing the lotto; one of these days that jackpot will come my way and I can retire to a mansion in the country. Yeah, right.

On Saturday we disappeared up to Braintree for the afternoon to visit catpooka, jimfer and meet little Autumn, who may just be the prettiest baby I have seen for a long time. Clearly those genes come from the distaff side.

Braintree is one of those places that is only about 40 miles away in a straight line, but without a car, it is incredibly time consuming to get to. First we had to get to Ilford station as per usual, then, because pretty much only the Shenfield Dodger stops there at weekends, we had to go in the opposite direction in to Startford to catch a train that then took us back through Ilford and up to Braintree. So that was about an hour and a half each way, but it was worth the effort and we had a splendid time.

By sheer fluke and though I had resigned myself to having to watch it later on iPlayer, we were back in time to see Dr Who, which lived up to expectations, having been written by Neil Gaiman. Nice to see the programme back on track in week four after a drop back to pot boiler in week three.

Next up was a break to prepare dinner before settling in with booze, munchies and various bits of tech (the competition has become almost transcendent with the invention of smart phones, Twitter and Face Book) to watch and comment on Eurovision 2011. Sadly this year, only two countries fully understood the concept: Moldova, with their strangely monocled dancing gnomes and unicycling fairy with trumpet and Georgia. Had sanity reigned, Moldova would have won; most everything else was bland Europop as you might expect, but without the trademark smoke and wind machines and slightly too matronly East European divas in flowing robes that normally make a Eurovision Song Contest the cultural crisis it is. Sadly for Moldova, who were clearly well out in the lead in everyone’s affections until the final act, Georgia, arrived on stage with their strange fluorescent green hypnomuff and all voting intentions imploded, leading to Azerbaijan’s Dollar homage to win with something that sounded like it had been rejected by Bonnie Tyler in about 1985. Italy managed second place with a piece of awful lounge music that would have had Sammy Davis Jr gouging his good eye out.

Such is the power of the Georgian hypnomuff.


Georgian hypnomuff

Sunday was a short lie in followed by various chores, including learning the lesson that you should always check that you have put the water filter back in the washing machine properly after cleaning it before trying to use the equipment. Can we spell tsunami, children? Apparently we can.

We have now officially filled the garden, too. The sweet corn has gone in and I have moved the bags of potatoes around to stop them crowding each other out. A couple were looking rather wilty through probable lack of sunlight. Hopefully they will recover.

Giant electric gnomes

A good weekend all in all, though as usual, rather too short. I really must start doing the lotto; one of these days that jackpot will come my way and I can retire to a mansion in the country. Yeah, right.

On Saturday we disappeared up to Braintree for the afternoon to visit catpooka, jimfer and meet little Autumn, who may just be the prettiest baby I have seen for a long time. Clearly those genes come from the distaff side.

Braintree is one of those places that is only about 40 miles away in a straight line, but without a car, it is incredibly time consuming to get to. First we had to get to Ilford station as per usual, then, because pretty much only the Shenfield Dodger stops there at weekends, we had to go in the opposite direction in to Startford to catch a train that then took us back through Ilford and up to Braintree. So that was about an hour and a half each way, but it was worth the effort and we had a splendid time.

By sheer fluke and though I had resigned myself to having to watch it later on iPlayer, we were back in time to see Dr Who, which lived up to expectations, having been written by Neil Gaiman. Nice to see the programme back on track in week four after a drop back to pot boiler in week three.

Next up was a break to prepare dinner before settling in with booze, munchies and various bits of tech (the competition has become almost transcendent with the invention of smart phones, Twitter and Face Book) to watch and comment on Eurovision 2011. Sadly this year, only two countries fully understood the concept: Moldova, with their strangely monocled dancing gnomes and unicycling fairy with trumpet and Georgia. Had sanity reigned, Moldova would have won; most everything else was bland Europop as you might expect, but without the trademark smoke and wind machines and slightly too matronly East European divas in flowing robes that normally make a Eurovision Song Contest the cultural crisis it is. Sadly for Moldova, who were clearly well out in the lead in everyone’s affections until the final act, Georgia, arrived on stage with their strange fluorescent green hypnomuff and all voting intentions imploded, leading to Azerbaijan’s Dollar homage to win with something that sounded like it had been rejected by Bonnie Tyler in about 1985. Italy managed second place with a piece of awful lounge music that would have had Sammy Davis Jr gouging his good eye out.

Such is the power of the Georgian hypnomuff.


Georgian hypnomuff

Sunday was a short lie in followed by various chores, including learning the lesson that you should always check that you have put the water filter back in the washing machine properly after cleaning it before trying to use the equipment. Can we spell tsunami, children? Apparently we can.

We have now officially filled the garden, too. The sweet corn has gone in and I have moved the bags of potatoes around to stop them crowding each other out. A couple were looking rather wilty through probable lack of sunlight. Hopefully they will recover.

End of an Ear

I understand that today sees the release of Kate Bush's "new" album, Director's Cut wherein she revisits old recordings and makes changes great or small depending upon her perfectionist whim. One of the tracks, I forget which, has an entirely new lyric based upon a poem to which the poet's estate would not release the rights at the time. Auden springs to mind, but I can't quite remember.



In the past I should have been straight down the record shop for a new Katie release, particularly since they are so few and far between these days, but having given it some thought, I doubt I shall buy the 'new' Kate Bush album. I have the others, but somehow as she's got cleverer, my interest has waned.

I should have loved the almost proggy feel of 'Aerial' but after admiring the musicianship and brain power that went into it all, I never gave it a second listen. It was boring. Ditto 'The Red Shoes'. 'Sensual World' got a second listen, but it was still in the lower reaches of the charts at the time.

Maybe when it hits the bargain bins. Maybe.

End of an Ear

I understand that today sees the release of Kate Bush's "new" album, Director's Cut wherein she revisits old recordings and makes changes great or small depending upon her perfectionist whim. One of the tracks, I forget which, has an entirely new lyric based upon a poem to which the poet's estate would not release the rights at the time. Auden springs to mind, but I can't quite remember.



In the past I should have been straight down the record shop for a new Katie release, particularly since they are so few and far between these days, but having given it some thought, I doubt I shall buy the 'new' Kate Bush album. I have the others, but somehow as she's got cleverer, my interest has waned.

I should have loved the almost proggy feel of 'Aerial' but after admiring the musicianship and brain power that went into it all, I never gave it a second listen. It was boring. Ditto 'The Red Shoes'. 'Sensual World' got a second listen, but it was still in the lower reaches of the charts at the time.

Maybe when it hits the bargain bins. Maybe.