This Is This

*(apologies to JonnyB)

It is quarter to one in the morning and I am woken by the noise.

Me: Hello.

Man: Mr Jones, hello, my name is Raj, I’m calling from Netgear about your wireless router.

He sounds like a nice enough guy. He has a strong Indian accent and he’s chirpy, so I’m guessing it’s not quarter to bastard one in the morning where he is.

Me: What?

Man: My name is Raj and I am calling to ask about your broadband router modem.

Me: One second.

I get out of bed and walk downstairs to speak to him and ask at what they are playing.

Me: Why are you calling?

Man: We have your call logged as an unresolved issue and we were wondering if you were able to get back online and if your modem was working.

Me: That was like three weeks ago.

Man: It’s a courtesy call for the service of all Netgear customers, Mr. Jones.

Me: No, I mean now. Why are you calling at 1245 in the morning?

There is a half-empty silence, which contains the sound “Mist…”, then the rest of the pause.

Man: I am very sorry about this.

Me: It’s working fine and you said it was an ISP problem anyway, which I went on to fix. But you’re calling me in the middle of the night, three weeks later.

Man: I’m very sorry, Mr. Jones. So are you able to get online?

It’s not his fault, I tell myself. He has a lot of numbers to call and he’s doing his job. His manager will probably get angry at him if I complain about him personally. Best thing is to send an email to Netgear in the UK and US and let them know what I think of their flexible methods of serving a global market (or outsourced cost-cutting methods?). Or better still, write about it and send this post to them and mention “Netgear customer service review complaints call centre India broken wireless modem router“.

Me: Yes it’s working. But don’t ever call your customers in the middle of the night.

Man: Thank you for choosing Netgear, Mr. Jones.

—
Dear Sir/Madam,

I have written a review of Netgear’s customer service on my website and would be interested in your response.

If you are going to outsource your technical support, they should operate within UK hours and not those where you have outsourced your labour.

I enclose a link to the post and I await for your reply. The page is now live and I will of course print your reply for our readers.

Regards,

Cliff Jones

Read Netgear’s response
The Telephone Rings - Part 2

What writes novels but won’t use a phone or electricity?

Martin Amish

—
Dear God
Shrink Joke
Sunday Crap Joke Alert
Inexcusably Poor Taste Joke

Not much time today, so I wanted to share this, again by the brilliant Kevin Kling.

Don’t get discouraged by any perceived religious aspect - it’s a hilarious and beautiful story, so please grab yourself five minutes and a pair of headphones and make the rest of your day different.

And thank you.

Me: Daughter, can you please pass the pencil from on top of that box?

Daughter, 5: Um… which box?

Me: That one there with the pencil on it.

Daughter, 5: OK!

Welcome back and we’re going to the kitchens now to learn how to make perfect bagels. And they’re really easy to do, aren’t they, Cliff?

Yes, that’s right. Even if you’ve never baked bread and you don’t have a set of kitchen scales, you can bake perfect bagels if you have about half an hour to spare.

Half an hour? That’s great. Can I do it?

You sure can, Cliff, and we’re going to do it right here on the show.

Well, all right. You guys ready to cook some bagels? Let’s do it.

Ingredients
1 1/8 cups warm water (just above room temperature)
1 tbs vegetable oil
2 tbs malt syrup, molasses, or sugar (you can substitute maple syrup or honey if you like, but you’ll taste it. But go for it if you like.)
1 tsp salt
3 1/3 cup bread (or strong) flour
2tsp active dry yeast

Make your dough
a) If you have a mixer with a dough hook
Mix the water, syrup (or sugar or whatever your sweet thing is) and the yeast and let the liquid mixture stand for five minutes, then and add half the flour and all the other dry ingredients. Turn on the mixer for about a minute, then add the remaining flour until you have a ball. If it’s too dry, add more water a tablespoon at a time. The dough hook will do the kneading in about five minutes. Give it a three minutes on slow and about two on half speed to knock it about. If you’re using fast-acting yeast, skip the first rise. I use fast acting stuff and it works out fine.

b)If you’re mixing by hand
Mix the water, syrup (or sugar or whatever your sweet thing is) and the yeast and let the liquid mixture stand for five minutes. Put two cups of the flour with the salt in a large bowl and stir in the liquid. I’d use two wooden spoons for this, as it cuts down on mess. Then add the rest of the flour and stir a bit more until you get a dough. Turn this out onto a floured board. Remember to flour the board and your hands, never the dough. Knead by hand for about 10 minutes until smooth and elastic. Skip the first rise if you are using fast-acting yeast.

First rise
Bear in mind that most yeast sold in the supermarket is fast-acting, so you can probably skip this part. But if it’s ordinary yeast, put the dough in a large bowl. Brush oil lightly over one side of cling film and place this over the bowl with the greased side down. Let it sit in a warm place for about an hour. It should double in size, but don’t worry if it hasn’t risen by as much as that.

Whether you’ve skipped the first rise or not, you’ve not got your basic dough. Easy.

Shape the bagels
Give it a quick knead again to knock the air out a bit. It’ll all come out anyway, because next you’re going to roll it out flat about 14 inches across. Don’t worry about getting it exactly right, it’s just to get the dough breathing. I use the length of a rolling pin as a guide, like so:

Do this on a well floured surface with a rolling pin. If you don’t have one, you can skip this step. Once it’s flat, let it rest for five minutes. Then squish it all back together and with a divide it into eight pieces.

With two hands, make a ball out of each one. Don’t roll them out, just cup them in your hands like you’re making a snowball. Then flatten them slightly and stick a finger through the middle, keep turning them so they get stretched evenly as you pull the middles bigger and until you have a decent sized hole that you can get three fingers in.

Put these on a non-stick, lightly greased baking tray.

Second rise
Lightly brush oil on one side of some cling film and lay it oily side down across the top of the bagels in the tray.

Don’t make it too greasy, the oil is just there just to stop the dough sticking to the cloth, not to add any flavour or texture to the bagels. Leave them aside in a warm place and let them rise for about 20 minutes. 

Preheat your oven now to about 220C/400F, because you’re going to need it really hot. And make sure you put a cake tray or shallow casserole dish in the bottom of the oven while it’s heating - I’ll come back to this in a second.

Boiling
While your oven is getting nice and hot, start boiling a large pot with at least 4 inches of water in it, and when your 20 minutes are up, and the bagels have risen under the cling film, you’re going to drop them into the boiling water. You can do 3 or 4 at a time, just make sure they have room to float around a bit.

They’re going to expand quite a bit, so start with a couple to begin with. Put them top side down into the water first, because they will look better in the end. They may sink down to the bottom for a bit, but they will rise up, and you want to boil them for about a minute each side, turning them once, before taking them out with a slotted spoon or a spatula and putting them on a rack. You could put them on a tea towel if you don’t have a rack, but don’t use a plate, because they need to dry off so let the air get to them to dry out a bit. 

Baking
Brush them with a little water, add some poppy seeds, or sesame seeds or anything you like. Onions, cinnamon, whatever. If you’re adding nothing at all, still brush them with water because it’ll given them a light glaze. Put the bagels, now nice and puffy and thick, back onto your baking tray. You can pack them close together now - they aren’t going to rise any more.

Remember that shallow tray in the hot oven? That’s the key to a really good glaze, because you’re improvising to make a steam oven. Get a small glass of cold water or a half dozen ice cubes and pour/put them into the dish in the bottom of your oven. This will steam bake your bagels, which is the best way to cook them. Whack the bagels in straight away in the middle shelf and bake for 20 minutes or until the tops are golden brown. You can take them out halfway through and brush them with water. It’ll help with the finish, but don’t leave the oven door open longer than a few seconds, because you have to keep the oven hot for bagels. Don’t brush them too much if you’ve added poppy seeds, because they’ll fall right off.

And that’s it.

Let them cool on a rack.

They freeze really well because bagels are more dense than bread, but you’ll want to eat at least one straight away. 

I’m a huge fan of Kevin Kling, a broadcaster and writer from the American midwest. Maybe there’s something about big sky country that produces good writing. I should look into that. Flat open spaces and solitude. It makes a lot of sense.

Here’s one of two stories of his I’ll post this week and it’s called Otto And The Moose

I hope your weekend is going OK. Those bagels are smelling pretty good about now.

I’ll post the recipe up tomorrow, then we’ll have a rigged phone-in and answer (or possibly add to) some of your personal problems.

Here’s a song that ticks a lot of my musical boxes. Hard, strong rhythms, horns belting out, a great bassline, huge choruses and an infectious tune. If I mixed Mad Libs with musical cliches from rock journalism, it’s (name of soft melodic band) on (a type of hard drug).

I’m not sure if everyone in the UK knows what Mad Libs are, but you get the idea.

The Mighty Mighty Bosstones are band who recorded this belter of a song in the late 90’s in a style known as, for reasons which will soon become obvious if you don’t already know: “skacore”. They started in the 80’s and are still around today, but this is their finest hour. I also like the way the singer delivers doubtful lines with authority, especially the “No? -Well…” right before the chorus.

And the chord after the “could” in the first chorus. And A5, maybe, or a sustained 2? It sounds unresolved anyway, like you’re catching breaths between a battering by waves. Nice, all the same.

If you’re just here for the bagels, you’re a little early. They’re not ready yet, but you’re just in time for this.

I’ve never had to knock on wood
but I know someone who has
which makes me wonder if I could,
it makes me wonder if…
I’ve never had to knock on wood
and I’m glad I haven’t yet
because I’m sure it isn’t good
that’s the impression that I get.

Listen: The Impression That I Get

—
Related pages
Weekend Song archive

Cheers you. Weekend song tomorrow, then next week I’ll show you how to cook ridiculously delicious bagels, followed by the usual posts that happen here and a couple of gems I found online that I think you’ll enjoy. Blog my arse. I’m going so mainstream. Three guests and a band by summer? Bit of a monologue to start? “10 minutes, Mr Jones.”

Have a great weekend.

To: letters@dailymail.co.uk 

Dear Sir/Madam,

I read with great interest your article in entitled “Why rabbits love liquorice (and elephants can’t jump)” on today’s edition p15 (and also e-edition here).

The article states:

The only two animals that can see behind themselves without turning their head are the RABBIT and the PARROT.

I know for a fact that chameleons can also look behind them without moving their heads. So can lobsters. Also, penguins can not jump more than six feet. They can swim out of water and launch themself up on to rocks, but that’s it.

Was today’s article written by immigrants who have taken all the staff jobs at the Daily Mail while the hardworking middle classes are squeezed by Labour, or is there some deeper point you wish to make for a change?

Sincerely,

Cliff

PS. Can a cow walk upstairs backwards?
—
Related post
Sir,

He gets promotion, I get a post, you get a laugh. Everyone wins.

Related Bob Dylan posts
I never got Bob Dylan
Second Paragraph Illustrative
Uncool And Cool Bands I Like and Don’t

The wine is only there for perspective to show that I made truly monster loaves. Click the picture. CLICK it.

Last Tuesday, Scaryduck (who took his first webfooted steps into video blogging yesterday) put up a post asking his readers to compete in The Duck of Death’s Celebrity Death Pool featuring the Duke of Edinburgh Memorial Gold Cup

The rules were thus:

1. Choose THREE celebrities who you think may cark it in the next twelve months. Ten points.
2. Choose one additional TRAGEDY PICK - a celebrity less than fifty years of age who you think may shuffle off this mortal coil before the end of 2008. Twenty points.

I went for:

Doris Day
Fidel Castro
Elizabeth Taylor
Tragedy: Claire from Steps (AND double points for irony)

Nice and safe choices, ending with a comedy number. Thank you and goodnight. 

But someone else called John went with a somewhat edgy this:

Menzies Cambpell
Honor Blackman
Mickey Rooney
DOE to DIE on 11 November 2008
Tragic Pick: Heath Ledger
(I dreamt about this one).
John

Now of course, the competition takes a nasty twist, because less than a week later, we learn that Heath Ledger is dead.

I know this looks insentive given Sunday’s post, but death happens. It’s sad and it does. But when your blogging peers ask for predictions, then get them from the dreams of thier readers, then something’s going on.

If Rooney, Blackman and Cambell die on 11 November, there should be an inquest. Although I would pay good money to hear the words ”ming with honour” said on Newsnight.

Regular readers will know I’m a fan of the magnificently funny A Little Bit Of Wisdom In Every Box, which is blogging’s answer to light entertainment. I will of course stop liking it when everyone discovers the infectiously good-natured Sam, a 23 year old student union president and blogger par excellence, but until that happens, I will rave like a loon.

He’s now treading the murky waters of video posts with this first one.

This would have been good enough, but he followed it up with a director’s commentary version version, which is even funnier.

Honour him with your patronage, Thislings.

Seriously, just enjoy. Just hit F5 and look at the straplines on the nav bar.

bad grammar makes me [sic]

ma vie en blog

because beggars CAN be choosers…

Honour him.

Allow me this one for a tribute. Mutual friends stop by here sometimes and today there’s occasion for glasses raised over bowed heads, because today is fifteen years since since my friend Luke died. Time is proving true my suspicion that we’ll never meet his like again. Cheers, pal.

Update - 11 pm
I wanted to say thanks to everyone for coming through with stuff. Lindsay put some video of Luke and us here. You can navigate between the two films by pressing “Movie 1″ and “Movie 2″ at the top of the page. (You’ll need quicktime to watch them.)

We’ve got some photos here and here and some artwork that I’d never seen before, a letter, even some MP3s, but most importantly your thoughts.

Guy, that’s a beautiful comment. Kirsty, too. Everyone else, thanks for stopping by and that other friend, thanks for the email - and yes, I don’t doubt for a second he would. Here’s one of my own from a couple of years ago today.

What we came up with today wasn’t volumes, not by today’s standards, but it means more to think that fifteen years on we have still held on to this stuff in more ways than one and that at a couple of days’ notice, you’ve gone to the trouble to share it and we took the time. When you consider that Luke died before the digital age started (he worked in a video store, for crying out loud!) it shows the effort you made is a testament to the effect he had on people.

We’re online now. We’ve gone digital and wireless, we have social networks and websites but we still get drawn back. But we’re not living in the past, we’re living in Luke’s future. The way to honour that is to walk on, count the blessings and never forget what we mean to each other.

Colleague (singing): Why don’t we do it in the road?

Me: Because it’s not safe and it’s unhygenic.

Colleague (looks at me in silence)

Me: And I’m just not gay. Sorry.
—
Do you like nice conversations?
Bored
Conversation
Conversation
Conversation
Conversation 
Conversation 1
Conversation 2
Wrong
Conversation This Week, Part 2
Conversation This Week, Part 1
Talking Like A Superhero At Work
What Are You Saying?

A part of moving is letting go, not trying to rein stuff in too much. The mind like water thing. I’m not saying I can do it, but I get it. Doing it’s another thing.

Here’s one from Pearl Jam, who can do both anthemic self-affacing.

What do we want?
We’re more interested in what YOU think we want.

It’s been a busy week here on the site. I didn’t expect to post every day, but that’s how it turned out, because I didn’t have to. Funny, yeah. Maybe THAT’S letting go. Like a dark mood in winter, where it’s that you don’t realise you’re dwelling on it until you stop. Maybe you’re gripping the leash so tight you can’t feel it after a while.

I am fuel, you are friends
and we’ve got the means to make amends.
I am lost, I’m no guide
but I’m by your side.

Listen: Leash

—
Related pages
Weekend Song archive

We were playing Animal Facts at work. You know, a shrimp has its heart in its head, elephants are the only quadropods with knees that bend the same way. Animal Facts.

A colleague said that a cow can walk upstairs backwards.

Me: “See, I don’t think that’s right.”

A cow can’t walk downstairs, I explained, because they would fall forwards. They are top-heavy with weak knees, but they can walk upstairs.

Him: “And upstairs backwards. That is a cow fact.”

Me: “I think its wrong. Because if they were walking upstairs backwards, they still be pointing downstairs and they’d topple forwards for the same reason they can’t walk upstairs.”

Him: “But you’re not hearing me. They’re walking upstairs BACKWARDS.”

We got the weekend song tomorrow, trying not to stay attached to these winter blues.

Have a good weekend all. It’s good to be back. Slightly embarrassing that I was gone about two and a half weeks for a break, although I’ve managed to post every day here, but good to be back all the same.

Did you know Barack Obama was black?

Honestly, he is. Although you wouldn’t know it because it doesn’t matter.

Let me tell you something. It matters.

The suits he wears matter. The people standing behind him when he talks matter. The height of the podium matters. The car he pulls up in before he gives the speech matters. Is it an American car, or a Japanese car? That matters. Is it an SUV? That really matters.

It matters what he smoked in university. It matters what people think of his religion, whether he is or isn’t a Muslim. It matters that he is confident. It matters if his family fought in any wars and on whose side. It matters than he has no facial hair. Abe Lincoln would never get elected now.

It matters that he is not disabled. Franklin Roosevelt couldn’t walk, but there are only two pictures of him in a wheelchair. He had to be propped up before he could be photographed or make speeches and he had different sets of leg braces to match the colour socks he wore. Because it mattered.

Theodore Roosevelt was shot in 1913 while walking up to give a speech. He worked the shooting into the opening joke, delivered the whole address and the bullet stayed in his body for the rest of his otherwise natural life. But people know about the incident because that mattered.

And those were back then. The scrutiny is much greater now.

If you’re trying to become the most powerful head of state in the world, it all matters. Obama Barack is black and it matters, just like his teeth and his accent matters. It’s not a political issue, sure, but people say it didn’t matter than John Kennedy was a Catholic. I wonder how many people voted for him because it didn’t matter.

Get over ourselves.

As tagged by Meg earlier this month, I have just got around to posting it, and the stuff relates to the week between Christmas and New Year. So here is Me Meeja Meme.

What I read 
I subscribe to National Geographic magazine - I read articles on the albatros, memory and cowboys.

Sunday Times Culture section is the first thing I reach for from the weekend’s papers. AA Gil’s review is a sometimes guilty pleasure.

The Week is the best news magazine ever made and it’s always bang on the money without taking itself too seriously. The back page article consistently the best feature of the week, and the letters section is brilliant. It does it all.

I didn’t read any newspapers because I don’t really, but I did the quiz of the year in The Times.

I read Lorelei’s Secret by Carolyn Parkhurst  - a novel which was a recommendation from Wendy, and one I wouldn’t have picked myself because the premise was kind of weird and it could have gone either way. But it didn’t and while the theme was very sentimental, it dealt with real issues of grief and cruelty with a dignity I very much doubt would ever carry me through such trials.

What I watched
I watched the film Gettysburg, which is the four-hour epic screen adaptation of Killer Angels, which was the best book I read last year, and the finest account of battle have read, and I’ve read lots of books about war. This was a birthday present from my dad and stepmum - cracking present, both.

I saw a cheesy Sandra Bullock film where she works as a train ticket seller in Chicago. It was all right. Until five years ago, I had never seen a film with her in, and now I can’t avoid them.

Jules Holland’s Hootenany and the news for the fireworks. I watched the Transformers movie and I went to see Everton play Arsenal and then saw the highlights on Match Of The Day back in the hotel and the cold light of day (we lost).

Flight Of The Conchords - one of the funniest shows of the year. Murray…. -present.

Riding Giants - No, stop that, it’s a documentary about big wave riders who live and love to surf. Just watching it was breathtaking.

Lead Balloon - Jack Dee at his deadpan funniest.

What I surfed 
AOL UK (present employer), BBC News (future employer), newswires, photo archives, Facebook, The New Yorker, blogs (from my Bloglines RSS reader, in no particular order, and I can’t remember if they all posted, but I would have read them if they had and the list is): It’s A Life, troubled diva, So?, rivierawriter, little red boat, writer’s moll, Everything Is Electric, Sad Sweet Songs & Crazy Rhythms, Jonny B’s Private Secret Diary, This Is The Goo I’ve Got, Scaryduck, A little bit of wisdom in every box, Fleet Street 2.0, The World of Jill Twiss, Goin’ To The John, A few words from Rob Mansfield, Adventures in Kathrynland, Zen Habits, Journalism.co.uk, The Blog of Author Tim Ferriss, McSweeney’s, newsroomnext, meish dot org, I am livid, Justin’s ramble, better than fine, agenda365, The Daily Telegraph’s Bits.

Riviera Writer, my dad, made his final blog post in that week, which is a shame, but you can enjoy the archives and I will plug his book again, as he’s giving up to work on his second one.

What I listened to
Newton Faulkner’s Handbuilt By Robots CD - really enjoyable, heartfelt, soulful and funny songs by this energetic and sensitive acoustic guitarist with an earnest but not schmaltzy voice.

Magic by Bruce Springsteen

On the road trip to the match, I listened to Radio 2 - Mark Lamarr on the way up, and Clive Anderson on the way down.

A spoken word CD - Lake Wobegon Days: Original Radio 4 Broadcast (see below)

Podcasts - Prairie Home Companion’s News From Lake Wobegon - This is irresistible and if you haven’t heard it yet then it give it a try. It never fails to brighten my darkest week. Garrison Keillor writes adorably. Also NPR’s Writer’s Almanac - another Garrison Keillor show which looks at literary landmarks on that day in history, followed by a poem.

And Mr Angry’s inaugural podcast - very funny if you get the chance.

I am tagging Writer’s Moll, Kathryn, Mr Angry, Pete and Scaryduck.

You know you’ve been blogging too much when you get on the bus and sit next to someone you’ve never spoken  to before and you get out a book and he says:

“No laptop today, then?”

I laughed and said: “Taking a break. Too much work. Resolutions.”

It seemed I’d also given up using proper sentences and instead was talking like incapacitated superheroes used to in comics right before they opened a can of whoop-ass.

They don’t do that now - superheroes are much more eloquent. I miss the whole thing of: “… MUST FIGHT… BUT … TOO …- STUPID…”

Now it’s: “I SUMMON THE POWER OF FLAMOID TO DESTORY THE EVIL SOUSAPHONE WARLORDS.”

They probably turn their noses up now at canned whoop-ass, too. In all likelihood they get their whoop-ass flown in and have it prepared in a wrap with porcini mushrooms and raspberry coulis.

Meanwhile, back on the bus… 

“Start as you mean to go on, I say,” he said, which was obvious because I had finished talking, such as it was.

I went back to my book, which I’ll tell you about another time, because we’re all out of Tuesday. Tomorrow I’ll do the My Week In Media meme that Meg tagged me with. It’s from the first week of New Year, so, it’s somewhat backdated, but if I’d have been posting it’s what I would have written.

Also - Facebook friends: Please stop trying to get me to add funwall, video galleries, happy cams, widget heaven, etc. If you want to send me something, send me an email. It doesn’t get any better than the sneezing panda, and that was 2006, OK?

or
Oh Baby Give Me One More Chance
or
How To Cream Off Legitimate Google Searches By Peppering Your Posts With Song Lyrics

Right, OK, well the last two weeks have been a test to see how you respond to burnt-out bloggers deprived of daylight and I’m pleased to say the majority of you passed. Well done. Excellent job everyone.

Seriously, thanks for the patience. Regular readers here (chorus of “guilty”s) were understanding and don’t worry - all the pressure was coming from me. I can thank you gliblessly because you’re back reading here now, aren’t you, so understanding is what it was. Also, it wouldn’t sit right with either me or you if I didn’t explain the lessons learned during and changes brought about by my blogdown.

I learned that this is not just this, but you as much as me and that it’s nice to know we’re connected by more than wires.

I feel much better now. It felt bad not to write, but it’s good that it did. I honestly thought I might be gone a month or two, but found not writing every day just what I needed. But writing generally is what I also need, so I wrote every couple of days to because that is what I do (see “a thought for my rolling before”). And after a week and a bit, I found just writing every day or so to be what I would call relaxing. Any more and I would have gone back to the pressure, any less and I’d start to get itchy pencils. Not a pretty thought.

As soon as I realised it was going to be a break rather than a case of “goodbye cruel web”, I came back to post, which is the one you may have read after the video.

I also learned something else I already knew, which is that I’m fairly productive. I like results, I like the focus it gives me and how it keeps away the guilt of lethargy and depression. It’s playing fetch with the black dog.

Example: on Saturday, 5 January when I would normally have been publishing the weekend song - which would have been Canary by Liz Phair (I learn my name/ I write with a Number 2 pencil/ I work up to my potenial, I earn my name/ I come when called) - I woke up thinking: “Hmm… today’s the day I’m going to finish my book and make bagels.”

And I did and I did. Results, see?

And not like the obsessive stuff or alpha-type nutsoid drive, just - doing a thing and feeling all right about it. And it’s the same with writing this here. How many people in the world get to write whatever they want and feel good about it and get the same reaction from other people? Not many, not comparatively. It’s a humbling thing more than anything.

So no, it’s not a duty, it’s a privilege and feel I do get paid to do this, and the money is pretty good.*

There’s a lot coming up. You’ve got animal facts, some politics (but interesting! With animal facts!), a meme about all the reading/listening/surfing I’ve been doing, a couple of video posts in the pipeline, even a cooking spot.

Also, Ed offered to send me legal pads, pencils and an electric sharpener at the weekend. Thanks for the offer, mate, but I’m doing OK.

*I’m speaking metaphorically here, but if anyone wants to actually pay me to write then let’s talk. I can churn out 300-500 words a day no sweat, and with the right offer, I’d ditch this place in a second.

There’s probably no better way to lull yourself back into anything than to the sad, subtle triumph of South African harmonies.

I’ll write more later, but for now? Hello. I know. Sorry. Better. Thanks.

So here’s Ezra Ngcukana, with a song which makes me feel proud and I don’t even know what at - maybe just the sheer uncompromising wonder of everyday life.

Look at me. All lulling.

;) How’ve you been, OK?

Listen: You Think You Know Me

—
Related pages
Weekend Song archive

All right, who had nine days?

Ah yes - the deal. It’s not that I’ve been finding it hard to write lately. I write easily, I think of the random crap that seems to lend itself very kindly to blogging. I’m not showing off when I say this because it’s equally uncool that I find it hard not to write. In fact, that’s one of the reasons why I need to take a break, because if I don’t decide to stop, I will keep writing every day and my thoughts and hours will be spent on here, which is time not spent generally living.

Over the last year, every trip into town on the bus was spent typing out that morning’s thoughts and a certain portion of the evening was dedicated to checking the reaction to those thoughts. That’s time when I could have been entertaining myself with a book, or a new album or watching a film or playing guitar or even doing something useful.

I know I’ll keep writing. I always have. I’m a creative person. I’m not totally comfortable with the performance aspect of it, but that changed gradually over the last ten years when I no longer saw the point of not sharing the stuff I was producing anyway. One time when I was fourteen, I spent the first five hours of a transatlantic flight hunched over a pad of paper when a flight attendant eventually said, “Wow, you’ve spent this whole time writing.” I smiled shyly and slid the many sheets of paper into my hand luggage and watched the movie. No one would have read it anyway in those days, which was a shame, but then so was even being noticed writing.

Which is bullshit, I know that now. There’s nothing wrong with sharing what you do if people enjoy it. Garrison Keillor encourages performance and urges people not worry about what anyone else thinks. He said: “Get over yourself. Yes, you’re unique, but so is everyone else.”

I can also say that at my best, on a good day and with a tailwind, I can write worth measuring up to some of the stuff I would enjoy reading myself, and I’m not that much different from a lot of people who may think the same.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been asking myself if I should keep updating the blog at all. While I can’t come up with an answer to that, I think that asking the question is reason enough to rest in itself. I’m not sure if there has to be a point of not sharing, or of blogging or not blogging, but again - if I have to ponder the point, then it’s probably time to stop. For a bit.

Lately I made a few audio posts, then video stuff, which I have enjoyed a lot. Last week I even put up a podcast feed on itunes, so the kids could subscribe and download updates on their pods of i. It even looked pretty cool, my stuff up there alongside Clive James and NPR’s Driveway Moments. But I stopped short of producing anything since because I thought it would just develop into another thing that I push myself too hard to do.

Last year I published 120,000 words, which is something, but that’s in the shadow of last November and December when I nearly deleted this whole site on three occasions because I had become overstretched and resentful - and nobody likes a Mister Grumpyblogs.

Charles Shultz wrote Peanuts every day for fifty years and that’s an awesome achievement. He could walk over the street, have breakfast and read the papers, open his mail and doodle all morning and produce something by lunch. Or maybe that’s how he managed to do it.

I even toyed with the idea of creating a different blog, just for a laugh while I took a break. It was a good idea that a friend came up with, I even wrote a post before Christmas. I would have pointed to it from here. I wasn’t going to keep it up, it would have just been for a joke. But the point is not that “I hate my blog”, just that I need a break.

You never know. I may find that I have to post a lot if indeed that’s how I roll. If that’s the case, then I’ll see you back here in a bit. But first I have to find out how it is I do roll, because over the last year I set out to post every day and that’s what I did without so much as a thought for my rolling. OK, twice I think I missed a post in November when I was getting cranky, but then I posted four or five posts over the following two days. Admittedly some of them were just plain odd.

This is a break. Thanks for the messages. It might be two weeks, it might be two months. I doubt it will be any longer, but it might be and I’ll let you know. Sonny Rollins did the thing with the Williamsburg Bridge and maybe I’ll do the same. If so, I promise you that when the posts do return, this site will be better than before. Honestly, you’ll love it. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll lose fifteen pounds, you’ll fight to get a ticket, but before that happens I need to miss writing again and that can only occur by not doing it.

Thank you from all of me at This Is This and have a happy New Year.