Loo views

Those quirky people from the Innocent drinks company posted a wonderful link for loos with a view, take a look, it should put the colour back in your cheeks, it did it for me! Unfortunately my cloud photo that I took above the college today is not the view from the gardeners loo. We have a tiny window in our netty which is above head height behind the toilet and looks out onto an apple tree, a portion of the canopy is framed which means I can watch the birds foraging for insects. Not quite the panorama of my dreams, but it beats a windowless toilet. It seems there is a bamboo toilet at the summit of Mount Sinai, I've been up there and I never saw it, all I remember were lots of wailing Japanese tourists and yes, a very beautiful view.

Alien headspace

No sleep till Kandor! Braniac's motorhead rocks up at the Kryptonian city of Kandor. From Action Comics no.866 Aug.08, Brainiac part 1. Click on image to enlarge.


Starting download. From Action Comics no.869 Nov.08, Brainiac part 4. Click on image to enlarge.


The Coluan carousel head pigs out on Kryptonian data as Superman slogs it out inside Braniac's beautiful skull ship. The baddies always seem to have the best toys! This story line was one of those rare occasions when the art and story danced the Rumba and scored a perfect 10. Working their magic here were Gary Frank leading on pencils, and on this occasion Geoff Johns following on words.

My rubbish list

A constant stream of unwanted packaging and paper is jettisoned onto our streets, carelessly avoiding all the rubbish bins provided. It may be annoying to us, and you could say that it is spoiling our environment, but what happens to that discarded flyer, that note you wrote to yourself, to the milkman or a friend? A few words taken on an unplanned journey by a gust of wind nagging at that pile of paper in your recycling box. This flotsam of our busy lives floats around in the public domain waiting for someone with a bin liner and a set of litter pickers to find and pick it up. It always reminds me of something a Bedouin man said to me many moons ago, grinning from ear to ear he said "In Egypt we have a saying, ashtray all around!"
So without further ado here is my rubbish list, dated 17.11.08.

Two crisp packets, one Walkers salt & vinegar and one McOy's- flame grilled steak flavour.

One empty packet of Milky Way 'Magic Stars'.

Three empty drinks cans, one Red Bull energy drink, one Scrumpy Jack cider and one Fosters lager("I can see the pub from here!")

Two discarded lottery tickets for the 14th of October draw, three lines chosen as follows.. A. 4,6,7,9,14,19,26 B. 1,2,3,5,11,13,14 and C. 4,7,13,19,22,24,25.

One unused ticket for the Fez Club in Cambridge, ticket no.00167

One Kellogg's Nutri-Grain strawberry snack bar.

One Papermate flexi-grip ball point pen.

Four sweet wrappers as follows.. Bounty, Kit Kat, Maltesers and Wispa

One black sock.

Two right hand gloves, one large black and one small white.

One acoustic stage gig guide for venues around Cambridge in November( best band names from the list included.. 'Underline the Sky', 'Umbrella Assasins' and 'Allotment'.

One empty Kinder surprise toy capsule complete with instructions for building the missing toy, cartoon cat dressed in ice hockey kit with stick and helmet.

One complementary slip for Crowne Plaza- hotels and resorts, with the name 'Francis' hand written in pen in the top right hand corner, room no. 320.

One small printed note to students from the Junior Common Room, which probably at one point accompanied a gift of some sort? The note read as follows.. ' A little something to beat those week 5 blues.. keep smiling girls! And remember your welfare officer is there if you need her! Much love, your JCR xxx'

For those of you who just can't get enough, there is the Found Magazine website to satiate your daily needs. There is also a guerrilla movement of post it note freaks who put it out there into the wider environment, randomly leaving scribblings and doodles to be found in the strangest of places. As the great Gonzo himself once said.. " It never got weird enough for me!" Amen to that.

Science Fiction Flashback

In response to the most recent blog post by Chris Priestley, I have posted here an old blog I did before I had a blog, if that makes sense. I was spurred into action by some of the book choices in Chris' blog which also appear here. Chris has been doing some posts recently that highlight a few of his favourite children's books, they are well worth a look. Check them out here.


The front cover of the Ray Bradbury novel ' The Martian Chronicles' caught my eye the other day. Soap-like humanoid figures recline in a Martian landscape as if they were chilling on a back garden patio and wondering if the sun was going to disappear behind a rogue cloud.
That culty science fiction fifties vibe cast my brain backwards to a book I had read on a farm holiday in Portugal in the late 1970's. The book in question was H.G Wells' ' War of the Worlds' and I couldn't put it down. As the young farm boy shot his air gun at anything that moved, and the fat midday heat slumped down on the ripening oranges, I flicked over the pages and got lost. The martian ants advanced across the farmhouse floor towards the breakfast jam and small skinky lizards skittered out of view. HG hauled me between the pages where an asteroid-like cylinder disgorged huge tripod legged martians that lumbered over the landscape incinerating humankind with their laser heat rays. Outside the farmhouse, the homicidal chicken dispatcher with triple glazed vision and huge forearms went about her daily grind in the shadows of an out building. She deftly wielded her hatchet, letting the sun dry the blood down her thick rubber apron. It was a great book and an idyllic holiday, seriously it was!




A few years later I bought a copy of Jeff Wayne's War of the Worlds musical score of which I remember surprisingly little, but with a little research it all came flooding back. The disco infused back-beat, Richard Burton's hypnotic narration and Rick Wakeman's 70s synthesized rock opera noodlings. It was amusing to read a 15 year old boys review of this album on Amazon. He gushes enthusiastically, putting it up there with the likes of Hyden and Mozart before ending in congratulatory tones with a "Well done Jeff!" It's a nice thought isn't it?, that Jeff Wayne is sitting there thirty years on, trawling through the Amazon reviews of his magnus opus. Another little interesting tie in is that Tomohiro Nishikado, yes him, the very famous Japanese video game developer, was so inspired by the tripod martians in War of the Worlds that he created an 'octopus' approximation that marched down the video screen in serried ranks towards the player's frantically blasting canon, which despite an inexhaustible supply of ammunition could only fire one shot at a time. In Japan, 'Space Invaders' caused a coin shortage which resulted in the production of the Yen being quadrupled.




John Wyndham, who was also influenced by the War of the worlds, created that wonderful post apocalyptic vision of the blind leading the blind through deserted streets where giant carnivorous plants shuffled around the fringes of the story. I never read 'The Day of the Triffids', but I did see the 1981 BBC adaptation which gave me nightmares at the time. The Triffids were fashioned on the tropical pitcher plant and were brought to life in true Doctor Who style by some poor sweaty bloke hunkered down inside it. Operating this multi story trunk of rubber around a little corner of British suburbia must have given him a lifetime's supply of "Did I ever tell you about the time when I....."stories to amuse countless strangers at drinks parties.Now let me see, I remember there was a bearded bloke who was the main character, and a female support who he fell in love with. The pair of them were sighted, which set them apart from nearly everyone else who were sightless. In the first episode we see the beardy guy lying in a hospital bed with his eyes bandaged. Unknown to him there has been a strange meteor display which turned my parents TV screen a sickly shade of green. This event rendered the viewers blind, by that I mean the actors in the story. In a scene that has repeated on me many times over the years, a few of the sighted survivors make contact with each other using flashlights from the top of neighboring tower blocks. If you happen to know of anyone who has the book, I would love to read it. I think I had a shirt just like his,bought for me by my mum in Marks and Sparks' probably, except mine didn't have a blonde girl with hoody eyes hiding behind it. The strange gun shot little scimitar shaped blades which severed the heads of the triffids.




Finally we come to a truly silly movie called 'Mars Attacks'. With more tongue in cheek references to War of the Worlds it's a no holds barred ray gun wielding romp. The martians keep setting up peace treaties and then massacre anyone who turns up. Using this tried and tested method they manage to wipe out both the United States Congress and the National Assembly of France.My wife was heavily pregnant with my daughter when we went to see this film. The constant barrage of ray guns and the "Akk Akk Akk!!" of the martians sent my unborn daughter into a frenzy. We had to pile all our jumpers and coats on top of her to dampen out the sound. Playing cowboy yodeling music to the martians made their heads explode, which was a huge relief! So ends my science fiction flashback. Another rambling pulp could sneek into your in box sometime in the near future, you have been warned!

Private Eye

Once a week a trees worth of newspapers winds its way from the hushed and brushed confines of the Fellows drawing room out to the recycling bin via the arms of a fastidious cleaner, what is not known to many is that the gardeners keep a close track of this bundle of newsprint. Whether they are incorporating it into their regular litter picking duties or just making a quick fly by check in passing, its just possible that you may happen upon a gardener with his head deep inside a large green wheelie bin, searching for a disguarded copy of the Private Eye magazine, this is the treasure that we seek! With a victorious whistle and a deft Fred Astaire clickety clack of the heels, the latest issue of Private Eye is rolled up tight and shoved down a back pocket for a break time read and a chuckle.

shadow play

As we rake leaves into huge piles, a low winter sun filters through the garden projecting a wide screen of shadow play across the white walls of the college.




Hope you like these photos I took yesterday afternoon.

Eggs and sausage and a side of toast- Part 3.

The elusive Bothy, an underground hangout for hipsters, fashion freaks, film critics and a kaleidoscope of like minded avant gardeners with seeds in their pockets and flowers in their mouths.



A line of wet footprints tracks across the concrete floor where damp leaves have blown before, and now gather under chairs. An outlaw keeps watch over us from beneath a Cezanne print that was given away free in the weekend paper. The outlaw in question is the country music legend Waylon Jennings who sang of good hearted women and them good ol' boys that never meant any harm. Welcome to the Bothy. Old newspapers saved for the interesting articles stack and slump sideways, assorted seed packets, old boots with frayed and broken laces, damp waterproofs hang above our heads like sleeping bats and page marked half finished books slowly germinate words on the fertile floor. Up on a narrow shelf, and directly above the kettle's spout, sits a smart all weather 'Tivoli' radio which appears to be at odds with its cluttered surroundings. Next to a microwave that no longer works is an industrial sized marmalade tub, that rests like a winter store for a family of Paddington Bears, in shadow of a toaster's equivalent of Sizewell B. A mobile heater leans towards the floor on an uneven number of casters where a cobweb gently vibrates in the rising thermals. The forecast in the Bothy is for a rising fug and a deepening edge of damp coats edging slowly in from the east. The salvaged long mirror that hangs by the sink reflects dripping conifers in the yard and on any given day the Bothy plays host to half hourly congregations, kettle steams, laughter and animated conversation. If a menu board did exist for this, my favourite cafe 'of sorts', it would list just the bare necessities like cakes, tea, coffee, homemade jams and college fruits. Visitors often need to stand or sit wherever they can, we operate on an open door policy, although comfort cannot be guaranteed. The internet connection is dodgy, mobile phone reception is iffy and our single land line has mood swings. Aside from this the bonhomie and the camaraderie is just fine. Oh, and if you were thinking of paying us a visit, don't forget to to bring some extra cakes. See you soon!