Beautiful People...

A close family friend is a fashion photographer and he publishes a periodical to showcase his and several other people's work. The shoots and the models are quite high end but it somehow manages to be self-financing. How? I have no idea...

But last night was the launch party for the latest edition of his publication so myself and the Missus attended the bash at a Soho gallery. The Missus, of course, is used to such hob-nobbing with the rich and famous and faintly annoying but I was at a bit of a loss because it soon dawned on me that I was in a room surrounded by fashion photographers, fashion buyers, fashion journalists, fashion models and fashion hangers-on all keen to give the free bar a hammering.

And to make matters worse they were all utterly beautiful and immaculately turned out and, judging from the utter hilarity ensuing every time one of them opened their cake holes, they were also incredibly charming and erudite and witty.

The cunts.

I wanted to tell them how their whole industry was a sham built on a lie bought and swallowed by preposterous idiots like themselves. But it my friend's party so I behaved and played my role as the token ugly bloke in the corner. It was like Hollyoaks and I was the token fat bird...

But I'm not bitter. Or jealous. Or insecure of the beautiful people whose club I'll never be asked to join. Oh no... Not me...

Kuniyoshi: A Review...

Utagawa Kuniyoshi (1797-1861) was one of the last great masters of the Japanese ukiyo-e style of woodblock prints and painting.

Add to this little biog that he was also a contemporary and rival of Katsushika Hokusai of the Great Wave Off Kanagawa fame then the exhibition featuring Kuniyoshi's work at the Royal Academy was something of a must-see for me.

The exhibition itself divides his work into five main categories, namely warriors, beautiful women, landscape, Kabuki theatre and humour, and it's incredibly well presented and annotated with clear and concise descriptions attached to all the prints.

The work is truly beautiful and it also makes you appreciate the astounding level of skill the block carvers-cum-printers possessed to mass produce this type of work with such precision and vibrant colours.

In short the exhibition is impressive and the featured work is quite simply beautiful. It's one of those experiences that is, quite simply, incredibly life-affirming and energising.

Neil Sedaka...

I love Neil Sedaka. Not in a sexual way. Obviously... he probably wouldn't look at me twice... but I've always thought that he and Howard Greenfield were one of the finest songwriting duos the US has produced and Sedaka's solo work was also a genuine cut above many other singer-songwriters around in the 1970s and early 1980s.

His music is also beautifully orchestrated and I could quite happily while away an afternoon listening to his Greatest Hits with Solitaire, The Other Side Of Me, Bad Blood and Breaking Up Is Hard To Do (Slow Version) getting several replays.

I could actually talk about my love of all things Sedaka for some considerable time if I was allowed... so imagine my delight when I cycled past the Albert Hall and saw posters of him appearing in concert there at the end of June.

So I rushed home to inform the Missus.
'Do you want to come and see Neil Sedaka with me?'
'You want me to go see Neil Sedaka with you?'
'Well I'm going to see Gaslight Anthem with you...'
'But you like Gaslight Anthem...'
'But you must like some Sedaka. Everybody has a favourite Sedaka song. It's almost like a rule... like not inappropriately touching pensioners in care homes.'

The Missus pauses to consider my thesis.
'I actually think I'd rather die than sit through three hours of Neil Sedaka surrounded by his octogenarian fanclub and you enthusing...'
'So you'll think about it...'
'I refer you to my previous comment...'

Guess I'll have to go on my own then if I can get a ticket.

Addicted...

I am having my annual One Month Off The Beer and it's going quite well and, despite several trips to play pool and several visits to the pub, I have yet to succumb to alcohol.

Unfortunately the key side effect of not having a drink to unwind seems to be a craving for comfort food and this has taken the form of custard creams, which without doubt are the king of economy biscuits.

I opened a double pack on Friday and by Sunday evening they were all gone. More have been delivered in the shopping today and I'm already making inroads, which has prompted the Boy to point out that he would also like to try some if I would be so good as to not guzzle them all down as quickly as possible.

I think he was being sarcastic...

So the good news is my liver is having a rest. The bad news is I may weigh another three stone thanks to the amount of processed fat and sugar I am now ingesting at a rate of Knots. I'm also starting to understand how people can get really fat...

All Change...

The threatened move from cosmopolitan London to the leafy backwaters of Surrey is now becoming something of a reality.

We've had the house valued and we're signed up with estate agents and we're getting property details through at a steady rate and, with the Boy heading to uni in September, there's nothing to hold us back... except the fact we both love our house and we've been really happy there.

But then I realise it's purely nostalgia and I realise the thing that's made our house a home is the Missus and the Boy and the cats and not bricks and mortar. Then I also realise we'll be heading somewhere where the pace is less hectic and there's less noise and I'm warmed and fully back onboard with the idea...

Hell, I may even get a pool room and a garden with enough space for a mini do-jang. The future's bright, the future's Guildford...

Maps...

I've had an idea for a new play and, while I'm in the middle of rewrites for my current one, it's slowly starting to take shape in my head.

It's about maps and as I know very little about maps I decided I'd start reading up on cartography so I bought Remarkable Maps: 100 Examples of How Cartography Defined, Changed And Stole The World by John Clark and Professor Jeremy Black.

I've also started reading up on the various impending battles for mineral rights off the North and South Poles that will be fought out over the next few decades.

My play idea is not fully fleshed out yet but I think it will be about how an academic study of cartography can be corrupted for political means.

I'm hoping to get round to this when my current set of rewrites are done, which will hopefully be in about a month.