May 21, 2013

Where are they now? An interview with Diamond Geezer!

jackofdiamonds1Are you living in the same place as in 2004/05?

Absolutely. All that’s changed is the place where I’m living. In 2004 Bow was just an overlooked neighbourhood in East London, and then in 2005 a Frenchman opened an envelope and dropped an Olympics on my doorstep. My flat hasn’t changed, and most of the streets close by haven’t altered much either, but the area just across the river has changed utterly. It’ll be a while yet before I stop living on the edge of a building site, but the ripple effect of that Olympic summer will last for a very long time.

Would we recognise you if we passed you in the street?

I hope not. I’d still rather be a playing card than a person.

What do you think is the best/most important new technology/online thingy to have appeared in recent years?

Twitter’s ace, isn’t it? I don’t use it much, but as a way of keeping up with what everybody else is thinking it can’t be beaten. However I do suspect that Twitter is also to blame for the fact that so many Uborka-generation bloggers have given up writing in long form. Why go to the effort of joined-up paragraphs when you can make your point in 140 characters or less, and get an instant response into the bargain. Please continue talking between yourselves, and I’ll carry on spouting paragraphs in the corner.

We all had a blog back then. Do you still have one, or are you mainly present somewhere else?

Do I still have one? Of course I do, I’m not some internet lightweight.

What achievement of the last 7 years would you most like to celebrate here?

Still being here. Seven years is about 2500 days, and I’ve posted something on almost all of those. The series of posts that best sums up this madness must be my Random Boroughs feature. Four Saturdays a year, for eight years, I picked a London borough from a set of folded slips of paper in a jamjar, researched the place in an hour flat, went out and toured its most interesting sights and then came back and wrote about it in depth for three consecutive nights. You have to be proper bonkers to do that, without once thinking “ah stuff it, Hillingdon’s actually quite boring”. The entire 33-part series was inherently pointless, but I’m still well chuffed to have got to the end, and I know I have a hugely better understanding of the entirety of London as a result.

And here are your questions from Anna:

How, after all these years, do you still find such boundless energy for your blog?

I have a sense of blinkered persistence, an inner urge which forces me to write stuff even when it might be more sensible to slouch on the sofa and do nothing, or to go out for the evening, or to go to sleep. And I have the time. Unlike you, dearest Anna, I don’t have another half to cosy up to, or a young toddler occupying my every waking hour, or another house move to organise. My evenings and weekends are a blank canvas, so either I fill them with blogging or else I’d have to get a social life.

What do you consider to be the ‘Golden Era’ of your blog?

Through necessity, rather than choice, it has to be last year’s Olympic summer. For a couple of fortnights my hyperlocal blog had global relevance, and the readership figures have never been higher. Even better I somehow managed to combine going along and attending tons of events with squeezing in the time to write about it, and what I’m left with is a first-hand account of an unrepeatable event.

And why would anyone with any sense ever live more than a mile from the sea?

I know I know. I have to make up for this deficit by visiting the seaside at regular intervals, often the Kent or Sussex coast, for a good maritime blowout. I do live about a mile from the Thames estuary, which is technically the sea according to some definitions, but in reality I’m entirely landlocked until the Thames Barrier fails.

Who would you like us to interview next, and what shall we ask them?

I’d like to invite Lyle, thanks. I’d like to know how he copes with moving around the country so often, and whether he was secretly glad to escape from Norfolk. I’d like to ask how he’s feeling about 80 days time, if that’s not too impertinent. And I’d like to know if anyone’s ever bought anything off his Amazon wishlist.

Karen
  • Comments: 7
  • BLIMEY! I KNEW SOMETHING DG DIDN'T KNOW! Ahem. Yes, they left a gap between the houses ... - anna
  • Another fab interview! Fascinating stuff :-) Looking forward to Lyle's too. There had... - Lori Smith
  • I'm uncommonly pleased with the term "Uborka-generation bloggers." - Karen
  • It's all yours, Lyle :) Blimey, I hadn't even realised that's where Rillington Place is... - diamond geezer
  • Oh flip. :-) - Lyle
  • Comments: 3
  • For some reason, he suggested 'Harry.' - Karen
  • That looks like fun, Bernard. I hope you had good time. Now I'm going to have to teach... - another mike
  • That looks like a big crash, I think it's banger racing. Nice photo, Dad! - Bernard
  • Comments: 5
  • Yeah. First happened 18 months ago and I did the standard x-clamp replacement and overheat... - Pete
  • What's happened? Is it the traditional red ring? - Stuart
  • It has not worked. - Pete
  • I heard a rumour that it had worked. - Karen
  • I'm not optimistic. I think I'm not going to be playing GTA 5 this year after all. - Pete
May 17, 2013

Last Orders

This afternoon for your virtual drinking pleasure, we have recreated a pub in Armpit ((unpleasant northern seaside town where I spent my teenage years)) known within the family as The Death Lounge. Decorated in autumnal shades for your autumn years, this well-proportioned room is dimly lit to hide the unsightly, unidentified staining around the legs of some of the chairs. The chairs are high-backed, with wipe-clean upholstery, and are placed around the edges of the room so that you can stare across at the old biffers playing dominoes.

Sprightly shuffler Sevitz is first to the bar as usual. Have you noticed that? He has this spreadsheet, you see, and it reminds him to pre-schedule his drink order before I’ve even written the post. He’s the only visitor today acknowledging the Man Utd theme, with his red wine. Some of us were sprightly once, but our sporting days are of course over (in my case, pretty much before they’ve even begun), but it’s nice to put our feet up, eh Tom? Can I offer you some tiramisu with that whisky mac?

It takes very little imagination to place Mike and K in a snug corner by the roaring bars of the fragrant electric fire. There they sit every evening, toasting their toes; Mike still clinging to the remnants of his sophistication, sipping that eternal Old Fashioned; K sliding into the oblivion of ever more vile combinations of alcohol and drugs. Not, any longer, that sort of drugs. Lisa confirms that sanatogen is indeed alcoholic, and she is a retired scientist so she should know. She has demanded to share with K, and threatened him with her knitting needles, so best hand it over.

The little row of knitting ladies also includes Clair, already looking forward to the bingo later; Pixeldiva, drinker of port and lemonade by the bucketload, and her compatriot Kirsty, nodding off over her medicinal brandy and milk, with occasional mumbled remarks about bunnies. None of it makes any sense. But frankly more sense than you’re likely to hear further down the row, where Lyle is knocking back satan’s balls like you wouldn’t believe. Presumably this is some sort of arrangement he’s made in order to gain immortality.

Dementia is of course a recurring theme within these frosted velvet walls. You’ll have noticed asta, in denial, telling everyone else how old they’ve got, and pretending she doesn’t like the sherry she’s swigging. I even saw her upend the bottle into her soup at lunchtime. Mark will be lucky if there’s any left for him. And then there’s Graybo. One day he says he used to be the benevolent dictator; next day he’s the King of England. Yes, dear.

Talking of repeating oneself (did I say that already?), Pete is retiring from blogging. He’ll have forgotten about it tomorrow. And did you see that guy in the long tweed overcoat and bits of sausage in his beard? He used to be the finest mind of our generation, now he’s a howling loony, covering every paper napkin with grotesque biro drawings of, well, Graybo in his underpants. This is all getting a bit weird. Did anyone see where he went with that strange fizzing drink?

There are a few empty seats around the walls this afternoon; it’s hard to say whether they’re the places of those who have gone before, or simply they who have not yet arrived at The Death Lounge. Someone has to stay unretired, paying taxes so we can party into the long, dark night.

Karen
  • Comments: 9
  • This Dignitas is surprisingly moreish. I think I might have anomunnamunnammmmmnnnn.... - Doctor Pockless
  • Hmm blast. This spreadsheet is broken. Downs wine. - Sevitz
  • First - Sevitz
  • Don't worry Stuart, I'm sure there's a still-warm seat available along the back wall. - Karen
  • I'll just skulk in, late as usual, for a pint of bitter and twisted at the bar. - Stuart

Bar’s open

Our benevolent dictator Graybo has asked that we adopt a retirement theme, following Sir Alex Ferguson’s announcement that he’s retiring in order to drink all the vineyards dry.

So we’re setting out the chairs around the walls today; please get your zimmer frames and hobble to the bar. Drinks will be served before dinner; best choose something that goes well with cabbage.

Karen
  • Comments: 15
  • Whisky Mac for me - apparently it's an old man's drink but I've always been partial to it. - Tom
  • I'd like the rest of asta's sherry, please. The bottle will do, no need for a glass. It's ... - Mark
  • My granddad would always drink whisky and lemonade, so I'll have one of those and raise a ... - Clair
  • In honour of all the little old ladies, who seem to have disappeared from my life, I'll h... - asta
  • Bucket of Port and Lemonade please *nan face* - pixeldiva
May 15, 2013

Uborka Running Club

We used to use the ‘going’ category for travel posts, but we’ve only left the country once since 2006, so I’m reclaiming it as the Running Section of Uborka. Last week I wrote about my (repeatedly thwarted) attempts to leave the sofa behind, and apparently spurred Stuart to put his running shoes on; I also mentioned that posting my progress on twitter had been a motivating/supporting factor; and this made me wonder if a regular How’s Your Running post would be of interest.

I’m inviting comments from anyone interested in joining the Uborka Running Club (yes, there will be t-shirts. We have always wanted Uborka t-shirts). Please share, if you would like to, the following:

  • How long have you been running?
  • How are you getting on at the moment?
  • Where do you run?
  • What goals do you have?
  • How often do you think we should have a Running Club post? – weekly/fortnightly/monthly.
  • Any other interesting remarks.
Karen
  • Comments: 16
  • Welcome Tom, you and I can sit and direct everyone else, from the tedious comfort of our c... - Karen
  • >> How long have you been running? Over 30 years in one way or another. I consider ... - Tom
  • I think I missed the last sentence from my 'What goals do you have?' portion. I want to fe... - Stuart
  • I'll be away on holiday in 2 weeks. Do I need a note from my mum? - Lisa
  • A review of the "how often" question gives me a load of vague responses, one vote for mont... - Karen
May 14, 2013

Where Are They Now? An interview with Anna Pickard

8472545793_c6a2ffb5e3_nAre you living in the same place as in 2004/05?

A ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
A ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
Excuse me.
A ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha no. I am officially rubbish at staying in one place very long, to the extent that I’m not sure if I can remember where I was in 2004/05. I think it was a ground floor flat in North London with a ridiculous mouse problem (in fact, I know it was, because I just checked with my blog archive, my external memory drive), and then in 2005 we moved to another flat in North London. Where there was only one mouse. After that there was a tiny two-up, two-down ex-brothel in Brighton, (no mice), another house in Brighton (no mice), a loft apartment in San Francisco (no mice), a pre-fab apartment in a nicer area of San Francisco, basically made of cardboard (no mice. there was a racoon in the garden, though, if that counts?), a flat in brighton, the house in brighton we’ve been renting for the last two years (one mouse), and the house we’ve just bought that we’ll move into in a couple of weeks. Oh, and we might have to move again in the autumn for work stuffs. But we don’t know yet.

Would we recognise you if we passed you in the street?

Yes. I am always some variation on curvaceous, and mainly red, with a big white sail, fluttering on my towering mast. Oh wait. I am not my blog. I am not my blog. I am not my blog.

I think you would recognise me, but only if you had ever met me before or seen a picture. Otherwise probably not.

What do you think is the best/most important new technology/online thingy to have appeared in recent years?

I think this is a very important question that I feel unqualified to answer. I know that for me, while it has basically been the death of me saving ideas to write in blog posts (or, in fact to have any ideas at all longer than 140 characters), twitter has been the most important. I do understand why some people are dismissive of it, but it’s been nothing but good for me, in terms of keeping in contact with friends, keeping sane during long nights with a new baby, and just generally feeling part of a larger, friendlier, simpler conversation. Other than that. Um. Smartphones? I suppose my iphone enables all of the above, and more.

We all had a blog back then. Do you still have one, or are you mainly present somewhere else?

I do. And I keep trying to post on it. And I succeed. Sometimes. But possibly on a monthly rather than the daily basis it once was. In turns of writing I’m mainly present in lots of other places – that’s also part of the issue. When I started writing for a living (in… um… 2007? Christ) I found it increasingly difficult to turn off whatever voice I was having to write in that day, stop thinking laterally about things and just let my brain move in squiggly lines again. I desperately want to get that back, and harbour a belief that at some point I will make myself be able to carve a blog-shaped hole in the day and do it daily once more. I know that the community has shifted, that people read in different ways, and that if I don’t learn to say ‘no’ to work things, I’m never going to learn to make time: but still. I will, damnit. The blog was written. The blog exists. The blog will rise again.

What achievement of the last 7 years would you most like to celebrate here?

A: that I managed to turn a ridiculous blog into an even more ridiculous (but quite successful, at the moment) career.

2: that I managed to remain in touch with so many of the people I got to know through blogging, many of whom I consider among my closest and most trusted friends. All of whom I would be happy to meet for a pint. It is very unusual (for me, at least) to remain close to that disparate a group of people for so long. Being part of that kind of community also changed the way I approach conversations and people on the internet in general, which has been all for the good. So thanks, you lot.

C: I created a human with my internet boyfriend (of ten years, now, I think my mother may have stopped calling him that by now). And that small person, if you’ll excuse my language, is fucking astounding. It is something I wasn’t sure we would ever do, and had decided to be ok with that, and then we suddenly, surprisingly did, and I am so, so glad.

Sevitz wanted us to interrogate you about various things, so here goes:

Can you tell us what you consider supremely odd/weird that other people find perfectly normal, and what you find perfectly normal that other people find supremely odd/weird?

I … I don’t know. Pretty much everything? On both sides of that. I feel honestly confused about why anyone would not live near water. Like, I logically realise that people might like hills and things, but just have a complete disconnect with the idea of not being able to get to the sea, or a lake, or a bloody big river within 20 minutes. The programme ‘Escape to the Country’ makes me apoplectic with rage for this reason. I am quite aware that’s unreasonable.

As for the things that I think are reasonable that other people don’t? I really don’t know. I find them reasonable, so find it hard. The idea that text messages fly through the air and that if you’re on the right physical height you can hear them whispering as they whizz past? Um. The idea of, when someone asks you what you want for your birthday, suggesting a book you already own and are currently enjoying, and then giving it to them so they can wrap it up for you? Bobbie’s had to get used to having his favourite possessions wrapped up for birthdays and christmas. But then, what better to get someone than something you’re already sure they like?

I honestly don’t know how to answer this question. And like most things I don’t know about, I’ve just written 400 words on the subject. I was a journalist for a bit, don’t you know.

What do you think Bobbie would say changed the most about you when Doozer was born?

I didn’t know, so I asked him. In fact, I knew what I *thought* he would say changed about me most the moment Doozer was born, because he is a pedant. And that was something about externalising a baby. But he didn’t. He said this (I am typing as he speaks):

Before you had the baby you got very focussed on Getting Things Done. And I was worried that you’d turn into some kind of hyper-arse-kicking mum-machine. Instead something more fundamental happened. You became a bigger person. Not physically. You just have a greater capacity for everything. A greater capacity to cope. A greater to see. Everything. Everything that needs doing. At once. And a greater capacity to love.”

And what do you think changed the most about Bobbie, when he became a dad?

Very little. He turned out to be precisely the same grounded, loving, generous, relaxed, inventive and attentive father that I always knew he would be. Just even more so.

I would say (on the negative side, because not all parenting is wonderful, obvs) that I also realised for the first time how much we’re both affected by lack of sleep. Both of us. It is a terrible mix with new parenthood. When we don’t sleep, neither of us have any rationality, or patience, and a huge capacity to do shouting and crying. We are now, as a family, more dedicated to the art of sleeping.

Who would you like us to interview next, and what shall we ask them?

Hm. I think Diamond Geezer, if that would be alright. I have such huge respect for him, and gratitude that his is still the only blog I get to read almost every day. I would like to ask him how, after all these years, he still has such boundless energy for his blog. And what he considers the ‘Golden Era’ of his blog? And why anyone with any sense would ever decide to live more than a mile from the sea?

Karen
  • Comments: 10
  • I'm so behind on my blog reading that I've only just discovered this series! Loved reading... - Lori Smith
  • Or a shedule. That was really great to read, Anna. Good questions Mr. Sev. - Stuart
  • Anna, have you *met* Sevitz? There's a schedule. - Karen
  • I can't help myself. - Sevitz
  • Ha ha ha ha ha babies ha ha ha ha schedule ha ha ha ha planning etc. - anna
May 13, 2013

Watching: How I Met Your Mother

I first found out about How I Met Your Mother on Reddit. I think that at the time it was in its 3rd or 4th series, and people were saying lots of very positive things about it. We watched the first episode, and were immediately hooked. It was uncommonly funny. There are very, very few things that actually make Karen laugh out loud, and this was one of them.

You may have noticed quite a bit of the past tense there, and sadly it’s not accidental. This show has gone so far off the boil that it’s now just a pan of tepid water in the middle of a windy field. The show’s basic premise is that a father is telling his two children the story of how he met their mother, but he’s clearly meandering and just telling them stories of all sorts of wacky capers that he got up to with his friends in New York in the early decades of the 21st century. This was cute, at first, because no apology was made for this. However, after about 5 seasons, the writers started making an effort to push towards the grand reveal, the supreme denouement, and it’s all been downhill since then. Partly because they started the push too early, and partly because this is pushing the characters into some very unfunny scenarios. Remember how in early series of Friends, Chandler was the sarcastic, pseudo-depressed one with commitment issues? And then he got together with Monica, and that basically sounded the death knell for his character, because now he had nothing to complain about any more? In the last few series, with the exception of a few plotlines when he got a job in advertising, he was wallpaper. Okay, imagine that, but now imagine it happening to every single main character in the show, simultaneously. Even the erstwhile unstoppable womaniser Barney Stinson is settling down. There’s still a whole season to go, plus 3 remaining episodes in the current one. The only thing keeping us watching it at this point is our previously-mentioned desire for completeness, which right now is seeming like a most undesirable trait.

This program shouldn’t be called How I Met Your Mother. It should be called How I Killed Your Sitcom.

Pete
  • Comments: 13
  • Also, what's this "things rarely make Karen laugh" business? I laugh at you all the time. - Karen
  • We're nearly at the end of 8, I believe. - Pete
  • MASH is on our current watching list, I think we're on about series 7. It starts off laugh... - Karen
  • I think I'm just going to go back and rewatch M*A*S*H - Clair
  • I agree with that characterisation - I think we get some short but very high quality stuff... - Karen