bunn: (canoeing)



Just watched this, and my reaction was IT’S  SIT DOWN BY JAMES!!!!  I feel I’ve somehow obscurely misused my nerd credit.   Flashback to listening to the radio in Oxford in... 1990? 1991? Something like that.

  And then a few years later driving endlessly from Chester to Birchwood in my awful, awful red Metro, and getting stuck endlessly on the Thelwall viaduct and singing along to James in the car because the Metro had the world's most ancient radio and it didn't get FM, and it didn't even have a tape player, and the one station you could get when stuck in the endless massive roadworks on the Thelwall Viaduct was always playing either James, Pulp or Oasis.  And occasionally fantasising about simply getting out of the car, when it hadn't moved for literally 30 minutes, or on one occasion TWO BLOODY HOURS, and just leaping over the edge of the bridge and swimming out to sea, never, ever, ever to return to a dull industrial estate on the outskirts of Warrington.

Which fantasy was probably enhanced by the fact that in those days it was still normal to go out to the pub* for lunch and return to work for the afternoon in a beer-induced haze that probably hadn't entirely worn off by the time the clock finally ticked with agonising slowness around to 5pm.   Still, I never killed anyone and on the Thelwall Viaduct you couldn't move fast enough to cause a disaster even if you were actually drunk.

I'm fairly sure this wasn't the intended set of associations.  WHO KNEW IT WOULD BE POSSIBLE TO HAVE THELWALL VIADUCT NOSTALGIA????

*which was a terrifying place which I'm sure later appeared in T
wo Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps, and which I would probably never have dared to venture into if I hadn't been hauled along by a gang of heavy-smoking Warrington Ladies who swore liberally and knew no fear.  God, they were an education.  

Lewis

Jan. 24th, 2015 11:16 pm
bunn: (dog knotwork)
I am watching an episode of 'Lewis' in which a very smarmy young fantasy author (who may or may not have dunnit) is attempting to walk in the shoes of the Inklings.  It's all about fantasy worlds.  I like it!

Amused though to find that I still have an automatic reaction to seeing piles of Oxford bicycles on bike-stands,which is to immediately lose focus on the plot and peer hopefully at them all.  I am still, it seems,  looking for the late lamented Geraldine, my very old heavy black bike which was stolen in Oxford and that I never got back again.   I suppose she may still be out there somewhere, but one thing is for sure, if I DID spot her in an episode of 'Lewis' it isn't going to help me get her back now.  Also, the thought of trying to ride her across the Cornish hills makes my bum ache. 
bunn: (Car)
Thinking over 'where I lived at various censuses' and the inaccuracy of finding the dogsitter, I googled the first house I remember living in.

Here it is in Google Streetview.
embedded photo & maunderings here) )

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