#16 Rowdy Christians

OK, so it's week two here in Sheffield... and Oh! the stories to tell...

Firstly, I'm not in the best of health writing this... the infamous freshers' flu has caught up with me, so the sound of people with sore throats and hacking coughs can be heard up and down the corridors mixes with strange indie music to form the Soundtrack Of The Semester™.

If this piece of information isn't true, it's still one of the greatest rumours to spread: the actor who played Bernard in classic CITV drama Bernard's Watch is not only studying here but staying in our halls!! It's sent people rushing first to the internet to find out his real name (no, it isn't Bernard) and then to their department's noticeboard to see if he's in their seminar group!

This being week-one-proper of the term, sadly I've had to start going to lectures and seminars. The first - entitled "The Bible: Fact or Fiction" appealed just because of the prospect of getting into heated arguements with devout Christians (one of my favourite pastimes). In fact, it turned out to be much better: we watched Eddie Izzard slate the Bible, a clip from 'The West Wing' and had a music quiz: One point for the artist, one for the song, and one for the Biblical influence...

▪ Bob Dylan - 'Highway 61' (Genesis 22)
▪ Kanye West - 'Jesus Walks' (Psalm 23)
▪ Boney-M - 'By The River Of Babylon' (Psalm 137)
▪ U2 - '40' (Psalm 40)
▪ Jeff Buckley - 'Halleujah' (Samson & Delilah, David)

Bizarre. Even more bizarre, the tale of a near-riot in the other Biblical Studies group when someone dared to ask the question "Is God a man or a woman?"... those crazy, rowdy Christians...

Plus, this week, a heart-warming tale of bitchyness in the face of new and strange surroundings. Already, one girl has found it in her heart to sabotage her rival's bedroom by smearing all it's door-handles with butter. Classic.


Double-edged compliment of the week:
"I used to think you were boring, but you're actaully fairly funny"

Sound advice of the week:
"When looking to download music with Biblical references, don't type 'Boney-M' into Google"

#15 Sheffield

Well, Thursday's found it's way around again, so I guess I should update you on what's been happening this last week - and it's quite a lot!!

Last Thursday was my last night in town, so a joint celebration of both my departure and Adèle's birthday was in order. Deciding to leave all my packing to the next morning was - on reflection - always going to be a bad idea. The original thinking (ie: to be back home by midnight, wake up refreshed, pack and be ready in plenty of time) was fatally flawed, especially as I didn't actually get home until gone 03:00. Whoops.

So, forgotten items aside, I've moved my entire life oop North to Sheffield University. There's something quite strange about being able to fit all your worldly possessions into a single suitcase and a shoulder-bag: I can't quite work out if it's depressing, or just darned impressive.

Saturday morning was the time I moved in. I'm not saying my room's like a prison cell, but they decided to put me in (cell) block H. Being on the ground floor too, means there's little privacy down here. But I'm only a stone's throw from the bar and the canteen. Apparantly, there's a launderette on campus too, but I haven't found it yet!The block is gently heated throughout to an ambient temperature of around gas mark 4, but leaving the window open is roughly the same as giving away my (only two possessions worth stealing) laptop and fantastic new digital radio. Luckily, it's colder north of Watford Gap.

The whole week has been manic. I've met so many people and already seem to have integrated into a crew, which is both fast and bizarre. There's also no-one I've met who's actually from Sheffield. Everyone (whose names I can remember) comes from Hull, Peterborough, Suffolk (!), Manchester... but no Sheffielders. Another thing I'm having to get used to is being called Steve all the time: it's so much easier to explain when you're shouting into someone's ear at a noisy pub...

In true freshers' week style, we've done some pretty typical student stuff. Saturday night was spent meeting and greeting in the bar; Sunday night was spent at the union bar; Monday night was supposed to be Quiz Night, but the venue had been double-booked so by the time we arrived (having been in the pub), there was no room! The more alert may have spotted a pattern here: can you guess what we did instead?

Some variation managed to eek it's way into the schedule on Tuesday night: it was Jazz Night, but fear not for we drank all through the night anyway. And then finally, last night: my very first indie disco. Sheffield's famous Leadmill club was the place: I'm not joking when I say that my ears still haven't stopped ringing. In fact, I may be permanently deaf in the left one... but worth it I think for a great night out. Back at 03:00 again!

A little bit of trouble tonight, though. I sent off weeks ago to the union for tickets to see Steve Lamacq DJ and Clor perform at the Union's Thursday night club. In the same envelope was my order for tickets to see The Ordinary Boys. Well, guess what: that envelope never arrived. So having been looking forward to seeing my broadcasting hero DJing tonight, there are now no tickets left, and certainly none for me. By pure stroke of luck, I've managed to pick up another ticket to see the Ordinaries, so it's not all bad. Tonight is bands' night in the bar, so at least there's something to fill the void...


Catchy-slogan of the week:
Flu? Hangover? Or Meningitis-Meningococcal Disease?
(University health leaflet)

Vital statistic of the week:
Fosters: £1.60 a pint

#14 Dartford

Gravesend-born Radio Kent DJ Paul James loves the sight of the Queen Elizabeth II bridge. I'll always remember his words from a special radio programme he presented a few years ago: it's subject was looking at the history of where we live. Being a county-wide broadcast, James travelled the length and breadth of Kent; but no matter where he's been, the bridge always has a special place in his heart for one simple reason: it means he's nearly home.

I think if I had to choose one sight that reminded me of home, it would have to be the chimney stack of Littlebrook Power Station. No matter where you are in Dartford, you only have to peek between the buildings, or look just above the hill, and you can see the great industrial spire that looms over the Thames. It's taller than the HSBC & Citigroup towers at Canary Wharf; it's the first thing you see when you cross the bridge into Dartford; living on a hill, it can clearly be seen from the front window of my house; but perhaps most importantly of all for me, it was built by my Grandad. Not single-handed, obviously, but it still makes me incredibly proud everytime I see it.

These pictures are of the view from my house today, and those he took from the top, before it was painted blue (as it is now). The pictures are blurry - but then again, he was standing on scaffolding at the top of a 722-foot tall chimney at the time: I'm not sure he wanted to take his "best" camera up there with him, and you can't blame him if his hands were slightly shakey!

Yes, this is my last blog to be written in Dartford for a long while. Tomorrow, I leave for Sheffield University, and to start the first 'semester' of my undergraduate life there. So this last week has been full of packing bags, filling-in forms and (in most cases, sadly) saying goodbye.

Last Friday was Sarah's fancy dress party. With a theme of the 1950s or the 1980s to choose from, I decided to choose an outfit that at first glance could be mistaken for either. God bless the fashion revivals of the Eighties! My black shoes, turned-up faded jeans, plain white T-shirt and black jacket - topped of course by a quiff/mullet - resulted in leaving people unsure if I was supposed to be The Fonz or the lead singer of Bros. Fortunately, Sexy Alan out-dressed us all, and took the attention off me for the rest of the night.

My Grandma is both blessed and cursed having a birthday on September 11. Granted, no-one will ever forget your birthday again, but what a drag to have to keep writing it down all the time.

Tuesday night kicked off the "farewell" parties, and we sent off Telfer (and probably some others I'll never see again) to university. Then, right up-to-date, tonight is my last evening in town.

I know it's easy to knock Dartford, but it's still my home and I'm really going to miss the place. Chimney and all. I've enjoyed this Summer: from Paris to tonight, I've had some great times. So if I haven't had the chance to say goodbye to you, sorry! Goodbye, good luck, and I'm sure we'll all be down the Tollgate again come December.


Song title of the week:
"I Need Some Fine Wine And You, You Need To Be Nicer"
(The Cardigans)

#13 Lost

Evening, campers. Yes it's me again.

Last night, I watched a popular terrestrial television programme in which a group of people - strangers, apparently - were stranded, isolated and looked as though they had no sense of common direction. There were communication problems, heated arguments and clashes; not many heroes, but more than one villain.


No, not Lost: I meant Northern Ireland vs England. Here's a thought, Sven: maybe it's because our players are used to playing 'English' football that playing continental tactics doesn't work. Why not try playing a formation that our players can understand?

Way back last Thursday was Read's birthday. We all assembled in the pub, waiting for Read and Ben return from their day out in London. 8 o'clock came and went, but eventually Ben staggered through the door. Read had, erm, gone home. That'll be the birthday boy, then. Luckily, he appeared before we all moved on to Zens. True to form, Read practically fell asleep on the DJ booth, got "asked to leave" the establishment, and had to be escorted home (via the kebab shop) by Ben.

It's fair to say Zens isn't my favourite place in the whole world, but at least I didn't get a proper shoeing off some random brainless drunken thug and his crew afterwards. Unfortunately, Joe did. Welcome to Dartford.

Since then, they announced the winners of the Mercury Music Prize. Alas, the Go! Team didn't come home with the award, so no jackpot for me. But I did pick up a tidy £30-odd on Antony and the Johnsons. Despite the fact the six-foot-tall, brick-out-house, Boy George-fan works with an American band, he is technically British so I can't complain I suppose. It struck me during his performance - and during Seth Lakeman's - 'these guys sound like Jeff Buckley', but with one key difference: they didn't sound that bad.

Well, this time next week will be my last day in Dartford for a long while. Yes, on Friday week I'll be off to university in the sunny Northern town of Sheffield. It's scary to think that some people have already moved away and begun to settle into student life. I still haven't chosen all my module options! Still, I'm sure I'll blag my way though it... until then, all I have to sort out is my fees, rent, what to take, insurance, SORN, TV Licence, laptop, train tickets...


Least popular band in America at the moment:
Katrina and the Waves

#12 Reminiscence

In this week's blog, a lazy scrapbook of Stuff What Reminds Me Of Other Stuff What Happened...

Snap! - 'The Power'
When I was on holiday at Pontins (no less) aged about 5, there was a games room on the resort. To a five-year-old boy, this games room was a pretty scary place: the flashing lights and sound effects from all the slot machines, arcade games and air hockey tables were pretty unnerving! Plus, all the machines were about twice my size. I remember thinking that the games room was the equivalent of the ball-pool for grown-ups. But the other thing that will always stay with me is the almost constant repetition of Snap! that was piped into the place. Those crazy 1990s...

Red Hot Chili Peppers - 'By The Way'
This song is responsible for my unadulterated hatred towards the Red Hot Chili Peppers. It's not directly their fault - OK, really it's nothing to do with them. This song became the anthem for my GCSE Drama group whilst we were putting in ridiculously long hours after school to rehearse. At every break, people would break into "Standing in line to see the show tonight..." and from then on, this song has always brought back memories of what was possibly the worst academic decision of my life. Sadly, RHCP songs are all pretty good and pretty addictive. They get in your head and stay there. Hence my bitter-sweet relationship with their music.

Annie Lennox - 'No More "I Love You"s'
For the simple reason that this song was playing in the hotel when we arrived, this song will always remind me (and everyone else who was there!) of Alton Towers. We spent a weekend there after our GCSEs. Because GCSE exams finish roughly 4 years before everyone else breaks up for the Summer holidays (and because hotel guests get an extra half-hour in the park before it opens) we pretty much had the place to ourselves! All together now: "Shoobie-doobie-doop-doop-doop... Ahh-ahh"

Badly Drawn Boy - 'Once Around The Block'
I always loved this song, but since seeing the video - filmed in and around Dartford - it'll always now remind me of home. Oh, how I look forward to seeing the video sometime in the future and telling people nearby "I know that road" in a desperate attempt to look remote knowledgeable/cool. On second thoughts...

Damien Rice - 'Accidental Babies'
This is another absolute stunner of a song, unreleased and very rarely heard live. It'll forever remind me of my day out in Paris, the most fantastic holiday of my life. There must be a great power set against this song ever reaching mass popularity across the globe, probably because it stands to annihilate every soppy, half-baked, two-bit, wet-flannel dirge of a love story that makes it on to television or the silver screen where "love" is portrayed as some shallow, easy, uncomplicated 'event' that can be sealed with the boy turning up on the girl's rain-soaked doorstep with a crappy poem or a tasteless, petrol-station coffee (but an incredibly clichéd joke about it); without saying another word she takes him back into her arms and her life (see, it's all a metaphor) despite everything that's happened for the last 90 minutes/12 weeks/4 years. And then what would they fill the multiplexes with?


Deep & meaningful lyric of the week:
"Boy bands, and another one, and another one, and another one"
(Busted)