Friday, August 31, 2018

Small Faces favourites

It's ages since I shared any YouTube videos. So here are some Small Faces videos that always perk me up.

All or Nothing

Itchycoo Park

Sha La La La Lee (A pity the screen is stretched wide, distorting the picture)

Rollin' Over - (New Year's Eve 1968, French TV "Surprise Partie")

If you want some more, here's a bit of a riot of a TV show, where they start before the suave host finishes talking and generally muck about. It's a lot of fun. "Colour Me Pop" entire show, with lots of Ogden's Nut Gone Flake and links by the hilarious Stanley Unwin. Very London.

Wednesday, June 06, 2018

Helping the king to cross the road

In the workplace, there is no desk in the empty office, nothing. In the other two offices, there are meetings of men in progress round the desks. So can't work there. I have forgotten to bring even a basic notebook and pen or pencil, so I won't be able to work here. Back into the street, beside a very wide road, more than eight lanes, possibly twelve or more. Not much traffic though. I meet the king at a bus stop, a famous actor, recognise the face. I'm not sure if it's Leonard Nimoy, or could it be John Cassavetes? But he's in a bad way, tall but stooped, dirty. The back of his parka is filthy across his shoulders. I will help him to cross the road. He leans on me and we set off to cross when there's no traffic. It's a very long way. We haven't reached the other side, haven't even seen it, when he decides he wants to go back. It's a bright day. The concrete looks more like the expanse of a car park than a road, it's so wide. As we're about halfway back, a small, odd vehicle is approaching from the wrong side (our right). We will have to be careful. But its course is wavery, uncertain.

Saturday, June 02, 2018

White yam


When you cut one, the juice looks like coconut milk* and dries to a white powdery residue on the knife. The taste is truly bland. In the Philippines, they peel and boil them, then eat them as a sweet, dipped in sugar.

* The photo is not showing the coconut whiteness of it. Something wrong with the colour balance.

Tuesday, May 15, 2018

Thursday, March 29, 2018

In prison

In jail in NL (?) for not paying hospital bill. Finding my cell. Read a vague label. Can make out my name & name of hospital. (I thought I said jail.) So this really is it. It's rather cosy, cluttered. But I check further along the corridor to get my bearings. Passing a narrow way where prisoners are socialising. A bit worried they'll pick on me, but no - okay. One guy's jacket or jumper almost blocks the way. I get by but they ignore me. A civilised kind of jail. (And I will only have three months to do. It's on my door label.) I want to take pictures for Facebook but guess it's not done to show other inmates. I will only show my own cell. Not as bad as I feared. Still, to be locked in is not good - scary.

Sunday, March 25, 2018

Uninvited guests

The sound of a car sweeping by. Into the next empty room. I go in to investigate and there are a man and a woman looking around and a small child somewhere. I ask what they want. The man is very tall and stocky, whereas I seem to be far below, near the floor. He says something but I can't make out the words. I tell him I can't understand what he's saying. The woman takes a step forward. She is even bigger than him. The child whizzes by below, out of sight, with the noise of a car. She speaks to me but, again, I can't make out the words. Except the last one might be "religion". The man starts to speak again. I am getting a little agitated, because I don't know who they are or what they want here in my house. I say, "I can't understand a word you're saying!" Then, "I want you out of here now." I repeat it but they show no sign of going. So I call upstairs to my wife to phone the police. But my voice won't work right. I try again.

Saturday, March 10, 2018

Demo

I went on a big demo with Dad. He's one of the leaders. On the way back there was a bit of argy-bargy and an obstreperous kid got hauled away. Back to our home in B-. It's crowded, with so many of the activists here. I think they've taken the interloper outside, and I'm worried they may have killed him. It's night already. I go out front to see what's happening and they are just in the process of launching a nuclear missile from the field outside our house into the city. The flames of its rocket engines fire in the dark.

Inside again, beside the wall in the crowded living room. I go out the back with my acquaintances, with my overcoat on. It's a sort of cul-de-sac with the back gardens around it, and it is crowded here too. Police are arriving to look for the missing kid, a youth really. I say I'm worried I will be mistaken for my father and blamed by the crowd. "I'll be lynched." In the distance the city is a conflagration, with fires everywhere, but the police arriving have not seen it, as they're coming from that direction and facing this way. People try to tell them about the nuclear attack, but they are officious and insist they must follow-up their search for the kid, one thing at a time.

But they soon realise they must investigate the source of the nuclear missile, as people are telling them it came from in front of my house. We go inside, and I feel I must tell them about the murdered kid, as I think it's only right, and anyway, it would be worse for my Dad to be blamed for the nuclear missile. Nobody knows where the kid is. They've got Dad in handcuffs now. I don't feel I have done anything wrong, but I'm not feeling righteous, it's just something I had to tell them. He's brought it on himself.

But now the floor of the room is flooded about a foot deep. Everyone else has gone. Somehow they drain it. I don't know what's happening. The floorboards are lifted. It's not the kid. There are what looks like two sacks there, possibly the size of a big person and a smaller one but they're shapeless, so it's not certain, it might be something else. I am seized with anxiety and guilt.