Thursday, November 11, 2004

October 26 (Tuesday): Unwound. Ouch, more hard times getting up, getting going again this morning. Today is yet another trip/journey to Mildenhall, seeing me aiming to leave for 7.30 to arrive around 9.00. Yeah, that’ll happen. Instead I stumble around my flat early morn, zombie like, eventually managing to leave home 7.45ish. The drive up the A12 and A14 turns out to be a real breeze though, Moyles is on form playing great songs by Coxon, Kelis, Red Hot Chili Peppers: all singalong tracks that make the car drive faster and the journey feel shorter.

As I near Mildenhall, I drive past the sugar factory/plant near Bury and turn off into the sticks and head to the industrial estate near the airforce base. The stench is so strong/potent I almost fail to breath, deciding I never want near sugar ever again.

My day’s work turns out to be a real winner, getting as much accomplished as desired, almost more so. Again I am working with the bosses’ daughter which is hard work but I tear through my duties (and some of hers) as she spends all day adding up a cash book.

Downstairs at the clients, there is a workshop of pipe workers and all day they listen to the radio and I hear Teenage Kicks by the Undertones at least twice in addition to the workers laughing their tits off at Goldie Lookin’ Chain’s Your Mother’s Got A Penis.

For lunch the boss’s daughter buys me a bacon roll, I guess I must look like I need food. Or that I enjoy food. I then glean my trivia for the day as when it gets mentioned that I support Millwall (and the fact is subsequently mocked to eternity) I get told that the scoreboard from the old Den was bought by Rushden & Diamonds and it now at their ground/stadium. Go figure.

My working day ends positively as the written/manual figures almost tie up with the computerised Sage figures which is a result beyond result and I am able to get their VAT return done, using the figures per the computer, the new system I have been given the task of implementing. Unfortunately however, things end on a semi funny note as the boss begins looking at the figures, expecting it seems to be able to glean management information at this point. Whoops, we’re not that advanced yet. I have a few cold sweets before managing to get out of there cleanly, still in their hearts.

When I get in the car to return home I turn on Radio One and DJ Spoony is in for Scott Mills and he reports that John Peel has died of a heartattack. This news that doesn’t register with me initially because it just sounds so wild and incomprehendable. As things sink in and Spoony announces it for a second, beginning to tailor his playlist into something Peel-esqe, I have to say I am genuinely surprised/shocked in the worst of ways and I immediately text (whilst driving) everyone I know who would be interested, even emotionally involved. It turns out to be the first time I hear from Ben since our argument over my little fracas the other Friday. It’s something that is genuinely sad.

The drive home up the A14 and across on the A12 (the road Peel put into Room 101) turns out to be to a soundtrack of the most fantastic music of recent years and suddenly it is clear why I have been hearing the abysmal cheese fest of a song Teenage Kicks on the radio so much today. On the drive home I hear The Smiths, Nirvana, Pulp, Underworld, Blur and the Buzzcocks amongst others and each song has never sounded better (car radios have that effect on music, maybe it’s the sensation of having songs coming at you from all directions or maybe it is just the randomness of playlists and lack of control they hold sometimes).

Tonight is Millwall v Liverpool in the league cup on Sky (what is it these days? Carling Cup?). On the way home I pop into Tesco Highwoods to buy some video tapes before listening to Zane Lowe on Radio One pay tribute but not play tribute enough or adjust his listening/playing choices (enough). Nevermind.

When I arrive home, I notice that my red Escort is not in the driveway. When I go inside I ask where the car is and the old man has got rid of it, had it taken away. I ponder this sudden development and the first thing that springs to mind is “did you get any money for it?”. He claims he didn’t but who in their right mind would give a 1994 clapped out automobile away for nothing, there needs to be some legal consideration. And some consideration for my feelings. The disposal of my red Escort is some what the end of an era. Firstly I cease to be Jason Two Cars but the WOW mobile really was a part of me that should have received some kind of ceremony first before leaving this world (JGRAM). The WOW mobile was the vehicle that helped San Lorenzo to tour with Idlewild, that stunk up the motorways on two trips to All Tomorrows Parties, took Hirameka to their final BBC Peel session and lugged equipment around to a hundred gigs and broke down/died just as many times. This car was deserving of a fate something more dignified.

Millwall v Liverpool reserves turns out to be a real horror show of a game, it is frightening how Liverpool’s second string dismantle Millwall in the early stages and really take them apart, keeping them out of the game. Granted Millwall are also fielding the strangest of teams but I can barely remember them having more than a handful of chances, something that is not new to them. When Liverpool take the lead within the first twenty minutes (Diao scores whoever the fuck he is, maybe a relation of Ronnie James Dio?) the game immediately looks over. By the end of the first half though, Millwall do get back in the game but sadly still look really impotent up front with Harris and Tessem (what is Tessem?). Reliably though Millwall do rough things up, Muscat never lets the side down and it’s good to have him pissing out rather than pissing in, one of only a few players that does not look intimidated by Liverpool. The other player starring tonight is Alan Dunne, playing out of position it seems but getting stuck in and making up for his obvious limitations. In the second half, the game evens out somewhat but for Millwall to string a set of passes together appears to be the hardest fucking thing to do and they never really look like equalising. Eventually Liverpool bring on some “stars” including that little long haired Czech gimp Baros. Muscat winds him up nicely for a bit but ultimately when Baros scores on 70 its beauty over the beast and it kills off the game (as if Millwall were ever in the game to start off with). Baros adds another in injury time and it all ends looking resoundingly shit, this was a worse defeat than the cup final.

Teachers restarts on Channel Four tonight and its all changed, and for the worse. I watch some of it with Dad (a strange development). Firstly with Teachers, Kurt and Brian have gone, when they actually made the last series and worse they have now been replaced by weirdo wannabes with crap hairstyles. In fact, everyone has new hair styles, all hip and trendy and all fucking terrible. Lindsey has got fatter and now the music is too loud you cannot hear the dialogue, which I suspect might have been done on purpose. All good things come to an end.

I flip to E4 and the penultimate episode of season five of The Sopranos. Tonight Adrianna gets it and it remains pretty shocking and effective.

I drive home just prior to midnight, driving very paranoid of being caught by the police, therefore I drive pretty mentally, slower than required. I listen to Radio One on my ride and Steve Lamacq is doing a tribute show to John Peel, playing nothing but Peel sessions it seems and it is the most fantastic music.

When I arrive back in Colchester, I get held up driving around Hythe as some fucking mug is having a midnight driving lesson. Students and/or foreigners by far. That and/or potheads out on a munchie run. Surely there must be some kind law about learner drivers not being allowed out on the road after midnight, surely they turn into pumpkins or something. Or maybe this is just the latest ploy for getting around drink driving, just slap on L plates and drive home as crappily as you desire, its all in the name amateurism. And after I just spend the whole drive home, driving like a trooper/boy scout, it just drives me insane, to the point I find myself attempting to ram the car off the road. I don’t do this though, I’m a good guy.

When I get in, I get hit by Tom on MSN acting really wet with regards to Peel. I peruse the web and everyone appears to be acting like a bleeding heart over poor old John Peel’s passing. And so many people are saying “I now wish I had listened to his show more”. Exactly, no fucker was listening to the show by the end really anyway, it all stinks of hypocrisy. Tom does make the best point though when he says “it may well be the end of Radio One playing unsolicited music”. Sara then comes online shortly afterwards and I greet her with the affectionate line “my smelly valentine”. In the end, I wind up doing this shit until 2 AM, that’s going to hurt in the morning.

np: Bobby Darin – If I Were A Carpenter


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