Genuine Affection Breaks My Heart

I'm in work early today (because it's Friday and I want to play GTA : San Andreas tonight till my fingers drop off). I was walking to the garage in the pitch dark this morning, when I saw two figures down the street. My natural wariness of street urchins meant that I will always be on my guard, but there was something odd about these two figures. The taller one looked like a man but had a really bad limp and was lurching up the street. I couldn't make his face out as it was dark and he was still about 50 metres away. The smaller one was walking ahead, and would seem to walk quite hurriedly, then stop and turn round before walking off again.
Zombies!
Now, I can't say that the thought didn't cross my mind that maybe the dead had risen overnight. In fact it didn't so much as cross my mind, as break out a sun-lounger and have a good old sit down in my brain.
So I got the car carefully out of the garage, the slower limping one wouldn't be able to get me but the smaller one looked like a rage filled zombie. As I reversed out, they were gone out of view. I wasn't being fooled, I knew they were about to jump out from the top of the garage.
They didn't though. I drove off as normal, catching up with the two "zombies" at the shop round the corner. The limping zombie was actually a tall young man. With a limp. The smaller female zombie seemed quite annoyed that the guy was taking so long. Which was a bit harsh AS HE HAD A LIMP.
So, no zombie apocalypse today then. I felt slightly disappointed as I drove up Plungy.
Then again I always feel slightly disappointed on Plungington Road.

Over the last couple of days I have been reading a lot of tributes to John Peel. I do this because I am sad that he is no longer with us, but also as a lot of the tributes come from bands and people that I like. Radiohead, Blur and Pulp all said really sweet things; I also found what was written on The Delgados website quite touching.
When I read this by Mark Radcliffe last night though, I had tears in my eyes (and maybe a stray drop or two down my face. But don't tell anyone. I'm a toughie. Grr!).
Mark Radcliffe isn't a sentimental man (sentimentality is something I possess bucketloads of, which you'll notice if you ever read this blog), but his immense fondness of his friend was evident to see. Genuine affection from one person to another will always break my heart
I wrote a couple of months ago about the collective grief people had for Princess Diana, and how I didn't 'get it'. I didn't understand how people could feel such a profound loss for a staggeringly privileged woman who wore fancy dresses at parties and who seemed to get so much enjoyment out of playing the put-down victim. Maybe they envied her lifestyle; that of a princess with access to fancy clothes and lots of money. Oh yeah, and she knew Georgios Michaelopolos.
Yet, it's hard to see how she had a concrete effect on the life of any of us plebs.
With John Peel, I do 'get it'.
A lot of people who never met him have been saddened by his death. The tributes from his friends, colleagues and bands that he promoted have all been touching, yet I think the grief from all those who liked hearing him on the radio is also valid.
There are so many bands who got to where they are due to association with John Peel. The Smiths, Joy Division and Pulp are just three of the bands that John Peel championed on the radio. Anybody who likes music has to celebrate the life of a man who has helped bring bands such as those into our lives. I could sit here all day listing many more.
There are millions of people in this world whose lives have been touched in one way or another by this man, and the grief at the loss of a man who they felt was a friend they'd never met, is both sweet and moving.
I saw a brief tribute on VH2 last night, in which John Peel talked about some of the records that had changed his life. The sheer passion with which he talked about music marked him out as one of 'us'. The fanaticism with songs and bands that he adored meant that anyone who also obsessed over music could feel a great affinity with the man. In a world of increasingly commercialised music and narrowing choice, one of our ambassadors has gone. Of course, the interweb allows us greater access to music, but without exposure by somebody like John Peel, a great deal of it will go unnoticed.
All the tributes, especially the VH2 one, showed up something I already knew from listening to and seeing the man on TV and radio. His laconic and dry wit, the love for his family and pride in his children, the twin-obsessions of music and Liverpool FC, the warmth, friendliness, and thorough decentness of the man; all these shone out.
It's hard to be nice, it's far easier to be self-centred and to treat people as being less important than yourself. We only get one shot of this life, and sometimes we feel that time spent making somebody else happy at our own cost is somehow a waste. It isn't.
We all try to do decent things (well most of us; some people just like to lie to themselves about how lovely they are, whilst others genuinely don't give a shit). Altruism does exist, the selfless act is possible in the 21st century. I think it'd be nice if we treated people better; the world lost a seemingly very nice man this week, we need more of them.

The video for Ashes is out. It looks vastly different to what I thought it would, any crowd involvement has been reduced to about 4 seconds worth of jumping up and down. I've only seen it once on TV (you can view it here as well, though it's only very small and it may be quite hard to work anything out). I haven't made myself out in the crowd scene yet, I've heard that they airbrush out uggos. We all look quite indistinguishable anyway.

Fuck. John Peel has just died. I have an immense urge to find a pub jukebox and put 'Teenage Kicks' on repeat whilst I raise a glass to the man.
When a celebrity dies, it is usually met with indifference or maybe a brief spurt of interest if it is somebody famous enough. For anybody who has a love for music (especially music that is a bit non-regular), the death of John Peel affects you in a different way.
I actually feel really sad about it, and hearing Radio 1 at the moment isn't helping me cheer up in any way. The regular radio 1 DJ at the moment Edith Bowman can't speak as her voice keeps cracking up and people are sending messages in saying how he shaped their love for music. Gruff from the Super Furry Animals is actually in tears. That's not normal.
Shit, they're playing 'Teenage Kicks'…

I used to listen to John Peel a lot whilst at Uni. Quite often I'd be driving from Preston to Fleetwood whilst his show was on. I often found it difficult to listen to, ten-minute indecipherable instrumentals followed by strange foreign synth-prog. I'd never really turn it off though, partly because as a man he was so likeable, but also he was very 'inclusive' in his show. He knew thousands of bands that I'd never heard of, but he never used to talk down to the listeners about them, instead he'd ramble on at you as if it was the favourite band of you both.
He did play bands you'd heard of (or would hear of very soon), and it was always warm, slightly quirky, done with respect but with no ego. I loved bands playing at Peel Acres; it was fantastic that famous bands such as Blur played in John Peel's house.
For over 40 years John Peel has never followed fashions in music, instead he has consistently championed great bands before anybody else really did. Not just the bands either, he'd play genres of music which weren't at that time particularly fashionable. Some became fashionable, some didn't, but John Peel just played music he loved and which intrigued him. Jesus, the man was 65 and was still playing cutting edge music. That he died whilst on a working holiday in Peru sort of sums up the life he led.

I don't know…the man had a passion for good music (and also Liverpool football club), and I feel like one of the good ones has gone. John Peel leaves behind a sadder and less interesting world, and I'll sorely miss his presence in it.

Not long now till Grand Theft Auto - San Andreas. Glenn is excited.
*excited*
See?

On Thursday we went to Morecambe to see Richard Herring. It was interesting to see how he'd turned a rambling 3+ hours of material into the slick 1 and half hour show that he ended up with. He trimmed a lot out, which is a shame as it was all quite funny, and provided a lot of back-story to the whole thing. It's important for people to get the full enjoyment out of the show I think that they fully understand the mid-life crisis Richard was going through, and the madness he became entangled in by playing CNPS.
At first I thought the audience (there was about 80-100 of us) weren't getting it. When something amuses me, I tend to smile rather than laugh, and at first I thought everybody else was like that. You need laughers in a comedy audience, not smilers. But after a while, people loosened up a bit and it seemed that everyone had lovely fun.
The show was still really good, and it was nice to hear about all twelve tasks he performed (he only had time for about 5 in London). I think it would make a good book or TV program. I like Richard Herring; I greatly enjoy the way he says bad things, bad things that are a bit wrong and shouldn't really be said out loud.

We had a nice drink and a chat with Pete and Corinna afterwards. I could witter on about CNPS. Liam also nipped back in and got a programme signed for Woody Johnhouse for his birthday. Heh, the evening turned Pete into a CNPS player and led to Karl joining in when Pete played the game on the way down to Bedworth on Saturday.
The army of autism grows ever larger. Even though Richard Herring says throughout the show that you shouldn't play CNPS, as it's for idiots, you can tell he is proud of finishing it. 66 is driving me mad, I've had one near-miss, but nothing since.

Speaking of near-misses, I went to Tesco at lunch, to look for the directors cut of Dawn Of The Dead. On the way back, I was coming round a roundabout near Tesco, in the correct lane and not going fast at all. Just as I was about to pass cars waiting on the sliproad off the M55, a tosser in a Saxo VTR shot on the roundabout from the inside lane of the slip road without looking. He obviously did it blind as the cars waiting in the right-side lane made him unable to see. I slammed my brakes on and hit the kerb quite hard. Its lucky I have quite good reactions or I'd have ploughed into him, jesus I'm just thankful I wasn't 3 or 4 seconds ahead or he'd have hit me side on at about 40mph and probably rolled me. My car seems okay but id better check that there is no buckling to the front wheels or axle. I was shaken up, if I hadn't had made sure nobody else was involved (and spent a couple of seconds saying the word 'shit'), id have chased after him and beaten him to death.
I've alluded in a blog or two recently that I shouldn't get involved in disputes with people on the road that I think are driving antisocially. But, the standard of driving I witness is steadily getting worse, and it's such a dangerous pursuit. A terrible accident can happen at any second, all it takes is one small human or mechanical error and lives can be changed forever. People should realise that, and take a bit of care.
I really wish I'd have gone after the guy, I'd have dragged him from the car. Okay, he'd have probably have beaten me up, but I like to think I'd have taken an eye or something with me.
I think the CNPS gods owe me a 66 on the way home.

Anyway, we all travelled down to Woody Johnhouse's on Saturday for his birthday party. Karl drove down, allowing Pete and I to try and score some number plates. We eventually got there (after getting slightly lost), where we exchanged presents (I got belated birthday presents of a computer game and sinister lady wrestling comic off John, and some supposedly mental chilli seeds off Paul 1), and then went about converting ourselves into zombies. A lot of people had no real plan of how to do this, but considering we made it up as went along, there were some quality zombies. Liam was my favourite, and the fact he later wandered out to a pub looking like this AND was allowed in is a bit of a miracle. There are some more pictures here, here, here, here. Here I am, trying to be a frightening attacking zombie, but instead looking like I don't know how to eat tomato ketchup.
It was a really fun night, I got really pissed (I was carrying a bottle of vodka round for most of the night), and everybody seemed to have fun. I remember drunkenly gibbering at John's other guests (apparently about how you can get AIDS from eating crisps).
Then it all went a bit fuzzy and I ended up passing out in John's spare bedroom.
After sitting around watching Dawn Of The Dead, we drove home, where Paul almost became another CNPS victim.

Hmm, I am still addicted to Championship Manager. My new re-built Notts County are proudly sat at the bottom of the old Division 2 (which in turn is the old Division 3, if you know what I mean). How am I going to solve the crisis? Will I be able to persuade Stallard to stay? Are my training techniques making my team a bit shit?


Addendum: On the way home the CNPS gods gave me a 66, 67 and 68. They are a cruel master.