This week's news on the housing market told us what we already knew, houses just ain't selling at the moment. Our house has been on the market since the beginning of September. It is in what we know to be 'a desirable part of town'. Yet we have only had four viewings. I'm not a big lover of estate agents, I think you pay an awful lot for not a lot, but I feel confident that our current agents have worked as hard if not harder than most around. There seems to be a lack of confidence, first time buyers seem to have gone away. Consequently the market is stagnating. The time of year now doesn't help either. I suspect it could well be summer before we get to move to Norwich. Oh well !
I've agonised about whether or not I should write about the following subject. I've been concerned that it might be seen as looking for sympathy. I can assure you that I'm not. I'm writing about the following because I want to raise awareness.
Nothing can prepare you for being told that you have cancer. When you are first told it's a tremendous shock. You feel numb. It brings home to you that you are indeed mortal. My lady had been getting on at me (in a nice way) to get a two-coloured mole that I had on my arm checked out by the doctor. Eventually I did. It wasn't my normal doctor that I saw, but one at the practice who I think is close to retirement. He pronounced that "it is probably nothing to worry about", but arranged for me to have it removed a week later by my doctor. I don't really believe in omens, but as I walked down to the doctors the following week for my surgery, a wasp flew into my face, landed on my lip, and as I brushed it away the bastard stung me. There I was lying on the operating chair with a fat lip while a piece of me was being removed. It didn’t look or feel good.
A week later, I returned to have the stitching/wound examined, being told by the nurse that it was healing up nicely. Indeed it healed up to what looked like quite a nice little scar. About three weeks later I got home from work to find a message on our answer phone from my doctor asking me to ring him. My heart sank. I knew exactly why he had rung. He told me that the tests on the mole that he had removed had shown that it was a superficial melanoma. He was going to refer me to a skin specialist at the hospital. The appointment at the hospital revealed that I would need to have more skin removed from my arm where the melanoma had been to see if there was anymore cancer present. After an inspection of my torso it was decided that I was also to have a mole removed from my face. Two separate operations. I also had my initial wound and two moles photographed with measurement stickers stuck on me prior to being snapped.
The first operation at the hospital was to have the extra skin removed from my arm. Quite a hefty cut, which now it has healed, looks like, in an act of desperation, that I've tried to slit my wrist. Thankfully when the results came back there had been no more cancer found. But there was still the matter of the mole on my face. This was quite a painful experience. The doctor was very good. After lots of grinning and general face making he took his pen to my face and mapped out the incision he would finally make. I think the pain was mainly due to the blood vessels and nerve ending on your face being close to the surface. Or something like that. It started to heal up nicely and will hopefully blend into my face quite well. My only hope was that I didn't have to have more surgery.
Yesterday a letter arrived from the consultant. I wanted to know the results but at the same time I was somewhat apprehensive. I was so overjoyed when it said that the second mole was benign and that no further treatment was required. Words cannot explain the relief I felt !
I would urge anyone that has either two-coloured or odd shaped moles about their person to go see their doctor. I'm so glad I did !
a late mole
Have you noticed that in your local record shop slushy soul ballads and sugary 'black' pop music is being wrongly categorised as 'R&B' or ‘RnB’ ? Radio stations are also referring to it by that genre. R&B or more correctly Rhythm and Blues is music with a driving rhythm and back beat akin to rock n roll. Watered down soul it aint !
We call upon the faithful to gird your loins and join us in Musical Direct Action
Something I've started to do, and I urge others to do the same, make a stand, join our guerrilla war. Go into your local record shop, surreptitiously remove non RnB from that category on the shelf, and place it in a more relevant section, unfortunately shops tend not to have a section marked 'shite' so my suggestion is 'easy listening'. Next deposit real R&B in its rightful place.
If there is enough of a groundswell we might actually get record shops, and the music business in general to stop using this misnomer. And even if it doesn't you've at least got the consolation of knowing that you've irritated and confused some spotty Herbert in the record shop. It’s got to be worth doing just for that.
Join us brothers and sisters. R&B needs you in it’s darkest hour. Help stop the misery of hapless youf wandering around dazed, confused and under the misapprehension that worthless acts like Beyonce, Lemar, Mary J. Blige and Nas are Rhythm and Blues. Let’s restore the true meaning, as personified by George Thorogood and the Destroyers, Dr Feelgood, The Pirates, Muddy Waters, Fats Domino, Dr John, Long John Baldry, Elmore James, Bo Diddley, Big Joe Turner, Chuck Berry, The Yardbirds and early Rolling Stones to name but a few.
Write letters of complaint. Get moving those CDs today. You know it makes sense.
Three little words. Three little words often preceded or followed by "please", but not always.
I’ll set the scene, you are in a restaurant, the waiter or waitress comes to your table and asks you if you are ready to order. You open your mouth, and you start the sentence with, "please can I get…". What is the waiter or waitress supposed to think ? "Are they after my job ?" I would hope that they would reply to the poor unfortunate retard that uttered those words, that it was their job to serve the customer, therefore as the waiting person it was their job to get, that it was not a self-service establishment, and that customers going and getting their food from the kitchen probably contravened health and hygiene laws.
In the unlikely event that someone who uses the phrase "can I get" reads this. I say unlikely because it is the phrase of an illiterate. The correct way to ask for something from a person that is going to serve you is "please could I have" or "please may I have".
"Can I get ?". A hanging offence
He didn't really, but I expect he will do equally nasty things to this country when he gets to Nº 10. Yes Nº 10, for it is my fear that Labour are going to loose the next election. It is so painful watching the government just piss things away like they seem to be doing. Apparrently today would have been the day of the election that never happened.
Come on Gordon, get a grip, or we are fucked !
P.S. never trust the Tories with the economy because they'll take some for themselves and give the rest to their mates.
The North/South divide is essentially an invention of hacks that never venture beyond the M25. Those London centric pontificators of the unreal. This article in the Observer has irritated me no end.
The first point to make is there is no clear divide. North merges into south in many ways over various geographical locations.
Apparently "The new line, devised by Danny Dorling, professor of human geography at the University of Sheffield, is based on a number of more recent socio-economic developments, including rising house prices, increased life expectancy and voting patterns.". Bollocks ! There is no way that it can ever be that clear cut. How does the saying go, "Lies, damn lies and statistics" ?
Academics know that if they present this sort of stuff it will be published, and journalists love to write about and print it. It is effectively mutual masturbation.
I’ve got news for Prof. Dorling and hack Day. There are two other significant points on the compass, and I live in one of them. The East. It ain’t North and it ain’t South. I suspect that those in the West Country get equally pissed off, not to mention inhabitants of the Midlands. I’m sure like their papers, journalists would like life to be black and white, but thankfully it is not.
Thank you and have a nice day.
Being born and bred in a brewing town, it’s hard to imagine what life must be like living in a dry area, e.g. a remote village without a pub. For me it would be a horror of horrors. Equally as bad, and very much a reality for me, is living in a town without a record shop.
A year ago Bury St Edmunds had an MVC and a Fopp. Then MVC went into receivership. Fopp bought MVC. Fopp went into receivership. Result; droves of portly, balding middle-aged blokes, desperately trying to hang on to their misspent youth and not the spare cash in their pockets, bereft of a refuge on a shopping trip to town. Now I know that you can just about get any CD on the internet, and I have in fact made purchases this way, but it ain’t the same as rifling through racks in a shop. Rifling and wondering, "have I got this album on vinyl or CD" or thinking, "this looks interesting, I might give that a go". The only choice, if choice is really the word, is now Woolworth or Tesco with all the limitations that that implies.
I’m a great lover of rock-a-boogie music sung in a British regional accent. Arctic Monkeys and The Proclaimers being two obvious example exponents of this fine art. But for the last few months I’ve been champing at the bit awaiting the release of Jack Peñate’s debut album Matinee. My biggest worry was, "where am I going to get it from ?". Release date had been advertised as 2/10/07. Came the day and I went in search, but alas my search was fruitless. I searched subsequent days, still nothing. After the weekend I discovered that the release date had been delayed by about a week. Got me greasy mitts on it yesterday. Fan-bloody-tastic ! If you’re not familiar with this bright young upstart, then I could probably best describe him as a cross between Mike Sarne, Billy Bragg and Jamiroquai. Some might compare Jack with Paul Weller or Lily Allen. He’s a lively performer who bounces around stage playing a mean guitar. Jack Peñate is rock ’n’ soul !
Apart from the obvious signs like leaves falling, nights getting dark earlier and a nip in the air, not to mention mists and mellow fruitfulness, there is also another key indicator that it’s autumn. The comedy on television gets a whole heap better.
If the first programme is anything to go by The Peter Serafinowicz Show (BBC2 Thursdays 9.30pm) is going to be worth trying to remember not to forget that it’s on. The trailer for it made it look awful but inertia kept me in my seat after I watched Jennifer Saunders’ The Life and Times of Vivienne Vyle and I was really glad I had stayed sat sitting there. Not necessarily new in format but very, very funny. Give it a go !
http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/thepeterserafinowiczshow
11/10/07 - Update: tonight's Peter Serafinowicz Show was not that funny. Shame !
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