sad but hopeful

Ah, the Internet, again…These blogs may allow any old soul to have immediate feedback on matters of the day, but it sure is hard to get on line, to access the pages, to express views. Indeed, with such low traffic, I wonder if there is an acutal benifit to all this. Acorns, clouds, journeys of certain miles…

Aboslutely livid to hear Hope of the States are to split. This news angers me, it annoys me, for all I see is another damn fine band washed up by the media, not any lack of a talent or possibility. Their albums are amongst the best UK release in the past few years, and their live sets can barely be faulted. I cannot understand why they have been allowed to slip through the net…it’s a damn shame, but also a mark against the music industry’s precious soule. I wish Hope of the States well, for they have always deserved much more than they ultimately received.

Yet another dull day at work, as it goes. With one person down, is seems events are a magnet to certain people. I am one of those people – however much I would like to be taken seriously, it all seems to fall apart. I demand too much and act too hastily. Quite where I go from here I do not know, given the rots and the deep soil.

Without context, I am just another blogger, so I may need to flesh out a lot of bones. Musings of such character pollute the internet, with hundreds of such sites putting the world to rights from the bedroom chair, are of note maybe to a small circle. This is why I put my value in “hard copy” journals. Such is the way of the world, and of these modern times. More, anon, as ever.

fête de banque

Woke early, or woke at the normal waking hour for a work day, bothered about through the hard-copy diary, then on-line. The day has been spent breaking my back with a mass clean-up, shovelling clutter into the various (un-chipped) bins, putting paper work into some kind of order, and starting the movement from one kind of bedroom to another. Meanwhile, in this crazy world of unreal reality, the transfer from one blog to this continues, with the knowledge in the back of my mind that a) it matters not one jot, and b) it is only something with value in today’s context, and I have no intention yet of stopping my journal writing in favour of the temporary cyberspace web-site.

Following the clean up, I jaunted townwards, to do little. Bank Holiday crowds muttered about, window-shopping, or dragging children around shops. In Waterstones, a mother complained, “It’s not my fault if the reading list isn’t here, is it, darling?”. A crowd of Chinese students, notepads and maps in hands, fluttered about the closed market, whilst a couple chatting in French poked about a discount supermarket, their faces shouting disdain.

There are a few things bothering the mind, but they can remain within the head, and on paper, until (or unless) something significant changes.

bread, milk, fig rolls, raviloi

LibDem Councillor June Dodd has defected to the Conservatives.
Preston’s student population is being expanded by its annual thrust of thousands. UCLan is one of the fastest growing universities in the country, and there is crowds of Chinese types busying themselves around the place, pointing at things. A clump was outside the English Martyrs Church, taking photographs, chattering at each other. I remember, years ago now, being approached by a group of French students asking directions. They asked for “Leezam Sont Onays”, which meant nothing to me, so they tried again; “Leezam Sont Onays”. Only when they pointed at a map did I realise where they meant – “Lytham St Annes”, near Blackpool. The one bonus amongst the many about the students being here is the expanse of languages in the pubs and streets on Saturday – you can spot a well dressed Italian girl amongst the local shoppers a mile away. In the discount stores, gaggles of them buy small baskets of staples, and pay with £50 notes. One girl in front of me, with a £20 note, bought two packets of fig rolls, a loaf of bread, two bottles of milk, and tins of ravioli. She left with two hands of change and a cheery “Merci”. There is little else happening, either within or outside my little world. I have been having a here-and-there day at work, with technical glitches aplenty. More later, anon.

One step forward…

Technology, wonderful. This site was snail-crawl yesterday, making any transfer of existing blog content impossible. Now, with an early morning numbness in the head I can only just be bothered to…heh, never mind.

Funny dreams, not sure how to describe them. Something about coinage still seems clear, but nothing else, although sleep came sudden and hard. Half way through Poirot I was snoozing, waking up only to stumble into bed. I have still not done a “proper shop”, so food is down to tins I can do nothing with, or bread, or coffee, so if I don’t get too distracted by the last day of freedom I need to do something. Other silly things disrupt the mind, but I’ll get through them with the usual bumbling uncertainty.

Next, then, moving in to here. There are some entries which are not “time specific”, so that makes it easier. Just need to be made comfy here, not sure how to settle in the place. Onwards, though, ever onwards.

This is new speak

A blog appears to be the new “must have” which is already old-hat in some quarters. It is the recordable CD, if you will, the idea which has already found its place on a dusty shelf in people’s mind. Nostalgia is big business for a society which lives in fast-forward.

I have written a regular hard-copy real-life diary since the year 2000, only putting my fingerprints on the world of the blod in half-hearted attempts of getting this idea that has less potential than its reputations suggest. My friend says “Nobody wants to know I had Weetabix again this morning”. Looking through the acres of bad poetry, updates from Squiggles the cat, and other blog standards, I know what he means. I hope to use this as my base, moving some existing blog entries from the other place to here in time, and getting into the swing of this new thing.