I am worried about my finances.
I have credit cards with mounting debts on them. I have two bank accounts with substantial overdrafts on them, and I am going to stuggle to make sure I have enough money in my overdraft for rent at the end of this month. The rent situation is always exacerbated by my pay day being the 20th of each month, and rent day being the 18th, meaning it's when I have least money in the month.
To this end, I am implementing various resolutions. These will be things I will be sure to achieve over the next 23 days in order to get closer to a situation of financial stability. By writing them here, I'll feel more publically accountable to actually get these things done, and I'm going to keep a record of how things progress on the blog.
1)Eat cheaply - in general, I'm going to set a limit of £2 per meal and see what can be achieved by eating at home, rather than takeaway.
2)No drinking until payday. Everyone knows how much I like drinking, but I'm going to keep this one properly for the next 23 days. It'll also be good for my health, so a double-winner there. Not drinking will help me...
3)Stay to an upper limit of £10 per day, and spend less than that if I can.
4)Sell some things on eBay. In particular, I have some Gamecube bongo drums that I don't want. I'll get rid of a few other items I have cluttering up my room also.
5)Participate in free, or already-paid-for leisure activities. The gym membership is stupidly expensive, so I'm going to start making good use of it. I also have a very good selection of Gamecube and Mac games that I should play more.
6)This one will remain a secret until I've actually done something about it.
However much overdraft money I have left on the 20th will be used to start paying off my credit card.
Here goes nothing.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Mr Benn
Most kids brought up in the UK in the late 70s and early 80s have an almost unnatural nostalgia for the television that we grew up on. There aren't many of us who don't have those 'oh, do you remember ...' conversations with friends quite regularly. In fact, it's a good, if unoriginal, starting point for conversation with most people I've met. I've always said, and do to this very day, that much of my early education came from television. I used to wake up at 6 pretty much ever morning, as a child (God, certainly not as an adult!), to run downstairs and watch the captivating box.
Mr Benn has endured for me as a character I enjoyed watching, and probably still would to this day. I actually gave Naomi a book of Mr Benn stories as a gift once, such was my love of this cartoon's beautifully-faded animation. Today I stumbled across this site which is sure to please any serious fan.
They don't make TV like that anymore (sniff)
Mr Benn has endured for me as a character I enjoyed watching, and probably still would to this day. I actually gave Naomi a book of Mr Benn stories as a gift once, such was my love of this cartoon's beautifully-faded animation. Today I stumbled across this site which is sure to please any serious fan.
They don't make TV like that anymore (sniff)
Nothing to see here
Sometime next year or the year after, there will be a non-event called Windows Vista. Others are yawning with me.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Thursday, July 21, 2005
This is happening, right now
As I write this, we're all sitting in our office reloading this Guardian unlimited page to find out if a bomb has gone off at Oval tube station, a couple of hundred yards away.
Needless to say, there's panic on the streets outside.
Anthony Worrall Thompson was actually standing outside our building as it all kicked off and I munched on my calzone. Just a bit of detail for you (!)
Needless to say, there's panic on the streets outside.
Anthony Worrall Thompson was actually standing outside our building as it all kicked off and I munched on my calzone. Just a bit of detail for you (!)
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Andrew and Amber
Last weekend Naomi and I visited my friend Oz in Frankfurt. It was a wonderful few days, and we had a fair bit of fun in and around 'Mainhatten'. Naomi took quite a few photos, including one of me standing in front of a giant statue to the Euro (that one will probably appear on my blog on the day they prize my beloved sterling from my hands). We also went to various nice places to eat and I discovered an awesome drink called a Fireman's Sour. Oz was hilarious as ever (I know he'll appreciate me writing this). A top weekend in all.
When I returned home to Muswell Hill, there was some great news waiting for me in my Inbox. My good friend Andrew got together with the lovely Amber while Jack and I were in Florida last January. Well, now they're getting married, on 31 December, which is the anniversary of them becoming an item. I'm really happy for them, and we're already making plans to be there for the wedding, this Christmas. Here's to Andrew and Amber.
When I returned home to Muswell Hill, there was some great news waiting for me in my Inbox. My good friend Andrew got together with the lovely Amber while Jack and I were in Florida last January. Well, now they're getting married, on 31 December, which is the anniversary of them becoming an item. I'm really happy for them, and we're already making plans to be there for the wedding, this Christmas. Here's to Andrew and Amber.
Monday, July 11, 2005
A week ago
Last Thursday, as you probably know, was not a good day.
I woke up quite late, and was banking on the bus and the tube getting me to work, which was probably going to be a bit late, as I left home just before 9. My bus took its usual route along past Highgate Woods, to Highgate Tube (which is where I now catch my transport, since moving to Muswell Hill). Normally, as you reach Highgate Tube, most people get off the bus, but a message was passed, chinese-whispers-style, up the stairs, saying that there was no Underground service. Everybody assumed this meant that there was a problem with the northern line, so we returned to our seats, slightly disgruntled at the prospect of trying to get into central London whilst facing road traffic. The man sitting next to me, with his strange combination of greasy black hair in a ponytail and cricket jumper, seemed particularly pissed-off. At that stage I called work to tell them I'd be late.
Slowly making our way down towards Archway, the windows steamed up, and then we reached Holloway Road. I had the bright idea of trying to use the tube from Holloway Road station, near where my friends Richard and Philippa live, so hopped off the bus. I nipped into a little Greek cafe and grabbed myself a bacon roll and a cappucino, and then crossed the road to the Holloway Road station entrance. There were staff at the gates, telling people there'd been a security alert, so the Underground had completely shut down. Thinking only of the inconvenience of this, I crossed back and tried to board another bus. No joy - there were too many people waiting for the buses, and most of them were packed full of people who'd normally be using the tube. In fact, a lot were driving straight past the stops, with the drivers unwilling to take more people on board. Eventually, a bus stopped and as I was about to board it, Dominic called me. I asked if I could call him back once I'd boarded the bus, and ended the call. I called him back, from the crammed-full bottom deck of the bus and he told me there'd been explosions at Edgware Road and Aldgate. People on the bus were discussing what might have happened, and I told them what my brother had just told me. I wasn't sure at this stage if this was all some sort of exaggeration on either Dominic's part, or that perhaps the news reporters had their facts wrong.
The bus took everyone as far as Highbury Corner, where we were all ordered off, without an explanation. The driver kept tapping the top of his microphone instead of offering the reasons for the sudden stopping of service. A florist's stand at Highbury Corner seemed to have become a point of focus for people's attention, and I wondered over to see what all the fuss was about. The florist had a small CD radio hanging off a hook, and it was tuned to a London radio station. About twenty or thirty of us stood listening to the news as it was breaking. At that stage the press were being told that 'power surges' had caused the underground to be closed, but the reporter said that they'd been told by a senior member of London Underground staff that there may be a terrorist element to the events.
Realising that there were now few buses and no tubes, I called work and told them I wouldn't be able to get there, so I'd work from home instead. It did seem as though things were going a bit crazy, so I started my long walk home. About half way up Holloway Road I went into a big Cash Converters-style pawn shop to watch their TVs, and quite a few other people had had the same idea. It was there that the full horror of the terrorist bombings unfolded, and news was just breaking that a bomb had gone off on a bus. It was a numbing thing to watch. There was a feeling of being part of something completely unstable, while the physics were ever-shifting.
I stayed at the pawn shop for about 10 minutes, then started moving again, walking home a couple of miles further, up through unfamiliar suburban avenues. All of this time, I kept wondering if things were going to escalate. Maybe the tube attacks were the vanguard of a September 11th-style 'plane attack? Whichever the case, I didn't want to be in central-ish London for a second longer than necessary.
I'd already texted Naomi to let her know I was okay, and kept trying to call my Dad so that he could tell the rest of the family I was okay, but the Vodaphone service was working only very intermittently (it later transpired that they'd blocked it for the sake of emergency services, and probably to prevent telephone bomb detonation as well). Eventually I got through to one of my Grandmas, who thankfully hadn't had the TV on before I called, so didn't know about everything before we spoke. Various other friends and relatives kindly called or texted me to ask if everything was okay, including a text that pleasingly read "are you still alive?" from one of my bandmates! Oz even rang me from Germany, which was kind of him.
When I finally reached Muswell Hill (where I now live - I realise I haven't mentioned this in the blog before!), I queued up at Woolworths to buy myself a landline phone, seeing as the mobile was pretty unreliable, and I knew I might need to call people. When I arrived home, David was there, and his dog, Campbell, came bounding up to the door (David practises keyboard instruments at the house where I now live, during office hours). We sat at the table in the kitchen, grimly listening to Radio 4 as the death toll continued to rise during the day.
An awful lot has probably been written about the 7th July in blogs. A lot of people will be thinking that they easily could have been victims of this unspeakably cowardly act that now, it seems, was perpetrated by men as young as 18. For me, the most apparent feeling of the day was probably not how easily I could have been a victim (I don't think you can really transplant your feelings to that unless you are the victim), but how the bonds that tie society together are actually quite weak. Rather than the resilient strength that newscasters have expounded, it actually seemed to me like everything was falling apart remarkably easily. If there is to be a 'next time' for militant Islamo-fascists attacking Londoners, we may not be able to return to our lives with quite the same ease. If there is something more positive to be said, it's that London shouldn't be attacked again for a while, if we can go on the experience of Madrid and New York.
I woke up quite late, and was banking on the bus and the tube getting me to work, which was probably going to be a bit late, as I left home just before 9. My bus took its usual route along past Highgate Woods, to Highgate Tube (which is where I now catch my transport, since moving to Muswell Hill). Normally, as you reach Highgate Tube, most people get off the bus, but a message was passed, chinese-whispers-style, up the stairs, saying that there was no Underground service. Everybody assumed this meant that there was a problem with the northern line, so we returned to our seats, slightly disgruntled at the prospect of trying to get into central London whilst facing road traffic. The man sitting next to me, with his strange combination of greasy black hair in a ponytail and cricket jumper, seemed particularly pissed-off. At that stage I called work to tell them I'd be late.
Slowly making our way down towards Archway, the windows steamed up, and then we reached Holloway Road. I had the bright idea of trying to use the tube from Holloway Road station, near where my friends Richard and Philippa live, so hopped off the bus. I nipped into a little Greek cafe and grabbed myself a bacon roll and a cappucino, and then crossed the road to the Holloway Road station entrance. There were staff at the gates, telling people there'd been a security alert, so the Underground had completely shut down. Thinking only of the inconvenience of this, I crossed back and tried to board another bus. No joy - there were too many people waiting for the buses, and most of them were packed full of people who'd normally be using the tube. In fact, a lot were driving straight past the stops, with the drivers unwilling to take more people on board. Eventually, a bus stopped and as I was about to board it, Dominic called me. I asked if I could call him back once I'd boarded the bus, and ended the call. I called him back, from the crammed-full bottom deck of the bus and he told me there'd been explosions at Edgware Road and Aldgate. People on the bus were discussing what might have happened, and I told them what my brother had just told me. I wasn't sure at this stage if this was all some sort of exaggeration on either Dominic's part, or that perhaps the news reporters had their facts wrong.
The bus took everyone as far as Highbury Corner, where we were all ordered off, without an explanation. The driver kept tapping the top of his microphone instead of offering the reasons for the sudden stopping of service. A florist's stand at Highbury Corner seemed to have become a point of focus for people's attention, and I wondered over to see what all the fuss was about. The florist had a small CD radio hanging off a hook, and it was tuned to a London radio station. About twenty or thirty of us stood listening to the news as it was breaking. At that stage the press were being told that 'power surges' had caused the underground to be closed, but the reporter said that they'd been told by a senior member of London Underground staff that there may be a terrorist element to the events.
Realising that there were now few buses and no tubes, I called work and told them I wouldn't be able to get there, so I'd work from home instead. It did seem as though things were going a bit crazy, so I started my long walk home. About half way up Holloway Road I went into a big Cash Converters-style pawn shop to watch their TVs, and quite a few other people had had the same idea. It was there that the full horror of the terrorist bombings unfolded, and news was just breaking that a bomb had gone off on a bus. It was a numbing thing to watch. There was a feeling of being part of something completely unstable, while the physics were ever-shifting.
I stayed at the pawn shop for about 10 minutes, then started moving again, walking home a couple of miles further, up through unfamiliar suburban avenues. All of this time, I kept wondering if things were going to escalate. Maybe the tube attacks were the vanguard of a September 11th-style 'plane attack? Whichever the case, I didn't want to be in central-ish London for a second longer than necessary.
I'd already texted Naomi to let her know I was okay, and kept trying to call my Dad so that he could tell the rest of the family I was okay, but the Vodaphone service was working only very intermittently (it later transpired that they'd blocked it for the sake of emergency services, and probably to prevent telephone bomb detonation as well). Eventually I got through to one of my Grandmas, who thankfully hadn't had the TV on before I called, so didn't know about everything before we spoke. Various other friends and relatives kindly called or texted me to ask if everything was okay, including a text that pleasingly read "are you still alive?" from one of my bandmates! Oz even rang me from Germany, which was kind of him.
When I finally reached Muswell Hill (where I now live - I realise I haven't mentioned this in the blog before!), I queued up at Woolworths to buy myself a landline phone, seeing as the mobile was pretty unreliable, and I knew I might need to call people. When I arrived home, David was there, and his dog, Campbell, came bounding up to the door (David practises keyboard instruments at the house where I now live, during office hours). We sat at the table in the kitchen, grimly listening to Radio 4 as the death toll continued to rise during the day.
An awful lot has probably been written about the 7th July in blogs. A lot of people will be thinking that they easily could have been victims of this unspeakably cowardly act that now, it seems, was perpetrated by men as young as 18. For me, the most apparent feeling of the day was probably not how easily I could have been a victim (I don't think you can really transplant your feelings to that unless you are the victim), but how the bonds that tie society together are actually quite weak. Rather than the resilient strength that newscasters have expounded, it actually seemed to me like everything was falling apart remarkably easily. If there is to be a 'next time' for militant Islamo-fascists attacking Londoners, we may not be able to return to our lives with quite the same ease. If there is something more positive to be said, it's that London shouldn't be attacked again for a while, if we can go on the experience of Madrid and New York.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
The lure of the dark
Okay, so in this blog post I'm not going to go into how I was fascinated with the gothic Batman universe for a good portion of my teens, but I imagine that it's the same part of my mind that finds subterranean tunnels and catacombs interesting.
Last week, I had the opportunity to go down into the Paris catacombs during some free time whilst on a work trip. By the Paris catacombs, I mean the graveyard part of the Gallic subterranean, not the 'hidden' part where all sorts of cultists meet, as the Grauniad reported last year (though going there really would be amazing). The ossiary in the catacombs literally has walls made of bones, and it was a pretty remarkable thing to see the skeletal remains of six million people. The skull in my image actually bears my initials, which was an added bonus (no pun intended).
I'm also fascinated by the disused Underground stations in London. Apparently trains still go through quite a few of these, without stopping. While it's geeky, I have to say that I think this is a really cool and interesting site.
Last week, I had the opportunity to go down into the Paris catacombs during some free time whilst on a work trip. By the Paris catacombs, I mean the graveyard part of the Gallic subterranean, not the 'hidden' part where all sorts of cultists meet, as the Grauniad reported last year (though going there really would be amazing). The ossiary in the catacombs literally has walls made of bones, and it was a pretty remarkable thing to see the skeletal remains of six million people. The skull in my image actually bears my initials, which was an added bonus (no pun intended).
I'm also fascinated by the disused Underground stations in London. Apparently trains still go through quite a few of these, without stopping. While it's geeky, I have to say that I think this is a really cool and interesting site.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
