Life Less Literary |
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A small selection of the many things that have happened to Dan Sumption, his family, friends and colleagues
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Wednesday, February 26, 2003
My night in Manchester.. I didn't manage to keep it a secret from Gill until the day - she'd started booking house viewings for the Saturday afternoon; when I told her to cancel them I had to let slip a little more of the plan. But it did at least reassure her that Rowan and Lola were being taken care of. I met her at Sheffield Station, 1.30pm Saturday, and we caught the train 40 minutes later. Chilled on first class, reading the papers, looking at the Pennines, and got off all excited at Manchester Piccadilly. We followed the Manchester A-Z (one of my many bits of "preparation" was buying the map) along Canal Street, Manchester's Gay Village, to the Somerset Atrium. Found our apartment (after two trips back to reception - the first room was locked initially and turned out to have only a single bed, the second was much nicer) and freshened up. I got in extra supplies from a crap Sainsbury's Local, whose only redeeming feature was that it was local. I circled it three or four times looking for sparkling wine and ice cream, before finally discovering tiny quantities of both. The local Boots (not a Boots Local) was crap too. Our evening meal was at Simply Heathcotes - very speedy service and pretty excellent food - I had a "terrine of waldorf salad in goat's cheese" - amazing crunchy bits of apple encased in cheese, with walnuts sprinkled in a sweet vinegary sauce, while Gill had a mezze including the tastiest ever hummus and pesto. Next I had linguine - a rugby ball-shaped basket-weave of gorgeous fresh pasta, with smoked salmon, asparagus tips and a huge puddle of buttery sauce or saucy butter. Gill had duck - pink oozing red. And for dessert I had vanilla bean ice cream drizzled with sherry, and Gill had... oh, I don't remember. It was delicious anyway. Our meal was perfectly timed for our arrival at the Library Theatre, where we took our seats for the Good Soldier Schweik. The play was good... though I prefer the book. I recognised the plot from the novel initially - "they've assisinated our Ferdinand" being changed to something about an attempt on the life of Adolf ("which Adolf, I know two..."), but soon the script departed. The action was watched over by Adolf Hitler and his henchmen, played larger-than-life with scary papier-maché faces. The play was a little long - 105 minutes for the first half along - and a little warm in the theatre, so I was quite glad to get out by the end. And then we went back to the hotel. And drank Cava. And ate ice-cream (actually, I bought rasberry sorbet by accident <sigh>) And the next day, we got up vary lazy and late, went to a nearby arts centre for some amazing fried pizzas, and watched the pennines again on the way home. We couldn't find a film in Sheffield on soon enough to prolong our return home. So we returned home. Add comment | this item Wednesday, February 19, 2003
This looks like such a jack-of-all-trades master-of-none gadget that I imagine it's fairly useless (or at least, almost as useless as my beloved Clié PEG-N770 but with far less battery life). But that really doesn't stop me from lusting after one. Imagine the fun and games to be had in the pub. Add comment | this item Tuesday, February 18, 2003
I really ought to post something about this weekend's demonstration, except I don't know that I can muster up the right words, so I'll try to give a brief impression. It was wonderful. I'd been on lots of demos during the 80s, not so many recently as I don't always feel quite so sympathetic to the causes and as I get old and cantankerous I get more and more pissed off with the kind of nutters who increasingly turn up looking for aggro, but this was something totally different - all human life was there, Guardian readers to Telegraph readers, Class War anarchists to Countryside Alliance members, Palestinian militants to Jews for Peace. It really was the whole spectrum, and it felt great. We arrived at Waterloo at midday, Hungerford Bridge was closed so we walked to Waterloo Bridge, as we got there they closed that because the weight of people standing on it was more than it could take, so we walked to Blackfriars, crossed over and finally joined the march. Shuffle would be a more appropriate word, it was slow going. We didn't reach Hyde Park, about two miles away, until about 5.30pm. And I was knackered, having carried Lola in my arms most of the way, but was very happy. It really made me feel like moving this thing forward as well - whereas previously my opposition to the almost inevitable war was "in my head" and to be honest I wasn't really that bothered, now I feel incensed that the government can ignore such a huge body of people (the Sun's comment made me furious - 1 million people may have marched, but 58 million didn't - FFS do they really [rhetorical question] think this means that 58 million people support the war or couldn't give a toss - some people have to work, you know, and others can't afford time/money-wise to travel to London, Glasgow or wherever). I feel like boycotting American good because of the stupid comments emanating from that country about causing as much economic damage as possible to France and Germany. I feel like doing everything I can to get this government out of office, a government that I broadly support and think are doing a good job on most things, because they need to be shown that you don't fuck about like this when public opinion is so overwhelmingly against you (this runs a little counter to my general misanthropic tendencies, but WTF). The day after the demo I took Rowan and Lola to London Zoo before driving back up to Sheffield - the gits, they didn't appreciate it, though Lola did love the Monkeys. £21 bloody quid just for me and Rowan to get in (Lola was, thankfully, free) - don't think I shall be going there in a while, I really should have tried Whipsnade. Add comment | this item 
I was right... I can't keep secrets from Gill. No, don't worry, I haven't told her about this weekend, yet. But I have been going even madder with the preparations (bought my Manchester A-Z today, and a few essential oils to mix up an erotic aroma), and... I got my nipple pierced (as you can see, over on the right there). Well, I got back home, stooping slightly to stop my top from rubbing. I was kinda thinking I might try and keep it a secret until the weekend, along with everything else, see whether Gill spotted. But then Gill came home with Greta and Lester and a bag full of John Lewis shopping - she'd bought up some of the cheapo kitchen items that our wedding guests hadn't bought from the gift list, told me she had a wedding present for me. So I just couldn't resist saying I had a wedding present for her... and showing her. Except now Gill's half excited and half miserable, because she thinks I've gone "young again" and keep doing exciting things and she doesn't keep doing exciting things and... which could be fun, I'll wait to see how she trumps me tomorrow hahahaha!
Anyway, getting used to this now, it's funny. Was pretty painful having it done - the woman literally poked around inside my nipple with a kind of skewer-straw thing, trying to find the right exit point, took a bit longer to do than I'd have liked, almost took me back to the doctor's that time he sliced my finger down to the bone without any anasthetic and then pressed his entire weight on it to try and squeeze the pus out. But now the major pain has subsided, and it's rather like walking around with a dull heartache, quite pleasant in a masochistic sort of way. 1 comment Add comment | this item Monday, February 17, 2003
Crikey... searching for stuff on David and Zero just now, I found a whole website devoted to Ishval and Eugene. Made me come over slightly wobbly. I'd love to write tracts on this... if I understood any of it - it's all slightly shadowy but exciting stuff from my youth. So for now, just the link. Oh, David is also on IMDB. And this page had the same intense staring picture of Eugene, taken shortly before his death, that stared down at my from the wall by my bed for many years. And this one has the picture of God walking in the Garden of Eden that still graces my wall. Add comment | this item Ngggg... I'm bursting with excitement. I've been organising a surprise weekend for Gill for the last week, and it's getting harder and harder not to tell her anything - I'm just so keyed-up about it, I need to share the thrill with as many people as possible just to avoid telling her. Luckily, Rowan is proving a great co-conspirator, and unlike her previous record with "surprise" birthday and Christmas presents, she's doing very well at not breathing a word. So, to ease my burden a little, and in the knowledge that Gill never reads this (well, she did once, two years ago, when I printed some of it out and showed it to her) I'm going to share my excitement with the world. It all starts Saturday morning - Gill works Saturdays, which gives me time to get everything ready and packed. I'm gonna ring her and tell her I'll meet her in town with the kids - who will already be whisked away by then (thanks to Greta & Lester and Cath & Ian for childcare). Then I'm gonna turn up at about 1pm, looking all dressed up and with a big suitcase, and just watch the look on her face. I've got tickets for the 14.10 train to Manchester, first class - god knows what first class will look like on Arriva, but at least it can't be as bad as the godawful standard class. Once in Manchester, we'll check in at the Somerset Atrium and ready ourselves for the evening. I've not sorted out evening meals yet - am tempted by Heathcotes, but thinking about a few others - Chez Gerard may be chain-y and of variable quality, but I'm quite tempted by the idea of a secluded booth. Anyway, we shall be eating, early - probably 5.30, so that we can get to the Theatre - to The Library to see Schweyk - The Good Soldier Svejk is one of my favourite books, and I was only recently telling Gill that she really ought to read it, so was amazed to see there's a play version and it just happened to be on when I was planning this trip. Also, it's by Brecht, who I've seen nothing by but I like the bits of the Threepenny Opera that I know, and I once read and loved the Good Woman of Szechuan. And, when I told my mum about my plans, she said that Grandma's friends David and Zero Mahlowe used to perform at the Library. So it all sounds heaven-arranged. Apres-theatre we shall probably drink, dance, schmooze and make the most of our serviced apartment. I asked them if we could extend check-out time from the usual 11am to maybe 1, maybe 2, maybe 3pm... depending on how long our night goes on, and they were very cool. So I guess we won't get to do much more on Sunday other than coming home. Seems a bit of a shame that we probably won't use the lovely built-in kitchen for our apartment, but I guess that can wait for another time. It doesn't seem quite so much when I write it all down, although I am thinking of it almost every minute of the day right now, and am constantly thinking of extra little surprises and things to take, the aide-memoire/to-do list/packing list that I'm building up is about three pages long now and growing rapidly. I'm slightly wary that getting over-excited and over-preparing may end up in disappointment, but most of all right now I just can't wait until Saturday arrives and I can share the secret with Gill. Add comment | this item Monday, February 10, 2003
Another very strange, very vivid dream last night, at about 2am. I was reading a series of books - they were childrens' books, which had recently been made into a film, but equally enjoyable for an adult, in fact probably the best read I'd had in years. Each book in the series was very different, despite following one person's story. Y'see, this person was a samurai, the most incredibly wonderful and talented who had ever lived, and somehow he travelled half way around the world and became a viking chief (yeah, time-lines maybe a bit wrong, but this was a dream). He excelled at that too, and became the most feared and respected raider of his times. He had, obviously, lots of adventures. Cut to the second book, somewhere in outer space, far far in the future. An alien race are having some kind of problem, and despite their incredible skills and technology, they can't solve it alone. They need a human to help them, and they scan every individual on the planet through the entirety of human history before settling upon our samurai viking as the most outstanding specimen of human-kind. Spaceships and time-travel and all that jazz ensue, and our hero ends up in a galaxy far, far away, learning another whole new culture. The third book of the series is in some ways a light interlude, introducing our hero to the culture and surroundings of his new home. The alien race have incredible control over their environment and their selves, somewhat like the Dancers at the end of Time although with a little less control and a lot more insight - they are a race of intellectuals who love to play inside their own minds, control their emotions and demonstrate their mental powers. At this point I started to drift - the decriptions of their colorful cities and exotic nightlife were captivating. I wandered off into them myself, I became the samurai-viking enjoying the thrills of a new setting. I was out on my stag night, brushing with danger and dazzling those around me. I met a woman in a club who I was chatting to - I thought she looked a little like a bedraggled, uglier version of Winona Ryder. I asked her her name - she said "Winona Ryder". Bizarre. Then I realised that I was so much at the height of my powers, that other people paled somewhat beside me. Then I woke up. I was gutted. I still had three-and-a-half books of the series left to go, and I was so eager to find out what happened next. I never did. Add comment | this item Saturday, February 08, 2003
Whoah, Daily Photo Project is awesome - puts my (very out of date - last one was in 2000) passport pictures to shame. Thanks Scot. Add comment | this item Hmmm... what's with the MC5 T-Shirts? Just saw on the Saturday Show (I don't watch it, I swear... I just notice it when Rowan has it on) that Sinead from Fame Academy is wearing an ancient MC5 T. Which would be weird enough in itself, if it weren't for the fact that last week I saw Natalie and Nicole Appleton on the same program, and one of them was wearing the same T-Shirt. Is the film about to break it big over here? Are the MC5 the next big thing all over again? Or is it just a T-Shirt they had in the wardrobe which they handed out to two different artists in succesive weeks? Y'know, I'm strangely tempted to go buy myself an MC5 shirt. Also in "things I have noticed recently" - I took Rowan and Beth to see The Wild Thornberrys Movie yesterday - it was quite fun, short enough not to get boring, not too cartoon fantasized in its takes on Africa and London (hmmm) and had some great music. Anyway, when Eliza got on the plane back from London to Africa, I noticed that Eddie Jordan was sitting across the aisle from her. I'm sure it was him, nobody else looks quite like that (although my dad comes slightly close-ish, I guess). I also noticed that at one point in the movie, Nigel shows Eliza some stuff on his laptop, then closes the lid, but in the next shot the laptop is visible on the table behind them with its lid open. Hmph. 1 comment Add comment | this item Friday, February 07, 2003
Some well deserved back-slapping for FaxYourMP.com (Richard Caborn MP still hasn't replied to my fax from four weeks ago). Add comment | this item Oh yeah, I finished the rest of the pasta dough. This time I was experimenting - made some ravioli; I didn't have any instructions, but followed my instincts and my instincts seem to have worked damn well. Wouldn't you just know it, the same night I made my ravioli Tony and Giorgio made some on BBC2 - turns out my instincts weren't entirely right (Giorgio put his blobs of filling between two sheets and pasted them together before cutting the shapes, rather than cutting circles then filling and sticking as I did, and he stressed the importance of getting all the air out - probably the reason why I ended up with be-skirted footballs in my pasta pan - still, they sank down again afterwards, and seemed none the worse for it). I filled my pasta puffs with onion, sage, mushroom and goats cheese... which works! Add comment | this item For a while now I've been wondering what to do with surplus but loved books. We're contemplating the imminent downsizing of our life, and this is one of many things which we just have far too many of. The options so far have been
Let's just hope the publishing industry doesn't decide to come over all music-industry-like and try to stamp out this practice (yes, I know it's not quite the same, that there's only ever one copy of the book, but still... it shows just how fun sharing can be). First thing tomorrow I'm gonna sticker-up my copy of American Tabloid and see if I can find somewhere appropriate to leave it. Lemme see... a grassy knoll? A.... book depository? Add comment | this item Wednesday, February 05, 2003
Mmmm... food again. Just tried out the pasta-maker which Linda bought for our wedding present. I had a bit of a sticky time getting the tagliatelli to come out right (it clogged a bit on one side), but although the pasta looked a bit, err, wonky, it tasted awesome, cooked up with some chopped green beans, tomatoes, smoked salmon, oregano and garlic. Now... if only I didn't need so many bloody eggs - it took me 12 to make it (was supposed to be 11 - 3 whole and 8 yolks - but my eggs were medium rather than large and the dough was a little dry, so I chucked the extra one in. Also, their "serves four" would probably quite easily do six, unless they were eating nothing else with the pasta). Does anyone have a good recipe for eight egg whites? 1 comment Add comment | this item Wow, it appears I am one of Amazon UK's top 1000 reviewers (joint 730th in fact!) Isn't that nice? Add comment | this item The last couple of mornings have been full of vivid dreams. Yesterday morning, I had a desperate need to get away. Discussed it for ages with lots of people before, on an impulse, buying a railway ticket to Edinburgh. On the long train journey, I felt increasingly guilty about leaving my newly married wife and family, and wondered about turning back. I compromised with myself - decided to stop off somewhere on the way rather than going all the way to Scotland. At first I considered Durham - beautiful place but... been there, I wanted something new. Newcastle could have been exciting, but I really wanted to get away from the hustle and bustle more. Then I hit upon a perfect solution - Berwick-upon-Tweed - OK, so it is in Scotland (I think), but not as much as Edinburgh is, and I remember being blown away by the site of it last time I caught a train through. I remember very clearly the railway skirting around a hill above a river, which is really wierd because the real track is along the coast, but I see from the map that there is a dismantled railway that follows exactly the route I remember. I jumped off the train a couple of miles out of town and started walking - I was exhilerated, it was everything I'd expected and more, tufty hills with scots pines dotted around, and as I rounded the bend I spotted a beautiful old guesthouse on the hill overlooking the town. Outside, under the pines, were several cars that must have been pretty flash during the 70s - brown Jaguars and Rovers with orange interiors. There was an incredible ecstatic perfectness about everything that can only occur in a dream. This morning, Holler had asked me to do some work - somewhat different from the usual. They had a whole load of cartoons, drawn by a famous cult figure, that I had to put words to. Thing is, there was very obviously a story going on in these pictures, and it was part of an ongoing work, with much already completed. So I had to stare at the pictures for hours, figure out each nuance, read all of the previous episodes, and meanwhile Jim kept asking me when I'd be finished. I just felt incapable of making any marks on the paper - we only had one copy of each - he told me to use a red pen so it wouldn't show through if I had to Tippex it out - I said surely a pencil would be more sensible at first. And then... not only did I have to make up the words to go with the story, I was also the de facto letterer, something which I always perversely wanted to be when I was into comics, but now I was suddenly up against problems I hadn't forseen, gauging the space for each letter, knowing exactly how many words were needed per frame, keeping the letters at the same size throughout. It was a nightmare, so instead I got a bus, past Tower Bridge, through dodgy parts of East London, to the flat in Bow. Once there I discovered that a room had been turned into a swimming pool, but the floor wasn't strong enough to hold the weight of the water. We struggled to come up with a way of lightening the load, knowing all the while that the floor could go at any moment, or it could (as I kind of suspected) last indefinitely. In the end we positioned all the house-plants at each corner of the swimming pool, and trailed roots into the pool so that they would suck some of the water out. Hmmm. Add comment | this item I've discovered a great new recipe courtesy of Madhur Jaffray's World Vegetarian (a book I've raved about here before). It's eggs poached in spicy tomato sauce, and although Ms Jaffray doesn't suggest it as such, it's a perfect brunch dish. Just take a frying or sauté pan, slop some olive oil in, swirl around some dried chillies then add onion and garlic. Fry them for two or three minutes then stick the chopped tomatoes in - Madhur uses fresh ones, but despite a recent road to Damascus experience for me regarding fresh/tinned tomatoes (don't touch the tinned ones, fresh is best - they make so much difference to a pasta sauce or baked beans) I think that tinned tomatoes really work here, being as they are such a breakfast-y thing. Reduce the tomatoes for eight minutes or so, then scrape the mix back at the corners and stick some eggs in the gaps (how many is up to you - I usually do two eggs per person - depends, of course, on the size of your pan and how much tomatoes you've put in too). Cover the pan and cook just long enough to poach your eggs (nice'n'runny for me). You can also vary it lots - the chilli, onion and garlic are all pretty optional if you don't like that kinda thing, and I usually add a bit of garam masala, sometimes some peas or other vegetables. It's a really lovely gooey way to start a day late. 3 comments Add comment | this item Tuesday, February 04, 2003
This page really isn't ready yet but... what I did on my Wedding day (please check again soon for updates) Add comment | this item |
heh heh heh... new operator logo (on the right...)