FREE-LIGHT MY FIRE

THIS weekend I learnt many things, some useful, many not.
My top three new nuggets of information are that:

ONE] George Lamb looks more delicious in real life, if that is possible.  Eye contact was exchanged, but that's
         about it.  I never really stood a chance when I was surrounded by:
                a] screaming middle-aged women and
                b] really really perfectly formed models..
         STILL, a free fashion show was enjoyed by me (and the two startled girls at the pub who I gave my goodie
         bag to) then on to two free gigs, one at the Sound Bar to see Birmingham's Arcadian Kicks and all-round
         nice-guys (and girl) superstars TANTRUMS, and another at the O2 to see a friend play bass for Jonny-look
         at-my-tight-jeans Borrell, which leads me nicely on to the second thing I learnt this weekend.

They did actually come out in lingerie, not standard underwear. Models 1: Stan 0

TWO] The O2 should be called the 'Oh Dear'.  Although it boasts an unfaultable sound-system, something which
          I would argue could make or break a band, i really fail to see any other redeeming factor for this
          monstrosity of a building which boasts not one but two entrances (w0w). The drinks were burning holes in
          my pockets before I even bought them, the lighting would have been OK if you were partially blind and the
          ambiance was that of a badly planned school disco.  It's fine though 'cause the DJ was lovin' it.
          It is NOT however OK to:
                 a] stroke my hair repeatedly whilst I am waiting to order drinks at a bar, then imply that I look like a
                     vampire by asking if I ever go out during the day.  I am standing alone at the bar because I'm trying

                     to get the barmaid's attention, not because I want to be petted like a kitten.

                b]  girate to the Arctic Monkey's dancefloor song whilst giving me the eye.  If I wanted to vom I would

                    have downed a bottle of sambucca thanks.        

'Oh Deer' This would probably make them 1oo% cooler.

THREE] No amount of forrest will start a bonfire in a garden if:
                 a] it is damp.
                 b] it is covered in damp leaves.
                 c] it is therefore clearly d a m p.

I maintain that adding salt DID help the situation, albeit for about three minutes.  Note: it is probably not worth smelling like you've been trying to smoke yourself to death for a tiny bit of flame.  It really isn't going to heat six pretty cold people.  Stick to huddling/drinking spirits/staying by a real fire, inside. Silly Stan.

If only it was this big. ''That's what she said''

ANYWAY
I do feel more knowledgeable now which is great.

I'm pretty sure you do too.

x

STAN Vs FLU

IN the last two weeks - I'm not going to fluff this out in any way - I have learnt hardly anything.
I've had a flu type thing that has been almost impossible to shake.
The Good Food channel became my friend, our boiler died [perfect timing] and I only lost my appetite for ten hours.
This does NOT however mean that I didn't discover anything new. OH no.
During my Stan Vs Flu weeks I have learnt that:

ONE] Man Vs Food is probably the most disgusting yet insatiable programme I have ever watched.  Hours upon
         hours of a man trailing around America's finest late-night diners, taking on their belly-busting challenges
         and consequently making you pine for a salad. This was like my pringles tube of TV. Definitely youtube
         this. Definitely don't try anything he does.

This is probably just pre-breakfast.

TWO] Those rumours about Nigella being unbashfully suggestive during her day-time 'how to make a sexy
          pavlova' shows are all true. Every single one.
          It is probably not OK to a] lick a wooden spoon covered in cream suggestively whilst making eyes at the
                                                 camera.
                                             b] whisk vigorously without a bra on at lunch time.
Probably, but we really don't care. God bless Nigella Lawson.

You work that bowl of...wait..what on earth is that?

THREE] Nothing will stop me from seeing George Lamb today.  My eyes currently feel like they are on a different
            planet to the rest of me, I have limited control over my limbs and the pressure in my head is akin to that
            experienced by the facebook corp during yesterday's hijacking. Will this stop me? NO.
            I've been rained on, blasted with a nice dose of wind and have no time to powder my nose after work.
           Could the odds be any more against me? Should I even have tempted fate by asking that question?

Nothing more I can really say without sounding like I need to be institutionalised..

FOUR] Joanna Newsom made me want to cry
           a] because she is so incredibly talented
           b] because she is as nice as berry pie with extra jam.
           c] because she made me feel horrendously inadequate.

DAMN her.  By far one of the most incredible gigs I have ever been too.  She deserves a full review and I will write one as soon as I am back in the right dimension.

x

BETTER THAN OXYGEN

OH WOW.


Last night I bore witness to one of the best gigs I have been to in a very very long time.
The Glee club is good for two reasons:
    ONE] The disco ball is incredibly impressive. I was literally like a dazed moth transfixed on its sparkl..sorry.
             Yeah the disco ball is nice, and
    TWO] It boasts a real intimacy that most venues in Birmingham can't re-create.  Although sometimes
              it feels nothing short of bizarre to be sitting down whilst watching  artists such as Noah and the
              Whale or Patrick Wolf, most of the time Glee get it oh so right.

SO at around half past eight a timid looking Marcus Foster picks up his mother's now-battered-and-not-the-tasty kind guitar, places it on his lap and addresses the silently intimidating audience. Strumming and tapping the guitar with a dominating fluidity, he instantly captivates every pair of eyes/ears in the room.  When he started to sing I couldn't quite get out of my mind that he sounded a bit like the lovechild of Paolo Nutini and Robin [with an 'n'] Williams.  I'll admit, although it doesn't sound like a blissful marriage of characteristics, it somehow works, and Marcus Foster leaves everyone desparately trying to remember his name so they can scurry home and carve his name into their lever arch files.  Here's a helping hand from Myspace.

I could have put a  clearer photo but I quite like this one which he has aptly named 'Pizza Face'.

By now, one glass of red wine down, eagerly waiting, there's a distinct buzz in this lounge-like room.
Asessing the crowd in the dark, Mason decides that it's OK to come out, and does so with a little grin on his face.
Finally! I couldn't tell you what he opened with because I was genuinely amazed at how much control he had over his voice, and how much better he sounds live.  I was transfixed!  Song upon song about dear old troubled America, entwined with incredibly perfect chord progressions and a lightness and sincerity in his voice were a recipe for true escapism. Some captivating new gems were tried out on us such as 'Baby Shoes', set to be released soon on his forthcoming EP, worth a Youtube [yes I did just turn that into a verb], but the real electricity came in the encore which was ultimately what seemed like half an hour of the best intimate houseparty of requests. And a joke about crabs.  True highlights had to be Oxygen, a video of which I have posted onto my facebook page, and my favourite, The World That I Wanted which I am excited to share here.

Those of you in Brighton, Manchester, Bristol, London and York [York? Really?] have absolutely no excuse.But enough waffling.


Breakfast is over.
x

FMLOT L0L (F*** My Life On Trains LoL)

THIS weekend I learnt that:

ONE] Spontaneous trips to Manchester after work on a Friday are always a good idea.  It was my first time in
         this city and I really did have a brilliant time. Everyone there seems incredibly friendly [one might say
         occasionally too much so] and the bars are laid back though not so horizontal your tripping over hippies;
         HOWEVER, it is not OK to
                  a] drink neat JD from inside a white plastic bag on the train whilst sitting next to a dealer
                      with nails as long as Winehouse's nose in order  to 'catch up' with the rest of the party.
                      People can smell it even if they can't see it;  what on earth else would you be hiding and swigging
                      from a plastic bag anyway? Ribena? I think not.
                  b] say 'yes' to a miraculously appearing bottle of rum after having nearly finished said JD whilst
                      singing along to Frank Sinatra.  The idea is to stay awake en route to a bar..

This + this does not    = Happy Sober Ribena days. Sorry

TWO] Manchunians called Nigel are entertaining.  Yes Nigel on the bus tried to sell us a stolen camera, yes
         and a stolen toy engine that 'goes like the clappers', yes Nigel's left arm
         was bandaged, yes Nigel's right nuckles were bloody, and yes he was in his forties. This does not however
         mean that it is OK to:
                               a] Ignore him.  He's actually quite smiley. Yes, smiley.
                               b] give him your number when he asks for it.  Tempting as it may seem girls, resist.

Oh HI Nigel. [except Nigel wasn't blonde, or in a suit]

THREE] It doesn't matter how much you reassure someone.  If you're a villain inside their head you're as
            debaucherous as Oscar Wilde in an Opium Den on Canal Street.

Oscar 'F'Nay Nay' Wilde

In other news:
Willy Mason is playing at the Glee Club tonight.
I may end up going alone which could be interesting.  It is however the best ten pounds I have spent in a long time, if only to hear him play If The Ocean Gets Rough (écouter) in a room as big as a lounge.
Swoon swoon swoon.

Expect some soppy drivel about this gig tomorrow..

x

RUM DIDDLY..UM..

Last weekend I learnt that:

ONE] It really is lovely seeing friends after a while and it seeming like you've never been apart.
         I will always make the effort when I can; after all, friends are nothing like sweets.  It's the
         quality as opposed to the quantity that is the important thing.

Not the same. The sweets are good. BAD, I meant bad.

TWO] This does not mean it is OK to drink yourselves into oblivion at such an occasion.
          Rum, SoCo and Champagne before venturing out to eat does not equal a 'quick drink'.

Which reminds me, I must see this film...

THREE] If the gods have made it so there is no possibility of a performance, take a hint.
            It is not OK to go on stage to sing a song in a quaint little pub when:
                         a] you're hanging more than normal sized jeans on Victoria Beckham's legs.
                         b] you're using someone else's guitar
                         c] the bar maid just about understood you when you asked for some cider.

All in all a knowledgeable weekend.
Happy Birthday Gurbinder and Fuzz, bybye brain cells and hello Manchester!
At the moment it feels like I am always leaving work for the weekend. Naturally, i'm in no way complaining...

DEARY ME

Last weekend I learnt that:

ONE] No less than eight facts make me super compatible with George Lamb.

         This is good because: a) I have a free ticket to see him in three weeks' time.

                                          b) All I want to do is have his little grey-haired babies.

Quelle Sauvage, Sauvage!

TWO] Ice is really good for a) chewing, albeit unlady-like in a quiet restaurant, and

                                       b) singing about, albeit a little cheddar cheesy.

THREE] I am probably the clumsiest person i'll ever know.

             It is neither big nor clever to fall off a bus onto your face, hands and knees in the middle of the day, in

             the middle of Croydon, especially when:

                             a) this has absolutely nothing to do with alcohol;

                             b) everyone on the bus and on the street can 1oo% see you when you're dressed in a black

                                 winter outfit in the middle of Summer;

                             c) you bruise like a peach.

If only I fell this gracefully.

What a Bank Holiday Weekend of Wisdom.

x