I walk past these murals every morning, and every morning they brighten up my commute. The river is made up of numerous tiles made by pupils of the school, and it’s such an uplifting thing to see in a sometimes drab urban environment that I had to share it with you.
Just watching Red Nose Day and I am asking myself: who is that woman with the terrible dress and the shape of a hungry Somalian orphan who mainly seems to be responsible for making high pitched noises, standing next to Jonathon Ross?
Thanks to a hint from London Leben, the best girlfriend and I recently visited the wonderful London Canal Museum. After an hour of anoraky fun in this most splendid of museal institutions it was time for lunch, but this being Kings Cross, we weren’t very hopeful to find something suitable. Surprisingly we came across a decent looking place on York Way. The Fellow looked like a decent boozer from the outside and the inside wasn’t bad: this must have been a traditional pub that received a bit of brown paint to tone it down a bit, but it still had character and cosy sofas. A good range of real ales and an appetising lunch menu promised a nice hour spent with The Guardian and some lunch beers. Even though my pie was tiny and I had to do some major expeditions into the sauce to find my beef the chips were world class, and the best girlfriend’s steak tartar was apparently spiffing. The music was good, the punters happy, so thumbs up for that. The only big let down was the staff. Even though the best girlfriend and I were smiling and making supportive noises, our waitresses refused to smile and utter more than monosyllabic responses. Same with the bar staff. Shame about that. Otherwise a promising place.
..I have just watched 3 episodes of ‘Two and a half men’. And I loved every minute of it. It must be genetic.
Now back to Radio4.
Hi all, my ISP has finally delivered and I can finally blog from home, so hopefully the infrequent posting is finally coming to an end.
So what’s it all about this March at the Outhouse?
Well, fairly essential stuff. The best girlfriend ever two days ago sustained the mother of all ankle injuries: a trimalleolar fracture pretty much seperates your foot from the rest of your leg. Ligaments, your tibia and fibula and the rest of your support structures say good bye and leave your foot hanging in an extreme awkward angle. Needless to say what follows are some extremely painful procedures to reduce the fracture and some major reconstructive surgery, culminating in a 6 weeks limbo without weight bearing and no guarantee of fully regained mobility. With other words, the mood is rather sombre at chez Fordiebianco. Nevertheless a challenge is a challenge, and we here at ‘Message from the Outhouse’ are embracing the idea of a 100% male-led household. There is nothing a man can’t do if he focuses properly. Even it’s arranging daffodils and lillies in a pleasing manner.
Additionally to this it’s now 13 months since we left the friendly shores of New Zealand. While there are infuriating aspects to life in Kiwiland for Europeans (the complete lack of respect for the environment , political dominance of a weird white right wing agro-business lobby, the non-existence of public transport, the reliance on gasguzzling cars, etc) Kiwis also have one of the most classless societies, a genuine optimistic, can do spirit, a refreshing friendliness and one of the most gorgeous countries to live in (all of the positives don’t apply to Auckland, of course). Sometimes I think that England could benefit from a little Kiwi spirit.
And why do these Antipodeans have some unbelievable good musicians?
For some weird reason musicality must be a genetic trait, otherwise those 4 million souls wouldn’t be able to breed so many excellent songwriters. While most readers in my age bracket might have heard of Crowded House and Spilt Enz, there is so much more to New Zealand’s excellent musical output. Listening to artists like Goldenhorse, Brooke Fraser, Che Fu, Dave Dobbyn, Anika Moa, Don McGlashan, Bic Runga or even Ladyhawke it becomes evident that these Kiwis sing some sort of Fado of the South Pacific: Haunting, reflective and often sad songs that easily conjure up the landscape I lived in for more than half a decade. Brooke Fraser’s ‘Arithmetic’, Dobbyn’s ‘Loyal’ or McGlashan’s “I will not let you down’ evoke at times bizarre landscapes that one encounters when living on these two islands. A good start to experience a taste of kiwiana is to head over to last.fm and put ‘kiwi’ into the tag search box, sit back and let the music of Aotearoa dazzle you.
As for me, there is the washing to do.
Later.
Messaged from the Outhouse 