We certainly get a better class of busker on the streets of Cardiff of late. We are encouraged, naturally, to think of them as "street theatre", a distinction which many of them are actually coming to deserve.
Okay, the sliver-painted guy who's given up being a statue and started crooning with a Casio would be a bad example, but take the chap in our picture; now that's what I call a string virtuoso! So impressed was I, that I actually parted with a golden sovereign, as much as recompense for his patience in front of my lens, as for his acrobato-fiddular prowess, which was considerable.
More of this, and things like it, say I!
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Friday, April 21, 2006
The Crap of Christmas Past
The Book We All Got Last Christmas® was called "Is Is Just Me, Or Is Everything Shit?" It was perhaps something of a pleasant change from Jamie Oliver or Bill Bryson, but recieving it nonetheless signified a total inspiration collapse on the part of the giver. Now, not all of us always get The Book We All Got Last Christmas®, me unincluded. For example, I got one of the Jamie Oliver ones a few years back, despit Jamie being up an alley a few blocks down from mine. Yet, perversely, no-one ever bought me a copy of The Book We All Got The Christmas Before Last®, "Eats, Shoot, and Leaves", despite the fact that that one was fairly self-evidently so far up my alley, it had climbed my gate and eaten my begonias.
So anyway, the rub is that I've finally gotten around to reading "Is It Just Me, Or Is Everything Shit?" Amused though I was to discover that the authors had honed their polemical skills in the smoky corridors of University of Wales, Cardiff, less of the rest felt as familiar as I'm sure they would have hoped. Underwhelmed is a word that springs to mind, and I like the cut of its jib, so I'll use it here. I was underwhelmed. Musing, as I later did, on how this scruffy afternoon's work down the pub had netted its progenitors an indeterminate but undoubtedly poly-wadular shitload of dosh, I was moved to upgrade underwhelmed to an epithet more evocative of extreme displeasure and the intent of vengeful violence.
It was only a last-minute intervention by the intermittently-functional neural cluster that warns me of things like approaching lorries and unzipped flies, that alerted me to the notion that the entry title 'Is It Just Me, Or Is "Is It Just Me, Or Is Everything Shit?", Shit?' might not be a first in blogland. That was close, then.
Anyone fancy collaborating on The Book We'll All Get Next Christmas®? I'll get them in...
So anyway, the rub is that I've finally gotten around to reading "Is It Just Me, Or Is Everything Shit?" Amused though I was to discover that the authors had honed their polemical skills in the smoky corridors of University of Wales, Cardiff, less of the rest felt as familiar as I'm sure they would have hoped. Underwhelmed is a word that springs to mind, and I like the cut of its jib, so I'll use it here. I was underwhelmed. Musing, as I later did, on how this scruffy afternoon's work down the pub had netted its progenitors an indeterminate but undoubtedly poly-wadular shitload of dosh, I was moved to upgrade underwhelmed to an epithet more evocative of extreme displeasure and the intent of vengeful violence.
It was only a last-minute intervention by the intermittently-functional neural cluster that warns me of things like approaching lorries and unzipped flies, that alerted me to the notion that the entry title 'Is It Just Me, Or Is "Is It Just Me, Or Is Everything Shit?", Shit?' might not be a first in blogland. That was close, then.
Anyone fancy collaborating on The Book We'll All Get Next Christmas®? I'll get them in...
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Put her on Freecycle, Michael!
Well, it may not be one of the 50 Ways To Leave Your Lover that Paul Simon recommends, but "Freecycling" seems to be catching on, and it's certainly been profitable around here of late. Today, for example, I got rid of a bag of VHS tapes (remember them?) and got a lovely smile from a cute blonde in exchange; lovely smiles from cute blondes are definitely worth having, trust me. Later on, I relieved a technology hoarder, with even more space issues than myself, of a swanky AIWA 3-head cassette deck, thus freeing up my more everyday model for down-handing to my deckless Dad. Everybody wins.
It's a simple concept but it works; don't throw good shit away just because you can't use it, give it away to someone who can. You get to resolve a potentally tricky disposal issue, they get a freebie. My top score so far is a pair of his'n'hers mountain bikes for the folks - for no pounds & no pence, I jest ye not. Meanwhile, I've got fewer tatty bookshelves clogging up space...
If it's all new to you, I heartily recommend it. Have a look at http://www.freecycle.org , find your nearest group and give it a try. Sure, you'll get a few jerks asking if you have a spare Rolex, but it's an ultimately rewarding experience. Plus you get to feel all righteous about being nice to the planet. Bargain.
It's a simple concept but it works; don't throw good shit away just because you can't use it, give it away to someone who can. You get to resolve a potentally tricky disposal issue, they get a freebie. My top score so far is a pair of his'n'hers mountain bikes for the folks - for no pounds & no pence, I jest ye not. Meanwhile, I've got fewer tatty bookshelves clogging up space...
If it's all new to you, I heartily recommend it. Have a look at http://www.freecycle.org , find your nearest group and give it a try. Sure, you'll get a few jerks asking if you have a spare Rolex, but it's an ultimately rewarding experience. Plus you get to feel all righteous about being nice to the planet. Bargain.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Four Go Mad In Cardiff
Today it's the turn of the charming Edmond family to brave the dimensionally transcendental thrills 'n' chills of Cardiff. Bold adventurers Kyle and Milo sally forth with nary a flinch into the maw of the rift, with bemused mum Mary and father "it's for the kids really" Ian clinging to their coat-tails.
Kyle gets into the spirit of things by wearing a handsome anorak on a sunny day, and there is much wonderment as little Milo turns out to be indestructible. The services of Albion Hospital are not required.
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