January 6th 2003 - January 12th 2003
Sunday Bolted
Saturday Present imperfect
Friday Civility
Thursday Trust me
Wednesday Steady now
Tuesday Madness madness
Monday Ross dancing
Sunday 12th January 2003
Speculation in the press today that the besieged Hackney gunman may have shot himself "as flames engulfed his bolthole."
As well one might.
Saturday 11th January 2003
Said it before, say it again: occasions like Christmas bring out the misanthrope in me, especially when it comes to the ritual exchange of presents.
Given that I have no extant close family, I get off relatively lightly I know. But the run-up to the annual new year gathering at The Rectory (my second home, doncha know) threatens to bring me out in a rash as I try to think of a witty way round our established tradition of swapping presents in the sitting room before sitting down to dinner.
Most of the fourteen or so people that I know will be there each year fall into a very special class of friendship: people whom you've virtually grown up with, men and women that you love in a particularly mellow manner, their faults and virtues all too familiar yet way beyond changing.
There's no desperate need to meet these friends more than once a year or so - we know the rhythms of each others lives so well by now that there's not a lot of catching up to do. Fairly like a family in fact.
Over the years, one's wishes for have them have bloated way beyond what can be bought in a gift shop or a trendy delicatessen: you want to give them Happiness, or Health, a new car or a new girlfriend.That, or nothing.
Shopping, as we know, is not one of my strong points at the best of times. And given my relative indigence of late, it's especially galling to find myself wasting fourteen pocketsful of sparse cash on ritualised tokens of affection that will be forgotten within the week. ("Pickled plums? Who on earth gave me those?")
On a good year, I think up some fairly clever strategy to subvert this, like the time I gave everybody a piece of cord and a handful of beads, or the year that I held a raffle for a single prize gift.
On a bad year, I have a last minute sulk around the shops, desperately searching for witty trinkets and coming away with a bag full of crap.
I'm afraid this year was a bad year - everybody got a packet of (slightly bizarre) paper handkerchiefs.
Sorry.
Friday 10th January 2003
Just a thought, but if and when the UK introduces civil registration of partnerships (for people of all or any sexual orientation), shouldn't one of the earliest couples to sign up be Prince Charles and Camilla Parker-Bowles?
No longer living in sin, yet not in any way affecting Chas' potential position as nominal head of the Church of England?
Thursday 9th January 2003
Tip of the hat to BBC1's otherwise pretty dull city-law series Trust for finally providing what many gay people have been asking for for years: a fairly-attractive, fairly-witty but otherwise pretty-ordinary character - who just happens to be homosexual.
Rider: This award liable to be rescinded should said character's sexuality prove to be a lynchpin for dramatic shenanigans in later episodes: fatal diseases, custody hearings, blackmail etc etc.
Wednesday 8th January 2003
Headline of the week: Britain urges delay
Tuesday 7th January 2003
With his customary (and ever-expanding) generosity, Andy took upwards of two dozen of us to the theatre last Friday - a solid bloc of man-on-man action four rows deep by at least eight seats wide. (They even gave us our own room for interval drinks.)
In customary coach-party fashion, what we saw wasn't exactly Shakespeare, though with its frantically twinned plotlines it did come closer than you might expect: Our House is the latest of a long line of shows built around a single group's hit music, the group in this case being Madness.
Cashing in on a band's past successes like that isn't an obvious recipe for creative excellence but, in this case, thanks to some extensive rewriting and an excellent cast, it worked very well.
True, much of the show was pretty predictable: do you think theatre schools offer special classes for those all-at-a-run entrances that so handily embody youthful exuberance?
And the timeless 'Camden' on which the evil property developers are determined to make their mark bears little resemblance to any part of the borough that I know, not least in offering an ethnic mix which contains only two (sassy, gum-chewing) black girls in a cast of forty or more. (Lord only knows what Madness' role model Prince Buster would have made of it.)
But a plot that doesn't overtly insult the intelligence, a highly mobile set, several clever coups de theatre, plus a couple of stand-out performances more than counteract these quibbles.
And the choreography is not only excellent, but witty as well - most noticeably in the second half's Camden Market routine, poking an array of Union Jack umbrellas sharply in the eye of Hollywood's colonisation of cheerful mockney chappies.
A salutary contrast with the quite, quite awful show that Andy treated us to last year. Top geezer.
Monday 6th January 2003
One of the small joys of my festive season was marvelling at the ugly ducklings at The White Swan doing step-perfect imitations of the dance routines they've picked up from their constant diet of pop videos.
I can't help but think it won't be too long before they catch up with the latest Diana Ross moves, as demonstrated when she was pulled over by traffic police recently on suspicion of Driving Under the Influence:
"Officers who gave the former Supreme a roadside sobriety test said she could not stand on one foot while counting to 10.
"The arrest report said: 'She hopped three times to the left, put her foot down three times in seven seconds and then fell over.'
Coming soon, to a podium near you.
(Given the prevailing standards of an Essex education these days, the boys may find that the rest of Ms Ross's reported behaviour comes with relative ease:
"Asked to recite the alphabet, the soul diva replied: 'A B C C D E F G H J K L L M O P Q R S S T U V W X Y Z.'
"And her attempt to write down every even number between two and 30 went: '1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 3, 8, 9, 90, 10, 11, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 31, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30.'")
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