Ah yes…unknown to me until Sasha put his track on Involver….. and captured ever since. Far Away Trains Passing By, A Strangely Isolated Place and Goodbye.
One of my favourites is On My Own. Not the greatest audio copy, and a home-made youtube video, but love the track…
I was filling out a questionnaire on WindyBricks fan’s site….It brought up this song….
I love the intro to this, beautiful and evocative. However, it isn’t even the best intro on the album. That goes to this….
A musical selection, from a group known more for the interval music at the darts. I don’t care what any of my readers think, I like a track, I’ll say so. I love this one…
Just when I’m thinkin it was always you
The sun has gone and let the rain come through
The things I’m hearin I’ve already heard
But now I’m walkin in a different world
Just when I’m feelin like I’d made it through
And still had somethin that they never knew
The artificial is controllin me
And I dont’ recognise a thing I see
And when it gets too late, I’ll be chasin you home
And when it gets too late, I’ll be chasin you home
Is this the dawning of a vacant age
I’m turnin over to a ripped up page
You look around with every step you take
‘Cos someone’s watchin every move you make
Is this the morning we’ve been waitin for
You think you’re walkin through a shinin door
You wait for nothin and it never comes
At least you know you’re not the only one
And when it gets too late, I’ll be chasin you home
And when it gets too late, I’ll be chasin you home
Everything I needed
Every Day I know
And when it gets too late, I’ll be chasin you home
And when it gets too late, I’ll be chasin you home
I’ll be chasin you home
I’m in posting photos mood…. tonight, Alghero in Sardinia, where I went for a weekend sojourn in December 2007.
A view of the town across the bay / marina.
I see the Christmas Lights in the Old Town.
All along the watchtower – towards the Grotto.
The Grotto – they wouldn’t take the boats out to go visit….
Half-light….looking south.
And the inevitable sunset pictures…
My thanks to Sir Peter, my travelling colleague, for four of these shots (1,2,3 and 6)
Part 1 – Cape Town…
A selection of photographs from the beautiful jewel at the southern tip of Africa….
Table Mountain from the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront.
More from the V&A Waterfront. Table Mountain never bored….
And another view of the iconic hills….
The world’s most beautiful international cricket ground… no arguments thus far.
Cape Town from the top of the Table…
And another……
I regret that at this time, the first holiday with my new digital camera, I did not try for sunset pictures…..
Why not… Youtube presents…. Michael Jordan..
Enjoy…..
Apologies to whatever readership I have for the lack of updates. I’ve been busy doing the washing, ironing, admin etc. that happens after you’ve been away for three weeks, so getting on the blog has been difficult.
Windybricks kept up their impressive winning run with a 2-1 win at the JulIan Wilson school of Irregular Payments on Sunday. We took the lead with another goal by a debutant – Mr Crucifixion got the opener, and Lewis The Snatcher sound-a-like the second after some yokel scored in between. Mr Crucifixion then got his marching orders in added on time and we will now be hoping to see his resurrection sometime in the next three weeks. Looking good as Windybricks are nicely placed in fourth behind the Integrated Steel Work Firewall team, The Dog Restrainers and Ice Station Young Pork. On to those Concrete Cow Economists next weekend!
The NFL threw up a couple of shocks at the weekend. As a Miami Dolphins fan I am keen to see all unbeaten teams end their run as soon as possible, and after this weekend we are left with the Buffalo Bills and Tennessee Titans, neither of whom are likely to join the 1972 Dolphins in the Land of Unbeaten Legend, and the New York Giants who are in a division of such strength it is inconceivable that they could do it.
Kansas City pulled off the shock of the day, ending their winless start by beating previously unbeaten Denver. It was good to watch a thoroughly professional Redskins team puncture the bubble of confidence that was the Dallas Cowboys – and now the Boys face a difficult task in a tough tough division. My team had the day off. I can’t help but wonder how the New York media reacted to Favre’s six touchdowns – will talk radio now be saying that the Superbowl is a possibility again?
Boston Red Sox start the play-offs against the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim, and I’m not hopeful. I’m even less optimistic now Josh Beckett is reported as injured. He’s not been right all season, and I’m in no doubt that we need a fit and firing Beckett to win this series. Lester is a good pitcher, but he should not be our number 1 guy to face John Lackey. In the other series, we have to wait for the outcome of the AL Central showdown between the White Sox (who beat Detroit in a make-up game to get into the tie-breaker) and the Minnesota Twins. The game is being played in Chicago, and the White Sox put Nick Blackburn up against John Danks. ERA favours the White Sox here and the big home advantage of the Metrodome is not in play, but the Twins have had rest, even if it is just a day, and this is another MUST win for the Sox. The winner plays the Rays.
Life has rumbled on. Some joker thought it would be a laugh to turn on the tap in the garden while I was out, but they can’t do that again without breaking into my loft, the cheeky chavs. The ear is better. I’m reading a very interesting book written in the early 90s, I think, called Damned Yankees about the nuthouse that was the New York club in the late 1970s and 1980s and it is a cracking read. I’ve been reading a lot more books in the past few weeks, but would not be presumptuous to recommend any to my limited readership. I did enjoy Duncan Fletcher’s book, and I thought this tome I read on three guys riding the spine of South America wasn’t so crash hot.
I hope to blog a little more during the week as and when the inspiration takes me. Who knows, maybe it will be tonight on my return home? Betcha can’t wait….
Something on MSN relating to moving death scenes on film caught my eye today and this was mentioned in the top bracket. I absolutely still get tingles watching it.
[Spoken:]
I’m gonna tell you a story
I’m gonna tell you about my town
I’m gonna tell you a big bad story, baby
Aww, it’s all about my town
So those who were with me in a previous blogging incarnation will know how much I am a fan of the Boston Red Sox. Due to pressures of work, play, travel and a little bit of frustration, I’ve not really commented on the Sox for a while. Now they are safely in the play-offs, I can breathe a sigh of relief. But this feels more like 2005 than 2004, as the Sox have qualified again as a wild card, but instead of behind the Yankees, this time it is behind the Tampa Bay Rays, who have shocked everyone with their ability to win close game after close game, including several squeakers against the Sox in the past weeks, and are now one win, or Boston loss, away from clinching the East. I’m assuming they do it.
It has been frustrating, and confounding, and confusing… pick a number of words to describe why the Sox never could top the Rays. Aim number 1 at the start of the season is to get in the play-offs, which Boston has now done 5 years out of 6 – something only the Yankees can now claim to have done (their streak ended on Tuesday) – but the whole year has been a challenge. Boston knew, pretty much, that they had to do without Schilling all year, and picture the Sox rotation for the play-offs with him as the number 4 starter behind Josh, Jon and Daisuke, so that wasn’t a surprise. Then add on the whole melee surrounding the Manny Ramirez trade – his poor form prior to the trade, his stellar numbers since – where the Sox acquired a nice player in Jason Bay to replace a Hall of Famer but not that sort of calibre. Throw into the mix injuries to all the starting pitchers except Jon Lester, and the absences in large spots of David Ortiz, Mike Lowell and JD Drew, and you have a decent achievement from the Sox in reaching the post-season.
But, being the wild card (and coming back to this piece, Boston need to sweep the Yankees, the Rays need to be swept by the Tigers in Detroit for them to win the division) means the Sox will face the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim in the first round. Positive karma first – in 2004 and 2007, the two championship years, the Red Sox beat the Angels in the first round. The first time around, they went to Anaheim with Curt and Pedro pitching, and came away 2-0 up. The second time around, the Sox met an injury depleted Angels and swept them away, with just a little stress in Game 2 the only pinch point. The bad karma though is that this year the Angels have won 8 out of 9 games against the Sox, including sweeping Boston in Boston, for the first time since the Yankees did it for 5 games in 2006. If recent form is anything to go by, the Sox are in for a fight – neither the Rays, nor the White Sox look to be anything near formidable enough to cope with the Red Sox, but the Angels are, and they are my tip to be AL champions.
I know I always cry out Jeremiah-like, but I don’t sense a Red Sox triumph this season. The pitching is good, but not good enough (2005’s rotation, lest we forget, was Matt Clement, David Wells and Tim Wakefield; 2008 looks like being Beckett, Lester and Daisuke) while the hitting seems a bit streaky to me. That said, it is definitely the top series in the opening round, with Chicago White Sox v Tampa Bay Rays in the “nothing to see here” class. In the NL the Cubs and the Dodgers are in, the Phillies look to be joining them, while the Mets and Brewers continue their “who can choke the most” contest. I see nothing to persuade me, other than fate or Manny Ramirez, that the Cubs will win the NL. Philly’s pitching looks suspect to me, the Dodgers have more holes than Swiss cheese, and the wild card will probably be a busted jibbering wreck from asphyxiation.
So let me on my Red Sox way, and to the Play-offs we shall go. No Yankees to clutter our way.
A sad piece of news contained within this piece…
Losing Cup finalists will not be eligible to participate in this competition, even if the winners have qualified for the Champions League. So teams like Southampton and West Ham who got to the final, only to be beaten by big clubs who take it seriously late on, don’t get their day in the sun, even briefly.
And for the likes of Cardiff, who got to the final last year, their task gets harder. So what that you need a lot of luck to be a small club and progress in the FA Cup, and you could even get a favourable draw in the competition where you don’t meet a Premier club until the final and get a chance of European football, but give the smaller clubs a hope of a freak day – does it really hurt football that much?
No. Not in Big Business Football Land. We can’t be having that.
And it is a silly name to boot.
I recieved an e-mail from the Barmy Army today. It related to selling Ashes tickets at Cardiff (another beef entirely). Contained within it was the following…
During the victorious 2005 Ashes Series the Australian supporters all wore the same shirts. This had a dramatically positive effect on the Australian team as they had a focal point to go to when they needed a boost from their supporters.
We aim to go one better and create a HUGE St George’s Cross made up of all of our polo shirts in our section; the middle rows in both directions will have red fronts and those in the four corners will have white shirts, all will have the Ashes Tour design on the back. In order to make this happen we need to do some serious planning. As you can imagine, ordering the right shirts for each day, in the right sizes and seating all of you with your friends and relatives is quite a time-consuming exercise so please help us by committing to this early.”
First of all, the Australian gaggle that all wore the same t-shirt at the Ashes series appeared to be part of an organised sports tour. There must have been 50, tops, of the muppets, if I recall correctly (and attempts to corroborate these memorable people via online research has not borne much fruit). Their presence inspired such a dramatic positive effect that the Baggie Greens were outplayed for 90% of three test matches and lost the Ashes for the first time in 18 years. The Australian collective fashion attire when showing their patriotism is the bloody green and gold – I can’t even recall their “same shirt” as it was that memorable. All I seem to recall was a small knot of supporters in homage to Merv Hughes sitting on top of the Edrich/Compton at Lord’s and in the Surridge at the Oval.
The Barmy Army can shout all they like about the support we give the England team at home, but this exercise in selling more t-shirts is just a cynical marketing ploy and says more about what the Barmy Army has evolved into than its original purpose/raison d’etre in its early innocent days.
In my view, it started off as the England cricket supporters poking fun at themselves by following the losing Ashes team of 1994-5 around with unstinting support. It evolved, in my eyes, from an organisation of self parody but support, to a useful conduit to facilitate the dream tours for me – self-organised, free lancing, go-as-you-please and see the cricket holidays – rather than the previous options espoused by the right royal take-ons of Kuoni Sport Abroad, Gullivers or the other type of rubbish put forward by cricket clubs, which took you on guided tours, 4* hotels and nice pre-packaged shirts and hand luggage. Being stuck behind them in the passport queue at Brisbane airport, with tens of people in the same corporate shirt, is soul destroying.
The reality, dressed up as patriotism, is that the Barmy Army, with its “membership”, “privileged ticket allocations”, organised specific Barmy Army fan areas, marketing etc. is now moving from beyond what I believed its core aims were, namely to assist those who wanted to go to cricket but didn’t want to be straight-jacketted into stupid membership schemes and the corporate whoredom prevalent in so many sports, to, frankly, becoming just like those that it sought to foil.
Now they trumpet this idea. Oh great, buy a t-shirt, get in uniform, get behind “the boys”. If “the boys” can’t be inspired by the Ashes, I’m worried. If the boys can’t recognise the lengths people went to Down Under to freelance, and still get in despite Cricket Australia’s utter desperation to keep us out – and note that the Barmy Army, in its keenness to help out let a lot of people down – then Lord knows what hope we have. The t-shirt idea, while harmless, is symptomatic of an organisation fast becoming another “club” to buy tickets, and to take the opportunity for tickets, the key thing after all, out of the hands of people who don’t want to be straight-jacketed or labelled.
Cards on the table. I get into the Oval for test matches due to my Surrey Membership, so I am a member of a club to get in – and I have also benefitted from corporate seats – believe it or not, my motivation has never been to schmooze, because I have little to schmooze about, but to watch the game, and team, I love. I havealso used the Barmy Army to get test tickets at Cape Town, although, I understand, at the time I applied to them it would have been easy to get them directly from the Western Province Cricket Association. That service was excellent and required no “membership fee”.
My mates got the Ashes tickets both times around by hook or by crook, when Cricket Australia did all they could to stop English supporters buying them. It fractured the army, but their presence was still there. Free-lancing was becoming more and more difficult. Now the Barmy Army are, even if they don’t mean to, taking tickets out of free-lancers hands.
I can be accused of hypocrisy. I think the t-shirts on sale are usually quite funny, and I have bought a waterproof coat with Barmy Army on it. But, as the theme common throughout of this piece shows, I am less comfortable with them charging a fee to buy tickets in designated areas because in so doing they become more like Kuoni and that lot, which, in my view, is not what they were meant to be when they set out on this road.
I’m probably being hard on the Barmy Army. Their heart, I believe, is in the right place. I am not so sure they are a home country organisation, but more a club of like minded people on tour to whom you know you can get together with inside the ground to get behind the team. I think their finest hours were in Adelaide last time, when despite all attempts by Cricket Australia to prevent it, they congregated, sung, and supported the team brilliantly. We lost, and the Aussies milked it in front of them. We just stood their stunned and took it. With the Aussies competing with the “Barmy Army”, we could have guessed what the attitude would have been from them if the roles had been reversed, judging by their conduct on days previous. It was what the “Army” is all about, but now seems more like the organisations it seemed to pit itself against.
Back home, they’ll be thinking about us
When we are far away
Back home, they’ll be really behind us
In every game we play
They’ll share every goal we are scoring
Out there
We will still hear them roaring
And we’ll give all we’ve got to give
For the folks back homeBack home, they’ll be watching and waiting
And cheering every move
Back home, though they think we’re the greatest
That’s what we’ve got to prove
Once more we will meet with the best
Like before we’ll be put to the test
Oh we will give all we’ve got to give
For the folks back home
They’ll see as they’re watching and praying
That we put our hearts in our playing
We’ll fight until the whistle goes
For the folks back home
Well, I’m not chuffed to be back, I can tell you. I didn’t fight anyone, and certainly did not score any goals. I did meet the best (outside of my significant other) – my future mother-in-law, who is brilliant (hope it stays that way) – but the roar from England was dim and faint. For one of the first times ever, London could wait.
As much as I have the fondest wishes for my mates, colleagues and family, it is dull dismal and grey here, and it is enough to give me the hump – at least the Blackwall Tunnel wasn’t too bad, but the traffic behaviour (with a “u” Yanks) was appalling and got me swearing. The toilet isn’t flushing properly, there’s a mountain of washing to be done, the wedding preparations are a week behind over here, I am now seeing how much I spent on my unexpectedly long trip, and probably most importantly, I’m bloody well alone.
I have left a country where the sport is excellent, covered to stupid excess but where no-one really knows who is going to win anything; I have left a country where I have just purchased a really nice shirt for work, in my size, for £5, and it is not from some dodgy backstreet dealer or purchased in a 3rd world country (although probably made there); I have left a town with a beautiful beach, where I can go on dolphin watch tours, watch a charming ceremony on the beach at sundown when you can, buy food cheaper than here, get petrol at half, no maybe a third of the price you pay here (and they think that’s too much) and where you are pretty much left in peace; and I’ve left behind my fiancée, and probably will have to leave her for a while after we get married while I put my faith in the British Consulate actually doing something right, quickly and efficiently (but does it cost? You betcha!)
For its many faults, I love the States, and they are so wrapped in themselves it is almost charming. You know, they really don’t care whether raging lefties in Europe like them or not, and don’t give two hoots if you go off on one about it. There’s a reason Obama isn’t running away with this election, although I’m not sure what it is! The Cape of the 5th Month is a really pleasant little town, with a nice beach, decent amenities and a pleasant unthreatening air. London is a hulking metropolis being weighed down by the gloom surrounding it. Probably post-holiday (not vacation, Yanks) blues….
When Dmitri Old smells a rat, he pursues it…and a minor irritation has been rubbing me up the wrong way for a while now.
Hopefully the loyal follower of the previous incarnation of Seven and Seven Eighths will follow me over here, for I have a treat for the malcontent Celt. I know his favourite advert was the following for a well known shaving brand…
I had my doubts, because Gillette would always focus on America as its leading market and no way would they have had Thierry Henry in the advert. No way…. I love Americans, hell, I’m even beginning to speak like one as I am now just a mere 44 days away from marrying one of them, but they don’t buy “Saarccer”. They’d be sitting there watching Federer and Woods horseplaying around in a totally uncontrived and utterly convincing manner, and saying to themselves “sure, I know the black golfer dude, and the tennis player sure smashes a mean racket, but who’s the mystery man?”
Then I discovered my thoughts were correct, and that as of 1 July, there’s a new face in the American market, and one that would have the majority of Europeans watching the same advert saying “who’s the other bloke?” It wasn’t a sighting on a TV advert, but minding my own business reading ESPN magazine on the flight home from the Newest Largest Channel Island yesterday. There, in full technicolour (with a “u” Yanks) was this imbecile sitting with Federer and Woods.
The fact that this American face happens to be one of my “favourite” sportsmen is by-the-by….
Watch ZS, and prepare to be enraged….
A few more pictures of sunsets… tonight’s cruise around Cape May furnished me with some lovely shots…
The sun goes down over the Delaware Bay…
I know – red filter overload…..
The Cape May Lighthouse….
Sunset Beach ceremony from the water….
The Cape May Ferry Delaware sails off into the sunset for Lewes….
The ear infection that has punctuated my posts of the last week has abated somewhat, but by no means clear. In order to satisfy the needs of HMG UK, I shall be returning on Tuesday when the doc’s certificate runs out, but hoping the flight isn’t too horrendous on it.
I am currently sat in the Guest House on the Cape of the 5th Month, watching and listening to the last game at Yankee Stadium. Get this maudlin rubbish over with please. The Yankees have been poor this year and it seems somewhat fitting that the House That Ruth Built will go out with this collection of mediocrity. I shall expand further on my favourite team when I return to Blighty.
In many ways the USA winning the Ryder Cup gives the competition the shot in the arm it needed. I await snarks like Mark James slagging off Faldo – I have no idea, residing as I am in the States at the moment, if it is already going on – but the USA seemed to want to prove something in the absence of Tiger Woods, and they did this with bright phenoms like Anthony Kim rather than the old guard being to the fore. Faldo’s choice of Ian Poulter was utterly vindicated as he was our best player throughout; Sergio Garcia played badly, Harrington was a washout, and Westwood didn’t seem too much to the fore either. We need these to play like stars, and they didn’t. The next edition at Celtic Manor in Wales in a couple of years’ time is eagerly awaited.
In the sporting shock of the day my favourite NFL team absolutely slaughtered the Patriots in Foxboro. Given Miami have not won a road NFL game in a couple of seasons, and that the Patriots hadn’t lost a regular season game since late 2006, it was a hell of an upset. But 38-13? 5 Touchdowns to Ronnie Brown – 2, I think, direct from snaps, 2 conventional rushes and 1 passing TD – is extraordinary.
Windybricks, my football team won by 2 goals more than the opposition, the banned union town with some horses, with goals fromm Gary The Great and D-Mart. Four consecutive league wins, and Windybricks are now on the up. Due to hearing problems I have missed much of this run, but I will return for our game in a fortnight against Concrete Cow Economists from Merton.
The Orioles lead 1-0. Sorry. Make that 2-0. You lose, you go out. Fitting.
Ah yes, Lake Champlain, a hopelessly jingoistic boat cruise with decent beer. At the time I was one day out of dodgy inflamed toes, and a week away from acute otitis media, in this rack and ruined body of mine. The cruise was nice, but the sunset after an agreeable meal in the Daily Planet was also very nice. Photo time!
The pretty town of Burlington from Lake Champlain. According to the boat commentator, the forces of Benedict Arnold sneaked past us Brit while we were drinking tea. Yes, right.
Sunset over the marina in Burlington. The red filter is on, the sun is setting behind the clouds over the Adirondacks in New York State.
Here is a more close-up picture with more of a blue filter on it…..
I liked Burlington, Vermont. Very nice town.
In a rare sortie out of the flat due to this abominable earache and infection in my neck, I went down to the beautiful ceremony held every night at Sunset Beach in Cape May. Every night they lower the flag at the beach, usually in memory of a member of the armed forces (tonight in honour of a member from Delaware), at sunset and play God Bless America and Star Spangled Banner. It may seem a little twee to some outsider’s eyes, but I find the patriotism and remembrance very touching – and importantly genuine.
Tonight they also had a beautiful sunset. I’ve appended a couple of photos below…
What is it with pop stars improvising on their national anthem. Here is a case in point… Christina Aguilera…
Absolutely shocking. It isn’t bloody “Genie in a Bottle”….
Here an acceptable rendition is abominated by the finish….
Evan dead soul legends crucified it. Sure Marvin could sing, but is this really the Star Spangled Banner..
So Keegan flounced out of Newcastle like the prima donna tart he has always been. Sure, it’s great that Keegan speaks his mind, and yes, it probably is a bit galling taking orders from Dennis Wise, but then again, Newcastle are virtually unmanageable anyway as most of the numpties up there seem to believe they should be a top 4 team.
Deluded support is not great support. Blind misplaced loyalty is not always good. Fervour is good, but protesting against the man who baled out your club may be unwise. I’m sure Newcastle fans believe some middle-eastern sugar daddy will come in and pump billions in or whatever, but does it really matter any more in a sport that hasn’t so much lost its soul as flogged it to the devil for overseas money.
Then I see puerile rubbish like this, and I know we will always be safe in knowing the toon in Toon army comes from cartoon, because this mob are a joke.
