mk40

The End - Mon Dec 31

2007-12-31T13:44:00.000Z

Well, and that’s it. The very final end of my Milton Keynes @ 40 Blog. As always when summing up a year (The List Brain The List Brain) it’s been both typical and atypical. On one level not much happened except we all got a year older and some of us got married. On other levels… well, you can all analyse your own levels, I’m sure.

It may well be (!) that this Blog didn’t really say much about life in Milton Keynes in 2007, or if it did it was about our particular and peculiar lives rather than the lives of The General Public. Still, it now exists for ever (or as long as the Interweb lasts!) as a document of the times. And that’s mostly what I did it for. MK @ 40. That’s what it was like.

The year of Heelies and of Facebook, of many more discussions of the eternal expansion plans for the Mirror City. The year where Tony finally stepped aside for his long-suffering pal Gordon, who must presumably now be wishing he hadn’t bothered.

We’ve learnt many things. Among them that Mellish Court in Bletchley - that ugly old seventies granite edifice - is the tallest building in Milton Keynes. For now. We’ve learnt the many ways to say “thankyou” in Polish (including “jinky”, “jinkweer”, and “jinkvay”). We’ve learnt about the history of Haversham church, that Arsenal are the most popular football team in the city and that not only can sugar bowls speak, they can attempt to break into your hotel room and seduce you.

We’ve said hello to the hub:mk region up the City, to Lily the Pye House Cat, and welcomed back the Evenings of Diverse Entertainment. We’ve said goodbye to Stone Circle, Sky One on the cable, and Pavarotti.

You’ve sat patiently through interminable reminiscences about Transvision Vamp, crowing rants about getting four grand’s worth of bank charges back off NatWest (not that it lasted long!), and the endless endless grumbling about feeling poorly. Goldurnit.

And I've enjoyed it - even though I'm looking forward to the slightly more leisurely progression next year where I don't have to post (or try to!) every day. When all's blogged and done, it’s been a chance for me to celebrate just why I love my home town so much – quite apart from the fact it’s where all my stuff is. It’s got the greatest employment growth in Britain. It’s got a still-growing culture, bits of which have even got me and my mates in. And here’s to the next year. And the one after that. And the one after the one after that.

Thanks for watching.

To be Continued.

2007 In Quotes: part 2 - Sun Dec 30

2007-12-30T17:01:00.000Z

This (the second part of my handy cut-out-and-keep guide to the Highs And Lows of 2007) will be the 286th post on the Blog this year. According to the Word Count feature in Microsoft Word I've racked up approximately 157,000 words. It's no "War And Peace" (560,000!), but it's still described as a "hulking" novel by most novel standards! Cool! Now, if only any of these words were any good! Bom bom bom parumpa pum pum.

Uh Huh
"When I took my t-shirt off in the changing room on my way in to the pool, I remembered I’d got two Spiderman, one Wolverine and one The Thing tattoos on my left arm from the bubble gum someone had brought into work! D’oh! Still, once I was underwater I don’t think anyone noticed. Ahem."
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/08/ibbotson-taylor-coefficient-sun-aug-12.html)

The State Of 2007?
"Jim sez he read an article somewhere that sez, robbed of the smoggy atmosphere, all pubs and bars are now unmasked as smelling like cleaning fluid, sweaty customers and half-cooked food. And he’s right. That’s exactly what The Secklow Hundred smells like now."
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/07/blue-asphalt-mon-jul-30.html)

More Best Fantasy Entries
1. Jim Morrison parody – I hope you GOT that’s what it was!
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/11/full-phil-ment-sat-nov-17.html)
2. Jim’s Stag Day II
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/10/more-stag-oct-14-15.html)

Friends Reunited
"“Look deep into my face”, I urged, “and you’ll still see somewhere the boy who once dwelt there.”"
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/11/back-of-cannon-thu-nov-15.html)

For Some Reason I Just Like This Paragraph – More Pool Stuff
"As always, the only drawback with Wolverton pool is that 80% of the clientele are wire-hard chavs with taut alley-fighting bodies or their puffy girlfriends, but to be honest the weather seemed to have struck everyone very mellow indeed. I did a few lengths in the Big pool (where Simon once almost caught pneumonia when Bushfield made us swim there one winter!) and then we went for ice creams. Heaven."
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/08/sweaty-capt-cools-off-sat-aug-25.html)

Famous Last Words
"For the first time in ages, I feel like I’m on an even keel."
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/11/suspiciously-content-tue-nov-13.html)

Even More Things I Promised To Do And Failed
1. A Diet
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/08/burly-oaf-writes-wed-aug-22.html)
2. Visiting Those Outlying Villages
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/11/corm-lives-nov-8-9.html)

The Joys Of Acting
“Hasn’t he got a nice face? I like a nice fat face.” - An old lady does wonders for my self-esteem in the City
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/08/leaflet-dance-sun-aug-26.html)

The Comedy Highs
"The rain has stopped, I’ve bought custard doughnuts from Sainsbury’s and I’ve worked out I don’t have to exile myself from this society – I can just dip in and out as the mood takes me. “It’s Raining Men” comes on the mp3 player and I stride through the City streets grinning a stupid wide grin."
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/10/autumn-of-pop-tue-oct-9.html)

Yeah, As If…
"There’ll be more incisive gonzo journalism coming soon. Just take a look… Over there! (points in opposite direction then legs it)"
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/08/rumbly-tummy-thu-jul-2.html)

And Finally
"The other side of the hospital I saw the nicest piece of graffiti I’ve seen all year, possibly the nicest ever. It just said DAVID I LOVE YOU. How can you beat that? You can’t, that’s how."
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/10/dog-whisperer-mon-oct-15.html)

Final Shakedown - Dec 27 - 29

2007-12-29T16:25:00.000Z

The final word on 2007 is coming, of course. In the meantime, here’s my traditional personal Best Of The Year things – not connected to the forthcoming Monkey Kettle Awards. I don’t tend to send award certificates out for any of these… Maybe I should?

Album Of The Year
The one I listened to most was “The Black Parade”, but the two best ones released in 2007 were by old faves Nick Cave (under the Grinderman pseudonym) and the surprisingly-back-from-the-dead Manic Street Preachers. I’m going with the Manics and “Send Away The Tigers”.

Book Of The Year
The book I’ve read most often is Vol.1 of the Michael Palin diaries, but as I got that for Christmas last year I think that’s the best book of 2006. I suppose the best new book I’ve read this year is “Lisey’s Story” by Kingy. Fresh in my mind cos I read it last week, and particularly good as it’s one of his “girl books”.

Disappointment Of The Year
The Spice Girls’ comeback. If anything it’s even blander and more soulless than their last album. They let down the Autumn Of Pop.

Event Of The Year
Jim’s Stag Weekend in Poland. No contest.

Film Of The Year
Only saw two at the cinema, but “Transformers” clearly swings it. Did almost everything I wanted it to.

Foodstuff Of The Year
Lard. In that rustic Polish café bar.

Gig Of The Year
Probably the one Stone Circle and Modus Vivendi played at Zak’s, though I say so myself. Loads of our mates came, it was Da Circle’s only gig with a drummer and Modus Vivendi were really good.

Hero Of The Year
Michael Palin.

Moment Of The Year
I can only imagine it would have been sat up at the top of Birkenau with the sun setting behind the trees, watching Simon and James (in my red top) walking the vast journey towards me up the tracks.

Play Of The Year
I don’t suppose I should count ‘Allo ‘Allo or Thrupenny Standup cos I was in them. Did I see anything else, though? (thinks) Nope. So Thrupenny Standup it is. And it was good, after all! Must see something that's not by or starring us next year though! ;-)

Single Of The Year
“Thou Shalt Always Kill” : Dan Le Sac vs Scroobius Pip. For the line "thou shalt not watch Hollyoaks" alone!

TV Show Of The Year
Didn’t see the new Boosh series yet, can’t really count “The West Wing” after it’s won the last two years. So I’m going to controversially go for “Top Gear” – one of the only programmes the missus and I get to watch together and mercifully not now really that much about cars. Vroom!

And the tracklisting of my Soundtrack To 2007:

1. “Emo In My Thirties” : The Further Adventures Of Vodka Boy
2. “Welcome To The Black Parade” : My Chemical Romance
3. “You Could Have Both” : The Long Blondes
4. “The Second Great Depression” : Manic Street Preachers
5. “Sweeping The Nation” : Spearmint
6. “Sunday” : Bloc Party
7. “My Alcoholic Friends” : Dresden Dolls
8. “This House Is A Circus” : Arctic Monkeys
9. “Standing In The Way Of Control” : The Gossip
10. “Battle Metal” : Turisas
11. “This Is How I Disappear” : My Chemical Romance
12. “Here Comes A Special Boy” : Freezepop
13. “Teddy Picker” : Arctic Monkeys
14. “Black Mirror” : Arcade Fire
15. “Indian Summer” : Manic Street Preachers
16. “Thou Shalt Always Kill” : Dan Le Sac vs Scroobius Pip
17. “No Pussy Blues” : Grinderman
18. “The Prayer” : Bloc Party
19. “Poor Boy” : Mechanical Bride
20. “Famous Last Words” : My Chemical Romance

Messy Chrsms - Dec 22 - 26

2007-12-26T12:30:00.000Z

I dunno if anyone's still reading in these Festive times, but here's another brief rattle through what I've been up to as the Yuletide festivities finally landed.

Saturday (22nd) we did Whose Panto Is It Anyway?, a special festive edition of the semi-regular Impro Night, out at Olney Working Men's Club. A generally half-arsed affair, but cheerful with it, and the audience never care anyway as long as we start doing anal sex gags soon enough. I took the wise precaution of postponing my payment till the next one in mid-Jan, by which time I'm sure I'll be desperate for cash.

Sunday (23rd) was more recording with Phil. The concept is coming through loud and clear, and we seem to have done about a third of the double album already. In some ways it's odd to be writing and recording songs we're never intending to play live - or even perform again once they're 'down' - but it's also quite liberating.

Monday (24th) was my Christmas with Helen. We did the last of the shopping, met Simon and Caroline in the Slug & Lettuce to exchange presents, then came home to sit on our sofas, eat turkey and sausages and watch our respective favourite Xmas Films together: It's A Wonderful Life for me, Home Alone for the missus.

After an epic bout of inexplicable insomnia, Christmas Morning was a bit tricky, but somehow I got through. My presents as ever ranged from the excellent (the "Walking With Dinosaurs" box set from Helen) through the interesting (the semi-traditional "Book Of Lists") to the comedy irksome (a Pam Ayres DVD from Simon and Caroline - recorded Live At The Stables no less!). We had a great Christmas afternoon at Peter and Kerry's with all the family. The Taylor grandchildren generally the main source of entertainment!

Thence to the Pye House and Pennyland in the evening and more fun. Because, as It's A Wonderful Life clearly tells us, no man is alone who has friends. Amen.

Right. 2007. The Final Lap.

(rubs stomach ruefully)

Lamb Shanker - Dec 17 - 21

2007-12-21T14:37:00.001Z

One last catch-all entry shouldn’t be a problem now we’re winding down, should it? I’ve already made provision for all our futures – MMT In MK (http://mmtmk.blogspot.com/) will be doing much the same as MK@40 but better! There’s nothing there yet though. Just a sense of expectancy and hope. ;-)

This just isn’t the time of year when things happen. Everyone is facing squarely down the barrel of Christmas, that’s the only world for many of us. Spent most of Wednesday burning Vodka Boy CDs and colouring in the sleeves individually (so each one is Limited Edition!), after Tuesday night round Pennyland with Martin and Grahame doing a final scrub of the mix. It’s still good. Am already looking forward to the second one!

So there’s not much to tell. Google Alerts have been no help. Almost every single one at the moment (and there’s a lot!) directs you to job advert pages. Looks like there’s a lot of new positions in middle management jobs I don’t understand at corporations I’ve never heard of doing things I couldn’t care less about! Except that an 18-year old lad from Milton Keynes became that rarest of things the other night – an English youth player making his first team debut at Arsenal! His name is Mark Randall, he studied at Lord Grey, and Arsene Wenger has apparently dubbed him “the little Giggs”. Which is nice! Ironically, he had been with the Wimbledon youth academy before we stole their club – and the Gooners snapped him up instead of him returning up the M1 to his home town. Makes sense.

We had our Team Christmas Lunch at work on Tuesday, at The Plough in Simpson. Worth mentioning a) because I haven’t been to Simpson this year yet I don’t think, and b) I ate so much Lamb Shank With Sprout Mash that I almost turned into a Lamb Shank. T’is the season to be bust inside, as ever.

But it all winds down. Slowly we stop working at work. And previously stern-faced disciplinarians don shiny tinsel deely-boppers.

So here’s an end-of-year meme, cribbed from Annabel’s LiveJournal. Yes, I know I promised no more memes in 2007, but it’s the End Of Term, innit!

1) Where did you begin 2007?
Sat relatively peacefully in the flat with Helen, watching fireworks over London on the telly and over MK out the window. In fact I think I had a cup of tea.

2) What was your status on Valentine's Day?
Foxy.

3) Were you in school (anytime this year)?
I was in a school a few times. Mostly Stantonbury for Ludamus.

4) How did you earn your money?
Number crunching at the Library, with extra pocket money as usual from the Impro Nights, Murder Mysteries, audio recordings and dressing as a weasel.

5) Did you have to go to the hospital?
Not this year, thank the Maker.

6) Did you have any encounters with the police?
Nope.

7) Where did you go on vacation?
Poland, I suppose. Wish it’d been as long as a vacation, but it was immense and fantabulous nonetheless!

8) Did you buy anything over $1000?
That’s a tadge over £500? Well, Poland cost that much in total. Or maybe actually a little bit less than that! I paid back over £500 in debts to other people with the NatWest Bonanza, but not to any one person.

9) Did you know anybody who got married?
Lee & Anna, Jim & Laura and some people at work.

10) Did you know anybody who passed away?
Yes, me Grandad.

11) Did you move anywhere?
No. In fact our Oldbrook flat is now the most time I’ve lived in a single place since we left Marjoram Place in 2002, overtaking Hodge Lea, Greenleys and Pennyland.

12) What concerts/shows did you go to?
Cooo. I’ve probably missed some, but the main ones were Deftones with Phil & Martin and Steely Dan with me Mam, Dad & Chris. Plus loads of local gigs usually including me Martin Phil or all three of us.

13) Are you registered to vote?
Yes ta.

14) Who did you want to win Big Brother?
Nobody wins a war, somebody loses.

15) Describe your birthday?
I went for lunch in Borders with me Mam and Dad. And then presumably stopped in with the missus, as I was up pretty early the next day to go to Alsager.

16) What's one thing you thought you'd never do but did in 2007?
There’s quite a few thanks to my 101 in 1001 list – give blood, go to Poland, pay off some long-standing debts. Yeeha for self-improvement!

17) What has been your favorite moment?
Oh, there’s been loads. It’s been a ride.

18) What's something you learned about yourself?
I am never going to be 'normal', but I finally don’t care.

19) Any new additions to your family?
Not this year, but stand by for Next Gen Taylors Vol.3 in February or thereabouts!

20) What was your worst month?
Jan or Feb. Ill in both mind and body, choking insomnia and despair. Still, it was all uphill from there! ;-)

21) What music will you remember 2007 by?
Vodka Boy and Stone Circle. Plus The Black Parade.

22) Who has been your best drinking buddy?
They’re all good. Friday after work with Simon, Caroline and Motorbike Simon has probably been the most regular source of mischief.

23) Made new friends?
A few, yeah.

24) New best friend?
Well, there’s always the same chosen few at the top these past ten year or so. Phil has been a high climber though, up into the upper echelons. Awesome! ;-)

25) Favorite night out?
The first one in Krakow, I think. The Bonding Of The Fellowship. Bisongrass vodka. Salsa dancing. Get in.

2007 In Quotes: part 1 - Sun Dec 16

2007-12-16T11:37:00.001Z

And in what is perhaps the greatest example of my own end-of-year navel gaze, here’s Part One of The Highs and Lows of 2007 – a quotefest from all the fun we’ve had together these twelve months, you brave few and I! It’s been a ride! ;-) This Part covers the first six months of the year, the Second Part will follow next week. Zoom!!!

Most Over-The-Top Jingoistic Excitable Entry About MK
“It’s green. Milton Keynes is green. It’s spring come summer, and the leaves are thick, the branches full. It’s absolutely beautiful and its all ours.”
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/06/top-of-wheel-sat-jun-2.html)

Best Fantasy Entries
1. Me & Giles re-imagined through the eyes of The Silmarillion!(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/06/dor-daedeloth-sat-jun-10.html)
2. House Of Leaves tribute
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/04/house-of-leaves-thu-apr-26.html)
3. What’s happening in the lives of our mates
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/01/some-new-characters-fri-jan-19.html)

Matthew & Helen
"I’d said to Phil and Martin in ‘spoons that I had a feeling Helen would have made sure there was junk food waiting for me when I got in, and that that proved she was the girl for me. As it turned out, she’d left me the greasier half of her chicken kebab - thus proving my love is well-founded."
http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/04/no-minerva-fri-apr-13.html

Matthew & Simon
“Sat mellow in the Monkey Kettle Tent at the Waterside, listening to some Girls-only Bluesrock Cover Band on the Main Stage, Simon turned to me and (frustrated with our lack of apparently overt poetry action) grumbled “we’ve got a microphone – why aren’t we shouting into it?”… I genuinely didn’t have an answer worthy of such a question, and sipped my beer thoughtfully. I think that sums us up like nothing else.”
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/06/bits-and-bobs-mon-jun-18.html)

Things I Promised To Do And Failed
1. Beckett & Andre The Giant play written by the end of July (March).
2. Do that walk across the longest axis of Milton Keynes (promised in May, still haven’t done.)
3. Take the Blog to a wider audience.
4. “My plan for the summer is to become the world’s biggest fucking hippie.” In my defence the summer never came.
5. Matthew & Martin’s Dodgy Pubs Of Milton Keynes Crawl.
6. Visit Annabel in Norwich, and more pals beside.

What A Mistake-A To Make-A
“I realised that not only had I never spoken to the girl whose arse I was about to lustfully lunge for, I had no idea whether she was going to hit me or not. In the end I played it safe and went for a small pinch, hoping to introduce myself later.”
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/06/yvettes-right-hook-thu-jun-21.html)

The Comedy Lows
Sam Kelly Peers At Me With Raw Hatred - http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/05/good-moaning-sun-may-6.html
Stone Circle at Rachel’s sister’s 18th - http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/05/for-birthday-girl-sat-may-19.html

I Make Myself Sick Sometimes
“Let’s round this entry off with a salute to our fifteen-year-old selves, wherever they may be now. They have it all at their feet, they are out in the City, their hair is beginning to grow long and their friendship bands are gleaming new. The sun is still rising.”
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/06/city-haunts-fri-jun-22.html)

Oops Fnaarr
“Simon spent our childhood summers venting explosive jets of gooey mucus all over everyone.”
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/06/clawing-at-my-face-tue-jun-19.html)

Most Insightful Sentence
"Did I fall out of this generation, or did it just grow up without me while I was in the pub?"
(http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/03/exchange-house-mon-mar-5.html)

And Finally
Matthew: This is our last song for tonight. This is called Drink More Water.
Drunk bird in the audience: Drink More Vodka??
Matthew: No, Drink More Water. Drink More Vodka is the subtext.
Drunk bird: (confused) Oh.
http://mk40.blogspot.com/2007/04/vodka-boy-ampthill-thu-apr-12.html

Dirty Scalpers - Sat Dec 15

2007-12-15T11:24:00.000Z

(sings)

"Eggs, eggs, wherever you may be… I am the Lord of the Eggs, said he…”

And what did this fabled writer, actor, singer/songwriter, and publicly successful cooker of eggs get up to on Saturday? Well… some songs, and some traditional festivities. Plus we watched Gremlins, which was cut to shit for being on too early. No microwave scene? Pah!

First stop Pennyland for a few hours’ work on The Road To Corm with Phil. Each time we get together the project gets bigger and bigger. We’re now planning for it to be a double album. “Our White Album!!!”, we’ve both shouted excitedly. Today we made me sound like a pure-voiced twelve year old girl. Genius! We also took the cover shot for the Vodka Boy album, which is still well on course to be with you all for Christmas. We’ve even worked out a way to make each copy unique – stand by for Limited Edition fun!

Walking down through Conniburrow, I swung past the old Marjoram Place place. The Bramble Avenue street sign I crashed into in my first car is still bent out of shape. And it’s eight years on. This should be one of the stops on a Matthew Michael Taylor Milton Keynes History Walk. Maybe I’ll devise one next year so I can fleece tourists.

At the Pye House, it was Christmas Tree Day. This, as ever, consisted of two parts – helping Caroline tidy while Simon and Phil went to get said tree, and then festooning the tree with lights and baubles. Including the porn-baubles Jim and I made a few years back! Glad to see they’ve entered the hallowed halls of tradition! ;-)

We’d promised Phil a rare showing of “The Phantom Ticket”, the classic short film of yesteryear, as he’d never seen it before. And as I’m sure you can imagine, he wasn’t disappointed! Diane with very short hair. Matthew very thin and handsome. Underhill aged about twelve. Roger in a dressing gown! Giles when he looked like Jesus!! Ted!!!! Awesome, dude!!

“The Phantom Ticket” (1999, dir.R.Kearns), though clearly having some shortcomings, is still one of my very favourite things we’ve done since I returned to MK. For several reasons: it’s got almost everyone in it. It reflects the wilfully geeky humour of Rossenchris far better than the technically superior but spiritually weaker “Cutting Scenes” which followed. Plus I got to stunt-drive an unroadworthy van around the streets of MK and Luton! Who could ask for more?

Staggering home down a redway from somewhere or other the other week, I got to thinking about this. What do I see as the Greatest Works of this MK Generation of my best friends and loved ones? The Phantom Ticket, for sure. The Hills Of Papanuwenwe definitely – the greatest stage musical of all time. And I’m honestly not just saying that! The Monkey Kettle book. Drink More Water. Dave The Golem – both times. The Street Names Photo Projects. Man. This gets me every time, doesn’t it? The Impossible Dream. Alas. Alack.

Still. We can better these, I know. Even the Omelette Cookery. Even that. Here comes 2008.

The Eggmen - Fri Dec 14

2007-12-14T18:22:00.000Z

Sometimes the events of my life just run contrary to any believable narrative. Would you believe in a night in which not only do Simon and I entertain a medium-sized crowd at MADCAP with a cookery lesson, but where I’m left in charge of the bar for most of the evening? Credulity seems to stretch to breaking point… (twang) Erg!

Has it really been almost two months since the Evenings Of Diverse Entertainment came shuffling back into our lives? Seems like only yesterday. Maybe that’s to do with many of the same acts appearing here, maybe my internal chronology really is up shit creek. But again it was a night of immense fun and indisputable Diversity.

Let’s count them off… Karaoke. Comedy Magic. Breakdancing. Jazz poetry. Visual art. Singer songwritering. Urban dance. Philip doing exactly the same bizarre Baron Makabre act as last time, with brain eating and all. Full on band fun. Yes, yes yes and two thirty-two year old men giving live instruction on how to cook the perfect omelette.

We’ve been trying to work out exactly why. Part of me is bored with the same old thing – reading some poems, playing some songs. Where’s the Diversity in that? I think that's why. Plus it’s funny. Simon is very good at cooking, I’m very not. What better dynamic do you need? And so we lugged a portable gas stove and a table full of ingredients and crockery “onstage” and explored that dynamic.

As it turned out, quite by chance, my omelette was the better of the two. But I’m not claiming any culinary greatness, it was a fluke. And at the end of the day we succeeded in our main mission: to baffle and perplex. “Why did you do an act where you demonstrate cooking an omelette?” people asked. “Was there some kind of deeper comment?”

Other than ennui, mischief and genuine desire to try something new, no. Honestly. I can now cook an omelette. If I can pluck up the nerve to toss it, that is. ;-)

As usual I spent half the night in the bar bit watching things through the door and hob-nobbing with MK faces that I only ever see at these things. Steve McDaniel told me about his new record label. Seany Sean wondered if I might be interested in doing some educational impro stuff in Latvia sometime next year. Tim asked me if I’d write a play about Shelley. “The Eighties sitcom starring Hywel Bennett?” I drawled. It’s good to network.

What else? Phil played an extremely mellow trio of songs to round off a great year of music for him. “His voice is so GENTLE”, Carolyn whispered to me. Well played, dude! ;-) I didn’t win anything on the raffle. Simon slept the night on the floor of MADCAP with the band that had come up from London. This Is An Order. Go To The Evenings Of Diverse Entertainment. The next one’s in February. They are excellent.

Comes To Us All - Thu Dec 13

2007-12-13T14:28:00.000Z

In the frosted plastic of the bus stop this morning, someone had written the opening few lines of a fairy story. All in fancy joined-up writing it was – something about elvish features and magic trees. I would have stood and transcribed it all for you, but as usual there were some cool MK College kids there waiting for the 5, and I thought I might look a bit odd. Yes I know, Hunter S would have done it. Nuts to you!

Simon and I saw a robin red-breast on our illicit morning tea break, out the back of the Library. I really am starting to feel festive now.

Milton Keynes has topped a list of employment growth in Britain. That’s pretty impressive, innit? Something else to tell your friends from other cities when they ask “what’s so good about that darn place then?” – we’ll keep the public transport thing quiet. ;-)

Oooh, that reminds me – I had a question to answer from one of my “fans”, din’t I? From ages ago, admittedly. But it’s not too late! It’s never too late!!! ;-)

Little Tiny Simon, 32, of Conniburrow, enquires:
Q. What is the life expectancy of people living in Milton Keynes, what is the likelihood of them dying untimely deaths when compared to cities of comparable size?

The most up-to-date figures I can find that are broken down to any detail are for 2006, but that’s recent enough for our purposes. There’s also some basic stuff for 2007 which I’ve also used.

The average life expectancy (at birth) in MK circa 2006 is 78.6 years (76.69 for males and 80.39 for females, those loveable ole grannies!). If you’re interested, the highest areas for life expectancy are Middleton, Stantonbury and Olney and the lowest are Whaddon (i.e. West & Far Bletchley), Walton Park and the lowest of all, Eaton Manor (i.e. the Lakes Estate), where life expectancy is way down at 75.97, two and half years less. So the moral of that story would seem to be Don’t Live In Bletchley!

The national average life expectancy of the UK is 79.4 years (77.2 for males and 81.6 for females), so we are below the national average for the whole country. Which is bad when you're talking about the amount of time you're alive. But, L T Simon, you asked about comparable cities, didn’t you… Here’s the beef.

Taking the six towns or cities closest in size to MK (three above and three below – 27.Luton, 28.Preston, 29.Aberdeen, 31.Sunderland, 32.Norwich, 33.Walsall, incidentally – those numbers are the place on the overall town & city population chart)...

With figures all taken over the last two or three years, Luton comes out with an average life expectancy of 77.55, Preston 76.8, Aberdeen 77.5, Sunderland 77.35, Norwich 79.6, Walsall 78.2 – so MK is better than some, not as good as others. Out of those, Norwich especially looks good – the only one above the national average. But you could say that at least MK is above the average life expectancy of comparably populous cities. If you wanted to. Ours is 78.6, the average of these six cities is 77.83.

In conclusion therefore – if you live in MK you are more likely to die at an age below the national average, but less so than in other cities of comparable size at least.

Phew! Numbers, eh?

Q. Also, where’s the most expensive area to live?

Gerroutofit!!! That’s a story for another day. Consider yourself semi-sated. ;-)

Anders Limpar - Wed Dec 12

2007-12-12T13:48:00.000Z

And another End Of Year List I can address is Football Tops, innit! So here I goes. This is High Science at its best! (gets out Bunsen burner)

As you’ll have seen throughout 2007, I’ve been working out (down the right hand side of the Blog) which the most popliar footermaball team in Milton Keynes is using the tried and tested technique of Counting The Different Shirts You See Around And About*. Yes. I’ve scrutinised the sportswear preference of 334 men, women and children in total, and the most popular football team in the city is… (drum roll)

Arsenal.

Yes indeed. The Gooners it is. 71 of that 334, or (opens up the Windows calculator)… just over 21%. Almost a quarter of shirts “surveyed” belonged to the French aristocracy not far down the road in North London. I can appreciate that. They do play the best football of the top four.

In fact, as you’d probably imagine is the case in many towns across the country due to the hegemony of Sky Sports, the top four most popular teams are the top four most successful clubs. The dull predictability at the top of our national game is mirrored by the dull predictability of who everyone supports. Arsenal, Chelsea, Liverpool and Man United between them accounted for a little over 70% of all the shirts I saw this year. Arsenal and Chelsea were the top two, as you might suspect given our closer proximity to London than the North. The only real surprise in the top four is how well Liverpool did compared to the Glory Team of the last fifteen years, Man Yoo. Must be something to do with the Eighties. “It’s what Ian Rush drinks” etc.

Of course, this experiment was conducted without counting MK Dons shirts seen inside the stadium:mk or the Hockey Stadium. I thought that would skew the numbers slightly unfairly. And so ultimately the fact that the Dons came in a healthy fifth place way ahead of any other team (6.5% of the overall total) is pretty encouraging. Let’s hope that figure continues to increase over the coming years.

So, those five clubs - the Giants & the Local – make up just over three-quarters of all the shirts I saw. There was a small group behind them, which contained the most popular foreign clubs: Barcelona, Celtic and Real Madrid (I think all of the latter had David Beckham’s name and number on the back) and the other two most popular London clubs: T*ttenham H*tspur and my own particular millstone of choice, West Ham United FC. Because after all, a huge amount of the population of MK are emigrants from Old London Town.

The last clump of teams, ones of which I saw three shirts at most, include smaller more local teams (Watford, Northampton, Wycombe Wanderers), ones I can’t explain other than just chance (Burnley, Aberdeen, Plymouth Argyle) and odd obscure shirts that Martin deliberately wore around me to get the team onto the list (Chicago Fire!)

So that’s it! Arsenal win this one, just as they currently top the Premiership table. But I’m going to start the list again anew from Jan 1st on the new Blog, wherever that may be. I suppose I’d better decide!!!

Basically, it’s a game of as many halves as there are years left in my life!!! ;-)

* not including National Teams.

Ain't No Grinch - Tue Dec 11

2007-12-11T12:48:00.000Z

I can’t quite remember when Christmas became such a generic feature in our lives. It was probably always thus, and my memories of it in my youth are just tinged with glittery nostalgia juice. But certainly pretty much every Christmas over the last decade feels like it’s been virtually identical.

When we were little kids in Wolverton it was always very exciting. We’d always manage to get our Mum & Dad up by about six thirty due to general rambunctious behaviour, so it was always dark. And I suppose in those days it was toys and sweets, not DVDs and cheques. Although cheques are extremely pleasant to receive of course, you can’t play with them immediately like a View-Master with Dukes Of Hazzard discs or a Han Solo Empire Strikes Back figure. Pshooooww!!! Dackadackadacka!!! And other such Star Wars noises.

And slightly older too, in Haversham, it was all about which Transformers we might get. Might I get to unwrap the Ultra Magnus I’d been hankering for?* And a few years after that, tapes and CDs took over – would Dad have remembered that I really really wanted “Vision Thing” by Sisters Of Mercy? I guess that kind of feeling fizzles out when you actually have your own money and can just buy the things you want. In theory! Heh – I still send my Dad a list of CDs and DVDs I fancy to this very day! Just to make it easy for him, y’unnerstand! ;-)

Another thing I immediately noticed on reaching adulthood was how close up to Christmas Grown Up Life goes. I’ve worked now on more Christmas Eves than I care to remember, but when we were kids, Christmas Eve was almost as exciting as Christmas Day. School seemingly stopped anything up to a week before the 25th, so we had far more time to sit around watching live action Seventies Disney films and The Muppets.

Also as an adult, another part of what becomes generic is the Total Avoidance Of The City Centre during November and December. And even some parts of January! It’s just so horrific. I refuse to put myself through that kind of stress! Luckily the Internet makes it easier to Christmas shop. As well as not having any money! The same shops selling the same things to the same people. Man, where’s the joy in that?

But my grumbling about Christmas is far less grumbly than my grumbling about the fireworks, for example. I ain’t no Grinch. As my philosophising above hopefully makes clear – I know it’s always been about The Kids. And now there’s a Next Generation Of Taylors to entertain, I can enjoy things on a totally different level. A different kind of joy.

So, let’s feel the magic – what do I still love about Christmas even now?

Well… “Fairytale Of New York”. It’s the only Christmas song I can stand even slightly. I stood in the queue in Sainsbury’s yesterday for what seemed like years, gritting my teeth through “Walking In A Winter Wonderland” while waiting to buy my Value Meatballs.

And I still love buying the Christmas Radio Times and circling in red everything I want to watch or video during the Festive Period. Even though the last couple of years I’ve managed to miss almost all of them due to fecklessness.

Also our own traditions, which allow us to maintain the childlike joy into our thirty-something lives: the Pye House Christmas Tree Decoration; Christmas Morning With Helen; My Half-Arsed Random Charity Shop Presents; Caroline’s Birthday. It’s all there. I’m starting to feel proper Festive just thinking about it. And here it comes!

* Discovered at lunchtime today that Ultra Magnus was actually the best ever Christmas present that either me or Simon received as kids! High praise indeed!

Hope Of The Estates - Thu Dec 6

2007-12-06T13:46:00.000Z

And while I’m on the tags business, what about MK estates?

During 2007, I have tagged 76 separate estates within the borders of Milton Keynes (I think there’s something like 120 overall, I once counted) and another 13 localish locations outside the City. I have conducted dedicated gonzo-style (but duller) visits to 18 estates (must do better next year!). And none of these figures include Corm.

The estates I’ve mentioned most often (over 5 tags each) are:

Wolverton - 18
Haversham – 16
Oldbrook - 11
Conniburrow – 10
Fishermead – 9
Stony Stratford - 9
Newport Pagnell – 8
Stantonbury - 8
Campbell Park – 7

The two clear winners are those that feature most frequently in my reminiscences (as I grew up in them!), which presumably is also why Stantonbury features. Although maybe I should have worked out distinguishing between the slightly manky estate and the “huge progressive liberal school” campus. The others are either local to the City and our flat (“Oldbrook”, “Conniburrow”, “Fishermead”, “Campbell Park”) or other important historic / cultural hotspots in the city (Stony and Newport). Perhaps not surprising that the estates further out didn’t feature as much – but they did feature! How many of you have been to Pineham, Old Farm Park, Beanhill or Kingsmead this year? Eh? EH? ;-)

Still, must do better with the obscure peripheries in 2008. Right up the top of my list are such semi-legendary destinations as Whitney, Tilbrook, Atterbury and, er… oh I dunno, Wymbush. I’m hoping the estate visits will become a bigger part of whatever this Blog mutates into in the future. The logical extension of the Young Poet And His Pals Visit series of yore…

Hey – what’s your Favourite MK Estate? I think you’ve been good and patient Blog readers this year – why don’t I reward you by opening up the voting for this particular Monkey Kettle Award 2007 (coming soon – see here for 2006!) to you fine people. All entries must be submitted by the end of December, and I’ll hide the comments so there’s a nice surprise for us all! Apart from me! Previous winners have included the obvious – “Conniburrow”, “Wolverton”, “Stony Stratford” and the slightly more surprising – “Willen”, “Emerson Valley”. Where will your votes take us??? Any estate within the city limits is a viable candidate.

Best Milton Keynes Estate. Vote….. NOW!!!!

"Dude, Where's My..." - Wed Dec 5

2007-12-05T13:11:00.000Z

What??? The skateboarders at the Queen’s stadium:mk ceremony weren’t even from Milton Keynes? Man! How hard would it have been to get some local skateboarding talent? Just wander past the bus station any day during the last twenty years! I deduct one whole mark for this cheatery!

The other most exciting Milton Keynes news this week is that professionally-irascible ace TV presenter Jeremy Clarkson had trouble with some hoodie kids outside XScape last weekend. To be honest, the thing I’m most excited about in this story is that a great big celeb like Jeremy Clarkson would be in our humble town at all, but I do feel for him. Luckily logic seems to have prevailed and he’s not in any trouble himself for sticking up to the rat kids. But is Milton Keynes really “one of this country’s happy-slapping town centres”? Perhaps it’s something I miss by Not Going Up The City At The Weekends If I Can Help It. Unless it’s to go to a pub. ;-)

I must admit I now watch Top Gear – not religiously, but if it’s on, y’know. Mainly because the missus loves it, but also cos it’s moved away from being about cars to a more high-brow Brainiac style in recent years. Well, kind of. It IS still about cars.

Hey - have I told you about my cars? A quick flick through the tags would imply that I haven’t, so let’s assume I can do so now.

Do you see me as a driver? Someone who drives? If you haven’t known me that long maybe not – or if you’ve known me a long time maybe the memory has faded, but I have had four cars in my time, all during the course of my twenties. I passed my driving test in 1993 and spent much of the years I was back from university ferrying people round the city in Dad’s car. I have driven over Sonora Pass in the Rocky Mountains. Yes, I have been a driver.

The first car I ever owned was the knackered old white Ford Fiesta that Mindi donated to me in the summer of 2000. She’d had it a long time (and hence it was called Rusti – not a name I would have chosen myself) and didn’t want to see it go to a stranger. Sadly Rusti only really worked for a few weeks – he was pretty much dead even before I accidentally crashed him into a Marjoram Place roadsign while being towed up to Mindi’s Dad to try and fix.

The second car I ever owned was for an even shorter period: nine days. It was a reasonably old red Vauxhall Astra that my then-boss donated to me in Feb 2001 (I’ve never PAID for a car in me life!). Sadly it was nicked from outside our house in Conniburrow by some kind of a hoodlum and smashed up in a joyride. Still, it did lead to the hilariously genuine “Dude – Where’s My Car?” moment with me and Jim, the week after we’d seen said fillum at the cinema! So it wasn’t all bad.

The third and fourth cars I ever owned were both Citroens, second-handed off me Dad. Firstly our old red BX with the air suspension, who Helen dubbed Clive, and then the dark blue Xantia which is still Jamesy’s car to this very day. I gave it up cos I just couldn’t afford it any more.

Will I ever own a car again? To be honest, probably not. I know many people (mainly London-dwellers) slag off the public transport in MK, but I think it’s all I need really. Partly cos I like walking, so anything under an hour’s walk is within my range: Home to Work, Home to Shops, Home to Parents etc. It’s not cos I’m green and want a nicely tiny carbon footprint. But it helps. Zing!

Tag Your Butcher - Tue Dec 4

2007-12-04T16:52:00.000Z

Okay – and as an example of the List Brain and its End Of The Year obsessions, I was looking through the frequency of tags on the MK40 Blog. Thought I’d try and see what kind of year it has really been. Below you’ll find a complete list of anything that I tagged more than ten times over the course of 2007.

Makes up quite an accurate impression of me, actually. You might be surprised that “Simon” occurred more than “Matthew” (or you might not!!! Ho!), but that’s cos I only tagged “Matthew” if the entry was specifically about me and my own brain. Actually all the entries should have been tagged “Matthew”.

But clearly I’m a man who has consistently run a Blog which deals with “Milton Keynes” – focussed around the “city centre”, “local news”, “history” and “crime” but also heavy on “nostalgia”.

His closest friends and the people he sees most often are “Helen”, “Simon”, “Caroline”, “Phil”, “Underhill”, “Martin”, “Motorbike Simon” and “Jim”, not necessarily in that order!

He has spent much of the year talking about the “music” of his bands “Stone Circle” and “The Further Adventures Of Vodka Boy” and also some things called “’Allo ‘Allo”, “Ludamus”, and “Monkey Kettle”. Whatever they may be.

The estates which loom largest in his mind are “Haversham” (where his parents live), “Wolverton” (where he lived as a young kid and where places like “MADCAP” are) and “Oldbrook” (where he lives).

He likes “pubs” and “summer”.

Simon 53
Matthew 36
Phil 30
City centre 27
Helen 26
Jim 23
Martin 23
Milton Keynes 22
Nostalgia 22
Stone Circle 20
Wolverton 18
Local news 17
Monkey Kettle 17
Haversham 16
Music 16
Underhill 16
‘Allo ‘Allo 14
Caroline 14
Motorbike Simon 14
Ludamus 13
Pubs 13
T F A O Vodka Boy 13
Grahame 12
Oldbrook 11
Summer 11
Crime 10
History 10
MADCAP 10
MK Blog 10
Wayne 10

Remember kids - tagging is not an exact science. My love for you is in no way indicated by the amount of tags you have received. I love you all.

Notice also that "lists" does not appear on this, er, list. Weird. I've added it as a tag to this entry though, just to help it along.

A Bloody Hero - Mon Dec 3

2007-12-03T14:06:00.000Z

And Monday I gave blood, for the first ever time. The little pamphlet they give you afterwards assures me that each single donation they get saves three lives. Imagine that! I saved three lives, just by being brave. Let’s just hope none of them was the next Hitler. That’d be embarrassing!

I’ve always talked myself out of giving blood in the past, mainly because (as you know) I’m a squeamish, nerve-addled, queasy fellow at the best of times. I once passed out in the hospital while visiting my Mum just at the sight of a doctor taking her blood! So it was always going to be a battle against my brain and stomach to successfully manage it.

However, because of all the above, giving blood was one of the semi-legendary 101 Things In 1001 Days that I challenged myself to start last year, and that I’m still labouring through. Don’t worry though, I’ve got till June 2009 to finish them! ;-)

I’d made my appointment for the Fishermead church community centre thing rather than do it at the OU, where the National Blood Service come regularly. I thought it was best not to try it the first time then have to go straight back to work. Shrewd. And so I wandered along up past the Co-Op to the sight of two huge National Blood Service lorries waiting outside the Trinity Centre. Presumably they just fill ‘em up with blood and drive off…

It being my first time, they had to ask me a bunch of questions about my health and circumstances. Had I ever had sex in exchange for drugs? Had I had sex recently with anyone who’d been to South or Central America? The answer to these of course, is not “chance would be a fine thing”. Just in case you go yourself.

Having made them aware my nerves are often best described as “tissue thin”, the lady whose job it was to suck my blood asked if I wanted her to give me any warning before she stuck the tube in my arm. I mulled it over and said it was probably best if I looked the other way throughout and she just surprised me. In fact, the only surprise was that I barely felt a thing when they started siphoning. Genuinely not painful at all. And from me, that’s saying something!

It also didn’t take very long to be drained of a pint. About six and a half minutes. I grimly stared the other way, listened to the radio and then – most excitingly! – saw a cat out of the window that I could watch. And then I was done.

That was it! Three lives saved. A doddle. It turns out nowadays they don’t give you a nice cup of tea – apparently you shouldn’t have one for some hours! – but I did get a load of orange squash and a sticker. Plus an enormous sense of smug wellbeing. And you can’t put a price on that.

Was a little bit groggy for an hour or so, then that passed too. If you’ve ever thought “hey perhaps I should give blood one day” then I can honestly say it wasn’t half the trial I’d always assumed it’d be. And you’re made of sterner stuff than me anyway, for real! Get involved!

The December Slopes - Sun Dec 2

2007-12-02T13:38:00.000Z

I don’t know why I always get this feeling in December. Like the whole year and all the things that have happened are weighing down on my shoulders.

But I’ve got a pretty good idea. It’s to do with the List Brain.

Because of the List Brain, each year becomes a separate entity with full and distinct features and events. It means that (for example) even though it's a rich complex tapestry that can't be summed up in such a way, 1994 was the Myrtle Street Year, 1996 was The Low Year, 2001 was The Kitchen Darts Stoned Year, 2004 The Mental Year, and 2007 The Mental Year II*. The List Brain is able to (attempt at least to) rate every single thing ever on some kind of list. Years are no different.

People suffer from the List Brain to varying degrees. Everyone has a definite sense that a New Year equals a Blank Slate – hence New Year’s Resolutions. But my own personal List Brain sees the New Year as a totally fresh start. Everything from the previous year is gone. The diary is squirreled away under the bed, only to be brought out when exceedingly drunk and maudlin. 2008 is a whole new ball game. Like 2007 was. Like 2006 was. Ad infinitum.

So December every year comes around and I feel like the year about to end needs summing up. December is always a time for reflection back in the final days of this epoch. It’s when the year-end lists come out – extremely handily if you’re speeding downhill fast to the end of a Blog. It’s the end of term.

It’s also the bottom of the year. The entirety of 2007 seems stacked up on my back, and only the Christmas holidays can cure me. Work. Stone Circle. Depression. Poetry Nights. An ailing magazine. The summer festivals. Thrupenny Standup. Poland. ‘Allo ‘Allo. My Grandad. Vodka Boy. Weddings. Weasels. Jumpers. And of course The Blog. S’been hefty. No wonder my neck aches.

Still, the List Brain files it where it fits. Has been a good year overall. 7 and a half, maybe 8 out of 10.

Recent local news of interest. In a List:

1. Some wrong ‘uns have been putting trip wires out on the redways. Not cricket.

2. This interesting article from some Real Estate website has some things to say about the property situation in Milton Keynes. And apparently Oldbrook is doing well! ;-)

3. Baby from Monkston is Santa!

4. They’re talking about a new Milton Keynes or equivalent. Maybe that’ll help slowly phase the jokes out? Although there’s the usual sniping in the comments of this article about it being a “soulless place”. Balls!

5. And this is a joke. Of course. Although perhaps painting the trip wires luminous green might be a good move?

Finally - not news necessarily, but you can now sign an online petition which has been set up by a local councillor to try and aid the Make MK A City cause. You know what to do.

* Rare that a sequel is better than the original, but in this case yes.

Historical Noodles - Sat Dec 1

2007-12-01T10:28:00.000Z

And with a neat and nimble leap of journalistic linkery, on Saturday I encounter some of the flipside of closures like the small Waterstones. Walking from Oldbrook to meet MBS, Fay and Danni in “Old Spoons” down by Chiquitos, I take a wander through ‘the hub:mk’ district for the first time in some weeks. Cripes, it’s come on, hasn’t it? I guess they must have rushed things along so the Queen had something to look at last week when she came, but still!

It’s been four months since that evening me and Jim walked through on our lo-fi pub crawl, but the square which seems at the moment to be the “centre” of the hub:mk region is now completely open, no building work currently apparent. It’s out the back of Jury’s Inn, if you’ve not been down that way before. Easy enough to find. And at night, all lit up, it’s particularly impressive. With the tall buildings and clean freshness and all.

Seems like mainly the restaurants which have got as far as actually opening. Other buildings (such as the is-it-cool-is-it-awfully-named sk:n skincare clinic!) are still being fitted out round the sides, but in that square – Mortimer Square, or possibly “Central Piazza” as it seems to have been more imaginatively dubbed – you can actually get your tea now. If you’ve got more money than I have, anyway.

In the programme for the Queen’s Visit which Simon bought, it said something about one of the restaurants being Gourmet Burger King. I’m relieved to see that this isn’t in fact going to be a hi-falutin’ version of the scabby High Street classic, with hand-carved fries and venison Whoppers, but rather a different franchise actually called Gourmet Burger Kitchen.

All in all it sounds like the kind of place Simon may end up living in. There’s some of the usual suspects like Zizzi, Nandos and S***bucks, but there’s also things like Las Iguanas which does “authentic pan-South American food), Strada – “contemporary Italian”, and Dim T – “a Modern Noodle Bar”. Presumably as opposed to Historical Noodles.

Also an extremely impressive edifice fronts a fish and shellfish restaurant called Loch Fyne. It’s got a big motto thing above the windows which is like the start of a poem. Something about how grand be the sea or something. I didn’t have my notebook on me. Sorry.

The blurb on the hub:mk website describes the Central Piazza as “Perfect for power breakfasts or business lunches and at the end of the working day and at weekends it comes into its own as Milton Keynes newest social venue”. Well, that’s as may be. At the moment, it’s tea-time on a Saturday night at one of the busiest times of year, and virtually all of these high-class eateries are totally empty. The lights are home, the staff are smart, the doors are open but no-one’s coming for dinner…

I suppose people need some time to realise they’re there! Most of them have literally only opened in the last few weeks, so there’s bound to be a bit of a publicity curve. Maybe I’ll go have some oysters in Loch Fyne some time over Christmas, let you know how I get on. ;-)

Yum yum yum. Power breakfasts.

The "Next" Ascendancy - Fri Nov 30

2007-11-30T17:52:00.000Z

I keep thinking I hear people saying “Matthew?” as I walk around the offices at work. When I turn to see who’s trying to attract my attention, no-one is. I stare all around, and everyone is engrossed in their work. No one said “Matthew?” This has happened three times today so far.

So. Anyway. They’ve closed down the smaller Waterstones, the one down opposite the Library. I guess it must have been on the cards for a while, espeshly since the Foul Annexing Of Ottakars by Wstones earlier in the year.

“Surely he can’t wring a whole entry from the closure of one small retail unit in the City Centre, can he? His journalistic skills, shoddy at best, can’t survive stretched so thin… can they?”

You betcha, bitch. ;-)

Before it was the Waterstones Business & Computing branch, it was Cranfield Bookstore. There was a time (after the closure of Fagin’s and before the opening of Dillons) when Cranfield’s was the best bookshop in the City (WHSmiths? Pah!). In fact, it was where I bought nearly all my Penguin Shakespeare books when I was seventeen and decided I was going to read every single Shakespeare play. The upstairs was always extremely cramped, shelves too close together and a’that. And didn’t they also have a brief flirtation with selling chart CDs at a far higher price than Our Price? Madness!

Then when Helen worked at Waterstones back in the days of 2002 and 2003, I’d get the excitement of helping her lock up when I went to pick her up in the motor – both the main store opposite Boots and the smaller one of which I sing today. This meant I got to see behind the scenes in a City Centre shop for the first ever time. The access roads… The storage rooms… Staff toilets! Man, the giddy thrill of being backstage always affects me thus.

I wonder what it’ll be now. Probably some kind of restaurant bar eaterie like Giraffe, or maybe another Starbucks or McDonalds. I wish it was going to be a Forbidden Planet or some sort of independent record store. But it won’t, will it?

It’s funny to think of History in what is essentially a large shopping mall less than thirty years old. I’ve touched on it before, I think. But the franchises roll around like the seasons. Athenas come and go. Mister Byrite becomes Blue Inc and Blue Inc rises and falls. C&A becomes extinct like the dinosaurs, and Next ascends like the mammals to rule the world of bland mid-price clothing. Even Virgin Megastore, that seemingly unassailable bastion of mainstream entertainment distribution, is now to be known as Zavvi. Cripeso. Who’d a thunk it?

One of the things I was going to do for this Blog was try and spend an entire day at the City Centre for your reading pleasure. But you can forget that now, till at least February! I’m crazy, but I ain’t that cuuuuuurrazy! ;-)

The City And The Queen - Thu Nov 29

2007-11-29T16:16:00.000Z

I honestly don’t know what I was expecting. Whether she was going to deliver a rousing Cate Blanchett-style speech to swell our hearts with pride, or whether she was going to shockingly announce that she’d decided there and then to make Milton Keynes the City it deserves to officially be. Or whether she was going to declare she’d “heard Milton Keynes is the artistic force it is today because of the Herculean efforts of one man – a neurotic overweight library assistant with pretensions of literary grandeur… and he’s here today!”

Because Her Majesty did none of these things. In fact she didn’t utter a word. And that was a bit deflating after all the time we’d been there churning with expectation in the cold. “Well, she is 81”, a few people have said to me. Yeah, so’s my Grandma – and she’s never short of something to say! ;-)

I’d made sure Simon and I were there a bit early at stadium:mk so we could have a look round first. But it was already very busy when we arrived at about 9.30. Legions of school buses were cramming into the car parks and disgorging their over-excitable young charges into queues to get in. Luckily we had tickets for the Voluntary Organisations section of the ground, in The West Wing. So we were able to stroll right in through a quieter gate. Which was nice.

We walked round the top concourse a couple of times before taking our seats so I could show Simon what it was all about. I’d say the attendance must have been something like 13 or 14,000, at least two-thirds full. Although most of those were school kids. I suppose they are the future of the City, or summink.

While we waited for Her Maj to arrive, we were treated to many of the treats you’d expect – local army cadets marching round the perimeter of the pitch, a juggler, some gymnastics and music – and some you might not – capering “characters” from Gullivers Land including mice, an elephant and bizarrely some broccoli, sweetcorn and a carrot with attitude! Now, call me picky, but even in the extended book which I once read when I was twelve, I don’t remember old Lemuel G visiting any island of the vegetables! Jonathan Swift would be fuming!

About half an hour later than advertised, during which time the thousands of kids on the far side whipped up some Mexican waves to keep everybody in good spirits, Liz and Phil swept into the stadium in a procession of cars. The way it was all set up was that where the goals usually go were two gazebo things. The Mayor and other local dignitaries were at the far end, the Queen, Prince Phil and their retinue up where we were. The Mayor did some welcoming speech (I’ve met him, you know!) and Dame Cleo Laine sang a slightly jazzed up version of the National Anthem. Despite my world-weary cynicism, I found myself quite enjoying belting that out with the actual recipient there to hear it for once. Doesn’t happen very often!

The centre-piece of the presentation to the Royals was a large dance / poetry piece performed by hundreds of Year 7 kids from Stantonbury and about a thousand kids from other schools, all dressed in white t-shirts, white trousers and white baseball caps. As they filed down the steps to the pitch, it was a bit like an invasion of tiny stormtroopers seizing power.

Their poetry piece was a work of genuine “is-this-excellent-is-this-excruciating” jaw-droppery. Taking a few words each at a time, the mic-ed up kids laid out to Her Maj exactly why MK was great, and exactly why it was flawed. All the usual stuff, y’know. But delivered in that great “Christmas play” style only ten year olds can manage. One of the kids did a bit about why it should be a City, and all the other kids went “shhhhh”. Hilarious.

Pete Winkelman did a really good speech, though. He’s always worth the admission fee because he actually believes in what he’s saying. Plus, unusually for someone so rich and influential, he always looks really uncomfortable in a suit.

The Queen unveiled a plaque which was brought to her, then without a word to her public turned and got back in her car, which whisked her off to Greenleys and the St John’s Ambulance centre they’ve built right opposite our old house. Simon and I legged it so we could get out of there and off to the pub before the rush started.

Did I enjoy it though? Yeah, strangely I did. I do love Milton Keynes, and I do love stadium:mk. So feeling like I was part of celebrating all that felt quite positive. And at least I got to see Her Maj once in my life (apparently I saw her when I was three at the OU, but I have no memory of that). But she could have said “thanks” at least. Some people went to a lot of effort.

Fields Of Birkenau - Wed Nov 28

2007-11-28T13:08:00.000Z

And in the third barn
I decide I’ve
Had enough of
The general tour

The concrete bunks and
Rotting timber
The things that they
Endured

I wander off to
Gaze through fences
The miles of mesh
And cage

The chilling feeling
On the platform
The horror and
The stage

The sun is going down
On the fields of Birkenau
The wire stretches on
Until all the light has gone

And in the distance
James and Simon
Walk towards me
Up the tracks

Takes ten minutes
For them to reach me
I sit back
And relax

James is wearing
My red hoodie
He’s like the girl
In Schindlers List

The only speck of
Vibrant colour
That seems to now
Exist

The sun is going down
On the fields of Birkenau
The wire stretches on
Until all the light has gone

But even here
There is beauty
The sun sets through
The trees

I feel content and
Reassured I
“Live in times
Like these”

Fall asleep
During the coach back
And then go for
A meal

Dave Kane, me and
Both the Simons
Meat and lard
And eel

The sun is going down
On the fields of Birkenau
The wire stretches on
Until all the light has gone
The wire stretches on
Until all the light has gone

Endless Expansion - Mon Nov 26

2007-11-26T15:44:00.000Z

And as of the end of Monday, I’ve listened to the debut album from The Further Adventures Of Vodka Boy eight times in total. I’m happy to say that it’s a grower, though I say that myself as p’raps shouldn’t! ;-)

Strolled around the City paying bills and buying groceries. Tried to feel a bit calmer. Partly succeeded. And all the time my ears were filled with acoustic classics. I was particularly keen while recording and mixing to make each track sound a bit different to the last, otherwise acousticky albums can get a bit samey. But we seem to have neatly avoided that. Partly due to the specific way in which we’ve ordered them. Heh heh. Phew.

Then in the evening I ambled through Campbell Park and Downs Barn to the boys’ (well, and Gemma now!) pad in Pennyland to do some work with Little Phil on our embryonic concept album. Truly the music never stops!

I already mentioned how easy to use GarageBand seems. I know other creators of music who might turn their noses up at this software for being too basic, but it seems like a endless box of delights to me! Phil had prepared quite a few backing tracks in advance, but we were able to shift stuff around, change effects and mood, add vocals and ended up with a great head-up spitty punk anthem which comes in at under two minutes! So Vodka Boy’s album may be the musical masterwork of 2007, but we’re already under way with the musical masterwork of 2008! ;-)

Finally managed to find some details about the speech given by the Tory MP last month who had to resign cos of his praise for Enoch Powell, Nigel Hastilow. The reason I’d been trying to find the actual text was that he’d apparently cited Milton Keynes as an example of immigration run amok. In fact what it looks like he said was that continuing to expand Milton Keynes until it is a city that is “twice the size of Birmingham” would be a bad idea. Which I guess is fair enough, if it’s not managed properly. But I don’t think anyone’s suggesting that it’s done before Christmas, are they?

This is an issue which raises its head often. Is seemingly endless expansion a good thing or not? And I always hold my hands up and say “honestly dude, I have no idea!” Yes, I love Milton Keynes, but will there come a time when it’s too big for me to love? Or is it what’s inside that counts? And will I be long gone by the time it becomes a real issue?

Does it matter if the outlying villages like Nash, Haversham, Woburn Sands, Moulsoe et al get subsumed? I bet it does for the people who live there, and whose families have lived there for generations. But am I genuinely ambivalent? I think I might be. Maybe it’s one to mull. Or perhaps I’m thinking “the more people who live here, the more likely I am to be able to sell Monkey Kettles and Vodka Boy albums”… That does sound like something I might think.

The Phil Spector Of Leytonstone - Sun Nov 25

2007-11-25T11:46:00.000Z

And Sunday couldn’t really have been more different. Instead of wandering round old stones in the chilly autumn air, Martin and I headed down to the Big Smoke and into a mighty furnace of ROCK!!! Oh yes indeed!

It’s been a good year for The Further Adventures Of Vodka Boy. As I’ve stated before (or should that be statted?), we’ve played more gigs in 2007 than our previous outfit Sebastian Windsor managed in five or six times that long. And I’m genuinely enjoying the process of being in an acoustic duo. Far less hassle than any other band I’ve ever been. So, what better way to cap things off than to “lay down” an album so we can dish it out among everyone we know in lieu of being able to afford Christmas presents? Ch-ching!

“Hold up you spoon – why do you have to go all the way to London to record an album? In this age of modern technology surely most people you know can just whack up some mp3s for you?”

Yeah, I guess so. But mighty Grahame S, the Phil Spector of Leytonstone, he knows the Vodka Boy sound better than most. Plus you can rely on him being equally as wasted and knackered as us when we turn up to his student house – truly this was a session of men with the vibe. The vibe being hungover, dirty and exhausted! ;-)

We locked ourselves in his bedroom for approximately seven hours, from 2pm to 9pm. And despite our obvious shortcomings, we recorded a full ten-song set of original Vodka Boy materials. We were even able to mix it to a pretty-much-complete state and add a few bits of keyboard to fill the sound out. I bet we wouldn’t have managed that with the classic eight-man lineup of Sebastian Windsor!

Obviously you won’t be hearing it till the tracklisting is finalised, we’ve polished up the last bit of mixing and then done all the artwork – but that’s easily doable by December 25th! Forget the never-coming Guns n Roses LP – this is the one everyone’s been waiting for! There’s even some new bits and bobs on there – cos we didn’t want to record the covers, it’s all Ibbotson / Taylor originals. Ho yus.

Martin and I staggered home – having had the foresight to get a ticket valid on a Virgin train! – pleased with our day’s graft but also absolutely knackered. Churches… rock n’ roll… man, it’s good to be me sometimes! Except now when I try and sleep. :-/

Grave Matters - Sat Nov 24

2007-11-24T20:43:00.000Z

The Medieval Churches Of (Near) Milton Keynes: An MK40 Blog Special!

Caroline, Simon, Phil and myself set off just after lunch – reasoning it was the best way to keep ahead of the other Saturday Bloggers who might get to the decent stories first! You have to be one step cleverer in this business, I tell thee!

And why were we doing this? Well, partly cos I thought it’d be good to do an entry about some of the Totally Historic aspects of the Mirror City, partly because Caroline is a big fan of churches and historical buildings, and partly because we’re extremely contemporary figures and know all about Urban Exploration. Ahem. Or maybe just it was a laugh. Pick a window.

1. Saint James The Great, Hanslope

We started off in Hanslope because a) it’s one of the oldest churches in the surrounding area, with some sections reliably dated to 1160, and b) it gave Phil a chance to show off his local knowledge, having grown up in Hanslope. In fact he was able to give us history in abundance – not only the history of Hanslope’s church, but also other local landmarks and the subsuming of Long Street village. Awesome, dude! He also gave us some interesting factoids about square-topped windows being particularly good examples of Gothic architecture. Which sounded incredibly convincing!

Caroline was particularly sad whenever we found a church that was locked, as St James The Great was. It says something about the world we live in. But we were able to wander around the graveyard and peer through the windows at least. And so on a cold Saturday afternoon we found ourselves traipsing ‘twixt the molehills and hummocks in a graveyard in Hanslope, the only sound the cries from the football pitch over the far wall.

One of the things we’d decided to do in the car on the way over was to find the oldest gravestone we could at our various stops. The winner in Hanslope was Anne Cleaver, 1819, from what was clearly a corner of the churchyard dedicated to a Cleaver family plot. But then in each graveyard we visited, there were definitely older stones which you just couldn’t read – either too overgrown with ivy, or more often just too worn with age.

It’s good to finally see Hanslope Church close up, too. For years and years it’s been a landmark for me, one of the few things you can see from Milton Keynes in the long fields on the way to Northampton. Phil tells us there’s one day every year when they open the spire for people to go up to the top. Dude, 2008 - we’re there!

2. Saint Mary’s, Haversham

Phil had, in fact, put me to shame. Because when we arrived at the church in my home town (well, kind of – I grew up in the Estate not the Village, of which more momentarily!) I had to confess I had never actually ever set foot in the place. Well, why would I?

It’s on a bit of a hill, which is kinda picturesque, and actually feels older than Saint James The Great, even though it’s about the same age. Perhaps it’s cos it’s smaller. Anyway, we’d only really managed to find a gravestone from 1797 before we had the best stroke of luck of the day! After a bit of knocking, Simon managed to find us a really nice old lady (whose name I think was Alison), and she spent the next three quarters of an hour showing us around! A proper guided tour of this lovely small church! Result!

We saw things like the medieval parish chest, the leper hole, Lady Clinton’s Tomb and even a vamping horn. I won’t spoil much more of the surprise though – check it out for yourself! There’s even a new-fangled toilet hidden away behind a sturdy oaken door!

Alison (let’s say that was her name!) also gave us a potted history of both the church and Haversham village. Bizarrely, her perspective seemed to be the complete opposite of mine – that the Estate half, built in the post-war years as an overflow of Wolverton worker housing, was the posh half and the historical old Village the “real” Haversham. Whereas we always thought that the gentrified people who lived in those quaint old houses were the posh ones. Funny how things look from different standpoints.

Anyway, it was a genuinely warming experience. I think we made her day. And I got several pamphlets which I can digest at my leisure to make further Blogging of.

3. Saint Leonard’s, Little Linford

I hadn’t actually had St.Leonard’s on my itinerary, but Alison seemed very keen we should see it – Little Linford is kind of a sister village to Haversham, so even though it’s not in Milton Keynes either, we headed on out that way.

It was extremely difficult to find, being as it is down the end of a walled-off lane which looks like it’s someone’s driveway. And when you get there, it still doesn’t look like a church until you get close up. It’s well dinky. There’s only three gravestones in the entire churchyard. And not much space for any more! Also, it was locked, so we just had a bit of a wander round then headed off. But apt in a way that we should visit, as our final stop was in Great Linford. So from Little to Great.

4. Saint Andrew’s, Great Linford.

It was starting to get dark as we arrived outside the Nag’s Head. This may end up being the first of two parts, as we hadn’t had time for half the sites I’d got listed. There’s more medieval shit in these parts than you might think!

St.Andrew’s, the old church up by the canal and the Manor House, dates to around 1200, and seems to have been rebuilt more times than either of Hanslope or Haversham’s churches. Definitely a more modern exterior. Sadly the interior was unavailable to us – if there’d been a wedding we could have crashed it, but there wasn’t.

But it did have the winning gravestone. See below, taken with my mobile. That says 1740, incidentally.

As we wandered off to the Nag’s for some dinner and the discovery that Simon had lost his cash card at some point while wandering through the graves, I asked my companions what they’d learnt. No one really seemed too sure. Now that's Gonzo Blogging. Ithenkyew.

Plastic Giraffe - Thu Nov 22

2007-11-22T13:27:00.000Z

Directly following on from the previous entry, Nikki and I took a detour through Midsummer Place to look at the Concrete Cows in their new home. They looked wet. It was wet. There’s a sign for tourists which begs them to remember what a green verdant place Milton Keynes is: “21 Million Trees!” it gasps. In other words – “look, it was a stupid stereotype, okay! Just buy some stuff, now you’re here!”

Then two firsts. I’ve never been to the top of the multi-storey car park at Debenhams, and I’ve never been to Giraffe. The top of the multi-storey car park at Debenhams, on a November evening at least, is rainy, dark and slightly baffling. Giraffe is not. At least you can see a long way over the city at night from the car park though.

A restaurant review? Well, not quite. Nikki and I didn’t go there for a meal, just a smoothie and a dessert. And is it a restaurant anyway? I suppose it is, not in the classic sense of a restaurant as I see ‘em, more like these urban café restaurant things (yo!) that have sprung up out of London in the last few years. Wagamama’s was the first (and still the best). What’s a better way to describe them? Eaterie??

My smoothie was a “Groovy Muesli Smoothie” – I chose it for the perverse thrill of ordering something that sounded so lame – which contained Banana, Strawberry, Natural Yoghurt, Oats & Honey. Do people even drink Coke any more? It came with a plastic Giraffe stirrer which I felt compelled to nick, even though Nikki (and Simon the next day!) told me that they’re more than happy for people to take them.

They sound more than happy for people to do most things. It’s one of those freshly brand-aware places that feel compelled to be ostentatiously not-corporate. There’s a cringingly bad poem on the wall about Smiles being contagious and it being Really Super to pass on the pandemic. Or something like that. And the “World Music” “One Earth” vibe is a little bit stretched when you ask them (as Simon did once) what, if any, connections they have with Fair Trade goods to discover the answer is “none”.

Still. I’m not militant enough for that to stop me eating a Banana Waffle Split. Man oh man. It was nice. Almost too nice. (drools)

C****e Cs - Wed Nov 21

2007-11-21T17:07:00.000Z

With the news that the Concrete Cows (or at least some version of them) will be living in Midsummer Place for the next year or so, I thought “….weeeeeell, it is November and I’ve only mentioned the bastards once. Why not dedicate an whole entry to our local cultural millstones?” ;-)

Now, before we start – I do not hate the Concrete Cows. In fact they’re just one example of the cool sculptures all around the city, something weird you find round a corner when you’re exploring the green avenues. The Tin Man. The Triceratops. That squiggly 8 thing. The statue of me! Heh.

No, what I hate is what they have become associated with in the world outside MK. A fallacy perpetuated, that’s what I hate. “Milton Keynes? Ah - Concrete Cows. And roundabouts” was all I ever got at university when I said where I was from – to the extent that I started just saying “North Buckinghamshire” instead.

Because the joke about Milton Keynes in the 1980s – and the Wikipedia entry about the cows singles out Noelly Noel Edmonds for particularly doing this, the swine – was that it was a concrete jungle, an urban wilderness devoid of life and light. So bleak that even the cows were concrete, ho ho ho. Whereas in fact as we all know, this couldn’t be further from the truth. I mean, just stand by them in Bancroft. Yes, there’s a main road to one side of you, but turn the other way! North Loughton Valley Park stretches off into the distance, all fields and treelined bridleways. The Roman Villa is just round the corner. Nature and History. Not monotonous towerblock wasteland.

The Cows were originally made in 1978 (when I was running around in the nearby playparks of Wolverton) by Canadian (or American depending on which website you read!) sculptor and artist Liz Leyh. Local community artist Lesley Bonner, who has been partially responsible for the upkeep (and occasional rebuilding!) of the Cows more recently, is quoted on The Living Archive website as saying:

“Really they were her parting gift to the city. I don't think they were designed to bring world renown to Milton Keynes. I think she did them as a bit of a joke and because once cows grazed on the fields that the city was being built on. I can't remember the exact reasons, it was a long time ago.”

And who is Liz Leyh? Well, at the time, she was an artist working under the umbrella of Inter-Action, who still do a lot of great community arts stuff in MK. I walk past their base in Peartree Bridge almost every day on my way to work. In more recent years though, she’s stayed a hard-working community artist according to my webinage. She’s worked in West London on arts projects with people with mental health problems and also with arts in education for schools. And she’s been the Artist-In-Residence at the Children’s Museum of Utica, New York.

Some local figures think the way to combat the joke is to own it, make it ours. Hence the MK Dons mascots “Donny” and “Mooie”, for example. Hence bunging the Cows right into the centre of things, in Midsummer Place. Being proud of the joke. For some reason I can’t get with this tactic. I’d rather the joke just died quietly in a field somewhere and the Cows just became local sculptures again. But then I can be quite uptight. ;-) Maybe it wouldn’t go away on its own, and this really is the best way. Who knows?

Just in passing, there’s a nice look at various vandalisations (vandalisms?) of the Cows over the years here. Mostly all done affectionately, I think.

But why couldn’t it have been the Triceratops, that’s all I’m saying. I wouldn’t have minded that. “Milton Keynes? Ah – Herbivorous Ceratopsids of the Late Cretaceous. And roundabouts.”

White Chalk - Tue Nov 20

2007-11-20T14:51:00.000Z

MKG? I hang my head in shame. I know, I know, I should be at every single thing they do, every exhibition they have. Not to mention the opening events they often invite me too with free wine and nibbles and things. Me and Jim used to go regularly back when we lived in Conniburrow and Greenleys. And now I’m right on the MKG doorstep it seems to have fallen by the wayside.

Anyway – there’s a first resolution of 2008. Go To The Gallery More Often. And I’ve started early!

The best exhibition I’ve ever been to at the MKG (apart from any classic Steve Groom ones, of course!) was by Layla Curtis. What she’d done was make these brilliant collages by cutting up maps and sticking them back together convincingly but in the wrong order, so she’d created a totally warped version of how we see the world. But plausible. A lot like Phil and I are doing with our creation of the world of Corm!

And that’s what it’s all about. Seeing something that excites you, that sparks off the bits of your brain that love Art and everything it can do. That’s why I need to go more often. I strolled up Tuesday lunchtime – I was going that way anyway, to spend my last 40p on already-stale Sainsbury’s Value Bread – to see the new exhibition I heard about last week. And I wasn’t disappointed.

“Plastik Diagnostik” by Pascale Marthine Tayou (although I warn you, it’s a currazy website!) will be at MKG till 13th January. I highly recommend a stroll round. Born in Cameroon and living in Belgium, he’s got that interesting mix of African and European in his art. Including: a huge wall mixing underpass graffiti with everyday doodles of his own; African-style tribal figures made of everyday detritus; a huge pile of African flags in the middle of a room (“Jpegafrica / Africagift”) surrounded by gigantic bright red false nails the size of car bonnets (er… “Nails”). The long room furthest from the doors (apparently called The Long Gallery) has a kind of installation thing whereby he’s created a virtual shanty town which has loads of video projectors all over it projecting images of people building things. One of the projectors seemed to have gone onto standby – it just sprayed the NEC logo onto the far wall. The Gallery is usually so quiet the staff don’t notice these sort of things I guess!

The best pieces though are his “Chalk” and “Charcoal” set. From a distance just sparse abstract colours on a plain black or white background, when you get closer you realise the titles actually refer to the content rather than the method – the white background is made up of literally thousands of uniform pieces of white chalk, the black thousands of pieces of flat black charcoal. It’s a really interesting effect – you can see some of this on the website too but it’s better in the space.

Not every exhibition there is brilliant, of course – but actually even the bad ones are usually dull or uninspired rather than rubbish. MKG has a very good reputation both inside the city and further afield. I implore you to check it out – don’t be like me and think “ah well, it’ll always be there”. Cos we’re lucky to have it!

There’ll be more about MKG, I’m sure. It’s yet another of those local things I get ever so excited about sporadically and for a few days wish I lived there. Till the next thing pops into my head! ;-)

Right At The Start - Mon Nov 19

2007-11-19T13:46:00.000Z

I haven’t been writing nearly enough about the forty years of Milton Keynes recently. Time to get this Blog right up to a Gold Standard for the final month or so of it (in this format).

My Mum and Dad moved to Milton Keynes when I was one and Milton Keynes was nine. So, what are my very earliest memories of this city? you might ask yourselves. Well, thanks for asking… This is what I was doing before you were born.

1. The Newport Pagnell motorway bridge.
This is actually not just my first memory of Milton Keynes per se, but in fact my very first memory of any sort. And I can specifically date it to 1st September 1977. Because that’s the day my brother was born, and my Dad drove me to see him in the Newport Pagnell birthing hospice thing my Mum had him in (no MK hospital then, remember?). I vividly remember looking out of the car window as we came along Wolverton Road and under that big M1 bridge at the west end of Newport. Seeing the huge concrete span above me. That’s the first thing I remember.

2. The Rocky Playground.
Some Sunday mornings (a year or two later), Dad would take us out and about in order to tire us out. A favoured destination was the Rocky Playground as we called it, which was right up the NE corner of New Bradwell, just by the 'Magic Roundabout' until they built some houses over it last year. We called it the Rocky Playground because it was built around a collection of large rocks. Some of them had concrete pipes through so we could go underground. I remember it feeling quite high up in the landscape, but I think that must be because we were small. It was the best playground, anyway.

3. The Building Of The Agora.
The Agora was opened in Wolverton in 1979, and I remember it when it was new. Although the City Centre also opened that year, I clearly remember the Agora first. Probly cos it was nearer to my house. And the absolute epicentre of the early 1980s as far as I’m concerned. Thatcher’s Britain. The bleeping of the exciting new arcade machines. The terrible fashions worn by the kids rollerskating round in the downstairs rink (long since replaced by an extremely shoddy indoor market), the denim, the legwarmers. The hair. Walking through every Saturday morning on our regular shopping trips and Mum buying us those long thin doughnuts with jam and cream in the middle. It’s still a horrible eyesore, and I still love it. Knocking it down is a storyline which seems to come up every so often without ever coming to anything.

4. Under Dad’s Desk.
Oh yes indeed, at the Open University as a young kid. When Dad was in the legendary Wimpey 3 hut (long-term temporary accommodation for the Design department) we would play under his desk. When he was the same age I am now! Keeping us busy so he could get on with his work, he’d shove us handfuls of those stickers you get to put on year planners – red stars, yellow circles, long green strips. And we’d make pictures with them on the wooden sides of his footwell. Even now I feel nostalgic when I find myself down any long-forgotten corridor in the bowels of the OU. Thick carpets. Faded posters. The place you go to work. Ironically. ;-)

Oh, and there’s so much more I could go into. The Wolverton Recs (Middle, Far and Wooden). The park down by the river in New Bradwell that was the nearest place to walk the dog. Budgens and the Square in Wolverton. That huge metal spherical climbing frame at Willen Lake that I fell off when I was four and badly sprained my ankle (notice a playground theme emerging here?).

But I’ve come to the end of my allotted span for today, and it is time to put down my pen. Till next time, Gentle Reader. x

2-4-5-3-1 - Sun Nov 18

2007-11-18T11:23:00.000Z

So, humorous vignettes mashing up Jim Morrison and Philip Larkin aside*, what else did I do this weekend?

Saturday morning rose and shone, feeling the benefit of not being able to afford to drink at the Poetry Kapow. After some schmoozing, tidying and watching of the West Wing-ing, moseyed on over to Pennyland, where I spent the rest of the day.

Phil and I, since the demise of Stone Circle, have been planning a collaboration based partially around this dream I had and a bit to do with this daydream also. Bouncing ideas back and forth, it’s developed into a whole concept album about the mythical town of Corm, and it’s going to be really good! Paranoid, surreal and wilfully self-indulgent, we had our very first actual-session-with-music Saturday afternoon. Basically it consisted of Phil showing me how GarageBand on his Apple laptop works – essentially like a grown up version of the EJay software which Diane was so obsessed with, so it shouldn’t take me too long to get up to speed. Anyway, watch this space. The Road To Corm.

Then as I was there anyway, I stuck around the house until Phil’s birthday party started. On with the red bulbs, on with the shades, and on with the scavenging-around-the-kitchen-cos-I-couldn’t-afford-to-bring-any-booze! ;-) Anyway, it was a good night – interesting to hear Rooh playing Phil's old piano accordion, nice to see Emma for the first time in ages, good to play air piano to the Dresden Dolls, and engaging to rate The Dark Is Rising sequence in order of quality. If you’re interested it’s 2-4-5-3-1 for me.

But relatively sensibly I left the party about half eleven, knowing how painfully long and queasy a Rehearsal Sunday is with a blistering hangover. Jumpers is coming on nicely, we rotate around the various spaces in MADCAP every Sunday afternoon. This time we were in the bar space, and line-learning was the order of the day. It’s an immense task, but we seem to get more in every week.

Had a bizarre taxi journey back from Wolverton to Conniburrow. The taxi driver kept ranting on about how corrupt things were in Milton Keynes. He’s been in court for distributing leaflets against specific councillors, it turns out, and seemed very keen to let us know about the ins and outs of who was taking money from whom regarding what (I’m not being careful about names in order to avoid litigation – I was actually too unnerved by his monologue to remember them!). He also claimed that a well-known MK taxi firm beginning with R was owned by the biggest criminal in Scotland. But I can’t find anything about that on the web. And he worked for a well-known MK taxi firm beginning with S. Hum. Weeeeeeird. The sort of sinister, disconnected thing you might have happen to you on the Road To Corm, maybe?

* ah, so THAT’S what he was doing! It all becomes clear!

Full Phil Ment - Sat Nov 17

2007-11-17T21:50:00.000Z

I must have been about ten. Yeah. We were in the car, my Mum and Dad in the front, my brothers in the back with me. I guess we were on the way back from my grandparents’ in Redcar, and Dad had decided to take a slight detour back down the east coast through Hull.

We came over the moor at dawn. The bright pale rays of the rising sun were in my eyes as we crested the plateau. And there they were. There must have been a bus crash or something. I couldn’t see the bus. Dad slowed the car and then we stopped. There they were. Scattered across the road. Librarians.

I’d never seen a Librarian up close before. Some of them were still alive. Others were dead. All of them painted with blood, like war paint. Scattered across the road, leaning on the dry stone walls, on the grass verge. A couple of them tried to raise their hands towards the car. But I'm sitting there and I know something is happening cause I can dig the vibrations of the people around me, you know?

Dad got out, you know, to check it out. I couldn’t see him from my side of the car. But one of these Librarians, a thickset balding man with heavily black-rimmed spectacles, he was closest to my window. He was lying right on the tarmac. Still holding on, staring right at me. Right into my eyes. I'm just this little... like, a child is a flower, man, whose head is just floating in the breeze.

There was nothing we could do, though. Dad couldn’t help them, they were too badly hurt, the ones that were still barely alive. We pulled away, to drive down the hill and notify the authorities I suppose. But I couldn’t tear my eyes from the eyes of this one Librarian. Even as we accelerated on, I was transfixed – staring at him through the back window of our Peugeot.

The whole thing was like a dream. I couldn’t see anything else, just his eyes. Couldn’t hear anything, just a whisper inside my head… “this be the verse”.

Then the sunlight was all around us and I was carried off into the daylight and I couldn’t see the dying Librarians any more. And like this is a projection from a long way back, but something definitely happened on that far-off morning on the B1257 near Hawnby. Something that changed me for ever.

In the dark I see him. By firelight I see him, when the flames are flickering and you’re not sure what’s on the other side. When I’m lost in the music.

He’s my spirit guide. My totem. Something from him passed into me on dawn’s highway. Sometimes I know he’s trying to tell me something. Sometimes he’s there to show me. By the light of the fire. When I’m lost in the music. There in the dark. It's not a ghost story man, it's something that really means something to me.

Kapow! Facts! - Fri Nov 16

2007-11-16T19:21:00.000Z

I’m still not 100% on what I thought about the fourth Monkey Kettle Poetry & Things (But Mainly Poetry) Night. But while I’m over-mulling, here are Some Inescapable Facts.

1. This afternoon at work, I sat in front of my screen with eyes glazed and mouth slack for an entire minute. When I suddenly came to, I had no memory of what I’d been thinking about.

2. I’ve seen Rooh play acoustic sets on and off for years, since Simon first found him hiding in a sack or something. The stuff he’s playing now, whether laid-back sitar meanderings or his jittery Twenties blues picking, is the best stuff I’ve ever heard from him. And I told him so. Maybe it’s the beard.

3. There is clearly an audience in Milton Keynes for poetry nights. Of the 40 – 50 strong crowd, a good half of them were people I’d never seen or met before, many of them actual poets. This is very encouraging, because poetry is great.

4. I should never ever be a judge for anything. I don’t have it in me.

5. Carolyn’s teenage ginger son is as big a Booshhead as I am. Several times throughout the night we joined together in the Soup Rap and other fanboy quotes. (“This is an outrage!” “You know nothing of The Crunch” etc.)

6. It was Phil’s birthday and the love we all have for him was very evident. I even sold a copy of his album to a stranger. Dude!

7. I don’t have a problem with giving away Monkey Kettle merchandise in this day and age. They’ll only go yellow under my kitchen table anyway. P’raps I should be a bit more sales-savvy, but sometimes it’s hard.

8. Jon Corboz is at least 200% funnier than he was when he did his first comedy gig. Like a shorter, straighter, more Northern and Actually Funny Alan Carr.

9. The new legislation which means the Bar at MADCAP has to stay downstairs – usually T&C bring it up and set it up in the corner – was a definite handicap. I’m not saying the audience was too tight, but they could have been looser. And hooch would have helped.

10. I Like Pringles.

11. There IS a God. And Bennie works for him. After twenty-five minutes in the cold and two pointless phonecalls to Skyline, who should drive past at random in his uber-cool brand new Mini but Bennie! Somehow our desperation must have shone a kind of Bennie-signal into the night sky. He doesn’t even live in Milton Keynes! The absolute highlight of the night. We couldn’t stop laughing.

Back Of The Cannon - Thu Nov 15

2007-11-15T13:16:00.000Z

It was clear my old classmate didn’t recognise me in the slightest, despite the fact he’d been my best mate at Stantonbury (who wasn’t called Simon or Simon!). I’d stayed over at his house a dozen times. We’d been on bike rides, school trips, Woodcraft Folk excursions even! And I’d already walked past him a few times earlier in the evening, not to mention playing three songs in front of him on a small stage.

“Look deep into my face”, I urged, “and you’ll still see somewhere the boy who once dwelt there.”

Slow dawning realisation broke across his face, which slid into a broad smile. “RATTY!!!” he cried. Thank goodness. I know it’s been sixteen years and four or five stone, but still…

This was near the end of a long long day. I’d tramped down the frosty redways to work after another bad night’s sleep to find a relentless chain of events waiting for me. First: a full day’s work (and actual work work too – not just lounging about with cocktails like we normally do). Second: an interlude at MADCAP to help with the set-up and technical preparations for tomorrow nights Poetry Kapow. Third: a Vodka Boy exploratory gig at The Cannon in Newport Pagnell. Which is where I ran into my former school compadre. Turns out he knows Lin well. It’s a small world.

But despite all these events, my inexplicable yet growing sense of calm was the overriding emotion. Which definitely helped.

The acoustic nights at The Cannon are run by Jeff, who Martin and I met at Keith’s 30th in Nottingham (he’s another mate of Lin’s). They take place every Thursday night in the separate low brick building out the back, where R.N.P. once played a forgettable gig in the Spring of 1993. Jeff and his helpers fill the room with cushions, drapes, cool red lights and incense, and it slowly fills up with the general Newport gig-going public. It was interesting, I felt a very definite sense that we were somewhere separate to the Milton Keynes Scene, if such a thing even exists.

We’d elected not to bring a load of people along to this one, it was more of a scouting trip (reconnaissance behind enemy lines?), but obviously Gemma and Lin were there, and Grahame popped in (on his birthday!) before his posh dinner across the road. The general ethos is “turn up with a guitar and you can play approximately three songs depending”, but Jeff was worried last night cos more acts than normal turned up. Which is in itself reassuring – the audience was a good thirty or forty in a venue only really comfortable for thirty.

To get our nerves out of the way, Vodka Boy went on second (after Jeff himself), and chugged out a workmanlike triptych (“Havasu Falls”, “I Am In The Lodge” and “Think About You”). I think on reflection next time we play there we’ll bring along a few fans to seal the deal. All the other acts had brought theirs, after all.

And then it was just a matter of reclining back on some cushions in the corner and watching the other performers. I’d kind of imagined they were all going to be angsty growling bellowers, that kind of earnest but dull singer-songwriter which seems to be the bane of most local acoustic nights. But in fact they were all very good. More variety than I’d been expecting. So we’ll definitely go again. I’ll let you know when.

After the Friends Reunited moment capped off the night, I was whisked home in the tourbus. Well, Martin’s Ka. Ah, the rock. The roll. Indeed.

Classic Euphoria - Wed Nov 14

2007-11-14T17:19:00.000Z

// Walked to work this morning in the chilly but bright air listening to Classic Euphoria Level 2 on my mp3 player. Didn’t make me feel particularly euphoric. Maybe it’s better with drugs. //

// Some things I forgot to say at the time… //

// On the morning of his wedding, James drove over to Conniburrow to visit Bloodlines and get his eyebrow piercing changed for a special wedding one that was gold instead of silver. I went too, cos I thought “well, while we’re there I could get a plain hoop to whack in one of my extant holes”. As it were.

They’re doing the place up at the moment, so the chunky tattooed dude took us through a room full of dust and builders to a tiny cupboard out the back to work on Jim’s head. I kept quiet so as not to come across as his boyfriend. As it turns out, they don’t have any plain hoops. Not the sort of thing their regulars have any use for, apparently. The dude looked at me like I was some sort of weirdo for even asking. //

// Just like last year, there were some kids who were a little bit scared as our Christmas parade passed. That kind of joyful fear only younger kids still have. But the most extreme reaction came when we passed that calendar stall outside Waterstones. A woman holding a toddler was there, and at the sight of us weasels leading the dance, the toddler laughed with glee, but the woman shrank back inside the stall with a look of abject terror on her face. Perhaps she’s had a bad experience with the old Mustela nivalis in the past… //

// I walked across the top of the City. That’s the way I always walk back from the Pye House now. It’s the quickest way. It’s also the way we used to walk to and from Bar Central when it was cold or wet. Across the access roads, hobbling on the square cobbles. You have to be wary of the traffic, but this was late. Then down over the top of the market and across past the Point. The top of the City. //

// There’s a new Blog in town. And this time it’s Biblical: http://theblogofgod.livejournal.com/ //

Suspiciously Content - Tue Nov 13

2007-11-13T19:46:00.000Z

For the first time in ages, I feel like I’m on an even keel. I don’t think it’s down to any one thing – I’ve been sleeping badly, got no money and am as busy and stressed as ever, so it can’t be my lifestyle.

But these last couple of days my energy levels have been high. I’ve been able to Get Things Done. The Blog’s back up to date (if you’ll look the other way regarding this weekend’s nigh on blank entries). Monkey Kettle #28 is proceeding nicely and should be ready for pay day (as I can’t afford to get it done any sooner anyway!). Even the Inbox is within a few weeks of being up to date for the first time in ages and ages.

Took a bus ride to Bletchley yesterday to take Sophie her birthday present and spent some quality time with the next generation Taylors. Took a load of books and videos that have been in the front room for months waiting to go to a charity shop to a charity shop. Took a look at Mellish Court. It really does look higher than the XScape and the mk:hub buildings. Not to mention much much older and more horrible.

And today, while cracking on with the Monkey Kettling I’ve also been tidying and cleaning. The flat is certainly clean enough to have visitors round to tea now, again for the first time in months. And watching DVDs I borrowed off mates ages ago and should really give back. And finishing books that have been lying next to the bed for weeks on end. I’ve been like some kind of organisational dynamo!

I was going to go up the MK Gallery today, as I suddenly realised that I haven’t been in 2007 yet. Appallingly slack for a man who a) loves 75% of the exhibitions they have there, and b) had vowed to go and see every single one this year so he can write about it in his half-arsed Blog. But when I looked on their website I realised there isn’t actually an exhibition on at the moment. Bah. So that’s a job for next week instead.

So what’s next? It’s the Monkey Kettle Poetry Night at MADCAP on Friday, so I’m sure I’ll see you there for more of the same. There may be a slightly more poeticky bent this time around, but old favourites like Sushi and Rooh (playing the sitar apparently!) will be providing music too. And also The Further Adventures Of Vodka Boy continue their world tour in Newport Pagnell on Thursday night.

An even keel. It’s been a while. And I’ve no idea why I feel like I’m on one now. Perhaps… no, I’ve no idea. I’m sure it’ll all turn to shit again in the morning. But right now I’m going to have another cup of tea and sit down and smile. Soft kisses on all your foreheads. Till next we meet.

X

Otters And Handguns - Mon Nov 12

2007-11-12T10:20:00.000Z

There are otters back in the city apparently. I didn’t know there hadn’t been any, I must admit – and this has a bit of a sad tone, but still. Good news for semi-aquatic-riverside-mammal lovers everywhere.

Yes indeed, this is a News Entry. What better way to start a new week? Fresh from my pleasant surprise at seeing a lovely colour photo on page 6 of last week’s Citizen showing me in action as Baxter Weasel, I’m feeling pretty charitable towards our local news outlets.

And while we’re rapt in the middle of what’s apparently the world of BBC’s Autumnwatch (otters and weasels!), there was the shocking tale that a bird of prey tried to eat a weaker bird in Crownhill! Imagine the shock – a bird of prey trying to eat a weaker bird! My favourite part of this story is actually that British Felt is based in Milton Keynes! ;-)

I also found an interesting article about Capdown, the recently-split MK band who I’d argue are the most famous band ever to hail from these shores. While I’m not too sure about the validity of the argument that says they invented that sound, it’s clear they were very influential in the re-emergence of it in this country. Plus there’s some YouTube links to live gig footage. Well worth a look, and you don’t even get crushed and damp in the mosh!

While we were rehearsing at MADCAP this weekend we met a young lady during our sandwich break who was telling us about the cancellation of Capdown’s final farewell gig at the Pitz. Luckily it looks like they’re rearranging (some sort of licensing problem – not the fault of the Pitz), it’d be a shame to miss out on a last farewell…

This girl from Conniburrow has gone missing again. When we were fourteen, a girl from our class who I had a woefully one-sided crush on used to run away regularly. She was on the front cover of the Citizen in the middle of the Summer Holidays, and I was moved to write a song about her called “Runaway”. I think it turned out she’d been hiding at the house of her nineteen-year-old leather-jacketed motorbike-riding boyfriend. Typical.

All this means that I haven’t had time to mention more kids with guns. Which is probably for the best, as that makes pretty depressing news.

[left blank] - Nov 10 / 11

2007-11-11T09:59:00.000Z

[when Matthew's journal was found, these pages were left blank. The only mark of any note was a yellow-brown stain, possibly tea, possibly Lemsip]

They/We Conundrum - Wed Nov 7

2007-11-07T17:15:00.000Z

It’s the “they” / “we” conundrum. I keep catching myself doing it, and something inside of me goes all funny.

I’ve supported West Ham for twenty three years. Longer than some of you have been alive. I’ve been with them through thick and thin. Mainly thin. But that’s the way it is, and when you think of Matthew, you think of West Ham*. Rueful also-rans, plucky artists, the Not Quite team.

But there was never a football team right on my doorstep before. And as I walked across the concourse at stadium:mk for the first time, Tuesday evening, and saw the floodlit pitch, the beautiful architecture of the ground, I knew something had begun. Dunno where it’ll end, but I guess time will tell.

I’ve mused on this before, on a cold Tuesday night in March at the Hockey Stadium. Well, this was a cold Tuesday night in November, but the experience was a world away. We were early to the game (against struggling Grimsby Town) at Denbigh, which allowed us to have a proper look around before things got too crowded.

From the outside, the stadium looks a bit unfinished – slightly skeletal. And obviously it isn't finished – the current capacity of 22,000 will be increased to a massive 32,000 (similar to a lower-to-mid-table Premiership side) over the next few years. But it’s state of the art, even compared to other newish grounds I’ve been to in the last couple of years (I’m thinking particularly of Rushden & Diamonds). We swiped ourselves into the ground with the barcodes on our tickets – no cramped concrete turnstile corridors here. And the seats! The seats are cushioned! Just imagine that! Cushioned!

Chris and I walked round about half of the concourse. It’s all pretty uniform up there, and goes: snack bar, toilet, bar, snack bar, toilet, bar all the way round. From the opposite side, we looked back across the pitch to where Mum & Dad were sitting, in the D of Dons. Compared to the Hockey Stadium, this is absolutely breathtaking.

So what are the drawbacks? Well, there’s no clock or scoreboard as yet. They’re quite important facilities to have. And while over 6,000 fans is impressive for the bottom division on a dark chilly weeknight, it doesn’t make much of a dent on a 22,000 capacity stadium. Still, the “Cow Shed” end (yes, I know – embarrassing isn’t it? The mascots are two cows called Donny and Mooey apparently. Ugh! And I won’t even start on the ground’s nickname of “The Moo Camp”! (shudders)) seems to have already been colonised as The Noisy Bit, and they kept the singing going throughout the patchy game.

The Dons scored within 20 seconds, which was quite exciting, and again just before half-time. Paul Ince has got them playing occasionally attractive football for this level, which Grimsby countered relatively successfully by kicking the ball right up into the air every time they got the chance. It wasn’t a great game by any stretch of the imagination, but it was here. In MK. We were home within 15 minutes of the final whistle. Incredible. Well done, Pete. You made it.

I will go again. Of course I will. And hopefully regularly. And the guilt of calling the MK Dons “we” may fade along with the memory of how they (hah - they, you see!!) got here. Because as ever, the sheer amount of kids round the city in Dons shirts rather than Man Yoo or Chelsea is where the heart of this story lies. If you love football, you want to see football. And now it’s here and getting better all the time. What could be wrong with that?

Oooh, and I had a balti pie. It was pretty nice, except I spilt balti on my jeans. Bah!

* to paraphrase the great “Fever Pitch”.

Darth Weasel - Tue Nov 6

2007-11-06T20:04:00.000Z

You’ll remember of course my love for “stone-cold classic” novel The Wind In The Willows. I’d like to say that my activities Tuesday afternoon had something to do with intrinsic love for that masterwork of literature. But in fact it was just the lure of cold hard cash.

Remember last Autumn I grew a great big bushy beard so I could be a pirate in the opening ceremony of the Middleton Hall Christmas Display (Peter Pan - below)?

Well, this afternoon brought it round again. Once more it was time for Father Christmas to ride his sleigh down the length of the City Centre (from Marks & Spencers to Next) to the applause and loving excitement of hundreds of kids. And once more it was time for me to don ridiculous garb and take part in the procession. Man alive, I'm glad I know Steve & David sometimes!

This year of course it's The Wind In The Willows which has been constructed in Middleton Hall. I know it hasn't got much to do with Christmas, but give us a break, eh?

As before, our main task was to skip merrily down the concourse in front of Father Xmas' sleigh, waving to the kiddlies and occasionally engaging them in witty banter. The whole thing was a bit more rushed this year because the reindeer weren't too happy, but that suited me.

I built my part up a bit, just to help the characterisation you understand. From "Weasel 2" I concocted "Baxter Weasel", an amalgam of one of the characters from obscure WITW spin-off "Wild Wood" and Dudley Moore (below, with Matt P as Ratty). Although I think I look a bit more like Darth Maul.

As usual the kids loved it. My entire family was there to watch Uncle Matthew poncing about his home town centre pretending to be hedgerow wildlife - but the best bit was, as last year, coming round the corner into Middleton Hall (I was the very first one) and being faced with a wall of faces, all cheering and shouting. I felt like Muhammed Ali. If he'd been a weasel.

Roll on next year so I can do it again. Hopefully it'll be War & Peace and I can be Bezuhov. Niiiiice.

Vodka Boy On Tour - Sat Nov 3

2007-11-03T22:08:00.000Z

MADCAP, Ampthill, Nottingham, The World! It’s been a rollercoaster ride for “MK’s Premier Acoustic Duo”* The Further Adventures Of Vodka Boy this year. Okay, so eight gigs in eight months hardly sounds like the relentless gigging of the Rolling Stones. But compare that to the work rate of our parent band, the semi-legendary Sebastian Windsor, whose last eight gigs spanned four years and eight months. I think you’ll agree we’ve stepped up our commitment to musical performance! ;-)

In hindsight, agreeing to go up to Nottingham and play a set as part of the 30th Birthday Celebrations of our great mate Former Sub Lieutenant Keith Crawford would have been a better plan if it hadn’t come hot on the heels of the previous day’s wedding boozathon. Still, with the aid of Boots Own Brand Travel Sickness Pills and lots and lots of Powerade, I made it up the M1 to Nottm. Although I must admit Martin driving (with Gemma asleep in the back!) had something to do with it too.

Keith’s Birthday Celebrations consisted of two parts. We met him in Ye Olde Trip To Jerusalem, allegedly England’s oldest inn, dating from 1189. It’s set right into the sheer hillside underneath Nottingham Castle, and is a great little pub. Little being the operative word. Obviously in 1189 they hadn’t banked on busy city Saturday boozing 818 years later – it’s one of those pubs with barrels full of character but precious little elbow room.

Slowly we filled a side room with Crawfordian well-wishers: Keith’s Nottingham mates, his French girlfriend, his dad and brothers, and a small contingency from MK consisting of Rachel, Ross, Anthony and Lin, plus a couple of Keith and Lin’s pals from the Newport Pagnell music scene – handy for Vodka Boy, who have now booked themselves in to an open mic night the week after next! Funny to have to go all the way to Nottingham to find these opportunities (not to mention see Ross!), but it’s a small world after all.

The second part of Keith’s Birthday Celebrations took place in the Snug Lounge Club which we eventually found just past a Ghost Walk round some twisty turny narrow streets in the centre of Nottingham. All very exciting! Keith had booked the club up until 11, when it reverted into an actual club, so we had a good three hours of fun in the club just to ourselves. It’s one of those great downstairs clubs with several different sections – a bit like Oceana on a Bar Central scale. Red lampshades, massive disco balls and best of all – a free bar!

Keith played a few songs first (including a cover of Hounds Of Love which I think he’ll agree will live long in popular rumour!), and another of his mates then entertained us with some breathtakingly talented guitar picking. But the general vibe was much more Big Drunken Party than Mellow Acoustic Gig. Me and Martin took the stage and played a short sweet set to a small loyal sub-set of the club (ironically consisting almost entirely of the MK faction!) before taking our leave. We left Keith laughing somewhere in the middle of a big crowd of pretty ladies, and drove off into the mist. I can’t begin to describe how exhausted I was by then. So I won’t. Still - we went. I feel pretty good about that. And our next gig, in Newport Pagnell, will take Vodka Boy into double figures! We’re workaholics! ;-)

Happy 30th, KC! And Happy 18th too, GZ, while I'm here! Here’s to your dreams! (raises double vodka and coke from the free bar!) (then falls asleep)

* sez me!

Closer Each Day - Oct 31 - Nov 2

2007-11-02T10:29:00.000Z

Everyone loves a wedding, don’t they? Don't they? Well, personally I can take ‘em or leave ‘em, unless they happen to feature one or more people I genuinely care about. Luckily this one had two and more besides! :-D

The second half of the week tipped inexorably wedding-wards, hence another combo entry. Wednesday night we missed the Pye House Halloween celebrations cos we were trying on our suits and polishing Underhill’s speech. Thursday night we had the rehearsal at the venue and then stayed for a couple of drinks and some insanely huge burgers with Jim. Me, him, Underhill and Steve B sat in the bar of the hotel, all immensely knackered and slowly getting too tired to talk. Luckily The Shining was on the big screen in the corner. Slightly ironic, watching The Shining in a hotel – in fact the next day whenever I turned one of the many corners at the Courtyard, I half expected to see twin girls in blue dresses waiting for me. (shivers)

Friday dawned beautifully crisp and clear, and I made it back over to the Courtyard for nine. There were a few glitches in the preparations, but nothing too major – and so it was that at about 2:45, James Trevor Tearle and Laura Jane Day finally became The Day-Tearles. (wipes eyes)

I welled up at the sight of Chloe and Sophie processing down the aisle, the first bridesmaids in – Chloe looked so grown up, and Sophie looked so sweet. And I welled up again to see Laura's face - she just couldn't stop grinning, she was so happy. And I managed to screw the rising terror down into a tight ball and stammer out my recitation. If you were there, you can’t have failed to recognise the lyrics to the theme tune of “Home And Away”. One of the Theatre Boys enthusiastically described my performance as “better than Churchill”! That’s one to put on the posters at least! ;-)

After the usual shenanigans like photos and food, we got to the speeches, which were right proper touching. Underhill overcame his even-stronger-than-my-terror-terror and orated like a true gent. I could only stand and watch with a smile on my face to echo his sentiment “dude, I wish I was marrying you”. (wipes eyes again)

The rules after the First Dance at weddings usually seem to be 1. Get As Hammered As You Want; 2. Repeat. And most of us seemed more than happy to oblige! Free of all the nerve-wracking bits of the day, and discovering that Underhill could charge drinks to his room rather than paying for them, we all had a great time. Again lovely to see people I don’t see enough of – Annabel, The Kendalls, Gay & Robin, Renie, Mark etc – but also to meet new people in an environment conducive to loved-up drunkenness. Many of Helen’s theatre colleagues kept shouting to me “why don’t you ever come out with us when we go out?” – to which my only real reply was “well, you finish work after I’ve gone to bed!”

Had a great conversation with Phil and Michael about a board game they used to play when they were kids. Was told by one person I love that I’m a liar, and by another person I love that they have never loved me as much as they love me right now. One of those great evenings of variable love! The highs and the lows. Plus I danced The Robot too. (buries head in hands)

But a grand day. One of the best weddings I’ve ever been to. And now that chapter is firmly over. Jim & Laura are off to Tunisia now, and I’m off to Nottingham. I wish I was off to bed.

Gondola Ends - Tue Oct 30

2007-10-30T15:13:00.000Z

Have made a good start on my new regime of Getting Back In Proper Touch With Great Mates. These last few months have become a bit hermitlike for me (even more so than normal!), coupled of course with all our busy lives.

But now my phone is switched on, and if I’m in I have to answer it. Them’s the rules. Try it. You’ll see. I spent a good hour on it to Darren last night hearing about his BBC3 Pilot adventures with Brian Cant and Uncle Timbrook. And I was just starting to think “whose turn is it today to be Caught Up With?” when Angharad rang to say she was in town and could she come and eat her sandwiches in my flat? Of course she could! ;-)

Maybe in the New Year I’ll go on a mini-tour of the UK somehow, visiting pals and seeing a bit more of the world. I’d love to go and visit her in Swindon, for example. Sounds like she’s having a great time, and I haven’t been there since the FA Cup Third Round 1982. I wonder what makes Swindon tick? She told me all about her fella, and her new job, and what a Gondola End is (they’re the display units in supermarkets / large stores which face onto the central big main aisle – and there was a name for those too, but I’ve already forgotten, I’m afraid… Shawy?)

Underhill maintains that we do catch up with people quite regularly at parties / Stag Events / weddings etc – indeed as I’m sure we will again on Friday. Maybe it’s my advanced years though (he creaked, agedly), but I’m also kind of longing for more 1:1 interaction. With cups of tea, and Actually Talking About Each Other’s Lives. So if you've foolishly chosen to live beyond the confines of the Mirror City (and even if you haven’t!!!), beware! I could be coming your way! ;-)

The Rest Of Tuesday: Monkey Kettled (#28 might not be ready for the Poetry Kapow in a few weeks I’m afraid – people are only slowly catching on to the fact we’re taking submissions again, and I don't want to rush it out at the expense of the content quality)…

In the afternoon, went and bought some new trainers (! Hurrah!!!), and also James & Laura’s Wedding Present – it was almost too big to carry home! Had to keep stopping and resting. Man, I wish I had a car. That’d make trips to Swindon / Worksop / Derby / Norwich / Lahndahn / etc. much easier too.

Vodka Boy practice for Keith’s party on Saturday (s’gonna be a busy weekend!) round at Pennyland, and also met for the second time the boys’ new housemate! All change!

And finally – Northamptonshire Police are leaving top-secret documents in the car park at Borders, apparently. Presumably while they’re there investigating the quality of sugary buns in the café? Aho ho ho. I kill me.

The Spirit World - Mon Oct 29

2007-10-29T14:30:00.000Z

We are, apparently, in the middle of five nights of extreme terror. And it’s stupid, but I keep letting it genuinely unnerve me. I am a spanner.

I refer of course, to “Most Haunted Live Halloween 2007 Special” which is currently showing every night on UK Living. Yes, I know, I’m a spanner for even watching it, but Helen had it on the other night when I was pissed up on booze, and I found it incredibly funny. It’s less funny when you’re sober. Like many things.

If you’ve never seen “Most Haunted”, it’s an appalling franchise where so-called psychics wander round elderly buildings with night-vision cameras in search of ghosts. I don’t recommend it. The concept behind this Halloween Special is that they’re visiting five such spooky locations over five nights, culminating on Halloween on Wednesday. And apparently the five locations are set in the shape of an upside pentagram or some such guff.

You can tell we’re in the lower depths of obscure TV hell as soon as you turn on and see Paul Ross presenting. I hope his brother sends him a monthly allowance. Ex-Blue Peter stalwart Yvette Fielding is the anchor “in the field”, surrounding by a small gang of pudgy sexless men who are able to “sense” the unquiet spirits up and down the chilly corridors. It’s total balls, but something about it still makes me very uneasy. It can’t just be the rubbishness of the production – it must be my own brain.

The scariest things get on paper is when “paranormal events” happen: such as tables moving, glasses being thrown, or one of the pudgy sexless men smelling something that no-one else can smell (!). But somehow you never really see this. It’s all seemingly deliberately happening just off camera, or while there’s a break in transmission. There was one incident where a couple of them “were pushed” down some stairs, but the show seems to be being very careful not to state outright that anything, y’know, actually provable is going on. Cos that way lies the Broadcasting Standards Commission, presumably!

Cut back to the studio and some fat be-wigged lady will nod sagely and say “ah, yes, this spirit is Bess Hardwick. I have unfinished business with her…” and hammer home the fact that Pudgy Sexless Man No.3 couldn’t have possibly known that this particular ghost sometimes wore a hat! And if that doesn’t convince us, I dunno what will!

So why does this cavalcade of credulity-stretching shite actually give me the willies?

The imagination is the scariest thing there is, I reckon. I know if I was there in the dark halls of some old castle with them, my mind would be creating all sorts of fears. And this is only one step removed. The night-vision is cleverly used, because it always gives the sense that there might be something just outside the glow of the torches. That you might just have seen a shadowy figure drift across the doorway in the background.

Virgin Media Television (for it is they) probably have whole teams of student actors under contract to drift shadowily across the background. That might explain the hordes of people who seem to text in every night to say that they’ve “seen the figure of an angry man pacing up and down on Webcam 4”. Probably an extra who's not been paid yet.

Maybe that's what scares me most. That clearly there are people in the world who believe this. That email in to say they think there is a malevolent force in the Hallway, or that they think Yvette should be particularly careful tonight. That believe they can sense these things. Or maybe my mind is just closed off. Hope so.

Still, I can’t stop watching. More fool me.

Suffolk Punch - Sun Oct 28

2007-10-28T17:35:00.000Z

So, why is it always the Suffolk?

Underhill, Jim, Simon, Caroline, Helen and I sat in the “family side” on Sunday, the side we always sit in, and raised glasses of beer to our mouths. It is fourteen years since I first started coming here. I shudder to think how many glasses of beer I have raised to my mouth in that time. There isn’t a public house I have been in more times in my life, I don’t think.

So, why is it always the Suffolk? The food is pretty rubbish, the clientele mainly Heelands locals we wouldn’t normally choose to rub shoulders with, and it’s not even that nice to look at. Ah, but the memories…

It’s the Suffolk because of where it is. The easiest pub to walk to from Stantonbury. The closest pub to Conniburrow where we all used to live, and Simon and Caroline still do, without going to the City. That makes it the ideal pub to frequent when you’re doing things at Stantonbury, like Ludamus. And the ideal pub if you and all your mates live in Conniburrow and it’s the year 2000.

So many memories. Let’s pull two or three big picnic benches together and I’ll reel off a few…

The Irish family who used to run it – particularly Will, who Diane went out with for a while. The infamous pint-over-baby incident – which still haunts me to this very day. Turning up on Kendall’s Stag Day to discover some kind of Bring & Buy Sale was taking place. Me and Grahame crooning the Moulin Rouge soundtrack wistfully. Kicking chairs in petulant anger. Diane’s endless chain of cocktails with acronyms, and the period where we’d always get takeout using her credit card. Playing pool up the top end, and drunkenly heckling men with moustaches. Regularly bumping into people we went to school with and desperately trying to think of things to say to them. The Round Table.

And the endless Ludamus summers in the beer garden. Row upon row of our friends and loved ones, year in year out. Rambling on like we knew it all. Falling out, making up. Laughing and crying and cheering. Man, it’s a historical venue.

So despite not actually being a great pub (it didn’t score very highly on our Pub Scale – still coming soon to a website near you!), and despite not going there very regularly in this day and age, it’s still an important one for us. One of the spiritual centre points of our ramshackle band of people.

And some of our ramshackle people are putting a play on. Another Jumpers rehearsal Sunday, and despite our fatigue from the Evening Of Diverse / Rachel’s Birthday the previous night, it’s coming along good. S’gonna be impressive if we can pull it off. And we can.

But first: The Jimbly / Laura Wedding. Keith’s 30th. Monkey Kettle Poetry Kapow IV. The Vodka Boy Album. And Christmas. Cripes. What do you WANT for Christmas, anyhow?

EODE - Sat Oct 27

2007-10-27T17:12:00.000Z

I can’t believe it’s been four years since the last Evening Of Diverse Entertainment at MADCAP. Christ, what a cultural wasteland we must have been living in since then! Luckily… they’re back! Oh yes! BACK!!!

I first came across the Evenings Of Diverse Entertainment in 2001, when Tony & Carolyn got in touch with me and asked if we’d like to come and do some poetry for them. As they were also offering the chance to sell magazines at a table in the bar, I jumped at the chance! This led to us attending regularly and performing poems, showing comedy films, etc. and not too long afterwards I started being a semi-regular compere for the EODEs. Which wasn’t something I imagined I’d be any good at, but was actually okay.

If you’ve never been to an Evening Of Diverse Entertainment, they can be described quite simply. They take place in the Evenings. The quality and genre of the performances is indeed Diverse. But they are always Entertaining. Also, if you attended either the 2nd or 3rd Monkey Kettle nights at MADCAP in recent times, you’ll have a good inkling of the EODEs because we ripped them off so comprehensively! The slapdash mixture of music, drama, comedy, poetry and (add random wild card factor here) always leads to a smashing night of grass-roots level Cultcha in Bohemian surroundings.

But in about 2003, having occurred roughly every two or three months up till then, for a variety of reasons the EODEs stopped. Until now. And dropping in to perform this Saturday, we realised just exactly how much we’d missed them!

As we’d also promised to get along to Rachel’s birthday drinks up at First Base, we were only able to attend the first half of the night in Wolverton, but in that half alone there were four acoustic acts, an urban dance crew, an incredibly talented beatbox artist and best of all – Philip from MADCAP dressed incredibly convincingly as a voodoo witch doctor barking scary words over a muffled backing track. Some of the night balanced on the knife edge between brilliant and appalling, but that’s the beauty. Like I say, the Diversity bit of the title accounts for quality as well as genre!

Martin and I did a Vodka Boy set rich in wryness, but the biggest hit of the night (well – the half night we were there) was Simon’s ace new poetry triptych about hating Nigella Lawson, Jamie Oliver and Gordon Ramsay. Tony told us the next day that one bloke had said “I just kept hoping he’d shut up… because I was laughing so much it hurt!” – a great advert to all those there for the Monkey Kettle Kapow in a few weeks!

Going back to the Arts Meeting I had on Tuesday, this is what I’m talking about. This is our kind of thing, and hopefully always will be – the vaguely subversive off-radar Arts night. They’re always well-attended, but well-attended by emo kids, acid casualties and freakish nerds. Our kind of crowd, basically. So welcome home, Evenings Of Diverse Entertainment. Long may you reign. And a massive big-up to Tony & Carolyn who devote their lives to MADCAP and the things that go on there.

At First Base, we attempted to play pool in a group of about twelve, but it just got confusing. I think I ended up playing for both sides! And won with neither… story of my life! ;-) Also, talking of playing for both sides, I missed out on a trip to Pink Punters, where Simon apparently met a load of transvestites and had a disagreement with a barman! Typical! That’ll teach me to go home and sleep. Hmmm…

Reuben's Newsday - Oct 25 / 26

2007-10-26T11:25:00.000Z

I was surprised to read that there was a suspiciously big bang on Oldbrook Boulevard Friday – not least cos I live there and was lying on the sofa still being poorly when it supposedly happened. Perhaps if I’d looked out of the window I may have seen this alleged police cordon. But I didn’t. I think the whole thing has been invented by some precocious work experience kid at the Citizen to fuck with me. I assume his name is Reuben and he’s from Stony Stratford.

A “crack”down on drugs? Ho ho, very good, precocious work experience kid!

There was a fire at the Queen Vic in Wolverton – the home of Zak’s, of course. Phil theorised to me that it was somehow linked to the demise of Stone Circle – “dude, it’s like… rock legend. We played there, and then it burnt down!” I guess if you ignore the six month delay between us playing there and the conflagration breaking out. And the fact it didn’t burn down. Not to piss on your Rock Dreams, dude! ;-)

When we were in Sixth Form, people were considered pretty cool if they lived at the YMCA. A few people we knew did. And at the time we thought there must be nothing finer than not having to live with your parents. I suppose these things change perspective with time. You’ll learn that eventually, Reuben.

Being from Stony, Reuben may also know the lady who got attacked there late on Saturday night. Though I can only imagine he was safely indoors himself at that time of night, probably polishing his shoes. Bless him. He must be boiling inside that one of his contemporaries at Stantonbury has just been crowned the National Schools Scrabble Champion!

Reuben is also presumably too posh and effete to get involved with the ruckus that was almost brought in Newport the other day. Bloody youths. Why can’t they all just find joy in writing innovative stage works? You can’t tell me that wouldn’t make the world a better place.

Which brings me on to an And Finally – good old Roy! I knew he’d come through for me in the end. Helen’s not sure they’ll actually call it the Matthew M Taylor Theatre, but I’m slightly more optimistic! I suppose I’d better start writing, seeing as I haven’t finished a play in two years now. :-/

Platform Two - Wed Oct 24

2007-10-24T12:30:00.000Z

As always, the MK40 Blog apologies for the continuing delay in… due to staff illness we… normal service will be… our heartfelt wishes for any inconvenience during this…

You know the score. But ironically it leads me in nicely to an entry about our favourite local rail network, the supertastic Silverlink County Service, who are in the news this week.

Oh, MK Readers of the future, how lucky you are that travel is now conducted entirely by teleport device! For way way back in 2007, we still had to travel medium to long distances in the UK by train or car. And if you were going by train, that meant either using Virgin or Silverlink.

When I was a teenager, of course, it was all British Rail round these parts – and still enthusiastic they were too. “This is the Age of the Train” they trumpeted in vain. Nowadays it costs £50 just to go up and see Darren and Zoe near Sheffield for a weekend. Pah! Who wants to cram into a busy carriage with extortionately-priced food and expensive tickets when you can go by car?

After Virgin took over the British Rail service between London and Birmingham, though, things did improve a bit. If I can, I’ll always get on a Virgin train rather than a Silverlink one. They’re so long that there’s almost always a seat. They rarely stop on the way to London, so the journey's down to about 45 minutes. And some of these new ones slant over to one side at times so they can go even faster! Wheeeeee!

Which brings us to Silverlink. (sighs)

I’m sure they try their best. But you know, you've been on them. You know the sinking feeling when you approach the last Silverlink train back from Euston only to see that it’s already jam-packed and it doesn’t leave for another twenty minutes yet. You know how many carriages down it is to use the one toilet on the train. You’ve clenched your fists in despair and frustration as it pulls in to stop at Kings Langley, where no-one ever gets on and off.

Yes, I know local services by their very nature are never going to be able to match up to Virgin. But I’ve been on plenty of local services over the years, and never found any as bad as Silverlink. They’ve slightly improved their timekeeping over the last decade or so, but it’s still not perfect. Surely using a local railway service doesn’t have to mean settling for a second-rate experience? Perhaps any of our readers that know more about the railways can enlighten me?

I go on the coach to Worksop now, when I go. Under £20, National Express, and it takes slightly less time even! Plus you never have to sit next to anybody (is that something about the English, or just me?) and it only stops once, at Nottingham.

Anyway, the trains are on strike. So we’ll all have to stay in MK today. I’ll get the chess board out. I’m sure this catalogue of travel woe will seem petty to you, MK Kids of 2047 – give praise that you Live In A Peaceful Society where all these problems have been solved!

Seminar Room IV - Tue Oct 23

2007-10-23T20:13:00.000Z

When me and my mate Mark lived in Derby trying our very best to be innovative performance artists (i.e. writing fantastical monologues about the Spice Girls and pestering letters to football clubs), there was a little tubby woman with big hair who worked at Derby City Council whose job it was to give advice and guidance to the struggling artists of the City. Her title was something along the lines of Arts & Literature Co-Ordinator, and she was at least able to give us cups of tea and tell us how to get local funding and things, even if she was never openly friendly to us.

And when I moved back to Milton Keynes – oooh, nigh on a decade ago (Feb ’98… my pretty pony my pretty pony) – I remember being disappointed there wasn’t an equivalent figure in the MK City Council to help me get going with some of my plans back in the old hometown.

That seems to have remained the case for more years than is sensible. Yes, there’s local organisations that exist to help fund and encourage local arts. The MK Community Foundation helped James put on our first Monkey Kettle Arts Exhibition. And the Milton Keynes Arts Association, especially top honchos Nicky and Guy, gave Monkey Kettle semi-regular handouts in the very early days, right up to and including the publication of our book. Perhaps it was my mistake getting myself actually onto the MKAA Literature Panel – I haven’t felt right asking for funding ever since then.

But despite all that there’s been no council people offering to give advice on working in the local Arts. Until this year. Finally. And so it was I found myself sitting down in a conference room deep in the bowels of Saxon Court on Tuesday afternoon with some of the most eminent of Local Arts Faces for my first meeting with the new(ish) MK Council Arts Co-Ordinating Team. I took along a pen and paper and everything.

I should make it clear before I go too much further that I don’t actually crave a place at the top table of the local Arts. Well, not much. It’s too much like hard work, for one thing. But it’s nice to be asked to be In The Room sometimes. So I can at least keep track of who’s who and who’s doing what. And so these Eminent Local Arts Faces (this meeting included the organisers of Folk On The Green and MK4U, for example, as well as top local bods from the classier end of the spectrum: Company MK, MK Orchestra etc) know who Monkey Kettle is, too.

The general theory is that the Council team are putting together a new Milton Keynes Arts Strategy, to be hammered out over the next six months. And luckily because I work at the OU I was more than happy to be part of the brainstorming-with-coloured-pens-and-whiteboards shenanigans.

Just a couple of observations. I was the second-to-youngest there by quite some way. And I’m no spring chicken. There must (by the laws of maths and human longevity alone) be some kind of Changing Of The MK Arts Guard due in the next decade or so. And also, the other attendees almost all seemed to know each other. And I only knew one of them – one of my co-stars from ‘Allo ‘Allo.

But it suits me. I want to operate in the margins. I want to be cult. But it’s good to know where the margins end and what and who is beyond them, in case you want to pop in from time to time. Plus the overriding mood in this meeting was a passion for both Arts as a whole and the city of Milton Keynes. And I can get wid dat. No worries.

I’ll let you know how this proceeds. If I can ever catch up with the present on the Blog!!! ;-)

Spring Tide - Wed Oct 17

2007-10-17T13:45:00.000Z

S’funny. Sometimes I get confused as to whether the swing is coming down or going up. Lovely crisp sunny days at the moment, but for some reason my soul is telling me they’re Spring Days, not Autumn. Maybe it’s cos we didn’t have a proper Summer. Maybe my biorhythms are shot. Or maybe the Spring is here? Um…

My trainers were knackered in the rain yesterday – but now knackered to a point where I can barely wear them. Just three months after swapping them with Ludamus Paul, as well. And he got Motorbike Simon’s big old boots. I’m kicking myself over that deal now. Luckily I haven’t got any shoes on, so kicking myself doesn’t hurt that much.

A little bit of a news catch-up then, the City moves on even though I’m barely in it at the moment.

Our hospital is ‘good’. Which is good.

I don’t know what’s more astonishing about this story – the terrible story itself, or the fact that Lisa Kudrow lives in Oldbrook!! :-D

Looks like there won’t be any reindeer this year at the CMK Christmas Display opening. They’re just too infectious, it seems! Readers with long memories will remember that I was actually part of the opening ceremony along with the real-life reindeer last year – dressed excitingly as one of Captain Hook’s pirates, with the bushiest beard I have ever had! It was a great laugh, and a really good experience which I’m happy to say I’ll be taking part in again this year!

Yes, the afternoon of Tuesday 6th Nov I shall be once more in the employ of CMK – this year I’m a weasel apparently (it’s a Wind In The Willows display). Eaaaaasy money!

(grabs a cudgel and rushes out into the snow to chivvy up Mole. Chapter III - The Wild Wood)

Lady Is A Vamp - Tue Oct 16

2007-10-16T16:00:00.000Z

Tuesday rained all day. But do we let the rain dampen our spirits? No! And why not? For this is the Autumn Of Pop!

I always declare August 1988 to be the Total And Utter Awakening of my love for music. That was when I was bored on a Sunday afternoon and my Dad suggested I listen to the Top 40 on Radio 1. You know, for something to do. But of course I knew music existed before that. Our house was always full of music – my Dad playing Beatles or Dylan records. Or better, playing them to us on his guitar (I still get a bit misty when I hear “Mr Tambourine Man”, cos he used to sing it to us as a lullaby or when we were camping)!

We also had a few records of contemporary stuff in the heyday of Eighties Pop. If memory serves me correct, we had Now That’s What I Call Music 1, 2 and 4. Certainly the standout tracks like “Ghostbusters”, “1999”, “Thriller” and “Neverending Story” were all defining songs of our youth.

But in August 1988, the Top 40 enabled me to find stuff that my 13-year-old self could have JUST FOR ME. Songs that made sense JUST TO ME. And from then on it was an obsession.

The other thing that happened in August 1988 to swing the deal was that Simon and I were lying on the floor in his back room in Wolverton, and The Chart Show came on. How I miss The Chart Show. It was great. And this one was especially great because we bore witness to the astonishing single (and video) “I Want Your Love” by Transvision Vamp.

Transvision Vamp were my first ever Favourite Band to really count as a Favourite Band. I’d had brief flirtations with Adam & The Ants, Doctor & The Medics and M/A/R/R/S. You know, M/A/R/R/S*. But they were fleeting affairs, without even the consummation of buying an album. Transvision Vamp lasted a good fifteen months, seven singles and two albums at the top of my tree before New Model Army came along and changed things for ever.

Essentially three punk blokes in leather jackets fronted by husky-voiced pop bint Wendy James, the Vamp were that halcyon mix of The Pink and The Black that I’m always banging on about in music. Their debut album, “Pop Art”, was black on the front with a pink inside. The pop, the darkness. The glamour, the tragedy. Plus Wendy wore incredibly skimpy outfits, had bright pink lipstick and screamed “waaaaaaaaaaaggggh” near the end of almost every single song. She made me feel all funny inside. You know.

Their second album “Velveteen” came out in the summer of 1989, by which time I was starting to go all metally, but I still loved it. The punk-pop had grown strings, and was an even better mix of clanging iconic insouciance and spiteful polished hit singles.

Of course, the proper “Alternatives” in Stantonbury frowned on me for liking the Vamp. They were way too mainstream, too chartsy, for the Goths – but conversely just having loud guitars and sexy screams made them a bit rich for the hairstyled Brosettes in our class.

And yet it’s 2007. And classically overblown nine-minute epic “Velveteen” (the song) is currently on repeat on my mp3 player. Stick yer rain.

* “Pump up the volume, pump up the volume, pump up the volume… check it out!”

The Dog Whisperer - Mon Oct 15

2007-10-15T12:35:00.000Z

I know I’m always banging on about things I’ve seen while walking around Milton Keynes. But hey – it is a Milton Keynes Blog. And the tale of this weird encounter did keep Simon enthralled all the way from the Library to the OU shops, so it must be interesting enough.

Walking in to do a Monday evening slot on the Library Counter (I need the money!) I was strolling through Eaglestone listening to Pop on my mp3 player. It was a nice crisp afternoon, and I was on the Pear Tree Lane redway, just about to turn south and walk down past the new hospital developments (all of which look very impressive, btw).

As I approached that corner, my stride slowed slightly as two biggish dogs came round the corner. Now, you know me – I don’t hate dogs, but I’m not the keenest. These two were thigh-height, greyish (no, I dunno the breed - what am I, Barbara Woodhouse?), and seemed unattended. I started to veer round to one side to avoid them, as they’d started to regard me balefully but not aggressively.

At this point, another couple of dogs came round the trees to my right, following the first two. These two were smaller, kind of scruffy mongrel types. They turned and looked at me too, and I thought “what IS this? Some kind of sentient dog gang?” – maybe I’m reading too much Stephen King at the moment, I don’t know.

These two were followed by perhaps the biggest dog I have ever seen. When me and Simon were little, we used to walk his Uncle’s Great Dane for him round Wolverton. And that was a big dog. This was bigger. Literally the size of a small horse. It must have been some kind of Great Dane, but in my growing fear I just assumed it was the unholy leader of this rogue canine troop.

It was then that a human being finally entered this picture. He was a middle-aged crusty bloke, you know the sort. Short greying hair clearly once in dreads. Weather-beaten face. Clothes made from hemp. And he seemed to be in some kind of unspoken charge of this menagerie. With him were three more dogs – two more of which were mongrels again, the last of which was a tiny little rat dog – almost running to keep up with the huge beasts it accompanied.

By this time I’d managed to get past them and on down the redway without being mauled. I turned to look back as they wandered obliviously on, this crazy sight of one man and his eight dogs. I have no idea how he controlled them all. Simon thinks he may have been a Dog Whisperer.

The other side of the hospital I saw the nicest piece of graffiti I’ve seen all year, possibly the nicest ever. It just said DAVID I LOVE YOU. How can you beat that? You can’t, that’s how.

AUTUMN OF POP SONG OF THE DAY:
These Words : Natasha Bedingfield
I suppose we don’t need Natasha now we’ve got Lily Allen, Kate Nash et al. But that’s a shame, ‘tasha was slightly better than these middle-of-the-road pop harridans. And in her double whammy debut singles of These Words and Unwritten, we had two of the best "slightly-intelligent-pop" singles of the decade so far. “I threw some chords together, the combination D E F”! Classic! ;-)

PENNYLAND - Thu Oct 11

2007-10-11T13:40:00.000Z

While I was off doing ‘Allo ‘Allo, a Constant Reader & regular well-wisher asked me if I knew anything about the history of Pennyland, about how it was originally built as an experiment in energy efficient housing. In all honesty I didn’t – and I’m not sure how much of that I understand. But here’s a little entry about Pennyland anyway. It’s one of the better-kept secrets of Milton Keynes.

Before we (Ibbotson / Miller / Taylor / Türl was the original line-up) took up residence in Longcross, the only person I’d ever known to live in Pennyland was Keith. He bought his house there in 2002 or 2003 or something, and we were semi-occasional visitors before our landlords in Greenleys (the Royal Bank of Scotland, bizarrely enough!) sold our house out from under us and we had to find somewhere else to live in 2004. What swung the Pennyland house for us was the second room downstairs and the overall size of the property, and the pleasantness of the surroundings.

Pennyland is indeed a pleasant estate. The only trouble we ever had there was trouble which we ourselves caused! It’s pretty small, and because the road layout is so windy and labyrinthine, there’s no real traffic to speak of. As a result you get a) plenty of places kids can play and b) billions of cats! It became a recurring theme in my life that the cats would watch me from their gardens or atop their hedges as I strode through the maze of Pennyland to the shops at Neath Hill. Some days they were judging me, some days they were not.

Pennyland was relatively near the City (about a 25 minute walk if you went the right way), but it was also nice and near some of the more rural sights of MK – Willen Lake for example, or the canal. There’s a beautiful marina there (“The Moorings”), just across from the neighbouring Bolbeck Park. We’d often walk past it on our way to what became our local while we lived there: The Ship Ashore in Willen, and I’d think what I always think when I walk past a marina – “man, I wish I lived the slow calm free poetical life on a barge.”

Other Pennyland memories: getting lost in the mist with Angharad trying to walk the actually very short distance between Longcross and her bit of Great Linford. A million barbecues and parties in the big overgrown garden. Arguing over the quickest way to the Neath Hill shops – you can cut through several different ways, the quickest apparently involves heading in the opposite direction then doubling back. I’ve no idea how that works.

Anyway, the boys still live there. There was a room going there last week, but I think it might be taken now. I considered it for a moment myself, but I don’t think I could go back to communal living now, even if it would save us billions. Oldbrook’s good too.

Incidentally, for those of a historical bent – as you know, the streets in Pennyland are named after coins. But I didn’t think Longcross was one of those. It just didn’t sound right. But what do I know? In fact the Long Cross is indeed a medieval coin from the reign of Henry III. Cor, you learn summat new every day in the high-powered world of Blogging!

Cartoon Heroes - Wed Oct 10

2007-10-10T09:36:00.000Z

The postal service may have ground to a halt (suits me – means the final demands and overdue bills will take a bit longer to reach me!), but Google Alerts just keeps on delivering fresh nuggets of local interest!

Here’s some Things from the last week or so.

Things I Didn’t Actually Know But Could Have Easily Predicted.

1. There is a Milton Keynes Role Playing Group. They meet regularly to role-play together. And of course our old mate Ted is involved. I don’t know if this is the same group that Simon used to occasionally attend (vampire role-playing upstairs in the old Queen Vic – he took Diane once or twice to show them he actually knew real girls. Joke.) but they apparently host some kind of regular gaming day for RPGers from all over called Concrete Cow.

2. There is an alleged crack house in Eaglestone. I actually walked past it on my way home this very evening. Couldn't afford any crack though.

Things I Genuinely Am Surprised At.

1. There’s a chip shop in Broughton! The only times I’ve been there (admittedly only ever to visit Caz) it’s seemed a bit too posh to find a chip shop in. Must check it out one day. Hope the bloke gets well, obviously. I have a fear of the wiring in our own flat now. Our lightswitch in the bedroom is making some very odd buzzing noises when you use it now… :-S

2. Crime is down locally but our coppers are rubbish, apparently. Actually I’ve only ever found MK coppers to be really nice. The one who came to the Pye House when MBS had all his DVDs nicked was a gem, and the one who came and interviewed me when I had my car nicked (have I told that story on here yet?) was really friendly and sympathetic too. Perhaps it’s cos I’m middle-class and almost entirely law-abiding.

Things That Flabbergasted Me.

1. This one isn’t from a Google Alert, but from Stephen King. I’m reading The Dead Zone at the moment, a classic Early King which I must have read at least five times before during my days on this Earth. But I was stunned last night when I got to the bit where poor ole Johnny Smith wakes from his five year coma to learn that the very date he comes round is May 17th 1975 – the very day I was born! Surely I should have noticed that before! It’s too amazing a coincidence for me to have forgotten it… Still, at least it’s now preserved online until the day the Internet falls down.

Blimey. Me and Kingy. We’re linked. Somehow. It may be tenuous but still…

AUTUMN OF POP SONG OF THE DAY:
Cartoon Heroes : Aqua
An overlooked gem, one of the greatest pop songs of all time, chockablock full of post-modern lyrics about the nature of Pop. “We are what we’re supposed to be” / “We do the things you just can’t do” / “We are the ones who’re gonna last for ever” etc. Fantastic!

Autumn Of Pop - Tue Oct 9

2007-10-09T10:55:00.000Z

It was a character in a Noel Coward play who mused on how strange the potency of cheap music was. And here’s an example.

Way TO The City
It’s pouring with rain, the first time in weeks it seems. My trainers are now so knackered that both soles are cracked and my socks are drenched before I even reach the school on the corner. On my mp3 player, the Dresden Dolls are singing articulately savage songs about self-harm. As I squelch through Midsummer Place, I see a billboard outside Virgin Megastore advertising Sex & The Fucking City (aka “Grannies On Heat” in my house) box sets for £50. I decide I will never ever be a part of this society. You’re welcome to it.

Way BACK FROM The City
The rain has stopped, I’ve bought custard doughnuts from Sainsbury’s and I’ve worked out I don’t have to exile myself from this society – I can just dip in and out as the mood takes me. “It’s Raining Men” comes on the mp3 player and I stride through the City streets grinning a stupid wide grin.

I say again – this is the Autumn Of Pop. I’m going to fill my mp3 player with cack to help me on my way… ABBA, Aqua, Madonna, and of course of course of course The Spices. And plenty more.

[off tangent]
While I’m at The City, I spludge into the Job Centre. I haven’t been in there for a few years (the last but one time I went in I actually had an interview so they could set up my profile – their shrewd assessment was that perhaps I should think about doing a Writing qualification. “What, like the degree I did a couple of years ago?”, I sneered wittily). Anyway, the only job in the Arts / Media section currently is… (pause for dramatic effect). Santa.

Santa? SANTA? Well… I’ve got the build. But I don’t really like kids. And I’d probly just nick the presents for myself. Like a Bad Santa. Oh well. I tried.

[back on tangent]
Martin came round in the evening and we made some cheap music of our own. Despite the apparent end of Stone Circle, we’re determined to get cracking again with T F A O Vodka Boy. It’s been a few months since we played a gig (Dudefest I think), and weeks and weeks since we even had a practice. This has now been designated as Vodka Boy Phase Two, therefore. We’ve even got a gig already lined up for the 27th October – it’s the long awaited return of the MADCAP Evenings Of Diverse Entertainment!!! To think that such an event should happen in this Blog’s lifetime… ;-)

The moral of the story then? How strange the potency of cheap music. This is the Autumn Of Pop. You know it makes sense.

Coppery Ginger - Mon Oct 8

2007-10-08T19:20:00.000Z

I am such a predictable text-book psyche. The same things come around time after time after time. Just as alcohol is the most convenient of all coping mechanisms (not to mention a constantly self-fulfilling source of new problems to obsess over! hardy har...), the most overt way I know of drawing a line under a particularly unhappy period and attempting to move on into a new one is to either have a drastic haircut or dye my hair.

Now, I haven’t spent all this time growing the MMT Barnet just to have it shaved right off in the name of mental refreshment – so instead I spent this afternoon slathered in peroxide. The result (which I intended, of course!) is a kind of coppery ginger which becomes bleachy orange when I sweep it back and expose the roots. Nice one.

Because this is the Autumn of Pop. The Spices (or the Fab Five, whichever you prefer) are back, and everything’s looking up!

As I was leaving to sidle up to Fishermead chemists and purchase the peroxide cream (I’ve always got plenty of spare sachets of the powder – they always put far more in each packet than you need!), I caught Martin out in the act of parking outside my flat without popping in for a cup of tea! The cheeky scamp! So I invited him in for a cup of tea – and would you believe that he even had a spare latex glove in his bag to give me to help me in my application! What a fortuitous incident!

Okey-doke. So, what are my immediate concerns circa October 8th?

1. Money. As ever. But we won’t go into that.

2. Jim’s Stag Day (II) on Saturday. But I’ve spoke to Underhill on the phone tonight and plans are proceeding apace. I think we advertised it far too late and consequently won’t get everyone we wanted, but considering everything in our lives recently we may be excused.

3. Monkey Kettle Night IV (coming November 16th – also Phil’s birthday!). Now ‘Allo ‘Allo’s over I suddenly feel the need to find out what Fay and Danni and MBS have been up to while I wasn’t looking. While at the same time trying my very darndest not to interfere and generally Learning To Delegate Control Of The Monkey Kettle Brand! I’m trying my best, guys! ;-)

4. Getting This Blog Good Again. Coz there’s only three months to go! I’ve been compiling all the entries into a Word file as I think I mentioned, and that’s been giving me a great chance to reflect on the year so far. I’m also discovering plenty of things I said I was going to write about but haven’t – so I’m also getting inspiration for upcoming entries. Yo!

5. I can read Stephen King again (after a self-imposed year’s exile from the Great Man’s Works)! Huzzah! Liberation! Have been thrilling to “The Long Walk” (to my mind his best ever!) this morning too while attempting to get up.

Life goes on. The seasons cycle through just like the colours of my hair. I think I’d better even look in the Monkey Kettle Inbox.

Um...

(looks nervous)

[on waking] - Oct 3 - 7

2007-10-07T10:38:00.000Z

I dreamt I was in our back garden at Haversham, but it must have been some time in the mid Eighties. In the early Nineties my Mum and Dad had a conservatory built on the back of their house, and in the dream it wasn’t there. I was stood at the top of the old red brick steps that used to lead down to the garden from the back door. So it must have been some time in the mid Eighties.

Anyway, the dream’s not about that. Not about the steps. But from where I’m stood at the top of them, I suddenly notice an incredible creature down on the lawn. And at the exact moment I see it, it sees me. And it freezes. And I freeze.

In the dream, I think I assume it’s some kind of large fox. But mainly white with some black markings. But it’s too big to be a fox. Way too big. If it resembles anything currently living, it’s more wolflike – but I have a very strong suspicion in the cold light of day that it’s some kind of Andrewsarchus. I have been watching my Walking With Beasts DVD quite a lot recently. It soothes my mind.

We stare at each other for a few moments. I don’t think I’m scared of it attacking. Which is strange. All that’s happening is this peaceful time with me and it locked in a static glance. Then, just as suddenly, it turns and lopes off down the garden towards the Back Lane. As it passes, our old cats Bubble and Squeak dash panicked from the bushes to get out of the way of this creature. Which again proves that this dream is set in the past. I’m going to say 1986.

Blimey. Look at this life-sized model of an Andrewsarchus. I can’t believe I wasn’t more panicked by it.

This doesn’t actually have anything to do with Milton Keynes, incidentally. You probably spotted that. I’ve been away. But now I’m back.

In The Liminal - Tue Oct 2

2007-10-02T11:49:00.000Z

Okay – so it turns out it was just a classic case of subliminal (or non-subliminal… liminal?) Americanisation. Or should that be Americanization? I get confused sometimes.

Anyway, what I mean is – there have always been hundreds of “World Trade Centres” (or “World Trade Centers”) around the world, as I posited in yesterday’s entry. It’s just that the Twin Towers in NYC were the most famous ones, and indeed the official base of the World Trade Centers Association. Apparently the WTCA (now based somewhere else in New York!) has to grant you a licence (or “license”! See – a running gag!) in order to call your complex a World Trade Centre/er.

There’s a great big list of the hundred or so Top WTCs on Wikipedia – and while it may have shocked me that they’d consider building one in MK, that’ll actually take the UK’s total to four. Others are based in London, Belfast, and… er… Hull. Oh, and there may or may not be one currently operating in Cardiff. No-one seems to be sure. So maybe it’s not that big of a deal after all.

On the other hand – the London WTC (in Canary Wharf) has been empty for the last eleven years since it was blown up by the IRA (um… uh-oh?), and like ours Belfast’s hasn’t actually been built quite yet. Hull’s is pretty much finished though, opening last week in fact – so despite my cheek in the last paragraph, they’re clearly the only currently functioning WTC in the country! I must ask my Mum if she’s ever been, she gets up Hull way a lot.

Anyway – apart from the Milton Keynes angle, this doesn’t really hold much interest for me, I’m afraid. Even after reading the Wikipedia entries, I’m not much the wiser to what a World Trade Centre/er actually is. It sounds a lot like a glorified business district to me. But then I do have a notorious blind spot when it comes to things like commerce, industry and the world of High Finance. Which is why Diane and James always had to draw diagrams for me to explain the end of Trading Places.

Maybe I’ll try and visit the World Trade Centre when it’s ready for scruffy poets to wander in. If that ever happens. As ever, Watch This Space (am getting sick of writing this – a cliché that essentially means I haven’t got round to something yet!). Although in my defence (“defense”) I did write that in yesterday’s entry about WTCs, so sometimes I do follow up my promises! ;-)

Incidentally, while researching this entry, I discovered a sentence in passing (in the section on mk:hub on Wikipedia) which declares that Mellish Court in Bletchley – that really grim-looking Londonlike Seventies high-rise – is seventeen storeys and therefore MK’s highest building. Which means that my answer to Little Phil in the August entry on tall buildings was incorrect! That’s what you get for trusting Trusted Council Sources, I guess! I’m off to Bletchley for a look round soon anyway, so I’ll check out Mellish Court then.

Which also ties in neatly with the fact I’ve finally been asked a Second Question by an avid reader! Little Simon of Conniburrow has also been in touch, and you can expect an answer to his question/s very soon too!

News From The Moon - Mon Oct 1

2007-10-01T15:24:00.000Z

Well, from my third-floor window I can’t see much of what’s happening in the city. But luckily the Interweb is a window to the wider world which shows me far more than just a load of cranes and Saxon Street.

In a nice change from stabbings up and runnings over, I’m going to kick off with the news that a girl from Walnut Tree has been crowned Miss Ghana UK. I shall refrain from making any oh-so-ironic patronising jokes – not least cos she’s just starting a Business & Management degree and is therefore almost certainly cleverer than me!

This is going to take a bit more research to get to the bottom of. On face value it seems to be saying they’re going to build a World Trade Centre in the new MK:Hub area – does that mean that there are many World Trade Centres? The now-destroyed buildings in New York were the World Trade Center*, surely? I can’t imagine Milton Keynes is the favoured site for a new one if there’s only one though… Watch this space for some proper info.

The MK Dons are currently sat at the top of League Two – where I suppose it was assumed they should have been for all of last season. It surely surely surely can’t be the malign influence of manager Paul “J***s” Ince – it must be the new stadium that’s the key. Yes, that must be it. Ahem. I’ll be checking it out at a game some time in the next month or two, rest assured.

James’ favourite scientist, Colin Pillinger is at it again – his latest crazy professor scheme is to build a craft to fly to the Moon and see if there’s water there. If only Diane was still here – she’d probably have already hatched a scheme to sneak aboard said craft and stow away to the Sea of Tranquility! Or at the very least befriend Colin Pillinger somehow so we could make full use of his time machine… Hmm. That gives me an idea… He comes in the Library sometimes… (grabs skateboard and body warmer)

If you get the chance, I can’t recommend doing anything this week more highly than going to Slava’s Snowshow at the Theatre. Me, Helen, Simon and Caroline went last time it was in town – and I have never had a better night at the Theatre. It was a joy from start to finish – who needs clever narrative and historical analysis when there are massive coloured balls bouncing around the audience and you’re covered in magical cobwebs?? Go go go!

And finally – probably in sympathy with the legendary Stone Circle, who have now to all intents and purposes split (in that format at least) – Milton Keynes’ other most successful band of all time, Capdown, have announced their parting of the ways after this last tour – which finishes with a farewell gig at The Pitz in November. Perhaps the mighty Circle should have a farewell gig too???

* Note the abrupt spelling change in that sentence! Just to prove I'm paying attention!

Arms Folded - Sep 29 / 30

2007-09-30T10:03:00.000Z

I’ve been sleeping really badly again recently – and when I do sleep, I keep waking up to find I’ve fallen asleep with my arms folded. Man, that’s too tense! Especially for being asleep – in theory the least tense you ever get!

Things I Saw Over The Last Couple Of Weeks But Haven’t Yet Had Time To Mention #1
A rabbit lying in the woods in Campbell Park – dead, but not a scratch on it. Except for its eyes, which were completely missing. My heart has joined the thousand, for my friend stopped running today. Then ten minutes later I saw a big rat sat in the middle of that short windy stream feature thing behind the MK Gallery. It didn’t move as I walked past. It could have been drowned, I suppose.

‘Allo ‘Allo Incident #1
The funniest moment over the week was in the Saturday matinee – if you saw the play you’ll know there’s an extended section at the end of Act 1 set in the café… Well, about three lines into that scene, the Colonel’s metal café chair legs snapped completely for no apparent reason – dumping him right onto the floor! The audience (rather than the awed intake of breath that usually accompanies a massive technical problem such as this) laughed hysterically. Luckily it was a scene with Dave Lovesey in and he kept us going with a few choice ad libs, and we got through without cracking up. A few days later while texting Jim, I realised that everyone in the audience had thought it was in fact some excellent physical comedy on our part, and not just shoddy prop-manship! Phew!

Right, What’s Next #1
Looks like I need to start raising funds to keep Monkey Kettle going. The cheapest print quote I’ve got so far is twice what the OU reprographics dept were charging us. So if you’ve ever been a subscriber at any point over the last eight years, stand by for a begging email to see if you want to subscribe again!

‘Allo ‘Allo Incident #2
I suppose to be filed under Comedy: Black. Like something out of “Brassed Off”, maybe. When I got the news about me Grandad, I was wearing a hair net to cover my head full of pin-curls. I sat down on the kitchen chair in a state of sad surprise, tried to run my fingers through my hair, but couldn’t.

Right, What’s Next #2
The success of ‘Allo ‘Allo (three sold out nights and an actual profit on the show for MKTOC!) has led to the production team starting to consider similar ventures for next year. Preliminary talk is of something like Carry On : The Stage Play, or Up Pompeii : The Stage Play. I guess I’d be keen depending on when it is – it may well clash with Ludamus though, so I’d probably give it a miss if so. Unless it’s something so ace I can’t refuse. Fawlty Towers : The Stage Play. But I doubt it.

And this is October now! Into the last quarter of 2007. Man, what a fucking ride it’s been. Still. Time to shake my arms and legs, get myself awake and walk on. The winter’s a-coming and I’ve still got plenty to do.

Getting In - Sep 15 / 16

2007-09-16T09:35:00.000Z

Then the weekend there’s not much to tell. I spent nine hours on Saturday and twelve hours on Sunday doing the ‘Allo ‘Allo Get In at Camphill. It was knackering, but it was great fun!

I’ve never really been one of these actors who doesn’t like getting their hands dirty with manual labour (except maybe in the hour or so before Curtain Up!), so I was more than happy to paint the set, help with the erecting and screwing (see how the ‘bawdy innuendo’ is filtering through!) of flats etc. The Cafe Artois looks very impressive. I hope you’re coming to see it.

It was beautiful weather too – I took every opportunity to take my varnishing, painting, or cleaning of antiquated cinema seats outside. To feel the sun on my face. To be doing Theatre. No Excel files or Enquiry Management Systems can touch me here. Oh yes.

And here we are. The week of The Show. It feels like it’s been a long time coming, and I think we’re ready for it…

(covers head and runs on)

Walking Into The Sky - Fri Sep 14

2007-09-14T11:18:00.000Z

Right. Friday. If you’re not a fan of those entries where I walk a long way and just say the things I’ve seen, you might want to look away now! ;-)

These are busy times again theatrically. For the first time in ages (years!) I’ve been in a position where I’ve actively started rehearsing the next thing before the last thing’s over three plays in a row. ‘Allo ‘Allo was well under way before Thrupenny Standup was on, and now we’ve begun work on Simon’s excellent Jumpers for Paperfish to be produced at the end of January. Truly I feel like a jobbing actor. Like Ronnie Barker in Rep.

Anyway, as our inaugural Jumpers cast meeting / readthrough had been arranged to be at MADCAP (as two-thirds of the cast are Tony & Carolyn it makes sense!), I decided I’d take advantage of having booked the day off and make my way there by my own hoof-power in the beautiful afternoon. This is what I saw.

1. mk:hub.
Is that CBX3 building really taller than the Snowdome? It sure as shootin’ doesn’t look it! Some kind of experiment with a tape measure and some maths may be called for!

2. Staples Roundabout.
I always forget that that big roundabout (now with traffic lights) down by Staples, which I see so often by road, has a great big four-way redway haven in the middle of it! I had quite a nice sit down there, almost like I wasn’t in the middle of the busiest roundabout in MK at all!

3. Rooksley.
I wonder if God was to judge the industrial complexes in Rooksley, how many of them would be deemed Absolutely Necessary to Humankind’s existence? I’m sure that most of them must be just Centres Of Needless Beaurocracy…

4. Walking Into The Sky.
Because I’m walking generally North West, I’ve got a wide-open sky with the slowly descending sun shining through it above me. It’s beautiful.

5. North Loughton Valley Park.
I manage to find myself down in that overgrown quadrant of trees, grass and small stream that lies between the railway line at Bradwell and the dual carriageway past Wymbush. We used to ride our BMXs down here with Nic and Daniel right back in the day. It still feels as hidden an area as it did then. I then accidentally stumble into the grounds of Bradwell Abbey, scene of the excellent Togfest. Must go to that again next year.

6. Rossal Place.
As I was a bit early, I took a slight detour round into Hodge Lea to take a look at our old flat. It looked about the same. I suppose it was only five years ago we lived there.

7. Graffito.
Climbing up the steps into Woodland View at the very south-east end of Wolverton, I come across a massive piece of graffiti on the floor which says “I ♥ Gemma”. I’m hoping it’s the same Gemma who’s so maligned in Beanhill. That would be a nice happy ending. She moved to Wolverton and found love. Here’s hoping.

8. RIP Terry’s.
It probably hasn’t been Terry’s for years, but the newsagent in The Square where Simon and I used to buy our Garbage Pail Kids stickers is now a Polish mini-mart. A sign of the changing demographic – there’s been Halal grocers and African food stores around for a while, but I’ve not seen a Polish one before.

And then to the Jumpers readthrough. It’s going to be very funny – Tony is a perfect choice to play the suicidal clown. Watch this space for further details on the Theatrical Event Of Spring 2008!

On the way back to Conniburrow in a taxi, we saw that roundabout vigil as mentioned in the previous entry about that bloke murdered in Bletchley. It was an incredibly moving sight, actually - the roundabout by the offie covered in candles and flowers, and people sitting there in a makeshift tent. I don't think I've ever seen anything like it. Eerie in the dark, but made me feel good inside too.

Mirror Images - Thu Sep 13

2007-09-13T13:10:00.000Z

Okay – as part of my quest to tie up some of the loose ends, here’s the entry about Milton Keynes On YouTube that I envisaged following up the Wired For Sound entry *.

One of YouTube’s bigger categories of video is Music, whether actual promo vidjos like Sir Cliff’s, or live footage. If you do a basic search for “Milton Keynes” on YouTube, most of the first few pages are clips from live concerts at The Bowl over the years. You know the sort of course: Bon Jovi, Robbie Williams, Green Day, Take That, Queen etc. Or how about this timeless classic from Erasure? (if you can get past the Garland intro!) Nice outfit, Andy.

Another big category as far as our city goes is Skateboarding. Our expressly Seventies architecture makes MK a haven for sk8ing. And clearly some people deliberately come to MK just to film themselves doing it. For example these young ‘uns. Or these. You have to admire some of the camera work! There’s even some grainy archive cine footage from the 80s when skateboarding was actually cool!

We have other Death Sports of course. Simon and Giles have both been Indoor Skydiving at XScape like this. And this is particularly impressive / foolhardy (delete as applicable) – some snowboarders making a custom-built feature somewhere by the canal and filming themselves getting hurt in a variety of ways. Do your legs tingle in empathy whenever you see someone mangled in such a fashion? Mine do.

One of my favourite clips is by a bloke called Meechy who’s actually been in Monkey Kettle! Basically a promo vid for local public art, it not only makes me enthused over public art, it’s got loads of good shots of MK in it and it’s well put together. Strikes right to the heart of both me and the Blog. Good lad. A similar vibe can be found in this five-minute short about MK (if you ignore the iffy voiceover) – I particularly like the interview with the dude from MK Museum. There’s something particularly redolent about that. Milton Keynes. The old, the new.

I was hoping this research would dig up some good old stuff on the early years of MK, and this advert, although blurry, doesn’t disappoint. In fact, the song along makes it a superb piece of entertainment! Just look at those Classic Shops Of Yesteryear, too! “Where the parking’s free…” – hilarious! ;-)

I think I’ll round off with a few of The Inexplicable. This clip just features someone driving around MK at regular speeds and their passenger shooting very shaky footage. And here’s a similar thing at night – with “Cotton-Eyed Joe” as the soundtrack!

This is clearly somebody who likes their hallucinogens having fun with their phone at Wolverton Bonfire Night. Barely anything to see but some good music. I bet Strange Jaymz would like it.

And this one appears to only contain two men from Eastern Europe walking around Springfield filming their walk. About five minutes in it gets slightly more exciting when they spy a kebab van and use a cash machine at Tesco’s Extra. Then right at the end they see a heron. Blimey. When YouTube says “Broadcast Yourself”, they really mean it, don’t they?

And finally finally – some trains. Bye for now! Enjoy!

* DISCLAIMER: YouTube vids can get whisked off the site with nary a warning, so apologies if in a week’s time half these links don’t work! ;-)

Deep Goat - Wed Sep 12

2007-09-12T11:11:00.000Z

Yes yes yes I know, the Blog’s getting behind again! But rest assured Gentle Reader*, this is not due to any slackening of my love for all things Bloggy. In fact, I’ve just started a comprehensive re-read of all the entries this year in order to answer as many of the unanswered questions I’ve set myself in 2007 as possible! And doing so has also made me realise just how much work and effort I’ve put in – it’s virtually novel-length what I’ve done so far!

But of course I’ve been incredibly busy with ‘Allo ‘Allo so please bear with me while I catch up. This one’s The Local News of the last week or so. Ahem. (shuffles papers)

Perhaps most strikingly, three goats have been stolen from an island they lived on in the middle of Willen Lake! I dunno what’s odder, to be honest – that someone would want to steal three goats, or that we’ve dumped a load of goats on an island in the middle of Willen Lake! I meant to have a bit of a look this evening as I walked past it on the way from work to Steve’s house (we spent the evening in Clifton Reynes painting the ‘Allo ‘Allo set!), but as it happened I spent the entire walk on the phone to Underhill about Jim Stag II. A nice way to pass a long walk, mind!

There’s been yet another stabbing, this time at a garage in Bletchley – at least they seem to have the dudes who did it pretty quickly this time, although a reason for the murder doesn’t seem to be apparent yet. More about the roundabout vigil in Conniburrow in Friday’s entry when I get to it.

Also, Bletchley’s had a fire and a flasher. Not the best of weeks for our southern town.

Meanwhile in the Buckingham Advertiser (clearly their MK Citizen if the identically designed website is anything to go by!), they’re looking nervously in our direction as our rampaging monster of a city turns its leviathan head and fixes them determinedly with a mirror-glass glare. Heh heh. I make a mildly amusing metaphor about the destruction of many acres of farming land and pleasant countryside. Heh.

And as if the new mk:hub stuff wasn’t enough, how about a possible extension to XScape? I think the area they’re talking about is the car park between it and the Theatre. It’ll be amazing to look back on 2007 in 2047 and see how things have moved on. Hopefully I’ll have more time on my hands by then for Blogging. MK@80 here we come! ;-)

Zoom!

* I’m assuming Gentle Reader is singular, although I'm sure there's literally billions of you out there! Next time we get an advert for something in the Citizen, I'm going to shoehorn this link in. Zoom!

BEANHILL - Tue Sep 11

2007-09-11T11:32:00.000Z

Not only is the Giant Tin Man’s nose smashed off and his position suggestive of a poor sucker who’s been dumped on his ass, he’s also covered with graffiti.

“Gemma + Viki wanna watch UR backs”
“Hannah n hayley r dick heads”
“Gemma’s a pedo”
“I suck cock”
“Gemma & Vikki legs like the Co-op open 24/7”

etcetera. Poor Gemma.

I wasn’t expecting the Giant Tin Man. He was quite the surprise when I turned the fence into one of the grassy areas between the houses of Beanhill (the “backs” as Diane used to call them). Although he looks a bit more like this now. But I guess he fits into the pantheon of Crazy Seventies Statues Of Milton Keynes (see also the Triceratops, the Eaglestone Griffin and the C******e C**s) fine.

Beanhill (or Muppetville as the graffiti in the underpass through from Coffee Hall announced as I crossed into it) is actually far nicer than I’d thought. I think I’ve only ever been there once before (to shoot the “Beanfare” photo for our Street Name Project), and somehow remembered it as a pretty gyppy, Netherfield spill-over estate. In fact (and despite its reputation – see this article from Building Design, the Architect’s Website!) it’s much cleaner and greener than that.

Yes, there’s signs of problems – some houses with stoved-in letterboxes, others with padlocked iron gates just inches in front of their front doors – but there’s also houses with attractively ‘done-up’ frontages, blooming gardens and shiny jeeps and people carriers outside. So it’s an estate in 3-D at least.

Many of the houses in Beanhill are bungalows, similar to Coffee Hall to the north. Quite a few of them are decked out in that brown corrugated exterior like Netherfield to the east (or Bradville actually, miles away!). And lots of them have this weird fence of wire mesh grids separating them and their front gardens from their neighbours. I don’t know why, but it makes me think of Australia. The more industrious residents have entwined theirs with bushes, vines and creepers. At least that looks nicer. Less like the house is in a cage.

There are shops, of course (a nameless supermarket, a chemist, a shuttered up off licence, Joe’s Fish Bar, and a sandwich shop called Breadline) – and in fact actually we’re not that far from Netherfield’s much bigger shopping area. And as well as the Giant Tin Man there’s the random toadstools also shown on that page. And they’re just by someone’s house next to the redway. Weird!

As I’m sloping through one of the park areas, a man is walking his three dogs. One of them, a rottweiler, runs towards me but he’s called off with a cry of “Come ‘ere Rocky – no!”. A moment later, another fully grown man rides past me on a very small bike indeed. The morning is another bright one and I’m lazily content again to be walking the ways of my home town. Like a travelling hermit. Or even a poet!

So: Beanhill. Not as bad as you might think. Unless of course you’re Gemma from Beanhill. In which case you might want to steer clear of the Giant Tin Man.

Indian Summer - Mon Sep 10

2007-09-10T09:15:00.000Z

They say you can tell the state of a person’s life by what’s in their fridge. Allow me to demonstrate.

In my fridge is:

A tub of Utterly Butterly, one can of Carling, a big bag of cooking onions, about a third of a pint of milk, strawberry jam, mint sauce, salad cream and that bottle of Extremely Hot Chilli Sauce that Duncan at work gave me.

Yes, it’s that time of the month again. I doubt even a chef of Ainsley Hariot’s muster could do much with that!

And yet despite all that, despite the regular no food / no money axis, despite my continuing throat and sense of unease about the future, I had a great day today. It’s the Indian Summer, I think. We spent a long time in the rain this year, didn’t we?

I walked around the City doing my duties (cashing up our penny jar at Sainsbury’s, stretching my credit card to buy hair dye for ‘Allo ‘Allo etc) wearing shorts and a beatific grin on my face. The sun was baking down, and I was out in the day almost as if I was master of my own destiny. Although I’m not at all of course, that feeling that I am is always a powerful one! ;-)

Music too is usually a good indicator of my cheerfulness. I’ve been listening to a lot of The Beatles again this last week, which is always good for business. And though I didn’t think it could happen this far down the line, even the Manics are having their own Indian Summer! Though not many people can be listening by now, “Send Away The Tigers” is their best work since “Everything Must Go”. And that’s immensely heartening too. I thought they’d gone for good. There’s even a song on it called “Indian Summer”, just to help the metaphor along.

We were due for our first Stone Circle practice since July I think, but sadly Gav couldn’t make it and we’ve postponed till tomorrow. Even that didn’t faze me though – I spent the time instead hoovering the flat, chatting to Kendall on the phone and Even Doing Some Writing! Stitch that, Dark Side Of The Brain!

I’m sure this will all come crashing down on another day, but in the meantime grab the feeling while you can! Get out there in the Indian Summer sun and walk in the grass. Sit on a wall. Hide in a bush. Life’s what you make it and other platitudes.

Anyone spare any change?

Manky Sausage - Sun Sep 9

2007-09-09T14:57:00.000Z

Sunday morning woke up with the throat still painful but very slightly less so. Was at least able to converse with Helen a bit before she went to work. And with only a week till the Tech Rehearsal, there was no way I was going to miss another ‘Allo ‘Allo rehearsal… so I grabbed my Lockets and my mp3 player with my scenes on and strolled off into the sunshine.

Actually apart from the throat my other symptoms are pretty mild, so the walk actually cleared me up a bit I think. Striding across Campbell Park in the warm afternoon mouthing along with my lines, e.g.: “I kiss-a your cheek, I kiss-a your ear… let me kiss-a your MOUTH!”

This was my first ever time at the Chrysalis Theatre. Still relatively new, it’s based right at the centre of the Camphill community in Willen Park. In fact as I arrived one of the Camphill residents was there to greet us – and he seemed quite an enthusiast for ‘Allo ‘Allo, even to the point of knowing the names of the original cast!

The Theatre itself is a light, airy space and plenty big, seating about the same amount as Stantonbury. There’s a vague feel of those modern-day churches done up in light woods and glass, but it’s definitely a Theatre. I was shown around the extensive wings and the dressing rooms down under the stage and found myself nodding, impressed.

As the rest of the cast arrived, I discovered that Helga has also had this rough throat – so clearly I’ve caught it off her in the scene when Bertorelli tries to get off with her! What-a mistake-a to etc.

Still, despite my misgivings I didn’t even struggle to get through two full runs. I couldn’t do the Hitler shouting quite as fiercely as I would have liked, and was sucking on throat pastilles most of the time I wasn’t onstage, but all in all not bad. We used an actual German Sausage for the first time (in the scene where the General forces us to eat a sausage that we think contains the famous painting of the Fallen Madonna With The Big Boobies) – and it was absolutely horrible! Cheap and garlicky, we ended up in hysterics trying to carry on acting despite the taste. I hope you appreciate how we suffer for our art.

So, looks like the Throat Crisis has been averted, although I’m still trying to take it easy.

Ooh, I forgot to mention on Saturday night I turned all the lights off and watched “A Tale Of Two Sisters”, the Korean horror film our work colleague Duncan gave me last week. It’s absolutely brilliant – creepy, clever and beautiful to look at. I highly recommend it, the images have been stuck in my head ever since. Brrrrr…

Okay. And another week.

Deep Throat - Sat Sep 8

2007-09-08T14:42:00.000Z

Blargh. Woke up with the back of my throat swollen almost shut. Hurts to swallow, hurts to speak. I’ve had this once before, when we were living in Greenleys, and it’s not pleasant. Talking results in the horrible feeling that I’m choking on my own oesophagus.

Had to postpone our Tour Of The Medieval Churches Of Milton Keynes – for now – and spent most of the day lying on the sofa in silence watching the football or reading. By the evening I could manage more than liquids but only just, some soft pasta was about my limit. Graaagh.

My main concern of course is ‘Allo ‘Allo, especially tomorrow’s double-run rehearsal at Camphill. If I can barely speak, how-a am I gonna do the Hitler? He a shouter!

Again – to be continued!

Opus Day - Fri Sep 7

2007-09-07T08:48:00.000Z

On the way home from work, Simon and I went for a couple of pints for further testing of the Monkey Kettle Pub League Table rules and regulations. We stopped at Yates’s (I was inclined to take a mark off them for bad grammar having s’s in their name, but I guess it might be valid), and sat outside on tin tables next to the big boomy bandstand area. We would have sat down the side opposite Iceland where they’ve annexed a new bit of beer “garden”, but it stank of shit. Which they also lost marks for.

Yates’s didn’t score that highly across the board except for Opening Hours and the price of the food, but it was while we were discussing the 10 / 10 for Location that we got again into the subject of whether Location was indeed a fair criteria. Yes, it’s easy enough to get to the Theatre District from our houses, but is that really a justifiable reason for top marks? Having marked Wolverton House quite highly on Thursday, for example, does it really only deserve 1 / 10 for being difficult to get to?

So on reflection we’ve decided to remove Location from the marking system. It will still be indicated on the league table (which I’ve done though not made live just yet), by a system of coloured fonts. If a pub / bar is located centrally it will appear in green, if it’s somewhere in the middle it’ll be amber, and if it’s on the outskirts it’ll be red. But that won’t affect the overall mark. You can’t say fairer than that.

Instead we’ve replaced it with Aesthetics. The overall visual look and feel of the place, both inside and out. Yates’s doesn’t get much for Aesthetics (5 / 10 in fact), but it’s a full 7 / 10 for the second place we went to, Opus.

I don’t think I’d even seen Opus before. Not as Opus at least. When the Theatre District opened it was Casa, and then for quite a long time the unpretty-looking and badly named Bar Me, but now it’s been done up in caramel colours to become the newest bar / club on the block.

Perhaps it’s unfair to mark bar / clubs on the Pub Scale. Certainly the Atmosphere at 5.30pm on a Friday afternoon is dead compared to how it’d be six hours later. But then actually we’d probably like it even less then. The décor is very nice anyway, mature browns and comfy sofas with areas that clearly become dancefloors when the music kicks in. They’ve got one of those fake wall-hanging fires near the toilets too, and best of all lighting set into the bar so that it changes colour imperceptibly while you watch. I quite enjoyed it for a daytime drink, especially as my old haunt The Rat & Parrot has now gone (though “Thong Song” legend Sisquo is soon playing Buddha Blue which has replaced it!!!).

Anyway, the fine-tuning of the Pub League Table Criteria seems to us to be pretty much done now. Let the fun begin!

As I got home, there was a rat waiting for me on the front doorstep. I paused for a moment wondering how to address it and it ran off into the bushes. I expect it’s another new tenant. Typical. Keep cramming them in!

Wolverton House - Thu Sep 6

2007-09-06T13:07:00.000Z

My first full run through ‘Allo ‘Allo tonight (just as well with less than a fortnight till First Night!) and it’s actually surprisingly coherent. Everything has stepped up a gear while I’ve been away! There’s already some great performances coming out of it – young blonde Chris as Gruber is a treat to watch! The last two shows are already pretty much sold out, so if you’re planning on just turning up to buy a ticket on the night you might be disappointed. Best get one in advance I reckon! Plus it’ll keep the MKTOC admin people happy!

During the “interval” I nipped down to Tesco to get a Powerade and bumped into Paul, Trev & Leckie from Ludamus – apparently they’d been “free running” round Wolverton! Would never have happened in my day, I tell thee!

I was hoping we’d finish in plenty of time to get to Motorbike Simon’s birthday drinks at The Barn (happy b’day from the MK40 Blog, MBS!), but sadly not – and because I had to wait for a lift home from Herr Flick (!), I actually accompanied many of the cast to Wolverton House for a swift pint there. As it turned out this was good for two reasons – one because I could mark it using the Monkey Kettle Pub League Table criteria (see yesterday), and two because it allows me to spend the rest of this entry reminiscing about Wolverton House. Ch-ching!

When me, Jim and Underhill lived in Greenleys (2003 / 04), Wolverton House was our local and we went there quite a lot. Based on the road between Wolverton and Stony opposite the industrial cul-de-sacs of Wolverton Mill, it was only about a ten/fifteen minute walk, easier than going all the way to Stony anyway. We did seem to have a lot of “big meeting up party things” there back in the day. When the world was young.

Set a long way back from the road down a countrysidey lane, it’s not the sort of pub you’d go to regularly unless you had a car, or lived where we lived then. But in terms of summer-afternoon massive-beer-gardeny family-pub fun, it’s very good. I famously used to have regular run-ins with the Geordie barman with spiky hair who’d mock the ever-changing style of my barnet. Like he could talk!

For much of the 20th Century, Wolverton House was the boarding house for Radcliffe students – although what on earth they were doing going to Radcliffe if they didn’t live in Wolverton is beyond me! (speaks the ex-Stantonbury student, waving his fist in the general direction of those oiks!) There’s a good site here which goes a bit more into the history of the house, so if you’re interested at all tuck in! I see it was occupied in the 1840s by a family called the Lovseys! I wonder…

The photograph section on the site is particularly interesting – you can see which bit of the pub used to be which bit of the boarding house. So I’ve eaten dinner with Jim’s relatives in the Girls Common Room! Nice one!

But we haven’t really been to Wolverton House much in the last few years. While it scores high on Atmosphere and Staff, it scores very low indeed on Location. I wouldn’t have been there myself tonight if it hadn’t been for the Gestapo! Still, another pub’s scores are racked up on the Pubometer. Yee-ha!

MK Pub League Table - Wed Sep 5

2007-09-05T13:07:00.000Z

I promised you something new, and here it is. The Monkey Kettle Pub League Table* – an embryonic local resource which a) allows the general Milton Keynes browser to view a fair and consistent system of ratings for local amenities, and b) allows us to go to a load of pubs!

Once we’ve got a few more pubs rated, I’ll put the table live on the Monkey Kettle site (hopefully as part of the now-years-overdue revamp!) and you can see for yourself what we mean. In the meantime, here’s the basics.

A. Who can rate the pubs?
Anyone – as long as there’s at least one member of Monkey Kettle Staff (Matthew, Simon, Jim, MBS, Phil or Nikki) with them. It’s our League Table, after all. Anyone who’s there that wants to can put forward their own scores and then you average them out. Easy peasy. Or give me the scores and I’ll jam them into some kind of Excel Archive.

B. What are the pubs rated on?
Each pub should end up with ten marks out of ten resulting in a percentage score out of 100. These marks are for:

1. Location. I’ve drawn a map with the centre of CMK at the epicentre, which is blu-tacked to my bedroom door. The further out you get, the less points the pub scores – with the exception of those based in popular outlying centres like Wolverton and Stony. It may seem arbitrary to put CMK at the fulcrum, but hey – most of us haven’t got cars and that’s where we live!

2. Price. This is split into two – the price of a pint of Stella and a pint of Cider, and the price of a packet of peanuts, a garlic bread starter and an averagely priced main course. Again, this is scored on a scale that has already been worked out. All of the rest of the criteria (except #9) are to be scored by the jury on the night.

3. Atmosphere. Is it full of chavs, or conducive to animated discussions about poetry? Does it feel friendly or antagonistic? Or deadly silent?

4. Facilities. You know the sort – pool table, cash machine, juke box and especially trivia quiz machines.

5. Staff. Are they friendly? Do they remember you if you come in regularly? Will they lend you a pen if you need one to score their pub for some shoddy website?

6. Smoking Facilities. Does Simon have to stand outside on a lonely carpark in the rain, or does he get a nice awning or gazebo?

7. Food. Quite apart from the price, does it actually taste nice? Are the chips a bit soggy? Does the salad have insects in? Is it tasty?

8. Toilets. Pristine conveniences shining whitely or piss-filled mank-holes?

9. Opening Hours. Again marked on a sliding scale this one and easy to work out – the longer they’re open, the more points they score because the more boozing you can do.

10. Miscellaneous. Basically anything else that’s good about the place that hasn’t come under a previous category. For example, is the coffee Fair Trade? Is it Goth-Friendly? Can Caroline get Nectar Points for ordering food? Etcetera etcetera.

And off we go – as soon as we’ve done say seven or eight pubs I’ll get the table up on the web and you can throw rocks at it. Cheers! (lifts pint)

* Monkey Kettle is not responsible for the state of anyone’s livers other than their own. Your kidneys are at risk if you do not drink enough water. Your mood swings can go down as well as up.

Mouse Dupiaza - Tue Sep 4

2007-09-04T10:05:00.000Z

It’s going to take me a little while to catch up with the Poland back-story (because I want to do it justice!), so I thought I’d carry on with up-to-date back-in-MK entries too. Run the two concurrently till I’m Right In The Now, as it were. Should hopefully all make sense.

I always think this is a Blog with a very narrow readership, but I’m constantly surprised who’s out there. Every time while we were in Krakow I started to tell Marky G what I’d been up to over the last year or so, he knew it already thanks to these very pages. Turns out he’s an avid consumer! I guess that makes it easier to converse with people I haven’t seen in ages – it’s like this Blog is my half of the phone call to you all that I’m never going to make! ;-) So if you are reading, feel free to say “ho” at any time!

My email inbox was groaning under the weight of Google Alerts about Milton Keynes when I got back. I must remember to cancel them like the milk next time I go away! The first one that caught my eye was that the place we order our takeaway curry from, Mister Chef, has been fined for having rubbish hygiene and a mouse problem. I don’t wish to cast aspersions of course, but both the last two times we’ve had curry from them I’ve found the food absolutely lovely but had severe stomach problems afterwards. That’s almost certainly my own erratic constitution though. If there’s any lawyers watching. (whistles innocently)

Someone’s been arrested for that murder across the road from us last month. No details as yet, though I’m keeping an eye out.

Had been due to go round to Fay’s for dinner with Phil tonight, but I was just too knackered (soz Fay!). In an attempt to try and get my sleep patterns back to normal I tried to keep myself awake as long as possible, but was asleep by 10.15 just after “The Tribe” – biorhythms slowly settling back to normal like… well, like something sloshy slowly returning to calm. Clearly my powers of simile are not quite back at their usual greatness either!

And so back to work. Back to life. Ah - the opening night of ‘Allo ‘Allo is a fortnight tonight! Mama Mia!!!

Homeward Bound - Mon Sep 3

2007-09-03T10:10:00.000Z

MMT & The Boys In Poland : Part Four

And so the glorious ride came to a close (this entry's title of course a reference to the chapter in Return Of The King where the Fellowship head for home and slowly disperse!). By the final morning, we were all not necessarily ready to go home, but certainly ready to slow the pace down a notch or two.

After a leisurely breakfast, Underhill led us map in hand to the Jewish district of Krakow (Kazimierz), lying to the south of the castle. At first it proved a bit difficult to find, and we wandered through backstreets wistfully glancing at beer gardens as we passed, but eventually we found ourselves in a beautiful old plaza with intricate synagogues and a definite sense of Old Europeanness. From his map, Underhill was able to tell us that much of Schindler’s List was actually shot here (despite mostly being set in other parts of Krakow).

We had a pint in a beer garden out the back of a small café on the plaza – we were the only people in there (it was still only about 11am), and the café seemed to just be playing the Dirty Dancing soundtrack. We toasted Jim and the Weekend one more time. And played the Dave Kane Game to excess, partly cos we were too tired to think of anything else to say.

For the next hour or so we went our separate ways to buy souvenirs and cheap booze. Underhill and me bought some Honey Vodka (asking the girl behind the counter what the “best” was and discovering it was too expensive, we plumped for the “second best”), and me and Jim bought our missuses some perfume called Vodka before finding out it was actually Man Perfume. Oops!

After one last pint next to Boner Palac, we grabbed our baggages and headed for the station. Far more confident in the ways of Poland than when we’d arrived, we were easily able to negotiate the short train journey this time, and even managed to get a free bus between the Airport train station and the actual Airport, which we’d missed out on on the way in.

With the excitement dwindling, most of us began to sink into a kind of quiet tiredness in the airport. The only real incident of note was Simon’s anger at being rushed through the check-in process under the promise that he’d be able to smoke somewhere in the departure lounge only to find that that wasn’t true. Otherwise, I sat and scribed out my Top Five Poland Moments and we reflected on all the fun we’d had.

It’s always weird how time stretches when you’re on holiday somewhere and trying to cram in as much as possible. It was the same when I was in America. We found ourselves remembering stuff that had happened one or two days previously and it feeling like weeks had elapsed.

I sat with Jim and Underhill on the plane and they both slowly fell asleep. I tried to get Dave across the aisle to get good pics of them both, but Underhill was too vigilant. There’s a good picture of Jim sleeping by the window with my pink shades on though. Essentially the purpose of the Stag Weekend fulfilled.

It was a great trip away, not only something to celebrate the Enhitchment Of Jimbly, but also something I really really needed spiritually. My itchy feet sated for another few months at least. Now for ‘Allo ‘Allo and a new regime.

High time I made myself a cup of tea, with sugar scooped directly from Sugarmama, who returned all the way with me. Oh yes.

Phew.

The End.

Sugarmama & Birkenau - Sun Sep 2

2007-09-02T10:48:00.000Z

MMT & The Boys In Poland : Part Three

In the beer garden the night before, me and Mark and Underhill had invented the character of Sugarmama. Sugarmama was a small white porcelain bowl of sugar who had been on the table – one of those bowls with a lid and a small spoon sticking out like a tongue. Sugarmama talked a lot like Towelly from South Park, and she did it by opening her lid and propositioning us in her high pitched Southern drawl – “heeey Simon Underhill… you wanna little sugah?”

So when she rang our room to speak to me at six AM, I knew something had gone wrong with the fabric of the universe. That was the kind of day it turned out to be.

To recap: after only about three hours of sleep, I woke again at four. Now, my brain in the early hours of the morning is one of the most frustrating places you could ever be – and so it was that I spent the rest of the night lying on the bed failing to get back to sleep. About five, I heard the familiar voices of Mark, Jim, Dave and Underhill come back to the hotel and rumble away indistinctly below our window out on the street. It went quiet again for a bit, and then maybe forty-five minutes later Jim stumbled into the room carrying a massive can of beer and went immediately to sleep.

And then the phone started ringing. The first time he answered it, and although some kind of subterfuge was clearly intended, I heard him say “I know it’s you, Dave – I can hear Mark laughing in the background.”

He didn’t answer it again after that. James T was done. And so it fell to me to speak to Sugarmama. And then I took the phone off the hook.

But I was oblivious to the full extent of what was unravelling downstairs in the reception. Not only had Dave, Mark and Underhill managed to charm the receptionist (I forget her name – boys?) into letting them ring our room repeatedly, Dave also batted his eyelashes at her until she gave him a key to our room. Which I discovered when I sat up in bed to find the three of them creeping not very quietly in. I think my exact words were “you FUCKING bastards!” – hardly Shakespeare, you’ll agree, but it was half six in the morning after two days of drinking. I'm not a young man! ;-)

Their plan had apparently been to place Sugarmama herself – who Underhill had “liberated” from the pub with the beer garden – on my pillow and wake me up so she was the first thing I saw. Even without my insomnia, it would never have worked. The goons.

Early-morning breakfasters at the Ascot Hotel glanced distastefully at the table of four men in the far corner that Sunday. Three of them were clearly drunk and had been out all night. You could tell because they were dropping breakfast wieners in each other’s cereal and apple juice and sniggering. The fourth figure was a bleary, comically tetchy poet who just wanted to sleep. Please God let them tire soon. Eventually I hit upon the idea of declaring Mark the “winner of the night”, Last Man Standing, and that helped them stop the crazy ride.

Poor old Mark actually then had to go straight to the station and embark on his seven-hour train journey back to his original Polish destination where kids and nappies and in-laws awaited him. Still, seems like fair punishment for disturbing my beauty kip.

I got to have a second breakfast about two hours later when Jim finally awoke. Far more pleasant than the first, we then ambled into the Old Town again. The Fellowship seemed strewn ever further across the streets of Krakow.

This was exactly what I’d pessimistically predicted would happen with our projected trip to Auschwitz. And yet nobody wanted to be the one to say “dude, no way – I’m too shagged to visit the Nazi Death Camps”. Which in the end was the right thing to do – I am genuinely glad we went.

Is glad the right word? Well. You know.

It was all part of a coach tour which picked up from four Krakow hotels at 2.40pm. We then had about an hour’s drive through the countryside to the west, during which almost all of the eight remaining Fellowship members (Gandalf having fallen in Moria of course!) grabbed some much needed shut-eye.

Auschwitz is split into two main sites – the actual Auschwitz I which we visited first, and Birkenau a couple of minutes in the coach from that. Auschwitz I was the original site and is basically barracks converted into a concentration camp. We were led in under the famous “Arbeit Macht Frei” by our Polish tour guide, and the intention was for her to lead the coach-group round and give us the basic history. As luck and Jim’s state of health would have it, he had to come outside again quite quickly, and with me and Underhill taking it in turns to look after him, I was able to actually walk round the site on my own, which I think I found more appropriate. I missed the rooms full of hair and shoes, but I did stand alone in the execution yard, lost in thought.

Although it was definitely a sobering place, I didn’t feel the chill of evil I’d expected to. Perhaps it was the tour-guide-style signs, or the vague sense of Heritage Siteness. Birkenau was a different matter.

Birkenau is the second site that they built after Auschwitz I. You may have seen it in some of those grim war films – the place where the trains crammed full of doomed Jews arrive on the track under the archway and find themselves in amongst the barbed wire pens and ramshackle wooden sheds. It goes on for miles. That’s what we couldn’t get over. Miles.

Again, I managed to “lose” the tour party and have a wander round on my own. The vastness of the site I’m not sure I can convey. From the eerie overgrown tracks you can see compound after compound stretching into the distance. On the far horizon is a row of trees, possibly about a mile away. And the compounds reach that. And that’s just one direction.

But even here there was beauty, perversely perhaps. The fading summer sun was setting behind that line of trees. It was a genuinely lovely evening. Even Jim felt better.

Back in Krakow, a quartet of me, Simon, Dave and Underhill went for dinner in a rustic Polish café that Simon had found previously. We had crusty bread and a mug of lard to dip it in, which I found frustratingly nice – the last thing my diet needs is more lard – and smoked eel, and a great big wooden board full of meat.

Woken in the night by drunkards and a pot of sugar trying to seduce me. The site of the senseless murder of millions of people. Lard for dinner. You can’t say that we didn’t give Jim an original Stag Weekend!

To be concluded…

Tower Of Herring - Sat Sep 1

2007-09-01T18:41:00.000Z

MMT & The Boys In Poland : Part Two

They say never leave a man down, but the first morning we woke in Krakow it was difficult to tell who had fallen where. At about quarter to nine my room-mate Jimmy Türl leant over to the phone and called reception in a croaky voice to find out what time breakfast ended. Learning it was half ten, we still had a little while to groan and creak before heading down for our free meal and see what had happened to the rest of The Fellowship.

Breakfast in a Polish hotel is slightly different from breakfast in an English, or even an American one come to that. The left hand side of the self-service table was fine – breakfast cereal, fruit and juice. But the right hand side groaned with foods I knew but would never have placed in the First Meal Of The Day: salami, chorizo, sliced ham and turkey. Pate for Chrissake! Slivers of Edam, small knobs of Brie! Still, at least there were cups of tea to be had as we tried to shake ourselves into life.

The only member of the team to be up before us was Andy, who consistently displayed the constitution of a rhino – he’d been swallowing lit matches in a nightclub only six hours previously but he’d already been for a run that morning! With no-one else emerging yet though, Jim and I headed off for a stumble into the Old Town. The Main Square was relatively deserted in the early morning air, but already one of the huge advertising mega-banners which drape the sides of some of the larger buildings had been replaced since the previous night – now a vast Piers Brosnan stared down at us from above with twinkling eyes.

We bought a few souveniry things and wandered down a street from the Main Square which turned out to lead to Wawel Castle, the famous castle on the ancient hill overlooking Krakow. Mark later told us the story of King Krak, the legendary founder of Krakow who gave his daughter’s hand in marriage to a poor cobbler who was able to rid the city of the Dragon who lived under Wawel Hill.

That afternoon we returned to the hill and the castle, having finally discovered that the rest of our party were alive and well (except Dean, who really wasn’t well at all!) – after a bit of lunch and a couple of pints next to Boner Palac it was off to do some sight-seeing.

You can actually go down into the Dragon’s Cave for just 3 zloty each. The entrance is on the side of the hill which overlooks the Vistula, the river flowing through Krakow, and once we’d paid we descended an extremely tight spiral staircase for what seemed like an eternity under the ground. It made all of us in our fragile states very dizzy, and in fact I couldn’t wait to get out of the cave – which was, after all, just a bit of an old cave under a Castle.

Up till this point we’d been doing pretty well with our stilted basic Polish. Sean had prepared me with “jinky” (“thankyou”) before I’d set out, and although “jinkveer”, “jinkvay” and “jinkway” were all seemingly alternatives, the natives seemed happy to hear us make a blundering attempt to converse in their tongue.

Likewise the money wasn’t much of a problem. Each fifty-zloty bill is about a tenner, we kept reminding ourselves. So five zlotys was a quid or thereabouts. But when we went into the little café down by the river, Underhill was the unlucky recipient of a middle-aged lady who seemed outraged that he a) didn’t speak fluent Polish, and b) didn’t realise she was trying to ask for some of the sub-unit of the zloty, the grosz. For the uninitiated, there are 100 groszy in a zloty, meaning that each grosz is worth about 0.2 pence. I’ve kept a one grosz coin just to prove that such things exist, although what use they are we couldn’t really tell.

For the rest of the afternoon, Andy, Jim and myself headed off to the Galeria (that big shopping mall) cos I needed some new socks. Of course, shopping malls are pretty much the same the world over now – you could see all the big chains and work out what they were even though many of the names were different (for example The Foot Locker trainer shop seems to be called The Athlete’s Foot in Poland, which maybe doesn’t give out the right message?). In fact the only thing that the Galeria had which the City Centre doesn’t have is a pet shop in the middle of the mall, selling rabbits and fish to the gen pub.

In the evening we went for a slap-up meal at a posh restaurant. I had a tower of herring and beetroot (!) for the starter and Pork Sirloin Soaked In Pepper Vodka for my main course. And it was absolutely lovely. We had more vodka and the Stag Party was content.

And then we found a beer garden somewhere in the middle of a back street block and stayed there for some hours just laughing and drinking and laughing. That was where we invented The Dave Kane game, which kept us going through the rest of the trip – basically you substitute the words Dave, Kane, or Dave Kane for the actual lyrics of a song. The first one I did was “Geno” by Dexys Midnight Runners as “woah-oh Kano” for example. Other classics include “I’m Only Happy With Dave Kane”, “What A Difference A Dave Makes”, “Eight Daves A Week”, you get the picture. And you probably had to be there!

I flaked out at about one (but in my defence me and Jim had been up much longer than most of the others!). Staggering back to the hotel and bed, I felt sweet relief on crashing to the mattress. Little did I know my night was still just beginning…

Yes, a cliffhanger!

To be continued!

"I'm Fucking Gandalf!" - Fri Aug 31

2007-08-31T17:54:00.000Z

MMT & The Boys In Poland : Part One

Downstairs under the ground in Harris Jazz Club, Krakow, Poland, a quartet of heavy-set men called Bluesmobile are coming to the close of an extended blues solo. The harmonica player is somehow shooting flames from his mouth via his instrument.

In the back room, nine men round two tables are drinking Bison Grass Vodka and drunkenly deciding which one out of the Fellowship of the Ring each one is. Obviously Jim is the Ringbearer, and so he’s unanimously Frodo. Underhill bagsies Sam, the faithful serving boy. Andy (Jim’s Uncle) is Merry, and Dean (Jim’s Cousin) is Pippin to complete the Hobbit quartet. Simon states that he’s clearly Boromir (i.e. the one who ends up betraying them all and going mental), and my luscious flowing locks and camp demeanour cast me as Legolas, the poncey elf. Jim’s future brother-in-law Steve is a little put out to have to be Gimli - but then Dave’s taller and has a beard, so he gets to be Aragorn.

Mark is starting to get annoyed at not being Aragorn himself, but before his protests get too vehement, a slow dawning smile spreads across his face. “Yes…” he realises, “I’m fucking GANDALF!” And so the first catchphrase of The James Trevor Tearle Krakow Stag Do 2007 is born.

But let me backtrack a little. We land at Krakow Airport mid-afternoon, and successfully negotiate a 15-minute train journey to the centre of the city. This is the first time I’ve been abroad in two-and-a-half-years and only the second time I’ve ever been abroad to a non-English speaking country as an adult.

To begin with the sky is the same, the faces look the same, and there’s even a massive three-storey shopping mall (the Galeria) next to the station. But once we cross over the tramway and into the long street where our hotel is (the Ascot Hotel on a street called Radziwillowska), things start to change.

We’re staying about five minutes’ walk from the edge of the “Old Town” of Krakow, the original medieval city – and Milton Keynes this ain’t! After we’ve checked in and freshened up, Andy and Dean (who have been here once before on a previous Stag Party) and Mark (who we’ve met up with in Poland cos he was here already visiting his wife’s family and is therefore a bit of an expert) lead us into the Main Square. It’s the centrepiece of Krakow, and it’s quite quite breathtaking.

The largest medieval town square in Europe, it’s vast. Big enough to have a large building (the Cloth Hall) in the middle of it and still have space for two massive open cobbled areas, it is lined around the outskirts by literally two dozen or more café bars. And with another dozen or so streets leading off into the mysterious streets of the Old Town, the size of it staggered us. So much so that we had to get some beer into us. Oh yes.

About half way along the north side of the Main Square we randomly selected one of the café bars for our inaugural Krakow pints. It turned out to be a handy place for us to use as a central base of operations in fact, so we ended up going to it at least once every day we were there. I think from the receipt I kept as a souvenir that it was called Gehanowska or Kawiarnia, but it was next door to a café bar called Boner Palac, so that’s what we ended up calling it anyway.

We had a few pints there, and some very nice kebabs on skewers for our tea, and the grey afternoon slowly turned into quite a lively night. Occasionally trios of twelve-year-old boys dressed in shell suits would try and prise money out of us by doing some badly-performed breakdancing nearby, but other than that things felt mellow. I spotted quite early on that our waitress for the evening looked like Guy Secretan, which sadly failed to earn me any points on our embryonic People Scoring Points For Doing Good Things chart. Humph.

I won’t go into too much detail about the night out – “what happens in Krakow stays in Krakow” etc – but suffice it to say the beer and Bison Grass Vodka flowed, the nine of us bonded as a unit of sensitive yet enthusiastically drunk men, one of our party was sick in a hip-hop cellar and we were asked to leave, another of our number pulled a girl using just the powers of salsa, and our first half-day in Poland lasted well into the early hours of the morning.

“I’m Fucking Gandalf!”

To be continued…

Blog On Holiday - Aug 27, 28, 29, 30

2007-08-29T13:25:00.000Z

Right - till I come back from Poland next week and tell you all about it, the MK Blog is on a much-needed holiday!!

Coming soon though: The Monkey Kettle Pub League Table; Matthew, Phil and Caroline explore the Medieval Churches of Milton Keynes; and 'Allo 'Allo : The Final Reckoning! Plus more harmless nostalgia and wistful philosophical meandering from The Mirror City @ 40. Ho yus.

Enjoy the sunshine you types,

MMTXXX

The Leaflet Dance - Sun Aug 26

2007-08-26T07:56:00.000Z

You know that thing you do when you walk past somebody handing out leaflets in the City? If you’re like me, you’ll do one of three things:

1. avoid eye contact completely, and stride on past as if you’re in the most important hurry of your life;
2. politely but firmly raise a hand in rejection as if you already know what’s in the leaflet and it couldn’t be further from being something you’d be interested in;
3. or take one impatiently and chuck it into the nearest bin, still within plain sight of the leaflet-hander-outers.

Well, we had plenty of all three over the hours I spent Sunday lunchtime at the City’s Information Kiosk (you know, between Woolworths and the doors to the Market) dressed once more as an Italian Captain and trying to hand out leaflets to this season’s premier sitcom-based farce!

Actually I don’t begrudge the people who don’t want to be given leaflets while they’re shopping. But I did get pretty good at spotting who would like a leaflet. They’ll either establish eye contact with you while they’re still some way off, or their face will break into a smile when they see your costumes. Or maybe they’ll even look openly perplexed, so that you can give them a leaflet just to explain why there’s a diminutive Nazi in a leather trenchcoat standing in the City Centre drinking ribena from a wine glass.

A brief anecdote for those of you keen to ride the rollercoaster of my diet / self-esteem issues a little further. Reclining behind the kiosk desk with my feet up on a quick break, a pair of elderly ladies who seemed to know our esteemed director Steve came up to us. “Oooh, are YOU in the play?”, one of them cackled, “I’m definitely coming to see it if YOU’RE in it!”

Starting to fill with pleasure (um… no, not like that!) at the idea that someone would find me foxy on sight, even a lady of more “senior” vintage, I thanked her profusely in character as the randy Italian. She turned to her friend. “Hasn’t he got a nice face? I like a nice fat face.”

And the house of cards in my soul crumbles once more. Still, there’s an amusing story in it at least. ;-)

Having survived the ordeal – the main threat to my sanity not the general public but the looped CD of the ‘Allo ‘Allo theme music – I hied me to the Barn, where some pints in a beer garden seemed like the best idea. And I even managed to attract some lesser-spotted guests out in the sunshine: The Kendalls, just on their way back home to Birmingham dropped in for a pint and a half, and Jimbly Jim cycled over for a few, which meant me and him and Simon could talk about Poland. Which is coming up in just five short days, fact fans! So far I’ve learnt the words “jinky” (“thankyou”), “sheprasham” (“excuse me”) and “vodka” (“vodka”). One of the bar staff in the Barn overheard me practising and tried to teach us the Polish for “hurry up” (she sez so many of their bar staff are Polish now that she picks it up via osmosis), but it was too long and we were getting merry. I know it ended in “shipshef” or summat.

Ah well, I’ll stick with the polite ones for now. And learn “look at my sexy fat face” while I’m there, maybe.

Sweaty Capt Cools Off - Sat Aug 25

2007-08-25T10:51:00.000Z

There’s a whole entry about the forthcoming Monkey Kettle Pub League Table coming in a few days, so I’ll spare you the details of our Friday night at the Barn here. Suffice it to say as usual I got far too excited that it was the weekend and I didn’t have to be at work any more and got too drunk. Drunk as a poet on payday, the saying goes, dunnit. Ah yes.

But Saturday was an altogether more productive day. I winched my bleary self out of bed mid-morning and slung on my Italian WWII regalia to head down to Dobbies Garden Centre for an ‘Allo ‘Allo “personal appearance” – i.e. a chance to try and flog tickets to the middle-aged and elderly! ;-)

Dobbies is a national chain of garden centres, but I’d never been to the MK branch before. It’s right down the south end, off the far bit of Fenny Stratford next to Pink Punters and in the shadow of the Brickhills. A massive and impressive complex it is too, although when I asked my Mum about it later (she being an expert on garden centres) she opined that it wasn’t quite ‘gardeny’ enough and a bit too ‘home improvementy’.

Anyway, those of the cast that were available on a Saturday wandered round for an hour or two, sweltering in our thick army jackets on what had turned into a very nice sunny weekend day. A few people seemed genuinely excited that ‘Allo ‘Allo was being put on and promised to come and see it – although that could have been because the Nazis were threatening to shoot them.

As luck would have it, I’d arranged an escape route from the broiling torment of Dobbies – Chris and Sophie came and picked me up and we went swimming at Wolverton’s outdoor pool! Exactly what I needed to cool down!

We used to go to Wolverton pool quite a lot – it’s still one of the best places to be in Wolverton on a baking August afternoon like this! As far as I know, they’re still planning to knock it down very soon and build a new Olympic-sized pool for Radcliffe on the site, so I was doubly keen to experience it one last time.

The sky was open, clear and that really good deep blue that British skies get when they’re eventually hot. My shoulders felt the sun for the first time this year, and my hangover evaporated as I sat in the cool water of the Medium pool, Chris and I trying to get Sophie to touch the bottom of the shallow end with her feet.

As always, the only drawback with Wolverton pool is that 80% of the clientele are wire-hard chavs with taut alley-fighting bodies or their puffy girlfriends, but to be honest the weather seemed to have struck everyone very mellow indeed. I did a few lengths in the Big pool (where Simon once almost caught pneumonia when Bushfield made us swim there one winter!) and then we went for ice creams. Heaven.

Then it was round to Haversham and some secret preparations for Chris’ 30th next week that I can’t go into here. But it was good.

And that was Saturday! Happy Bank Holiday!

Clock Face - Fri Aug 24

2007-08-24T12:12:00.000Z

Matthew’s Favourite Things About Milton Keynes – A Very Occasional Series

#2 – The New Bradwell Clock Tower

Yeah, this is more like it. No moaning about diets today, just some straight-up good old-fashioned enthusing about a local landmark! Back atcha!

The New Bradwell Clock Tower, actually a War Memorial that they built there because they couldn’t find the land for a Memorial Hall, has been there since before Milton Keynes! It was unveiled in 1962, five years before the City officially got going. What I didn't know before researching this entry was that that whole area of New Bradwell is actually known as the Corner Pin – named because that’s where the original road (which goes past that award-winning chip shop!) bends abruptly. The Victorian terraces round that way mostly date from the late 1800s. But our Clock Tower is very much of the 1960s – just look at that clock face! Groovy white circles instead of numbers? Swingin’, daddio!

What do I love about the New Bradwell Clock Tower? I s’pose it’s that when I see it I feel like I’m Almost Home. Whether it was driving back from the City before the Stoneybridge section of Grafton Street opened, or walking back from Stantonbury as a moody teenager – when the New Bradwell Clock Tower came into sight, it meant there was just the short stretch down the road to Haversham to go and I’d be comfy in a chair in no time.

I suppose I always knew in the back of my mind that it’s a War Memorial. There’s big crucifixes inlaid in the brick on a couple of the sides, but done nice and subtle like so you can’t see them automatically. Apparently there’s a Book Of Remembrance inside. I can’t remember the last time I actually walked up to it and had a look though – so that’s something to do next time I’m trudging through.

[interlude: at work today I was sat waiting for my Helpdesk slot to start and idly noticed a pretty girl out the window. After a moment’s lazy contemplation of said pretty girl, I noticed a young feller walking along the path opposite who was also noticing her. I sat watching him watching her for about thirty seconds completely undisturbed. A pleasant slice of life.]

You don’t always notice the little things. Or at least I don’t. But oh - here’s to the New Bradwell Clock Tower. You’re Almost Home.

Feeling Googley - Tue Aug 21

2007-08-21T09:29:00.000Z

Andy would probably bow his head in shame, but I’ve only just cottoned on to Google Alerts. I’m sure there’s all sorts of whizzy RSS feed ways of doing this (and if anyone can recommend one for IT dolts like me, feel free!), but as of now I’m quite enjoying getting four or five emails a day telling me all the new entries on Google which contain my specific key words. Alright, so half of them seem to be advertising web sites or estate agents or worse, but still – my finger feels on the pulse! What a time to be alive! ;-)

My specific key words are “Monkey Kettle” (nothing yet, but I’ll keep you posted! :-D) and “Milton Keynes”. And the “Milton Keynes” one is coming up trumps in terms of keeping up to date with local news without having to do anything complicated like actually GO to the MK Citizen web page! So hopefully it’ll help me bring the best nuggets of MK news to this very Blog on an even more up to the minute basis. Or something.

So: this week’s local news!

BONG! Monk Dies In Freak Mower Accident

BONG! Old lady robbed in Netherfield

BONG! BONG! BONG!

It’s lovely to have Phil back, by the way – and I’m sorry the recent news of murder in Oldbrook sounded grim after the excitement of your travels, dude! I’m guessing you also won’t be that pleased to hear about a man getting beat up by some teenagers just for trying to stop them torturing a hedgehog. It’s pretty miserable stuff. I don’t want to get all Tabloid-Hysterical-Reclaim-Our-Streets-From-The-ASBO-Teens, but for fuck’s sake. This is not a dainty world.

How about some cheerful news? They’re going to do up Bletchley – although I’m also a bit sad they’ll be knocking down the huge plastic pyramid that was such a big part of my childhood. Still, it’s not been the same since they demolished that Seventies walkway from the multi-storey to the Leisure Centre. That was fantastic!

We recycle our street litter here in MK which apparently other towns and cities don’t do! Hurrah for us!

And, er, that’s about it for cheerful news. On the other hand – this is proper mental – the story of an MK Citizen reporter who’s apparently being victimised by the Police in a proper latter-day-paranoia-Big-Brother-state-Block-and-the-Wire kind of a way! I’ll have a bit more of a look into this and see if I can work out the whole story! Nightmare! Perhaps I shouldn’t even be writing about it! Especially as Google now know I’ve accessed the story! Ulp! :-S

These Things I Saw - Mon Aug 20

2007-08-20T17:33:00.000Z

While walking from Oldbrook to Haversham on a cloudy Monday morning in August.

1. The back of Christ The Cornerstone Church, CMK.
Where we did “The Dumb Waiter” for Paperfish back in 2003 – Keith directing me and Chris in Pinter’s excellent one-acter about two blokes hanging about in a room. That and being Joe Propaganda in “The Block And The Wire” (Ludamus) that same summer were the last times I’ve been involved as an actor in full-length stage plays. And cripey, I’ve missed it. Roll on “’Allo ‘Allo” and “Jumpers” this Autumn!

2. The view from Bradwell Common Boulevard.
I’ve walked along here quite often, but until today I hadn’t noticed quite how far to the west you can see from the top of the rise. Past Crownhill, Loughton, the Shenleys, all the way to the western slopes. As I crossed the road still gazing to my left, I slid quite a long way in a patch of mud and actually went “whoaaaah!” as I did so. Like a character in a cartoon might.

3. There IS a nice end of Heelands.
It’s down the bottom right. Some of it could almost be Downhead Park! And you know how some times you get a song stuck in your head and it just won't go away? I tend to find that happens even more if I'm walking a long way with no mp3 player. In fact I often end up catching myself muttering it under my breath, as if to spur me onwards. Today's is "I'm Only Sleeping" by The Beatles.

4. Those crazy flats above Heelands shops.
Who lives there, man? I don’t think I’ve seen Heelands shops in daylight for quite some time! Chris Townsend, are you here? Who lives there? Old people?

5. Formula One Mobility Scooters.
Walking down the slope from Heelands to Bradville, I heard the noise of a motorbike behind me. In fact it turned out to be an elderly chap on a mobility scooter. Perhaps he’s souped it up or something. Or perhaps it’s broken. What am I, a mechanic?

6. Bradville Allotments.
Me and Jim were always going to get an allotment together. I wonder if we ever will?

7. Stoneybridge.
Whenever we’d drive past the dull little industrial estate of Stonebridge in the early Nineties, especially on our way back from a long journey, we’d shout “Stoneybridge!” in high-pitched Scottish accents, referencing the long-forgotten comedy show Absolutely. Today I see four rabbits sitting equidistant from each other in a row on a patch of grass. It looks incredibly suspicious. Must have been Silflay.

8. The Dance Of The Cranes
I know I’m getting over-excited about developments at Wolverton Park. Perhaps it’s because although Milton Keynes changes in the time it takes to turn in a full circle, Wolverton where I first grew up has remained relatively unaltered. This is a whole new part of my childhood haunt becoming something new and apparently beautiful. Plus you can see the cranes for miles away, moving in some kind of elegant ballet of building.

9. Oh Look, There’s My Dad Driving Past
As I got to the last leg. So I went and helped him do a Tesco’s shop. He bought me Scotch Eggs specially for my lunch. Ch-ching!

poem cos I'm ill - Aug 14, 15, 16

2007-08-16T09:21:00.000Z

Some Days Netherfield Feels Like A Fucking Shanty Town

Baking sun on tin;
the sick and swampy grin of
the bayou.

In these streets
nine-year-olds carry gris-gris.
There is voodoo.

Standing thigh-deep
in the murky water.
I’m the ju-ju
wicasa wakan of Netherfield.
You’re my Louisiana
daughter.
Here’s my
alligator heart.

Kids in rags
suck drags
from fags.

The Tavern’s doors are
flung apart.
Hardly a yard of
mardi gras here.
Hahaha, more mardy than grass:
and no-one’s feeling mellow.
Struck fierce with beer,
fist clenched round glass,
tight hands.
The Broadlands
and the crocodilic bellow
of karaoke:
I’m A Believer.

The whole towelling
tracksuit family
struck down with
Yellow Fever.
A grandmère at thirty.

Turbid. Turgid. Dirty.
Steaming in the
deep south
- the MK Delta.
Screaming
shut your fucking mouth
and keep it shut.
I’m staggering back
inside my dripping
metal hut
to swelter.
Swamps and aches.

The cord is cut.
The levee breaks.

FOX MILNE / PINEHAM - Mon Aug 13

2007-08-13T17:32:00.000Z

I have lived in Milton Keynes for twenty-seven or so of my thirty-two-and-a-bit years, and while estates like Conniburrow, Oldbrook, Stantonbury and Bradwell, or towns like Wolverton, Stony and Bletchley trip off the tongues of my friends and colleagues like water, I can’t think that I’ve ever heard anyone ever mention in polite conversation either one of Fox Milne or Pineham. Correct me if I'm wrong!

And so, feeling ambitious on a Monday afternoon, I decided to take a detour on the way to band practice and have a wander round these mysterious estates. Turns out there’s good reason why no-one ever mentions either of them!

Fox Milne lies to the east of the south half of Willen Lake, over the River Ouzel as it flows north. If you walk on past that huge new adventure playground complex with all the high bridges and sliding wire things (and past the signs that say “Caution! Model Railway”) you’ll be there.

And it’s basically another industrial estate, albeit slightly newer than some of the others I’ve visited in my quests. The south part is called “Eastlake”, and resembles a kind of industrial estate cum alpine lodge. Some of it is in fact a Holiday Inn, which might explain this, but other bits are emblazoned with what seem like hilariously fake generic industry names: OMRON and ACCOUNTAX. If you’re interested, Omron make industrial parts and electronic components, while Accountax do something like act as consultants to accountants agencies. Blimey.

The north part of Fox Milne is even more industrial – two giant warehouse complexes (DHL and Unisys) nestle in the trees behind huge fences and entry gates. It’s all very sinister, if you’re of that kind of bent. Which I am. But it does explain why no-one’s ever said “hey, let’s go for a pint in Fox Milne”.

I’d be even more surprised if anyone asked me for a pint in Pineham. Looking at the map, it’s clear that there’s virtually nothing there but the Cotton Valley Sewage Works, which presumably – ahem – 'caters' for all of our MK needs. Again, it’s shielded from the sight of poets by a thick layer of trees (some of them pines, of course!) which in turn surrounds a thick layer of high fences, as far as I could make out. Fair enough, I guess. They want to keep our business private.

Pineham is across the grid road to the east of the north half of Willen Lake, and once you get past the section cordoned off by the Sewage Works, the Ouzel flows under a bridge and into barren grass land on the way to Newport. Clambering down the side of the bridge, I come across a deserted BMX track with sand blowing forlornly from its lonely hummocks – and the Helipad I always wondered about.

The M1 is loud here, I’ve reached right to the east border of MK. Over the Ouzel there’s another small patch of overgrown pasture, but there’s nothing there either. On the way back up to the grid road I do see a fox in broad daylight, surprised by me and legging it into the trees. And I think if memory serves me correct the picnic area just off Tongwell Street is one of the places I used to drive with me ex to make out in the back seat. A looooong time ago now of course.

And then it’s farewell to the noisy motorway fields of Pineham and off to Martin’s. A good long walk, even if there were no pubs along the way. MMT – he goes on long jaunts to the Sewage Works so you don’t have to! I hope you’re grateful!

The Ibbotson-Taylor Coefficient - Sun Aug 12

2007-08-12T18:27:00.000Z

And in other news…

Nikki and I visited our second of Milton Keynes’ swimming pools Friday night – this time Middleton Pool in Newport Pagnell. But before we get there, a quick word about driving through Newport itself early on a Friday evening. Blimey, it looks packed! Okay, so it’s sunny and the smoking ban has probably encouraged more outside drinking than usual, but just look at the number of people outside the pubs! You wouldn’t see that in Stony or Bletchley or Wolverton. Kudos! We’ll have to check it out one Friday, I reckon*.

On the way, we worked out our scoring system for the swimming pools, and discovered that Woughton had scored 5 out of 10 over all. I’m calling this system the Ibbotson-Taylor Coefficient, and hopefully it will one day be adopted all over the world in the cut-throat world of Swimming Pool Rating.

Middleton Pool scored a much more impressive 8! And here’s why – it’s fucken massive! At least twice the size of Woughton, it meant that although there was about the same number of kids mucking about, there was still plenty of space for proper length-swimming – even despite the continued lack of lanes! I did nine-and-a-half lengths, and am still feeling it two days later! But of course it’s early doors in my swimming rehabilitation.

When I took my t-shirt off in the changing room on my way in to the pool, I remembered I’d got two Spiderman, one Wolverine and one The Thing tattoos on my left arm from the bubble gum someone had brought into work! D’oh! Still, once I was underwater I don’t think anyone noticed. Ahem.

The next morning on my way to the station I walked past the flat where David Williams was killed the other week. All along the front railings are floral tributes and Jamaican flags. I don’t really have anything to add about that, but thought I’d mention it while we’re here.

On yer actual Sunday, of course, I was far too knackered and hung over from being in London to do much at all. Simon kindly offered to buy me and Helen lunch, but I was too shagged even for that. Instead I lay on the sofa or on the bed listening to football or watching Transformers videos (“Desertion of the Dinobots”, fact fans!). Or reading Aeschylus. Ho yus.

Right. Another week down. What’s next?

(claps hands together)

* Even though technically (TECHNICALLY!) Newport isn’t in Milton Keynes.

Stags On The River - Sat Aug 11

2007-08-11T10:52:00.000Z

Harrow & Wealdstone, Bushey. Kings Langley, Watford Junction. Hemel. I think it was Berkhamsted when the bloke with the gravelly voice and his mates got off, and the smartly attired indie bloke on the seats to my left leant over and said “I think it was interesting that he received two phone calls during the journey and in both of them he told outright lies”.

I struggled to raise my head and stare at him through bleary eyes. Pausing for a moment to collect my thoughts, I eventually muttered “duplicitous”.

This was getting on for quarter to midnight. We’d started drinking at midday, so “duplicitous” was not bad going.

Yes indeed, The Stag Day Of Lee Nelson esq. and I spent the day boozing in London. And lived to tell the tale.

In this confusing summer of Weddings and Stags I was actually missing the wedding of Jason Greenaway esq., which was a great shame. But then I’m also missing Lee’s wedding in a few weeks time cos I’ll be in Auschwitz for Jim’s Stag Weekend. Like a crazy chain. No-one organise their Stag Day for Nov 2, cos I can’t come!

Lee’s just moved back to Luton from London, but it was London we hit like a… like a… well, like a small group of thirtysomething men, really. I arrived at Tufnell Park at 10 to meet up with Lee, his dad, uncle and cousins, and a gang of mates, some of whom I knew (Chris Smith & Ian mainly), some I didn’t. By the end of the night, we were all comrades.

Now, I’m not much for Stag Days. Although I like drinking, I’ve never been a fan of masculine camaraderie, openly leering at women or trying to make people be sick just cos they’re getting married soon. Luckily there wasn’t too much of that on this one! ;-)

After a much-needed fry-up breakfast, we decamped to Bank and the Docklands Light Railway. I have never been on this before, so it’s quite exciting to go up all high and see the ongoing development of the Docklands area. I don’t actually know what it looked like before, to be honest, but it’s smashing now.

And then to Greenwich for the start of the drinking. After a few pints there we jumped on a ship and cruised up the Thames. It took about ninety minutes to get to Westminster, and it was the highlight of the day for me – swigging warm lager and gazing out at the sights as we slowly sailed by. I’ve never seen the Tower of London, for example, and there it was – the very spot where Anne Boleyn got sliced up.

We had an evening appointment in Camden, so our final pub stop before that was at the World’s End, which was much more my kind of place. My only complaint was that the slightly arsey bar staff didn’t like us looking at the beautiful old second-hand books they have on the high shelves there to add to the atmos, and in fact told us off for touching them. Almost like they didn’t know we were poets, writers and teachers! Lee tried to explain – “it’s okay. We KNOW books” – but they weren’t having any of it. For shame!

By the time we got to Jongleurs at Camden Lock, our ultimate destination, I was starting to flag. After about eight or nine pints or something, I switched to Smirnoff Ice and was immediately ridiculed by the more manly men in the party. Still, at least a bit of comedy would perk me up…

Sadly there was none forthcoming. The acts were tired, predictable and lacking in any kind of comedic imagination. In despair, we all turned to Lee, waiting for him to let loose with one of his trademark Complicated Intellectual Drunken Heckles, but his head was beginning to nod on his chest. Fair enough.

I made it back to Euston in time for the penultimate Silverlink train, on which I met the abovementioned man. Perking up a little bit due to the bottle of water I’d bought for the journey, we discussed Mark E Smith, the death of Tony Wilson that day, and why exactly it might be that I fancy Tracey Emin.

So, all in all a great Stag Day. Because 1) I survived it relatively unscathed, 2) I made some new friends – like Facebook come to life! And 3) Lee’s getting married and I love Lee. He’s lovely.

Ever Decreasing Circles - Fri Aug 10

2007-08-10T14:36:00.000Z

I’ve been thinking a bit more about Little Phil’s question about tall buildings. So, that new one in “hub:mk” is the tallest building in Milton Keynes, but is it a skyscraper? According to Wikipedia – increasingly the lazy man’s Bible – there is no official definition for skyscraper but it’s definitely over 20 storeys, meaning at 14 the CBX3 one is small potaters. There are no skyscrapers in Milton Keynes. We live in a peaceful society.

Popped in to visit Emma and Ryan in New Bradwell on the way to ‘Allo ‘Allo last night for an hour. Was lovely to see ‘em, along with Rachel who had popped in to visit and their new kitten. Lent Emma every single album New Model Army have ever produced for her upcoming drive to Edinburgh – and indeed discovered that the classic alterno-rock-semi-goths are playing at Northampton Roadmenders in November (29th)! Man, we’re there – who’s coming?

The circle grows ever smaller. In the first few years after I graduated, I was one of the only people from Uni who would make the conscious effort to travel round the UK visiting mates and staying in touch. Maybe it was because I was a couple of years younger than most of ‘em, maybe cos I was the only one who was single and living at home with his parents again (!), but I thought nothing of taking a weekend and going up to Sheffield or Birmingham, Northwich, Leicester, Stoke or Hereford.

But in the last few years it’s only Darren and Lee I go to see, and even them nowhere near enough. But at least I could tell myself that I was doing right by my Milton Keynes friends. But now I don’t even see them enough either. Some of them I even live in the same estate as and haven't seen for months. Some very close friends I have barely even seen this year!

The circle shrinks. Still, now Ludamus and the summer festivals are over I’m going to deliberately make some time to go round the houses. Stand by, I could be coming to your town. Well, MK estate.

Emma sez that it said in the paper the Oldbrook murder was over a mobile phone. Man, they’re really not worth killing over. It’s only ever the credit card people that phone you anyway. :-(

Had a kind of epiphany this evening. A small one, maybe. But then my epiphanies are never quite the sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something that dictionary.com would have us believe.

Wired For Sound - Wed Aug 8

2007-08-08T15:30:00.000Z

Great Moments In Milton Keynes’ History
#1 in an occasional series

Wired For Sound – Cliff Richard

Kids, in 1981 Milton Keynes was deemed so futuristic that one of our country’s Greatest Ever Rock Stars came here to shoot a video. The result is one of the most unintentionally hilarious things you’ll ever have seen. I’ll talk you through it from start to finish.

00:00 – the video starts with Cliff water-skiing. That’s just how young, vibrant and with-it he is. I’d like to speculate that this was shot on Willen Lake, but I think probably not.

00:08 – Cliff comes roller-skating out of the darkness. He claims to be wired for sound. Whatever that means.

00:19 – Cripes – what is this mirror-strewn polished chrome futuristic landscape that Cliff is striding through? Oh look – it’s that bit out the back of the City where Marks & Spencers got built later on.

00:35 – Cliff’s in his automobile. Looks like he’s driving round a roundabout. But I think it’s probably a race track somewhere. Maybe Daytona?

00:52 – Those futuristic roller-skating types are traveling through an incredible dystopian complex. Oh, hold on though – it’s that bit by the side of John Lewis’. Look, you can see the shop’s name famously spelt out in the bricks.

01:12 – Cliff comes roller-skating out of the scary darkness again. But hang on – he’s just in a manky old City underpass! Is this what passes for a big-budget music video in 1981? He does a little bit of a dance with one of them ladeez in tight-fitting lycra, just to prove he’s still got what it takes to woo a ladee. In an underpass.

01:59 – Back to outside John Lewis’ again. Cliff’s got a Walkman on – cos he’s futuristic! Almost like a Cyberman!

02:17 – More stuff in the underpass, including some interesting pyrotechnics. Sadly no teenagers drinking alcohol feature.

02:33 – My favourite bit. Cliff and pals are outside John Lewis’ again, but this time you can clearly see the barriers behind them and the bemused onlookers behind that. So it’s not even like they closed the City Centre to film this ground-breaking pop promo! I keep expecting him to roller skate into a fat bloke coming across from the Food Court.

02:54 – Back to the underpass. Why’s he wearing those porn star shades? Is it because he’s young, vibrant and with-it? Probably.

And then he’s off, like a roller-skating octogenarian, into the night. Blimey.

Of course when this was shot, the City Centre was almost completely new. And yet it’s interesting to see it looks pretty much the same. As does Cliff!

Is it really that futuristic though? I suppose compared to other city centres at that time it was bright and clean. But now most shopping centres are homogenously almost exactly the same, much of the novelty is lost. I suppose you’d CGI in a futuristic city now if you were making a video for “Wired For Sound 2007”. And it wouldn’t be as funny, consequently! ;-)

Gastric Brooding Frog - Tue Aug 7

2007-08-07T16:08:00.000Z

On our way to Haversham on Sunday, while driving down Oldbrook Boulevard, Peter said “oh yeah, we saw some Police Forensics vans on the way in. Over there.” And indeed there were Police Forensics vans, on the opposite side from us, just at those new flats before you get to the playing field opposite The Cricketers.

Cos the bloke who got stabbed that I mentioned in passing in a previous entry actually died, and now it’s a murder not “just” a stabbing. People are talking about it in the Post Office and the Co-Op.

I don’t know what affects me more about this: the fact that it happened in the middle of the afternoon, the fact that the dude was about my age, or the fact that it happened in the street I live in. Probably all three, but with a particular bias towards the last one.

I also wonder if the Police ever Google their victims? You never know what clues might be hiding on people’s Internet presence. I Googled “David Williams Oldbrook” (feeling ever so slightly macabre), but all that was there was stuff about the murder. Although possibly I’m now on some list for having done a search in the first place. Uh-oh.

While we’re remembering those that have passed, it’s also looking like the planet has lost the first whole species of large vertebrates for over fifty years. In fact it’s worse than that, as the baiji weren’t “just another” species of dolphin, but the only surviving species of a Family classification called Lipotidae which split off from the whales and dolphins over 20 million years ago.

The Family classification is two levels up from Species, which makes the disappearance of one much more bad. To put it into context, we’re Homo sapiens - where Homo is the Genus and sapiens is the Species. Our Family is the Hominids, which (it has been established recently) also includes chimps and gorillas as well as our knobbly-browed cousins the Neanderthals. Of course our Family is much more populous than the poor old baiji’s Family, but it’s a blow to diversity to lose any Family. Only three other Families of mammals have died out in the last 500 years!

Didn’t that last paragraph contain the word Family a lot? Blimey!

I’m very interested in Extinctions. Not really in any practical way, like actually doing something about it, sadly – but in a kind of general theoretical “man, we should do something about this!” kind of a way.

This page on the extinctions of the last 500 years is fascinating. Just look how beautiful they all are. And we will never see them again. Even the Gastric Brooding Frog is beautiful, despite how it sounds! Look at the Golden Toad!

And these are just the ones that have pictures! Spare a thought for the Laughing Owl, the Antillean Giant Rice Rat, the Big-Eared Hopping Mouse and the Mysterious Starling! Not to mention my eternal favourite the Dodo! The Dodo has undergone something of a revamp in recent years – check out the After and Before reconstructions here.

So yes. Here’s to every one of 'em. Let’s raise a glass to them in Valhalla: Gastric Brooding Frogs and David Williams (30) Oldbrook Boulevard all.

(raises glass)

The Wonder Years - Mon Aug 6

2007-08-06T14:18:00.000Z

It’s getting ever more difficult to struggle in to work now that the weather’s so nice. I suppose it’s that I feel like it should be the Summer Holidays now. And that doesn't include sitting at desks fiddling with Excel files!

Ah, the halcyon Summer Holidaze of youth! They seemed to stretch out endlessly. Six weeks was like a year! And the sun always shone, the grass was greener than it is now and Simon and I drifted down the Missisippi on our home-made raft past a million freshly whitewashed fences. Happy days indeed!

In fact I'm struggling to remember what we actually did with those endless Summer Holidays. Up till the age of about thirteen, I guess we would have just played football on The Green with all the other Crescent Kids, or made grass camps out in the Back Alley and the eaves of Farmer Randall's fields. Simon used to go on holiday to Spain for two or three weeks at a time every Summer, so I didn't often see much of him until we got a bit older and started actively "hanging out" with other kids. We'd go on holiday ourselves of course, usually to St.David's in the extreme west of Wales. Lovely.

And then we'd return to school to catch up with our classmates, who we hadn't seen in what seemed like years. There was always a noticeable change in people that had taken place in those mysterious six weeks. I put it down to the condensed growth of the young - you can turn from a scrawny nark to a buff skater (for example) almost overnight.

But once we were at Stantonbury, Summer Holidays were different. We actually made an effort to stay in touch with people over these yawning chasms of time. We’d all become more social animals, and as a result there were bike-rides a-plenty, picnics in Campbell Park or at Willen Lake, cinema trips to be had, and just general lounging around the City Centre to be done. Camping out in Nic’s massive garden in Bradwell, walking up to Heelands shops to meet Sam, cycling down the Railway Walk to see Great Linford mates. Riverside walks. Canalside walks.

And these adventures always started with me meeting Simon halfway. I’d set off from mine at the same time he’d set off from his, and just about where that roundabout at the east end of Old Wolverton is now (and has been for years, although it wasn’t there then!), we’d convene.

By the time of our last ever Summer Holiday in 1993 of course, I was pretty much a married man. Plus I could drive - and Vicky and I would get in Dad’s car and cruise around the highways and byways of Milton Keynes. That opened up the world to us, really. We had plenty of walks in the Brickhill woods, round Campbell Park, drinks in the windmill at Caldecotte Lake. I suppose I should really have got myself a summer job, saved up some money for uni. But knowing now what it’s like to be stuck inside in August, looking through the thick glass to the yellow heat of the outside world, I’m glad I didn’t.

Hurrah for the Summer and BAH to the world of work!

Ask Uncle Matthew - Sun Aug 5

2007-08-05T13:10:00.000Z

Oh yeah – I was going to throw open the Blog to answering your questions about Milton Keynes, wasn’t I? Like this…

Little Phil of Pennyland writes:
“Dear Uncle Matthew… Dude! What is the tallest building in MK? Awesome! Love, Phil”

Matthew answers:
“Dear Little Phil… Dude! I know you’re off travelling round Europe for another couple of weeks and won’t read this yet, but hey – I’ve just found out that I did get an answer from my Council Source ages ago after all!

He sez that the new developments at the MK Hub that me and Jim were wandering among earlier on this week include a fourteen-storey building currently called something like CBX3 (I think stands for Central Business Exchange). Fourteen storeys would make that building two higher than The Gables in Wolverton and four storeys higher than the XScape which is officially only ten storeys high.

So unless anyone knows of any other building higher than fourteen storeys, CBX3 is the current tallest building in MK. Until next week, probably. And seeing as you actually asked me this question last year, it probably wasn’t then either.

Hope this helps, Little Phil. Hurry home safely,
Love, Uncle Matthew”

And that was the sort of thing I was thinking. So – if you want to ask me a question and have me answer it about a year later, feel free to either add a comment to this entry with the question or email me at monkeykettle@hotmail.com (put ‘MK question’ in the field or it’ll get lost in the fog!) and I’ll do me best to find out an answer if I don’t know it already. Hopefully much sooner than I answered Little Phil’s!

Also, if you’re outside MK and reading this (stranger things have happened!), feel free also to harangue us with any burning questions you might have about our fair city – ‘what colour is the sky there?’, ‘is it true you live inside roundabouts?’ etc.

We live in hope. ;-)

Yr Sister Stayed Over - Sat Aug 4

2007-08-04T10:32:00.000Z

All too aware that the previous entry sounds a bit Quixotic (literally! strapping on the battered old armour of creativity and saddling up my old nag Imagination to relive former glories in the deserts of… um… banddom...) But come Saturday morning I was up and busy again. Well… Saturday lunchtime at least.

Catching up on the Blog, the usual Monkey Kettle hammering, plus tidying reading and cleaning. A very productive Saturday.

Walked up to Fishermead Co-Op mid-afternoon to buy some milk, and it was a glorious day. The rain a distant memory. August has brought An Actual Summer in with it. The baking sun seems to make everything greener, more “real”. Fishermead has come to life with sporty men’s chests and screaming kids running around laughing. I feel like I am in a city and the city is awake (not to come over all Thrupenny Standup for a moment!).

I’ve been trying to work out how I feel about the ethnic mix in Fishermead circa 2007. Standing in the Co-Op queue these days it does feel a bit like I’m in a minority myself. The sheer proportion of West Africans, Eastern Europeans and Somalians here now compared to other parts of the city does mean that it’s incredibly diverse. But on the downside, if people are chattering away cheerfully in their own language it means I can’t eavesdrop on their conversations and use my Writering skills to build up a picture of their world! ;-)

Still, we’re all people innit. We all the same on the inside (depending on what we've eaten recently). And we all love the Summer.

I’ve been seeing more of those enigmatic stickers on lamp-posts saying “Your Sister Stayed Over”. It’s now spread to Fishermead. Again, not knowing what it’s about, I Googled it once more, but the only result that looks like it’s connected in any way is my own previous post on the matter. It’s a mystery! But the kind of mystery me likee!

Jim and Laura brought their wedding invite round this morning (before I was dressed!) – blimey. Better start thinking about that. And it’s Lee’s Stag Day next weekend too. Blimey. Better start thinking about that. And Darren and Zoe have had another baby. Blimey. Better start thinking about that.Blimey. I’m far too disorganised / slapdash / elliptical to be a good friend, in’t I? :-/

Fuck You Esther Rantzen - Fri Aug 3

2007-08-03T19:13:00.001Z

I can’t remember what I’m looking for, but it’s late on Friday night early on Saturday morning and I’m scrabbling under my bed through a box of videos. I’m pretty drunk and presumably therefore I’m after some video with me in it. Presumably I’m in the mood to relive a former triumph, some achievement past. The videos I find are not the videos I’m after, but they’ll do.

But there’s tenuous stuff about Milton Keynes on these videos too. The first one I pull out is an edition of Anglia TV’s late-night regional What’s On programme “The Biz”, from 2002. I haven’t seen this in a few years, so it’s nice to sit on the floor in the dark watching Gay Simon out of EastEnders interviewing Tony & Carolyn about MADCAP and Shelley Wyn-de-bank about her art. In passing we see brief MADCAP concert footage of Steve McDaniel and Rooh playing sets.

And then, near the end of the show, we cut to me. In a field. Wearing a suit and reciting the lyrics to “Drink More Water” deadpan into the camera. And then Gay Simon interviews me and Jim about Monkey Kettle. They’d wanted to film us at the concrete cows themselves, but we drew the line there. So instead we’re lying in the Bancroft grass nearby. It may only be regional late-night TV, but it’s nice that we managed it. Monkey Kettle #10. Ruddy heck. That’s a long time ago.

On the same video, after “The Biz”, I come across a gig that Sebastian Windsor did in Stantonbury Theatre the year before, in 2001. It was a lunchtime gig we’d agreed to do so that some of the BTEC could have experience doing sound, lighting and effects for a rock concert – hence our excitement at having smoke on stage! Of course, the fact that only Underhill was still at Stantonbury at the time meant that most of The Kids didn’t give a fuck about this suit-wearing wonk-rock outfit, but me and Jim had a pillow fight live in front of 150 school kids. And then spent the rest of the day boozing in The Suffolk, as I recall.

It’s so nice to see Sebastian Windsor again in fact that I go back under the bed, much to the bemusement of Helen, and unearth the video of R.N.P.’s first gig.

Now this is archaeology! A whole decade before the Stantonbury Theatre gig, the teenage R.N.P. made their debut in Saxon Dining Hall at the 1991 Stantonbury Summer Festival, supporting the legendary teachers’ band Screaming Sex Conifers. And by Christ we were tiny, young and skinny!

My Dad having videoed the set from a little way back down the Dining Hall, we can also see the front couple of dozen members of the audience – mainly standing back nervously in the face of Ronnie and Neil Barton’s erratic dancing. People I still know in this scene are scarce (apart from Simon P on drums!), but it’s good to see Gay looking virtually the same as she does now!

What’s also interesting is how clearly awful we were. Admittedly we were still a couple of years away from writing any good songs, and hampered by the awful sound system which kept cutting out, but our petulant punk clatter is pretty grating. The lowest point (and also incidentally the funniest!) is our shouty anthem “Fuck You Esther Rantzen”. Now that's rebellion! Only the couple of Guns n’ Roses covers, Dave’s incredible guitar playing (just 13 years old at this point) and our newest song “Lizardking” hint at any kind of future.

But I sit there in the dark nonetheless, entranced by the images of those kids a whole generation ago and the noise they’re making. It’s rubbish, but it’s great. Even when the drink runs out, I stay awake till the bitter end.

I wish I could tell them to keep going, but I figure they’ll work out what to do when the time comes.

Then I fall asleep on the sofa, and the weekend happens.

Rumbly Tummy - Thu Aug 2

2007-08-02T14:43:00.000Z

Another bitty day today – and a long one. In work for eight and slap on my Good Work Guy persona again. Then after work straight by taxi to Denbigh East where Tony lives.

Tony co-runs Two Cats Can, a successful local entertainment / training / other things production company, and very enthusiastically pushes voice-over work my way once every few years. I’m not complaining of course, especially when it’s for cold hard cash.

Today’s brief recording session was promotional training audio for some kind of online conferencing tool, and basically utilised the fact that I can do a measured, relatively dull voice quite well. The main drawback was that it was teatime and I hadn’t eaten since lunch – so after a few aborted takes interrupted by my stomach, Tony brought me a small packet of biscuits! Result!

Then it was straight to ‘Allo ‘Allo, and my usual routine if I get there early – buy a sandwich from Tesco’s and sit on the benches outside Wolverton Bath House trying not to make eye contact with the chavs and learning my lines. “Me, I do the slight of the hand – I take the cloth off-a the table, and leave all of the things in the same place!” is proving particularly problematic, but that’s probably because I’m worrying about the stunt to follow! Heh heh. Tickets are selling fast by all accounts – get ‘em soon!

But that was my Thursday, and less than half of my word count gone. What else could I talk to you about today? I could chat about the last Harry Potter book that I’m ploughing through – but having moaned about Spoilers last week I think I’d better leave it another week or two.

I suppose I could relate how I’m starting to lay out the plans for my Autumn and Winter projects… Obviously ‘Allo ‘Allo is September, and I’m keeping both eyes firmly on that now. Motorbike Simon is going to be putting together the fourth Monkey Kettle Night at MADCAP, it’s looking like November now for that – but me and Classic Simon will hopefully be mainly focussing on “Jumpers” – Simon’s new play for Paperfish. That should be November or December as well, and I’m greatly looking forward to it – it’s a rattling good yarn! And of course Monkey Kettle #28! Cripes!

But I tell you what – maybe you’ll let me finish this entry early, eh? Let me out to play in the sunshine? What do you say? There’ll be more incisive gonzo journalism coming soon. Just take a look…

Over there!

(points in opposite direction then legs it)

Stab Rob Wondergoal - Wed Aug 1

2007-08-01T17:40:00.000Z

Life doesn’t seem to be any less hectic as July becomes August. We’re allegedly off script for ‘Allo ‘Allo now, only six or seven weeks to go or something. And I’m in work every day too and being a Good Work Guy to try and get extra hours. So haven’t seen much of Real Life™ in my movements.

But let’s have a look in the paper shall we? (makes exaggerated paper opening gesture with hands to distract you from the fact he’s looking this up on a website)

Let’s see… let’s see… Man Stabbed In Oldbrook... nah… Man Stabbed In New Bradwell... nah… (shakes head)… Pizza Man Robbed – the cruel twist being that they nicked his money and his pizzas!

Ooh, here’s a heart-warming tale. An ex-Heelands Ranger footballer has made his debut for West Brom in a pre-season friendly. Only 15, he scored a wondergoal. Which sounds nice. Let’s hope he comes to the Dons once they’ve made their way to the Premiership. Proper circular storytelling.

I was due to be at the Dons’ new stadium last week to watch them play against the Mighty Hammers, but they only had 10,000 tickets despite the stadium currently being able to hold 22,000. Danielle at work sez it was something to do with them getting their health & safety certificates, but either way it meant I could go along and evaluate the new pad for the sake of journalism. And the Dons blimmin’ won, as well! We’re gonna go in the next few weeks once the season kicks off. I promise.

And a memorable incident from my youth has cropped up again! I didn’t go to the Blur gig where this bloke got hit by Alex James’ bass but our mate Maj did. She was a massive Blur fan and used to do me compilations of their B-Sides and everything. A few weeks later, “There’s No Other Way” catapulted them into the big time. Glad to see the Citizen tracked the victim down! And that Alex remembers it so clearly.

A final thought. If the travellers’ site is being made this permanent, can we still call them “travellers”?

Nice to see you. Mind how you go.

Me Grimlock King - Tue Jul 31

2007-07-31T14:39:00.000Z

My apologies in advance that this entry is mostly a film review – but in my defence, Transformers is one of those rare films (like Lord of the Rings and Spiderman before it!) that people have been waiting for me to see for ages just so they know what I think about it.

Because under my bed, there are over three hundred Transformers comics, each carefully housed in an A4 plastic wallet to keep the ravages of time from them. In the entrance area of our flat, there is a very big box full of Transformers toys that belong to me and my brothers (and Steve Kendall!) that I just can’t bring myself to throw away. I have Transformers videos, Transformers clothes, and appallingly shoddy Transformers adventure gamebooks. I heart Transformers. There. Scene set.

So when Cheap Tuesday finally rolled around, an intrepid bunch of us (if you’re counting, it was Helen, Simon, Caroline, Giles and Grahame – newly arrived back from his cruise) gathered in The Barn’s beer garden and prepared to be entertained by the new mega-budget Michael Bay interpretation of one of my childhood’s most vivid loves.

And I wasn’t disappointed.

Don’t get me wrong, it was by no means a perfect movie. Bay’s insistence on adding soldiers and war action into the plot whenever he could, I could have lived without. Re-imagining Frenzy (although I’m glad to have discovered it wasn't the far more excellent character of Soundwave at least!) as a Gremlin-voiced miniature version of Johnny 5 was irksome. Some of the dialogue was atrocious - “Get your hands off my bush” had us all with our heads in our hands. And Bumblebee pissing on a bloke? (holds up hands in bewilderment) ???

But those quibbles are small. The film itself is massive. The effects are jaw-dropping, the “woah-what-the-fuck?-look-at-THAT!” factor is off the chart. Not once did I think to myself “I’m watching CGI here”. We’ve come a long way, kids of the future.

And yeah, it’s a dumbass action movie, probably mainly for men in their twenties and thirties, but that’s what it’s supposed to be. The original source material and dialogue are hardly Proust.

Shia LaBeouf (playing “Sam” Witwicky and thereby bypassing the whole “Buster” / “Spike” confusion which used to plague us so Back In The Day!) in the central role is brilliant, too. He carries almost the entire movie on his scrawny geek-Jock shoulders, doing both comedy and action with equal confidence. The scenes where he embarrassedly has to deal with his parents are a joy, and his panicky lust for mallet-faced mechanic “babe” Mikaela pitched just right. The appearance late on of Ron Butterfield from The West Wing playing exactly the same character but transposing it from Secret Service to “Section Seven” seals the deal.

And for us proper TF geeks there were plenty of nods – Bumblebee being parked in the car lot next to his original form of a VW beetle. Optimus getting to use his motto in everyday dialogue (that’s “Freedom is the right of all sentient beings”, of course, not “Shove that cube up my chest, boy!”).

We were sat right in the front, and from there most of the film was a whirlwind of blurry action. My attention never wavered, even though it’s about twelve hours long. Yes. This’ll do me. And let’s have the Dinobots next time.

My biggest grumble of the evening in fact was the appalling service in Cineworld now. The queues were so long I gave up on trying to get my greasy popcorn, and Helen had to nip down to the kiosk to get us drinks halfway through the movie. Yeah, I know it’s busy cos it’s summer holidays and Cheap Tuesday, but get some extra staff on, dudes!

Right. I’m off to play with my tiny Megatron. If you know what I mean.