#27 Boom

For once, I've actually got more stuff to write about than I can fit into one single blog. Yes, this last week has been the most hectic ever, with something going on every night of the week and the approach of Christmas. As The Bravery sang, "I must have had fun, because now I'm broke"...

As I mentioned last time, last Thursday night was the Chaplaincy Choir's Advent Service. The first proper festive thing I've done this year, it was all down (well, quite a bit up-hill actually) to the Church to see Kyra sing in the choir. I must admit, being a Catholic service, I did get a little bit lost. I recognised 'Ave Maria', but all my "and the same to you"s and "amen"s were misplaced...

Friday night (well, all day actually) was Sidgwick's birthday. The wee Scottish lass was only 18, bless her, so we ensured that she experienced legal drinking to its fullest potential. I shall search out some of the photos and try to get some on here - although all those taken of me reveal a cringe-worthy cheesy grin. Plus, as well as giving me a chance to dress up for a change, it was also the first opportunity to enjoy the extended licensing hours (possibly the one good idea that this government have ever had). Remarkably, despite being plied with Baileys and Vodkas for most of the night, she managed to awaken the next day before noon.

Saturday was the night of the Ranmoor Christmas Ball... however, being skint, we decided to have our own "Alternative Christmas Ball" – by which I mean buying lots of crisps and beer and listening to music in one of our rooms. But we did have crackers, so there were party hats to add to the Christmas spirit. And it didn't cost anywhere near £28 neither.

Oh dear. Sunday night was Quiz Night: frankly, we woz robbed. Finishing joint first with two other teams, it came down to the tie-breaker question. We lost that fair enough, but that's because we had to wild guess at it. What did annoy us was how we had been cheated out of a (winning) point in the sports round. Who was the last person to defeat Lennox Lewis? It was Hasim Rahman - later known as Has-been Rahman - but not according to the quiz sheet. And you don't argue with the quizmaster when he's a 6-foot-3 hench Irish bloke. Who is also the landlord. So, we missed out on our 8 pint prize.

Monday we headed to the Harley pub for the Long Blondes' Christmas gig. The chick-rock band are released their single on the same day, and the crowd was well up for a celebration. I didn't really get it, but the atmosphere was fantastic... one of the support band's rendition of 'Fairytale Of New York' was a highlight: not for the male vocalist (who was dire) but for his beautiful partner and a penny-flute solo.

I've booked the coach home to leave here earlier than the last time I went home. My logic was sound: I'll avoid the rush-hour this time, provided nothing happens on the dreaded M1 (where I spent 5 hours in a traffic jam last time)... Then they go and blow up a big oil drum. Luckily, they appear to have cleared it all up now!

This picture is well worth a plug though:


In a not-unrelated incident, Tuesday's highlight was another Fire Alarm. We know now why Fire Engines are always so bright and clean... because when the Brigade arrived to investigate, they parked as far away from the building as possible. Lest they get dirty or owt! We developed a few theories... 1: that they were on the way to Hemel Hempstead but just came to us (being nearer), or that 2: all Firemen are actually deaf.

And now, we've gone full-circle again. Wednesday night appears to be Leadmill night, but this time I was wise enough to avoid any dodgy chips on the trek back home. Today, I've been to my last seminar (where we were treated to mince pies and tea), attended the University Carol Service, and after writing this shall be packing my bags for tomorrow's trek home. See you soon!


Election slogan of the week:
Vote Bernard: For a longer tomorrow

In the Deaf Fire Brigade...
...no-one can hear you scream

#26 Halfway

Hello again. Yes, this is the 26th week of my blog, so I'm currently celebrating the six-month anniversary with a packet of Digestives, a slight headache, and an aching ear. Explanation to follow.

Well, today is my second-to-last Thursday here. I'm back off home a week tomorrow morning (and out on the town a week tomorrow evening, with any luck). As a result, everyone is getting mighty fed up of having to go to lectures all the time (but it's Christmas!) and the calendar is packed with social events rather than essay deadlines for a change.

In celebration of this fact, I actually got my hair cut. I didn't like it at first, but it's growing on me [cymbal crash]!

Our Arts Tower building is one of a few left in Britain - nay, the world - that still has a working paternoster. It looks quite scary at first, but once you're actually on the thing it takes ages to get to your floor (especially if you have to get to anywhere above the 4th). Therefore, feeling rather brave (and in an attempt to recreate those scenes in films where the hero just makes it onto the plane/train/lift/helicopter before it takes off/pulls away/moves/flies off) I decided to jump in one of the cars at the last possible moment.

Paternosters are notorious for breaking. If you shift your body weight whilst you're in the top of the building, you can break the whole thing. Sadly, this thought only occurred to me as I was halfway between the floor of the, erm... floor and the floor of the lift. I suddenly realised in mid-air that if I broke the thing, everyone would know it was me, because my face would still be level with everyone's kneecaps.

Luckily, the thing just shook violently. But in my fear, I forgot to bend my knees, and as a result had to walk around with a jarred knee for the next few hours.

Last night was spent getting to the indie disco (via a few pubs) and then dancing the night/early morning away. This explains the slight headache and ringing in the ears. The aching ear was caused by a misunderstanding between myself and Amy. Amy, thinking that it was I who text a message about her onto the Leadmill's giant screen, decided to flick my (stone-cold) ear as revenge. For some bizarre reason, it still stings.

Highlights of the night included: watching Alex Ferguson squirm as Manchester United lost 2-1; watching Alex Ferguson stand defiant after the game; getting the words "The" "Only" "Way" and "Is Up" in the wrong order; telling everyone in the Leadmill where Bernard lives; a text battle between - I kid you not - the Town & County Planning Department at Sheffield University, and the Town & County Planning Department at Sheffield Hallam University; Bing Crosby.

This is a fantastic advert, sadly banned by the lawyers.
This is also excellent: Combat Wombat

#25 Communists

Greetings comrades, join me as we learn about the toils of Bozz...

I have just come out of a lecture that could only be described by Kate as "Trotsky meets Laurel & Hardy". My Theatre Studies lectures are usually fairly dramatic anyway: it is impossible for Theatre lecturers (who are really just frustrated actors) to deliver any lecture in a dull way at the best of times. But today, we had no less than two of our lecturers working together on the same lecture.
The reason for the rather strange description is because they were talking about the 1960s and 1970s - ie: when they were at university. Hence, we got told all the stories about how they became communists, joined student theatre companies, and of course protested against the Vietnam war/for women's rights/against nuclear weapons/for more money...

This did have some highlights: the story of how the communist theatre group was not only funded by the state (through Arts Council grants), but also how in one production, the entire grant was spent on buying joints to pass around the audience. When the Arts Council found out about this, all they asked the company to do was to switch to tobacco, instead! However, one of our lecturers is fiercely against the war in Iraq, and used every opportunity to voice his opinion on the matter.

I shudder to think at the hours I've wasted this week messing around with new software on my laptop. Until now, I'd always thought that widgets were the things that made cans of Tennant's impossible to pour without a half-pint of head on them. Upon discovering Konfabulator, however, I now know that they are an endless distraction to people who like having cool stuff on their desktop. After spending a long time downloading dozens of the things, I've now managed to clear it down to just 5 basic utilities. This also means I have harnessed the power of RSS syndication for my own evil needs.

I've also taken a few more photos of the place. I decided to go for a walk to find out what life was like outside the union precinct. To my surprise, I found out there's a TV transmitter about 2 minutes up the hill from the Halls of Residence; a whole parade of shops and a 24-hour BP garage nearby that could prove very useful to know about; and quite a lot of very steep gradients to navigate. Actually, the last one wasn't that surprising. Anyway, there's a few more pictures in the gallery now, and I've also been playing with Photoshop, so expect the next batch to be chock-a-block with whizzy effects. Or not.

Other things I've done this week:

▪ Acted like a stereotypical bloke in defending Nick Hornby's 'Fever Pitch'
▪ Acted like a five-year old when it started snowing
▪ Asked my English Literature seminarer* to reply to a Tom Ford text message
▪ Started learning the Greek Alphabet (alpha, beta, gamma, delta, epsilon, zeta, eta, theta...)
▪ Had a (luckily-empty) cup of Coke thrown at me


* Seminarer (noun) - the teacher who leads seminars

Snow

Yes, finally...


...it's snowing in Sheffield


...and the forecast is getting increasingly bleak!!

#24 Bunchers

Alrite Geez? Fancy taking a butcher's at mi blog? Well put your plates up, and make yourself at home...

Yes, it's true, I'm a cockney. Even though I'm not even from London, let alone the East End, let alone within the sound of the Bow Bells, "cockney" is the closest regional stereotype. As (Yorkshireman) Rob pointed out to me, anyone from the South is either cockney (East), or a tractor-driving, pasty-eating Cornish smuggler (West). It will therefore, be very interesting to see how my accent has changed when I get back home. The betting opens next week...

▪ Northern (Yorkshire): 3/1
▪ Cockney (South East): 5/1
▪ Scouse (North West): 10/1
▪ Brummy (Midlands): 30/1
▪ Cornish (South West): 50/1

I've also learnt several new words, most of which are completely made up. This week's new words:

buncher (noun) *
one who distributes bunches of jip:
"What an absolute buncher"

blinking flip (exclam) **
see: flippin' heck!


Saturday last week was a disaster. I attempted to go shopping (not one of my favourite pastimes anyway), but ended up walking round and round in circles, unable to find a single thing I wanted. Plus, being Saturday, it was packed full of people, and annoying Christmas promotions (of which more later). After eventually finding something to buy, I got it back to the room to find they'd left a great big security tag on the sleeve. Hence, I had to trudge all the way down to the city again on Tuesday to exchange the bloody thing.

Saturday night was cards night: I ended up teaching the others how to play "7s", and left with a sore forehead after playing some game involving slapping the afore-mentioned body part everytime a pair of matching cards appeared. The following game of "Snap" was not so violent, but by then the damage had been done, and I lost miserably.

Annoyingly, Christmas has already begun. Sadly, I missed the switching-on of the Sheffield Christmas lights on Sunday (attended by Postman Pat, Dick & Dom and G4 no less), but there's no missing the Christmas decorations that have already sprung up around the city. Even the canteen staff have started playing the Festive Remix CDs... it's not even December yet!!!

Skip a few days to last night, when we went on a pub crawl (of sorts) and ended up at the indie disco. Sadly, we missed the karaoke at the York, and we missed Yorkshire Rob's selections on the blatently-fixed Notty House jukebox, but we did get into the Leadmill before it closed. Which is always a bonus. Sadly, my lectures today have had to suffer with an attendance of "one-less-than-usual"...


Right, I'm fed up of writing now: cue some bullet points...

▪ Did you know? Eminem's debut single actually samples Chaz'n'Dave? It's true: the bassline that Mathers samples (called 'I Got The', available to listen to here) was actually performed by the cockney geezers themselves on instruments!!

▪ English is a truely universal langauge (very now select here)

▪ Thing that's wound me up the most this week: people who walk in groups of two or three and take up the whole width of the pavement, then, when the pavement gets wider, spread out, so that still no-one can get past them. Grr.

▪ George Bush is stupid (see here)

▪ And finally... girlfriends are useful, if only for carrying cameras


Elitist chant of the week:
(Sung by University of Sheffield students to Sheffield Hallam students)
"Your dad works for my dad"

Lyrics of the week:
"Patience is like bread, I'd say.
I ran out of that yesterday."

Public service announcement

Be aware of a new car-jacking scheme...

You return to your car left in a car park, unlock your car and get inside, start the engine and shift into reverse. When you look into the rear view mirror to back out of your parking space, you spot a piece of paper stuck to the middle of the rear window.

Switch off the car (with the keys in the ignition) or leave the engine running and jump out of your car to remove that paper (or whatever it is) that is obstructing your view... when you reach the back of the car...

The car-jackers appear out of nowhere, jump into your car and take off. It's a really simple steal: the door's unlocked, keys in the ignition, maybe with the engine still running.

Pretty clever though, you'll have to admit.

#23 Local

Hello, me again.

What with all these poems, books and plays to get through, it's a wonder the universities don't set aside a week so that we can get it all done without having to worry about lectures or seminars. They could call it - oh, I don't know - Reading Week, perhaps?

OK, I'm just bitter that I had to stay here and do some work while seemingly every one of my mates from back home (and some from here) swanned off home last week. Rather than being able to treat it as a half-term holiday, I had to slave away over an essay and attend a lecture - both, handily, in the middle of the week. Bah. But, if I'm allowed to live my life through other people - and give me one good reason why I shouldn't - I didn't have too bad a time of it!

I got to speak to loads of people at the weekend. Elyse (in Cambridge) doesn't get a reading week anyway, but looking at what she got up to she had a pretty cool weekend! A formal dinner and a student theatre production on Friday; punting down the Cam and watching a film on Saturday... the closest we have to that in Sheffield is taking the tram on a rainy day! I also got to hear about some of the strange Cambridge customs: walking on the grass lawns of some colleges can lead to you being expelled!! And that's not even when they're grazing cattle on them... (don't ask!)

Plus I got to speak to Adèle, who was visiting Cambridge after going to a wedding the day before, but only for a quick "hello, how are you?". Croasdell's been back to Dartford; I hear that Garner has been home (travelling from Scotland, that's quite a trek!); Mandeep's been a-visiting Read and Shiret!! in Canterbury... Still, there's not long now until we can all meet up down The Tollgate again for over-priced watered-down beer...

Finally, in local news: I must now have the look of a Sheffield resident, because today I was asked for directions for the third time since getting here! Everyone seems to want to know where the hospital is, too. Maybe I look like a doctor...


Quote of the week:
The secret of life is honesty and fair dealing.
If you can fake that, you've got it made.

#22 Burnt

Word. Here be the latest bulletin from Sheffield.

For a start, I know now that I made the right choice coming to Sheffield to study. Even if the courses are rubbish and my degree sucks, what a story for the grand-kids! Yes, I was in Sheffield in 2005: The age of the Arctic Monkeys, the birth of the South Yorkshire music scene... 'tis true: Sheffield is the new Manchester. Which was the new London. For a while.

I love finding things that I know are going to be a huge success before everyone else. When you tell everyone about them, you look infinitely cool: Just ask Tom Ford. I discovered Hard-Fi way back in January, when I bought their album and nearly went to one of their earliest gigs. So now they're all big and mainstream, I feel qualified to gloat a little.

The problem is when you don't tell anyone at the time. Because then when you say "I heard that ages ago", no-one believes you. That 'London Underground' song: I heard and downloaded that years ago, but only now is it all the rage as a real-sound ringtone. Bah. Similarly, I heard one of the contenders for this year's Christmas Number One ages ago too. Again, I didn't tell anyone, but I did download the track. So computer experts may be able to verify my story. It's the JCB Song by Nizlopi. Just to steal anyone else's thunder, check it out for yourself: Link

Friday last was bonfire night for me. What with half the campus swanning off home for the week, Saturday night wasn't looking like a big night out. So it was off to the local Catholic Chaplaincy's fireworks "doo". It was a good night, with scores of us packed into the house and garden, but a little scary too! For a start, one of the firework-lighters attempted to start the display by setting light to the nose-cone of the rocket. I'm not sure she'd done it before. After that, a wayward spark managed to find its way onto my neck. Luckily, my (now singed) scarf took the worst of it. The burgers were nice though...

On Sunday night, we went to see a film down at the Union: The Green Mile, starring Tom Hanks. Ever Since Cast Away, I haven't been too keen on Hanks, but he's in fine form in this 2000 production. It's a gruelling three-hours long, but well worth it. It's an odd experience: basically it revolves around executing prisoners in the electric chair, but there's a supernatural twist. On being asked how I found the film afterwards, I said that I'd enjoyed it. I corrected myself at the time, but now I stand my that original comment. I really enjoyed it, because it wasn't your typical film. It made you think, smile (a little), and cry (metaphorically). So go and see it.

Finally, some random stuff. I've been sampling the delights of BBC Radio Sheffield this week: it's a pretty good station: the "Raw Talent" show is the best for playing out all the great new music coming out of South Yorkshire at the moment. It's available online, too, so listen to it if you get the chance. One small point, though: the station's jingle is absolute pap.


People I've mortally offended this week: 1

Proudest moment of the week:
Out-Frenching a Frenchman with my poetic language

Number 1

People sometimes ask - "What was number 1 in the charts on the day you were born?". Usually, they hope to be able to ridicule you for being born in a week when some really embarrassing group were top of the charts with a spoof record about carrots; sometimes, it's actually annoyingly cool.

I've always told people - after looking it up on one website - that the re-release of Jackie Wilson's Reet Petite was top of the pops on Wednesday, 21 January, 1987. But then, after testing my birthday again to show someone, a different song came up!!

Apparently there had been a mix-up, because although the charts are published on a Sunday, the date of the chart is given as the following Saturday's: the "week ending..." date is given. Jackie Wilson was number 1 the week before I was born, but Steve "Silk" Hurley was number 1 week ending January 24 with Jack Your Body!!

I was actually quite gutted. Granted, Jack Your Body has been mashed up for a relatively cool Citroen advert, but it's just not the same, is it? Feeling a little low, I decided to have a look around this second website: the Quirky Number 1s page would probably cheer me up, I thought... and how!!!

The Number One 'That Got Away With It'
Steve 'Silk' Hurley - "Jack Your Body"

Strict chart rules govern which releases are eligible for the chart. One such rule stipulated the maximum playing time allowed on a 12" single (to avoid it being classed as an album). Unfortunately, nobody spotted that the 12" version of Steve 'Silk' Hurley's 1987 track "Jack Your Body" exceeded the maximum playing time. Its sales were incorporated into the overall total for the title. It, thus, enjoyed two weeks at number one in January of that year. In fact, it should never have been there! The effect was that Jackie Wilson's re-issue of "Reet Petite" (which it 'knocked off the top') should have enjoyed a fifth week at the summit and Aretha Franklin & George Michael's "I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me)" (which eventually replaced it at the top) was deprived of its first week (of what should have been three) atop the chart.

So there! I'm still claiming Reet Petite!

#21 Ordinary

How do! Here's another pile of bloggage for you to get through...

In terms of exciting things happening, Sunday takes the crown because it was Sunday night that I wnet to my first 'proper' gig - The Ordinary Boys at the Sheffield Fusion. Granted, I've been to see one of my favourite artists in concert before, but that was sitting-down (and amazing). This was the first time I've had the chance to get crushed down the front mid-mosh, have water chucked over me by people trying to cool down, and taking one hellova blow to the stomach in the process of jumping up and down while punching the air...

The night started with one of the quietest bands I've come across. In-between songs, I mean. The only time the lead singer spoke was to confirm their identity (I didn't understand a word) and town of birth (somewhere in America). They played a few songs, they left the stage. Moving on, then...

The support act were the excellent Bedouin Soundclash, whose rendition of When The Night Feels My Song made the stereotypical "I only came to the gig to watch the support act" bloke behind me very happy indeed. That's assuming him jumping up and down in glee means he was happy. To be fair, it was excellent. They said to look out for a single coming out at the end of this year - I'd recommend it off the back of their set... if only for ripping the good lyrics out of Clash songs, and 'sampling' them live!

To be honest, I'm not sure I could put together a full set-list for the Ordinaries themselves! I know they kicked off with the fantastic Brassbound; I also remember they played the song that got me into the band in the first place: Seaside. That one was also the very first song I ever downloaded, too (a story for the grand-kids, there). Boys Will Be Boys; the un-censored version of The List Goes On revealed an alternative pronounciation for the word "tripe"; and even a splash of The Ramones thrown in for good measure! On An Island went down a storm, but most people don't know the words to the last verse; Talk Talk Talk suffered no such problems, and was screamed back at them. B-side Little Bubble was there too.

All in all, and excellent night. It must be so strange to hear the crowd chant "Ordinary-Ordinary-Ordinary" after your set, and feel chuffed with yourselves! But as (lead-singer) Sam said himself - "you can't beat a bit of Ordinary Boys on a Sunday evening"...


I've found a few interesting things on the web this week (as part of my research, obviously), so rather than post them in one of those annoying e-mails, I thought I'd put a few up here...

Channel 4 was 23 this week. When they first launched in 1982, every programme was introduced with the same logo and the same music. But because they didn't own the copyright to the tune, they had to pay the composer £3.50 everytime they broadcast a show! Only after eleven years of paying out £1,000 a week did they get fed up and drop the tune!!



Quote of the week:
- "I see dead people..."
- "You work in a morgue."

Encounter of the week:
- "Excuse me, are you Clarkey?"
- "No."
- "Oh, sorry mate"