The terror, the terror.

Well, I'm nearing the end of To Kill a Mockingbird now. Only 40 pages to go - just who is Boo Radley? Ending a book elicits a strange feeling in me; I'm sad that it's near the end, but also mildy triumphant. Plus I only ever read thin books, so am enjoying the regularity with which I find myself finishing them.

However, at the moment, I'm quite scared. In fact, I'm a little terrified. I'm on an amazing run of 6 good books in a row. That's 6 new books I've finished and liked, and not one dud amongst them.

It all started this summer when I went to Portugal and read about 1000 pages over 5 days in the blissful sunshine on a sandy beach. (Ok so one of them was a Harry Potter...but it still counts).

I started by re-reading Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince (in preparation for the 7th book), then finishing off My So Called Life by Joanna Nadin. Then I read The Boy Who Loved Books by John Sutherland and came home. By then Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows had launched, so I read that. Then I picked up a book my friend had given me for my birthday - Memories of My Melancholy Whores by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, a slender slip of a thing. Then I went to Paris and read Down and Out in Paris and London by George Orwell. I read the Parisian bits in Paris, and then moved to London and read the London bits. It's an excellent book, one of the best I've read. In a way it made me sad that Orwell eventually works his way out of poverty; you want him to remain in squalor so he can keep writing about it so insightfully.

And now I'm working my way through To Kill a Mockingbird after succumbing to the embarrassment that I seem to be the only person who hasn't read this book: 'you mean you never did it at school?' No, and I've never read any Jane Austen either.

But in saying that, it's very good, I love Scout, she's so funny.

But now I'm terrified my luck's about to end, and I'm gonna end up reading something that peters out like The Inheritance of Loss or Life and Times of Michael K, or god forbid The Turn of The Screw. God that was awful. I waited for something to happend until I was 20 pages from the end, then gave up.

I've been prying recommendations from everyone I meet, so any suggestions will be appreciated. I'm thinking of copping out and reading a Shakespeare play, at least I know that'll be a good read. Maybe Love's Labour's Lost. (I'll steer clear of Pericles; I've heard things). My flatmate suggested reading something trashy just to get it out of the way. My luck's about to run out sooner or later, but I don't wanna chicken out, so I'll think I'll risk it. I was thinking maybe Chinua Achebe's Thing's Fall Apart (good title). I was toying with the idea of buying one and getting one half price, perhaps Chimamanda Ngozie Adichie's Half of a Yellow Sun (nice cover) or The Kiterunner, or maybe Lord of the Flies. Three Men In A Boat by Jerome K Jerome also caught my eye the other day. The idea of a modern book sounds good (like Adichie or Hosseini), but I'm going for monumental 20th Century texts, stand alone titles that the author becomes known only for for examply The Catcher in the Rye, Mockingbird, Catch 22 etc. I quite like the idea of something dystopian as well, maybe 1984, or Brave New World. Orwell's served me well, so maybe Road To Wigan Peer might be next?

Fahrenheit 451 sits on my shelf staring at me; it's thin.

Stupid books, leave me alone.

Lucky day

I've been having an amazing stroke of luck over the last couple of days. Someone should rub me.

Yesterday I was at the pub and I went to pay for a pint of Young's Special for £2.50. I handed the barman £20, and he handed me back £27.50. This is the first time anything like this has happened to me, and I happily pocketed the £10 extra (including the free pint).

Then today I get a phonecall from Specsavers saying they've had to cancel my subscription to their contact lens by mail service because they no longer stock the ones I buy. So therefore I went into town today and picked up my next month's supply of lenses, and got a free contact lense check to boot. I've been meaning to cancel this anyway coz I'm moving into London, but it was great that this was all pre-empted.

Then I later found out that my friend Dan, who was in court today for a seatbelt violation, was found 'Not Guilty'. That was a pretty ace text to receive, which I got on the way to the Beer Festival at Earl's Court.

In the meantime of all this going on, I went for a fantastic fry-up at a place called The Breakfast Club with my friends Tom and Nicky. I then chilled in the park with Nicky, and then we made our way to Earl's Court for the beer fest. Then we headed back here, to go out with some of her mates. However, on the way, I received a text that Tony Wilson had died. This made me sad. He was only 57, and was responsible for making Manchester the home of dance music. I saw him in Turnmills a couple of years ago, and my mate chatted to him about Manchester United. He seemed like a nice
fellow.

Au revoir

Well I'm back from Paris now. It was nice, I managed to do all the things I haven't done before like go to the Catacombes and Pere Lachaise and up Notre Dame. It's all go from now on though, I've only got 4 days left of work to do till I finally move into my flat and change jobs!

Le football

Paul Robinson (the Spurs goalie) came into the shop today! He poked around for a bit, then went into Starbucks. All the footballers come in; this year we've had Dennis Bergkamp, some Watford ones, and of course David Beckham.

All this excitement has meant I shall be taking my 4th holiday this year - to Paris! I'm watching Amelie in preparation, and have bought Down and Out in Paris and London and Camus' The Outsider to read. I'm thinking of bringing Therese Racquin as backup just in case. The last time I went was in 2002 during the World Cup, so it'll be nice to revist some haunts along the Left Bank. I bought a chic travel bag from M&S for £40, but will be staying in hostels during the trip. I think I may even have spent more on my luggage than my accommodation by the end of my trip. Oh well, I've kept the receipt, so I'll just return it when I get back in it's 'unused and perfectly saleable condition' - et voila!

"So long farewell, auf weidersehen good-bye"

I was presented with a box of Thorntons for my birthday a month ago, and I've got down to the last pieces of chocolate. I'm left with choices between Lemon Parfait and Strawberry Velvet. Why can't Thorntons make one standard mixed tray, and then one tray underneath brimming with caramels?

...

I went out bowling last night in Bloombury for a dear friend's 24th birthday. It was wicked. We bowled, drank, ate (I had veggie sliders - teeny tiny burgers exactly like in Harold and Kumar get the Munchies), and then we did karaoke. To be honest I was slightly worried about the karaoke, having never really done it before, but I must say it's the way forward from now on.

I've been having an introspective week though, as I had to say goodbye to a couple of friends who are moving out of London. They're good friends, people who I felt close enough to go to the cinema with, go to the Globe with, eat with, perhaps not live with or go away with - but getting there. I've known them about 3 years, and they were friends of a friend who left London last year, so it was nice to be friends with them on my own terms, i.e. we have no connection to each other other than the fact that we all like each other's company. It's amazing when you realise this, that you can be friends with people through friends; it just slowly evolves without anyone noticing it. I always wonder whether there's a watershed moment in the development of a friendship, perhaps there is but you never notice it. I always thought it's when you first eat together with someone, coz you're never really as vulnerable as when you're eating.

Anyway we toasted to 'new beginnings', had a chinese, talked, then there were watery eyes. It was a 'see you soon', rather than a final goodbye, but I'm sure I'll see them again. I once said a heartfelt goodbye to a person who was leaving for Sydney 3 times before I finally saw her go, and that was because I kept bumping into her the next day. The last time we just said 's'laters' and left it at that.

Pizza GoGo

I went to my spinning class at the gym today. It was pretty good, raced around to the sounds of 1990s dance music. A woman in front and to the right of me kept turning round and glancing in my direction, which was a bit weird. She had long curly black hair, which flicked like a mane everytime she turned her head. It got me a bit paranoid after a while. She also had a sort of rash on her hands - but she was not unnattractive.

Then I went home and had a 15" pizza from Pizza Gogo for £6.95 with chips. I feel a bit sick now, and a little dizzy. I'm watching Davina McCall on School's Question Time, and it appears she's starting to talk sense, so I think it's time to go to bed.

Freedom

Alan Johnston was freed today. That's good news.

...

'Bryman' today asked me why he's never mentioned in my blog. It's funny when people (who never read my blog) complain that they're never mentioned. If I was harsh, I'd say it's because they never say anything that will stay with me. But that's not true of Bryman - he's the wisest 20 year old I know.

I think the real reason is because this blog is a small but important outlet for the mundaneity in my life. It contains nuggets of all the little things I subconsciously absorb throughout the week, and consciously think about later on in reflection. It's not the important stuff. The important stuff is the day to day stuff, e.g. moving out, changing jobs, (all stuff that I'm currently doing). But that never interests me, I suppose. It's also really hard to write about the real stuff in an interesting way.

[I'll try it now:

I'm moving out to go back to London, and changing jobs at the same time. Lot's of people are leaving work, including my partner in the Kids' Section (the other member of Team Kenicky). I went out for Moody's 25th (the day before mine), in Islington, went to Bar Rumba (had a great time), got the nightbus, was sick on myself, got off the nightbus which was blockaded at Wood Green because (according to the police) there's "a nutter running around with an axe. We've got him located in this cordened off section, but you'll have to walk around it". One birthday segued into another, and after a few cocktails, I ended up onstage with my shirt off with two of my mates. Then I flew to Portugal the next day. (All in all I had about 8 hours sleep in 48 hours). I laid in the sun and read about 1000 pages. I read John Sutherland's Boy Who Loved Books, the rest of My So-Called Life by Joanna Nadin, all of Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince, and a couple of articles in the London Review of Books.]


So, whenever me and Bryan talk about society or terrorism, therefore, it'll never go in the blog (but it might stay with me).

When we talk about vaginas on elbows, on the other hand, well that's another story.