I’ve listened to this on AirPods. I’ve listened to this on a pair of bass boosting, noise canceling big beasts; I’ve even gone old school and played this on CD through my amp, with bass boosted. Yet it still sounds SO tinny. That’s the appeal, right? You’re always half a track away from a possible film soundtrack. It all adds to the sense of suspense, even if the bass has got lost down the back of the settee.
⭐ ⭐ ⭐
Not more punk ska. I wanted to really dislike this. But the uplifting horns on the opener We Will Fall Together got me in my groove. There’s almost a South American feel to the sound, fused with elements of Irish bawdy barroom songs. Mixing pop and politics always helps. Quite a statement of an album. It probably sounds even better at 10pm, rather than my 10am airing.
⭐ ⭐ ⭐
To the Table of Dreams! …on Sunday morning. We made our way down the side of the park, and past the grand old King George Oak - the one that the local Town Council has a pathological desire to fell. It looked radiant in early spring. It should survive far longer than the questionable mandate of those hell bent on bringing it down. So there.
There was plenty of wind to rattle the old branches and fresh leaves on the tree. Which all meant that we opted for the heavier wind ball. I was finding it hard to find my length on the table, having played indoors mainly throughout the past month.
A couple rocked up next to us to play a game of boules. This is the first time that we have seen the court being used. Respect.
The game itself was the usual one way traffic. Some of the local birds were busy up above, nattering away and making a right old bloody racket. That’s the reason I’m giving for a 4-1 defeat.
Screening at the Sunny Colch Odeon early afternoon on Monday as part of the cheapo cheapo deal was The Drama. This is a film in two parts: the preparation ahead of a wedding, and then the immediate fall out when a major, major life secret is shared.
Spoiler alert (although it is widely trailed in all the reviews): Emma, one half of the happy couple, reveals to her husband to be that she came close to carrying out a High School shooting massacre as a teenager.
awks, etc.
Much of the film then focusses on the reaction and inner-questioning coming from her fiancée, Charlie. He takes on very much the High Grant English uneasiness role, stuttering and running his hands through his hair with despair.
Not a lot actually happens in the film. It’s no action drama; dialogue is everything. It’s superbly written, with some scenes stretching out at ten minutes, keeping the suspense building up. I really enjoyed it.
The soundtrack has many Psycho like screeching moments. With shaky camera angles, you feel that you’re never too far away from something very, very disturbing. The wedding speeches scene is just brilliant.
Once the genie of the planned shootings are out of the bottle, there’s no putting them back in. It was uncomfortable viewing, but very rewarding.
Another game of table tennis to start the new working-ish week. The smell of blossom was intense as we made our way over to the Table of Dreams. Every flower, bush and tree in the local area is extremely hormonal right now.
We opted for the non-wind ball on what felt like the first day of the summer. It was short-sleeved weather. I opted for style with my Brixton Lion Vibes sweatshirt. Never let it be said that I suffer for my looks.
The non-wind ball was suffering however. It was bouncing unevenly across the table. A quick ball inspection and, oh, it looks more like a rugby ball. That’s the reason I’m giving today for my 5-0 BATTERING.
To the allotment! …early on Monday morning. We had one mission: net up the strawberries before the BASTARD local muntjac deer get their teeth into them. Job’s a good ‘un.
Elsewhere and the gooseberries are starting to show some early signs of growth. We managed to get half a dozen raspberry bushes into what is a very, very dry ground. I can’t seem them lasting.
A lone cuckoo could be heard wittering away in the distance. The Cricket Club groundsmen was attending to his wicket in the nearby field after a weekend of action.
Estuary Life, innit.
The summer cycling season has started early for me. After the downpour days of the first three months of the year, the Estuary Wilds has been dry throughout April. It reminds me very much of those first CRAZED days of Covid.
I rolled out mid-morning on the Brompton. I’m really enjoying riding the mini-wheeler right now. It’s not really built for rides of 35km plus. But fuck it. It feels light and free, and is most agile when tackling the Estuary Wilds lanes.
The scenery around me was equally enjoyable. There is a lush green canopy covering the lanes, as well the early signs of growth throughout the fields. The lanes were empty, the Brompton was on a roll.
Chapeau!
A return to rowing with WivGigs on Sunday morning. It’s been a while. Time and tide have kept me away. I had the early, early Sunday morning work shift back at base. The 7am launch time for the Sunday Social fitted in perfectly.
The Estuary Wilds were deadly still shortly after 7am as we launched Varuna. The club had two boats out, making the most of the favourable light and tide.
We headed upstream towards Rowhedge. The reflections in the water of the Quayside houses were spectacular. The images were so clear and sharp that it looked liked a magical kingdom below the water.
Instructions were given by the cox to turn around once we had passed Windy Corner. We got our heads down, and made some steady progress rowing back downstream. The water became a little choppy as we entered the estuary.
Riverside traffic also increased. Two other local clubs were out on the water, as well as some lone kayakers and a couple of yachts. We got to witness a kite up above - and not the wind powered variety, either.
A decent start to the day.
To the Essex Sports Arena! …on Saturday afternoon for what could be the final home game of the season. The Manchester Mystics rocked up at Our House. A come court win would guarantee a top four finish in the regular season, and a guaranteed home court quarter-final.
Overcoming Manchester would be no easy task. Their bench is full of BRUISERS. It soon became clear that the away team had come to beat up the Rebs.
In response, Essex relied on their trademark quick on the break game, punishing Manchester with their speed. SHOUT OUT Quinesha Lockett, who kept her cool under the basket. The Rebs trailed 18-20 at the first buzzer.
The home team managed to edge ahead in the second in what was shaping up to be a very tight game. At one stage the gap was 44-33, but Manchester were far from done.
Rebs made no mistake in the third, controlling the game and putting some extra pressure on the scoreboard, showing 66-54 at the end of the third.
This was still a very tense game, with so much at stake. The final buzzer saw Rebs celebrating a hard-earned 85-72 home court win. There was something of a LIMBS moment - both on the bench and in the stands.
Rebs' have a proud home record of P9, W9 at home this season, finishing fourth in the league. London Lions are next up at Our House in the play-offs. The home form favours the Rebels.
A double bubble bag of FUN from G Force. Well, not directly from G Force this time, but a charming Vinted seller who was a pleasure to deal with.
I’m increasingly of the opinion that these old 90’s garms are getting rarer and rarer to source. See online, BUY. And so here we have a trademark G Force gilet from back in the day, and a pair of baggy jeans.
To quote that great philosopher, erm, Sean Dyche:
“Baggy jeans, skinny jeans, baggy jeans, skinny jeans.”
I’m very much of the baggy variety these days. I reserve the right to change my opinion tomorrow, depending on the weather.
I couldn’t resist the purchase. Both sizes were spot on for me. The seller warned of very old items of clothing, that will certainly need some TLC and cleaning.
Huh? They arrived pretty much box fresh, smelling of roses. Maybe the seller has particularly high standards - or I have rather low ones.
I’m half expecting now to get the call up from some telly production company when a talking heads documentary about the old G Force Hockley store is made:
“We hear you have the largest collection of classic G Force clothing. Would you like to share your thoughts?”
Cool as fuck, innit,
