Don't Stop Me Now (I'm having such a good time)

On my wedding day I hope I look as good as Martin did on his.

Me too

There's bits of Helen to dislike and bits of Helen to like.

This is one of the bits to like (from the Sydney Morning Herald):

New Zealand Prime Minister Helen Clark sent a message of goodwill to Sir Edmund Hillary, after the great man was hospitalised a couple of weeks ago: "There's no one we love more. I think the message from every single one of us is, 'Hang in there, Sir Ed, we love you'."

Rick... sure, baby!

For Chris.
Ok, the Mongol Rally probably isn't going to happen, but what do you say to taking a rickshaw for 4500km through India? The Rickshaw Run might be the thing to do...


There's even a spot of cricket at the end.

Revival

From the Soulsavers, 'It's not how far you fall, it's how you land'

Mexico 5-0

A man and his beer.

Did I mention that my last hotel was a 16th century haicienda in the heart of colonial Mexico? The hotel, the Haicienda Jurica is west of Queretaro. On Thursday night they had a Hawaiian themed party for some tourists. The night before, they rehearsed this outside my hotel room for hours. The show seemed to combine anything vaguely polynesian with anything vaguely sea-related. Well, as far as the Polynesian side of things goes, it could have poly, micro or melan - it was hard to tell. I'm not sure what the Limbo dancing had to do with it all. As the evening wore on, I contemplated getting up and doing the haka, although a bespectacled skinny white man who was clearly under the influence may not have been welcome at a party to which he wasn't invited. My personal highlight was the Hawaii 5-0 accompanied dance. Now, I like the theme tune to Hawaii 5-0. I could (and, on Wednesday night, indeed did) listen to it over and over again. But the dancing girls (or were they ostriches? With all the feathers and a Indio flavoured haze it was hard to tell) were just scary. I've often observed to myself that 'I'm not drunk enough to appreciate this'. I think on Thursday night the level of drunkenness required to appreciate it would have involved me passed out on the floor.

The piece de resistance to the dance was the background video. This was comprised of a mangy seagull walking on an equally mangy beach. As the tune faded out, a deflated Nokia theme tune rang out over the pool.

The week began in Dallas. Now while I don't like a lot of American Foreign Policy, I love being in America. There's so much to look at and the people are so damn sincere. There's something about the absurd enthusiasm of the guy Grant and I discussed beers of the world with in a suburban supermarket. Contrary to the myth of American ignorance, the guy was highly informed about said foreign beers. From there to the a speedway themed theme park where Grant and I pretended to be drag racers before being pushed aside by small and large Texans in equal measure in the slicks. This was useful preparation for the following morning where at Trietsch Memorial United Methodist Church, the theme was (I think), managing change in this fast ol' world of ours. This theme was explored using a metaphor of the wall crew at NASCAR, complete with videos and a bloody great stockcar on the altar. Brilliant. Of all the sermons I've heard recently it's probably the one I can recall most of.

And no, the church did not fulfil the 'get me the hell out of here close minded prosperity doctrine and aint President Bush just great' expectations I had been led to believe I would get from a Texan church.

Beyond Texas and Monterrey lies Mexican Route 57. It's fairly dull, there are only three towns of significance in the 750-800 km of road that stretches between Monterrey and Queretaro; Saltillo, Matehuala and St Luis Potosi. Between Matehuala and STP is some very flat road flanked by cacti forests. Oh, and the road is straight. Because I was bored, and because Adrians English was thin and my Spanish limited to Pendejo, Buenos Noches and pero, I started taking note of the straight line distances. The straight that went for 20km was surprising. The one that went for 55km was just plain ridiculous.

Outside Jurica, to the West, are San Miguel Allende and Delores. SMA and Dolores Hidalgo are where the Mexicans realised that indeed they could and started to throw out the Spanish. Miguel Hidalgo, reader of banned French literature and the priest with the temerity to start it all, raised an army. It cost him head. This head, along with those of three others were posted in nearby Guanajuato. It started something in the city. Aside from the colonial architecture and the stunning walls of painted houses, the big attraction in the city is Las Momias Museum, or the Mummy Museum. Now, I've seen some freaky shit in my time, but this museum takes the tortilla. About a hundred disinterred bodies are displayed, each in their own in glass case. The ones that are lying down are given silk pillows. Whether lying down or standing up, all the adults have the same expression. The adult of whom it is theorized was alive when she woke up from her paralysis but in a coffin has a very loud form of that expression. In the middle of the museum is the a room that contains the bodies of the little people. Freaky, freaky shit.

The macabre exhibitionism aside, Guanajuato is my favourite Mexican city (I've been to seven of them, ok, five cities and 2 villages). In such a small amount of space there is a hell of a lot of colour. It's like an cubic Jackson Pollock. It's also the dead centre (oops) of Mexico.

Tonight in French class I learnt how to say my car is knackered. I should have learnt this in Spanish. At the Matehuala end of the giant straight, and at 10.30pm, the car broke down.

Ok, this is getting a little boring. Here's some pictures.

Guanajuato University and a Numptee

The revolution will be televised. Dolores church with its giant TV.

Flowers.

Pre 55.

Off road

After 80,000 miles, my overworked, somewhat thrashed 1.0 litre Micra has developed a terminal dose of corrosion. So I've retired it. Its (not 'hers', I'm not in the habit of giving a gender to my car, the only time I talk to it is generally something along the lines of 'come on you bastard, get up the hill') replacement is a 306 2.0 litre turbo diesel. Now my conversations have taken on a 'whoah, steady on betty' approach.

Being an estate, I can get a whole lot more cricket gear into it. I'd make a comment about the climate change implications but I suspect my flight to Mexico on Friday will probably dwarf the annual 306 emissions...

Global warning

Knut's been receiving death threats. Olaf received no such threats, but was defenestrated all the same.

A Surprising Anglia on Easter

After a hOME Good Friday service and associated stations of the cross installation, le petit amie and I wandered across to Norwich to meet the family. I've never been to Anglia before. I've been to the Ipswich ring road to teach, but this time I made it onto the Norfolk Broads and as far as the coast at Happisburgh (pronounced Haysbrough - go figure). Happisburgh is rapidly being reclaimed by the sea. Five years ago the village temporarily lost its lifeboat when the access ramp collapsed.

From Happisburgh LPA and I went onto Norwich, where there are more ruins and old churches than I'd expected. We wandered through Norwich Cathedral, past Edith Cavell's grave and through the nave, where the stained glass windows let the light dance on the pillars. Up from the cathedral we walked up to the forum to see an Earth from the Air exhibition. You know, those pictures that cause the heavy coffee table books. A lot of the pictures had an associated tale, generally lamenting the decline of the environment associated with the picture due to a blend of our consumption and apathy. All of the pictures were surrounded by sated shoppers. It made me think that perhaps we get deluged with too much information, as it is tempting to go through the phase of 'this is shite! I must be informed', where we assemble as much information as we can. The assembly of information then becomes a substitute for action, and then finally we read so much we end up with 'yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before', and while we're sitting with the apathy, someone comes along with the great climate swindle+. Happily we justify our inaction, and while we have our head in the sand, our house falls onto it.*

*As far as my hypocrisy is concerned here, I could quote Mark Knopfler, or Jesus on this one. 'When you point your finger 'cos your plan fell through, you got three more fingers pointing back at you'. I'll be off to remove the plank from my eye now. It's quite unlikely that anyone has ever confused Mark Knopfler with Jesus. ('Two men say they're Jesus, one of them must be wrong...' Ok, enough Dire Straits lyrics now).
+The most enjoyable part of the swindle was that the popularity of climate change was to do with an unholy alliance between Thatcher and the hippies. Thatcher hated the miners, the hippies hate development and would be far happier if we all went back to scything and tilling.

Take me down to the lovely sea and the sky

Happisburgh lighthouse, not as Happy as you might think.

The inside of Norwich Cathedral...

...and the outside.

Aotearoa

Four images from the New Zealand War Memorial in London. The memorial is best seen up close, or alternatively from the Oxford Espress bus (I prefer it to the Oxford Tube) as it nears Victoria Station. From the side the memorial looks like a series of iron stakes, but as the bus swings round Hyde Park Corner towards Grosvenor Place, the tops of the stakes reveal silver crosses. (The lovely Sarah can be seen wandering through them in the second picture).

Homer's Odyssey

(From Norm at onegoodmove)

The ICC

The bloody ICC, in their wisdom, have told youtube to remove all videos of the 2007 world cup as they seem to think that the presence of it is denying them revenue. They can't seem to see that videos like this actually bring them money as it brings attention to the game.

As a result the video below doesnae work anymore.

God love 'im

For overweight cricketers everywhere...

Radio.Blog

On the right is Radio.Blog. It's courtesy of the fine folk at Radio.Blog, and an idea of shamelessly inspired from those Badminton Stamps boys.

At the moment there is the exhaustive playlist of two.

The space for the music has kindly been donated by one Rhys Lewis. If you need goodies from Aotearoa, you should visit him at www.shop.co.nz.

Tomorrow there shall be more, when I bring my iPod cord home from work...

Visual Mutterings

At grommelage.blogspot.com there's the start of a photographic record of Oxford, or wherever the hell I am on any given day.

The first one is from the Luminox on Saturday night.

Imaginary Children

Yesterday, for the first time in recorded memory, I chose to listen to John (Cougar) Mellencamp and his Human Wheels album. Surprisingly, I quite enjoyed it

Yesterday, randomly, BadmintonStamps.com, a music blog I drop by from time to time, posted this (with downloadable track):

"It's hard to hate on John Mellencamp. He does his thing and he does it competently. But for all his general good guy decentness, in the end he'll always be a pop tart version of the Boss. That's because Mellancamp is to Springsteen what Coldplay is to Radiohead; a watered down version your imaginary daughter likes. This is of course assuming that you have an imaginary daughter. I recommend getting one if you haven't already. My imaginary daughter is eleven years old, her favorite movies are Ferris Bueller's Day Off and Splendor in the Grass, she reads Teen Vogue although it's a little advanced for her but she wants to seem cool, and she loves converse sneakers and Mellencamp. She's a pretty cool girl and I love her to pieces. And seeing her imaginary smile when this song comes on convinces me that I love the Mellencamp too. I mean, sure he's not in the same league as Bruce Springsteen, but at least he takes a dump on Bryan Adams".

Supported

In our case we're leaning out the window looking at a cow

Trident

(Disclaimer: From a pinko's anti-nuke perspective)*

With the current debate on Trident, there are two audio clips that are worth listening to. One, from the Now Show, is funny and new and borrows from the other, which is a speech called 'Nuclear Weapons are Morally Indefensible' and is from the late New Zealand Prime Minister, the Hon David Lange. This is old and occasionally funny, was the Oxford Union Debate in 1985, and while being quite long is worth listening to. It remains as prescient today as it did in 1985.

By the way, Aotearoa is still being punished by our 'friends' for this one.

*Although if the aliens do come, and they don't come in peace, I'll be willing to admit I was wrong.

Somedays it pays to shave...

I went to see Blood Diamond on Saturday night with Sarah. It was a mutual decision*. On first observation it seemed a powerful and very violent indictment of the diamond trade. And to some extent, on second and third observations, it remains a powerful (and violent) indictment of the diamond trade. But it also came across as a rather patronising movie about Africa, and when Wendy sends me a link, I'm gonna link to someone from Cape Town who agrees with me (the guys at AllMovie.com get it pretty close here).

Anyways, being someone who is in the habit of shaving once a fortnight (I like my stubbly look - it reminds me I have testosterone, and on the whole I'm too lazy too shave in the firs place), it sometimes pays to shave. 'Cos you never know when your evening is going to end with a damn good snog.

*As a violent movie to go to on a first date, it comes a distant second to the time I went and saw David Lynch's Wild at Heart. Although that was most definitely her choice.

An IED a day...

Laura Bush on media bias.

Feed Me.

In Nepal, babies that are born perfectly healthy become brain-damaged by their first birthday simply because they do not get enough to eat.

My (other) government has decided to do something about that.