stumble past the record store, end up at the movies;
Now I know that Rome wasn’t built in a day and all that, but I’m starting to suspect that our downstairs neighbours are constructing their own little city in their front room. They told us there was going to be a bit of disruption in the mornings, but that wouldn’t take much longer than a fortnight. That was six weeks ago, and every evening is another adventure in which piece of half-constructed furniture or what sort of building materials are going to appear in the close.
We were fortunate in that there was no early-morning banging to rouse us from our beds as there has been over the last couple of weekends. Oddly, what we got instead was the extended sound of a heavy-duty vacuum cleaner until ten o’clock at night. Perhaps this means the cleanup operation has begun, although as it still looks as if somebody’s building a wheelchair ramp over half the stairs I doubt it.
It’s somewhat ironic that, after having talked about the efforts of various bodies to combat bigotry in previous posts, I ended up sharing the bus home last night with a crowd of charming young gentlemen belting out The Sash (no, not the ballboy song). There’s not much you can do in a situation like that but turn your earphones up and switch your gaze to the floor, but I had to laugh when they had the smackdown laid down on them from an unlikely source: the pensioners in the seat in front who it turns out were Grand Masters or whatever they call themselves at one stage. “Huv ye ever worn a sash son? No? Well calm down.”
The yobs apologised, then bolted upstairs where I’m guessing they continued their behaviour because two young Celtic fans came down not long after, rolled their eyes and sat at the back of the bus watching videos of past glories on their mobile phones.
As for the result, well, to paraphrase the Sky Sports News ticker (we had it on for hours last night waiting for them to show Jay Boothroyd’s wonder goal): Celtic sixteen points clear after first home defeat… whatever.
I didn’t really get up to much over the rest of the weekend: I haven’t been feeling too well so even left my Small Friend Claire’s birthday dinner early. I met an old friend from uni for coffee on Sunday, and despaired over the press release for Ted Leo’s new album in which it is claimed he channels his Irish ancestry in a song about tanking bottles of Buckie in Govanhill while the neds with their knuckles and their Burberry scarves said how did Jersey boys ever make it this far? (Okay, I concede there’s a lot of deedly-deedly-dee going on in the track but having a favourite New York artist sing about my city is a big deal I hate to see unacknowledged).
I’m not really one for watching television these days, and if the rumours are true I probably won’t be much for it in the future (Jeremy, Jeremy, say it isn’t so!). I’ve never been much of a channel hopper and have tended to develop my favourites of which I’ll never miss an episode. There doesn’t seem to be much of them about these days though: I’m watching Ugly Betty, and although I like it it’s not the sort of thing I’d be buying the boxset of when it comes out. Katie sent us some episodes of The Wire, which looks as if it could be a winner in our household if we ever had the time to watch it, but all the rest of the shows everybody seems to be talking about would rely on us downloading (which neither of our laptops is in any fit state to manage), having channels we can’t afford to pay for or watching Grey’s Anatomy (which I shouldn’t slag off having never seen an episode but it sounds like The O.C. with doctors, from what I’ve heard).
Still, Doctor Who is back soon and I’m hoping that the arrival of a sassy new assistant will help me warm to David Tennant. Until then, there’s always the joy of the DVD boxset when you’re stuck at home with a stomachache on a Saturday night. My favourite X-Files episodes are like old friends, and I wonder what Darin Morgan is doing these days? We also watched some Season Six, which although derided by many for its quirky standalones and shift away from the darkness (in tone and lighting!) which characterised much of the Vancouver years, contained some fantastic moments. Like the below.
I’ve got an exciting meeting over lunch, which nothing might actually come of… but you never know. I’m sure I’ll be telling you about it in due course if something does.