Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Top 5 Great Gay Travel Writers
1. Bruce Chatwin, who was married (In Patagonia, The Songlines)
2. Robert Byron (The Road to Oxiana)
3. TE Lawrence, aka Lawrence of Arabia (Seven Pillars of Wisdom)
4. Wilfred Thesiger (Arabian Sands, The Marsh Arabs)
5. Paul Bowles, also married (Their Heads are Green and Their Hands are Blue, The Sheltering Sky)
Bubbling under/not sure about/they're still alive: Jan Morris, née James (Sultan in Oman, Venice); Colin Thubron (Among The Russians, In Siberia).
2. Robert Byron (The Road to Oxiana)
3. TE Lawrence, aka Lawrence of Arabia (Seven Pillars of Wisdom)
4. Wilfred Thesiger (Arabian Sands, The Marsh Arabs)
5. Paul Bowles, also married (Their Heads are Green and Their Hands are Blue, The Sheltering Sky)
Bubbling under/not sure about/they're still alive: Jan Morris, née James (Sultan in Oman, Venice); Colin Thubron (Among The Russians, In Siberia).
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Architect drawers
Architect drawers, also known as artist drawers or plan chest drawers (well, according to eBay anyway), are those long narrow drawers you stored all your artwork in at school or art college, if you went to one. Traditionally, about five pieces of A1 or A0 paper would fit in a drawer, then it be too full to open, then it would jam and eventually break.
I've been unconsciously after some for ages. Then just recently I was able to move the thought into my consciousness. All my old art college work was still stashed under my old bed at my parents. And I had lots of posters and prints and things. It would be great (and professional-like) to store them in architect drawers. Not the school/office type from the 70s, but a nice old antique one (they're stronger and look better). They go for quite a lot on eBay. But I'd usually read about a trendy couple finding some on a skip or 'dumped outside an art college'. I'd usually read about that in the Space section of the Guardian's weekend magazine. Usually it was a couple from Hoxton who'd just converted a warehouse into artist studios or something. The guy would be a graphic designer or sculptor and the woman would make textiles.
I'd actually dreamt about finding some 'dumped'. Then – this is true – a day or so after the dream – it was raining and dark, the car window was blurred, I thought I might have mis-seen them – but no, there they were – in a skip outside a school! Not exactly the antique type, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. I went to the school the next day and asked someone, who asked someone else, who asked the headmistress who asked the caretaker who told me the actual drawers were fine but he'd smashed the chest to smithereens. I knew it was too good to be true.
A month later I moved to Wiltshire. I casually scanned the local papers. In the classified section of one of them – there they were – architect drawers for sale nearby in Somerset. I called the number in the ad and got the address. I drove through winding lanes and found the house easier than expected. A pleasant middle-aged woman answered the door and took me through to her studio. I saw the drawers before she showed them to me and knew instantly I didn't want them. I guess if I'd seen them dumped in a skip I would have taken them but £90? No way. So as not to waste both our time, I spent the next ten minutes examining them and did some excessive chin rubbing. They were the 70s office-type drawers in an ugly dark red colour. And quite scratched. And £90! I told her they weren't what I was looking for and left. I'll carry on looking on eBay, even though they seem to be going for hundreds of pounds and collection always being up north somewhere.
I've been unconsciously after some for ages. Then just recently I was able to move the thought into my consciousness. All my old art college work was still stashed under my old bed at my parents. And I had lots of posters and prints and things. It would be great (and professional-like) to store them in architect drawers. Not the school/office type from the 70s, but a nice old antique one (they're stronger and look better). They go for quite a lot on eBay. But I'd usually read about a trendy couple finding some on a skip or 'dumped outside an art college'. I'd usually read about that in the Space section of the Guardian's weekend magazine. Usually it was a couple from Hoxton who'd just converted a warehouse into artist studios or something. The guy would be a graphic designer or sculptor and the woman would make textiles.
I'd actually dreamt about finding some 'dumped'. Then – this is true – a day or so after the dream – it was raining and dark, the car window was blurred, I thought I might have mis-seen them – but no, there they were – in a skip outside a school! Not exactly the antique type, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. I went to the school the next day and asked someone, who asked someone else, who asked the headmistress who asked the caretaker who told me the actual drawers were fine but he'd smashed the chest to smithereens. I knew it was too good to be true.
A month later I moved to Wiltshire. I casually scanned the local papers. In the classified section of one of them – there they were – architect drawers for sale nearby in Somerset. I called the number in the ad and got the address. I drove through winding lanes and found the house easier than expected. A pleasant middle-aged woman answered the door and took me through to her studio. I saw the drawers before she showed them to me and knew instantly I didn't want them. I guess if I'd seen them dumped in a skip I would have taken them but £90? No way. So as not to waste both our time, I spent the next ten minutes examining them and did some excessive chin rubbing. They were the 70s office-type drawers in an ugly dark red colour. And quite scratched. And £90! I told her they weren't what I was looking for and left. I'll carry on looking on eBay, even though they seem to be going for hundreds of pounds and collection always being up north somewhere.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Lies
I’d lived many lives. Imaginary ones from movies and books, yes, but also in real life, from the heights of Beverley Hills to the slums of New Orleans. From villages in Vietnam to villages in the Sahara desert. I didn’t know what I wanted.
When I met her late one night in the café, I told her I was a chameleon. I told her whenever I went to a foreign country my skin became the colour of the natives. My skin changed colour. When I was in the desert, my skin became a golden orange. When I was in the ocean my skin turned a hybrid of blues and greens. I told her lots of things. I may have lied.
I was lost in the French foreign legion when a letter from her arrived. A year later, I missed her by four days in El Paso. In Rio, she passed by six days before me. I still had her letter. I was a family man, somewhere, I couldn’t remember. I lost many fights, in penny arcades, bowling alleys and dime stores. I saw her once, watching, from the corner of her eye, on a cold February morning, in Pittsburgh.
When I met her late one night in the café, I told her I was a chameleon. I told her whenever I went to a foreign country my skin became the colour of the natives. My skin changed colour. When I was in the desert, my skin became a golden orange. When I was in the ocean my skin turned a hybrid of blues and greens. I told her lots of things. I may have lied.
I was lost in the French foreign legion when a letter from her arrived. A year later, I missed her by four days in El Paso. In Rio, she passed by six days before me. I still had her letter. I was a family man, somewhere, I couldn’t remember. I lost many fights, in penny arcades, bowling alleys and dime stores. I saw her once, watching, from the corner of her eye, on a cold February morning, in Pittsburgh.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Be Afraid...
No, the mystery's not why we're moving to Warminster, Wiltshire, in a week's time but a 'remarkable series of UFO sightings in 1965'.The back of this paperback (first published 1967; republished 1976) explains:
"Warminster, a small Wiltshire town, was the focus for a remarkable series of UFO sightings in 1965. Hundreds of local people, and UFO investigators who visited the area in the years which followed, have observed and studied these astonishing phemomena.
The Warminster Mystery is a dramatic unfolding of these sightings, with eye witness accounts of strange 'things' seen by day and night; of bewildering mushrooms of smoke, crescents of fire, weird and disturbing sounds, and even accounts of conversations with those from Outer Space.
The illustrations in this book include several fully authenticated photographs of UFOs, taken in front of witnesses."
As well as UFOs the surrounding area is full of mysterious, unexplained and strange stuff such as crop circles, ley lines, burial mounds, chalk white horses on hillsides (eight of them in Wiltshire) and Silbury Hill, Europe's largest man-made hill.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Band names from other bands' songs
DEATHCAB FOR CUTIE – from the song by the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band
LADYTRON – From the song by Roxy Music
DEACON BLUE – From the song by Steely Dan
JUDAS PRIEST – From the Bob Dylan song The Ballad of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest
RADIOHEAD – From the song by Talking Heads
THE ROLLING STONES – From the Howlin' Wolf song Rolling Stone
SIMPLE MINDS – Taken from a line in the David Bowie song Jean Genie
SISTERS OF MERCY – From the song by Leonard Cohen
AQUALUNG – From the album/song by Jethro Tull
SHAKESPEARES SISTER – From the song by The Smiths
STARSAILOR – From the album/song by Tim Buckley
HAPPY MONDAYS – From the New Order song Blue Monday
LADYTRON – From the song by Roxy Music
DEACON BLUE – From the song by Steely Dan
JUDAS PRIEST – From the Bob Dylan song The Ballad of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest
RADIOHEAD – From the song by Talking Heads
THE ROLLING STONES – From the Howlin' Wolf song Rolling Stone
SIMPLE MINDS – Taken from a line in the David Bowie song Jean Genie
SISTERS OF MERCY – From the song by Leonard Cohen
AQUALUNG – From the album/song by Jethro Tull
SHAKESPEARES SISTER – From the song by The Smiths
STARSAILOR – From the album/song by Tim Buckley
HAPPY MONDAYS – From the New Order song Blue Monday
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Pennies from Heaven
Since reading about the UK's £65m in lost one pence pieces, I have decided to revise my earlier rule of only picking up five pence pieces and above. I am now on the hunt for coppers too. This could be a get rich slow solution. This is a potential copper mine. The streets – literally – are paved with pennies.
If any readers spot any – on the pavement, behind the sofa, in the pub, anywhere – please email me the address (London only I'm afraid for the time being) and I will endeavour to come and pick them up.
Monday, August 14, 2006
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