I may have lost the “Kindle Race” I had with K's sister a couple of weeks ago – but today is the day I win. The package from Amazon arrives in the office in the middle of the morning, and when I've quickly charged it up I have fun showing it off around the office and infuriating the slightly luddite anti-eReader contingent in attendance. This being the publishing industry, it's probably natural to be suspicious of this new technology and its potential role in the decline of printed books – but I've decided to embrace it and, like the music industry a few years ago, the publishing industry will only properly survive if it does too. This is not the end of printed books – art, photography and children's books, for example, will always look better and be better loved in print – but why not pay to download the unsentimental paperback one might otherwise have bought and discarded? It's better for the environment at any rate.
I get home and make dinner before getting the Kindle out and having a proper play around. I decide to download Stephen Fry's new autobiography – which seems in the spirit of the technology, such is Fry's devotion to it – and start reading at around 7pm with a record playing. Looking up from the book some time later I'm shocked to see that it's after midnight. Celebrity biographies are always quick reads, I find, but this one is particularly engrossing and I so much enjoy the reading experience on the Kindle that I don't find myself wanting to stop for a long time. I do need to, though, so I trudge reluctantly to bed.
Monday, 11 October 2010
Monday 4th October
My first working day alone. It sounds melodramatic – but the slight hangover makes it all the more unbearable, as I drag myself out of bed (so used to being dragged) and make my own lunch and breakfast before heading, harrassed, out of the door. A great deal of my morning routine is dictated by K's morning routine, so to not have her around leaves the experience formless and chaotic. K has emailed overnight and seems to be having a great time in San Francisco, and is about to leave to drive down the coast towards Los Angeles. Good for her. I'm still in Wood Green and slogging through the various bits and pieces of work that need to be done for next month's approaching sales kit. My head is firmly in March 2011 – six month lead-in times make it difficult to engage with the date it actually is.
This evening I've arranged to meet Mike in Wood Green to go and see Back to the Future at the Cineworld cinema – back on the big screen for its 25th anniversary. 2010 is shaping up to be a very good year for 25th anniversaries, what with me, Super Mario Bros and now one of the greatest films of all time all getting our quarter-centuries. I have always, always loved this series (though, I must admit, Back to the Future Part 2 is by far my favourite – inspiring my love of all things technological and futuristic from a very young age, I think, as well as my sincere desire to one day own a flying Delorean) and the chance to see it at the cinema can not be missed.
I head to Spouter's Corner, Wood Green's very own dubious Wetherspoon's, to meet Mike at 8pm, but today's tube strike has left him running late, so instead we decide to meet in the cinema screen itself. I finish a quick pint and head down to buy my ticket. Being Monday evening and, I concede, a 25-year-old movie, the cinema only has around six other people in – meaning that saving Mike a seat is far from being a problem. The film starts and, happily, it looks brilliant in this large cinematic format. It's also held up incredibly well and while the fact that it's set in 1985 makes it dated to some extent, it is also very clearly a product of its time and proudly so.
After the film we endeavour to make last orders at Spouter's Corner – but when we walk up there the place is surrounded in police tape, with an officer blocking the doorway. Oh dear. I wonder how closely I missed being part of the doubtless fairly serious crime that just took place here? We shudder slightly and attempt going across the road to The Goose, but alas they have already rung their bell.
This evening I've arranged to meet Mike in Wood Green to go and see Back to the Future at the Cineworld cinema – back on the big screen for its 25th anniversary. 2010 is shaping up to be a very good year for 25th anniversaries, what with me, Super Mario Bros and now one of the greatest films of all time all getting our quarter-centuries. I have always, always loved this series (though, I must admit, Back to the Future Part 2 is by far my favourite – inspiring my love of all things technological and futuristic from a very young age, I think, as well as my sincere desire to one day own a flying Delorean) and the chance to see it at the cinema can not be missed.
I head to Spouter's Corner, Wood Green's very own dubious Wetherspoon's, to meet Mike at 8pm, but today's tube strike has left him running late, so instead we decide to meet in the cinema screen itself. I finish a quick pint and head down to buy my ticket. Being Monday evening and, I concede, a 25-year-old movie, the cinema only has around six other people in – meaning that saving Mike a seat is far from being a problem. The film starts and, happily, it looks brilliant in this large cinematic format. It's also held up incredibly well and while the fact that it's set in 1985 makes it dated to some extent, it is also very clearly a product of its time and proudly so.
After the film we endeavour to make last orders at Spouter's Corner – but when we walk up there the place is surrounded in police tape, with an officer blocking the doorway. Oh dear. I wonder how closely I missed being part of the doubtless fairly serious crime that just took place here? We shudder slightly and attempt going across the road to The Goose, but alas they have already rung their bell.
Sunday 3rd October
Determined to make today less of a miserably lonely day than yesterday, I start brightly by heading to Sainsbury's to shop for goods to get me through the week. I also invite Alex round for lunch, on whose instruction I cook up some fish fingers, potato waffles and beans – a fact that makes my mother laugh on the phone later, such was this meal's ubiquity in my childhood. Thankfully K and others have taught me to be somewhat more adventurous in the intervening years.
Alex comes round and the meal goes down very well as we watch a bit of telly before heading out to watch the football. We arrive at the Worlds End on Stroud Green Road a good hour before Chelsea v Arsenal kicks off, managing to catch the end of Man City v Newcastle (2-1) and catch world of the astonishing result between Liverpool and Blackpool at Anfield, in which the hosts are beaten 2-1 by the visiting Premier League minnows. The pub slowly but steadily fills up to capacity, our seats occupying an uncomfortable position in front of the bar but with a decent view of a good few screens over the heads of the gathered Gooners. The match turns out to be a very enjoyable one with some good quality attacking football from both sides, and more or less impenetrable defending from Chelsea. Drogba scores the first from an Ashley Cole cross before half-time, then Alex adds a second with a typically thumping free kick five minutes from time. Alex (my Alex) isn't too pleased, but we head up to the Faltering Fullback for another pint to dissect the game.
We're both in the mood to play a little pool, so we get the bus up to Crouch End towards the Hope and Anchor, whose sole pool table is in the firm control of the local semi-pros. Nevertheless we put our names down, and over the next couple of hours we drink and play the jukebox in between routine demolitions. One game sees me paying a pound for the priviledge of taking a single (missed) shot. Alex fares a little better, potting a couple before her inevitable demise. By closing time we're both hungry again, so we make a welcome stop at Pizza Go-Go before heading home. I don't know why, but Sunday always seems to be more of a fun day to go out. Until Monday morning, that is.
Alex comes round and the meal goes down very well as we watch a bit of telly before heading out to watch the football. We arrive at the Worlds End on Stroud Green Road a good hour before Chelsea v Arsenal kicks off, managing to catch the end of Man City v Newcastle (2-1) and catch world of the astonishing result between Liverpool and Blackpool at Anfield, in which the hosts are beaten 2-1 by the visiting Premier League minnows. The pub slowly but steadily fills up to capacity, our seats occupying an uncomfortable position in front of the bar but with a decent view of a good few screens over the heads of the gathered Gooners. The match turns out to be a very enjoyable one with some good quality attacking football from both sides, and more or less impenetrable defending from Chelsea. Drogba scores the first from an Ashley Cole cross before half-time, then Alex adds a second with a typically thumping free kick five minutes from time. Alex (my Alex) isn't too pleased, but we head up to the Faltering Fullback for another pint to dissect the game.
We're both in the mood to play a little pool, so we get the bus up to Crouch End towards the Hope and Anchor, whose sole pool table is in the firm control of the local semi-pros. Nevertheless we put our names down, and over the next couple of hours we drink and play the jukebox in between routine demolitions. One game sees me paying a pound for the priviledge of taking a single (missed) shot. Alex fares a little better, potting a couple before her inevitable demise. By closing time we're both hungry again, so we make a welcome stop at Pizza Go-Go before heading home. I don't know why, but Sunday always seems to be more of a fun day to go out. Until Monday morning, that is.
Saturday 2nd October
The weather today is absolutely rotten and, waking up incredibly late, it seems like the afternoon can more or less be written off from the get-go. Browsing around Twitter brings to my attention the fact that today's Guardian comes with a free copy of the classic spoof movie Airplane! - a movie I've seen many times, so many times in fact that I've never bothered buying it – so I make plans to at least venture as far as Tesco. I head out into the drizzle at around lunchtime, the bottoms of my new jeans dragging under my trainers. I treat myself to a scotch egg to go with my newspaper and return to the flat with no intention of leaving again today. Is this how I would live every day if I were left to my own devices? It doesn't bear thinking about.
I while away the afternoon fiddling with the computer and watching a couple of films – including rewatching Wall-E as I had been convinced that the Habanera, the song we couldn't remember last night, was in it. It's not. I have a little dinner and stick Airplane! On the DVD player, briefly wondering to myself how many other lonely Guardian readers were doing the same thing with their evenings. The weather remains so crappy outside that I refrain even from venturing out for a comforting couple of cans or bottle of wine, thus making tonight my first sober Saturday in quite some time. It is nice, though, and after watching an entertaining Dara O Briain stand-up show on Comedy Central I wander, lonesome as a cloud, to bed.
I while away the afternoon fiddling with the computer and watching a couple of films – including rewatching Wall-E as I had been convinced that the Habanera, the song we couldn't remember last night, was in it. It's not. I have a little dinner and stick Airplane! On the DVD player, briefly wondering to myself how many other lonely Guardian readers were doing the same thing with their evenings. The weather remains so crappy outside that I refrain even from venturing out for a comforting couple of cans or bottle of wine, thus making tonight my first sober Saturday in quite some time. It is nice, though, and after watching an entertaining Dara O Briain stand-up show on Comedy Central I wander, lonesome as a cloud, to bed.
Friday 1st October
K is off on her little trip to America this afternoon – meaning that she has the time to spend the morning pottering about the flat and, more importantly, fixing me a rather special farewell breakfast before I trundle off to work. Taking a deep breath and preparing myself for 6 days of near solitude, we say goodbye and I make my way to the office – where I spend the later part of the afternoon watching the rather compelling flightaware.com website, which allows me to track K's flight from gate to runway. It's hard not to keep checking it – and fun to think I can keep an eye on where she is while she's in such an abstract space as “somewhere over the Atlantic”. As the plane takes off at 16.31, it's odd to think that she won't be in San Francisco until eight tomorrow morning.
After work I head down to Turnpike Lane station and meet up with Alex, with vague plans to head into town and see what adventures we can have in the West End. As it happens the first place we go is The Cock, where we waste a couple of pints' time trying to remember the name and origin of a very famous tune we are both capable of humming. We ask other people around us, who also know the song but not the name – and it's another couple of hours and another couple of pubs before we give up. The tune in question is, in fact, La Habanera from the opera Carmen. But knowledge of this makes the earworm no less irritating.
After leaving Soho we head to Leicester Square station and make our way to Holloway Road for late night drinks. The place is packed but we find a stool and chatter away aimlessly until 1am and make our way to the stop for the 29. The bus ride starts OK – but Alex takes it upon herself to get into a fight with a young Spanish girl who gives her a dirty look for allegedly standing in the way of her conversation – on a busy nightbus. Alex is probably in the right here, but I take steps to come between her and the Spanish girl. No one needs this kind of hassle. Though it is quite funny.
After work I head down to Turnpike Lane station and meet up with Alex, with vague plans to head into town and see what adventures we can have in the West End. As it happens the first place we go is The Cock, where we waste a couple of pints' time trying to remember the name and origin of a very famous tune we are both capable of humming. We ask other people around us, who also know the song but not the name – and it's another couple of hours and another couple of pubs before we give up. The tune in question is, in fact, La Habanera from the opera Carmen. But knowledge of this makes the earworm no less irritating.
After leaving Soho we head to Leicester Square station and make our way to Holloway Road for late night drinks. The place is packed but we find a stool and chatter away aimlessly until 1am and make our way to the stop for the 29. The bus ride starts OK – but Alex takes it upon herself to get into a fight with a young Spanish girl who gives her a dirty look for allegedly standing in the way of her conversation – on a busy nightbus. Alex is probably in the right here, but I take steps to come between her and the Spanish girl. No one needs this kind of hassle. Though it is quite funny.
Saturday, 2 October 2010
Thursday 30th September
With K off on holiday to San Francisco tomorrow (alright for some, etc etc), I struggle to come to terms with the fact that it's not actually my last day at work of the week too - but with few of us in the office there is a kind of Friday feeling about the day. There's plenty to get on with though, and I take pleasure in ticking a few things off the to do list, even if I do (unfairly) have to come back in tomorrow.
To kick off the weekend and see K off on her holiday, we're meeting some folks for drinks in town this evening. After coming home and chilling out for a while (watching The Simpsons, reading a little bit of The Picture of Dorian Gray on the irresistible, soon-to-depart Kindle) I get on the tube and head for Oxford Circus feeling tired and not especially enthused about being in the pub - especially when I get there and the place is rammed. I wait at the downstairs bar of The Cock for ages before exasperation forces me to the more manageable upstairs bar. K is already here with Big Nick, Lyndsey and a couple of others; and after a couple of Alpines I'm more in the mood. Tim, Jenny and Mike show up later and I have fun catching up with them and introducing Jenny to the world of Fruit Ninja, the latest silly phone game to have grabbed my attention.
When the bell rings K and I head for the tube and back North. We toy with the idea of ordering a takeaway as a payday treat - but instead decide to be sensible and stick with the pizza in the freezer.
To kick off the weekend and see K off on her holiday, we're meeting some folks for drinks in town this evening. After coming home and chilling out for a while (watching The Simpsons, reading a little bit of The Picture of Dorian Gray on the irresistible, soon-to-depart Kindle) I get on the tube and head for Oxford Circus feeling tired and not especially enthused about being in the pub - especially when I get there and the place is rammed. I wait at the downstairs bar of The Cock for ages before exasperation forces me to the more manageable upstairs bar. K is already here with Big Nick, Lyndsey and a couple of others; and after a couple of Alpines I'm more in the mood. Tim, Jenny and Mike show up later and I have fun catching up with them and introducing Jenny to the world of Fruit Ninja, the latest silly phone game to have grabbed my attention.
When the bell rings K and I head for the tube and back North. We toy with the idea of ordering a takeaway as a payday treat - but instead decide to be sensible and stick with the pizza in the freezer.
Wednesday 29th September
Today is the day I lose the Kindle race. I had made a deal with K's twin that if she ordered a Kindle ebook reader from Amazon just before she went travelling, I'd take it off her hands if it didn't show up in time for K to take it with her to America this week. I hadn't really planned to get one - but I knew I wanted one, and her extended stay out of the country would have let me pay her back gradually. Imagine my disappointment, then, when the parcel (which is being delivered to K's office) turns up this morning - a fact I am alerted to when K posts a twitpic of the contents. It's got here with two days to spare, and in my disappointment I reason that tomorrow is payday and go online to order one for myself. An impulse buy, maybe, but my goodness do they look pretty.
K goes swimming tonight (women only, alas) so I do a nice dinner and leave her a plate out, before watching the final This is England 86, which I missed last night and which wraps up the four-part sequel nicely, and in typically Meadowsian harrowing fashion. Later I watch the beginning of Valencia v Man Utd, which turns out to be a drab affair with little quality on show - so little in fact that I give up on it well before the end (missing United's customary undeserved late winner) when K finally gets home.
I have a good bit of fun charging and setting up K's sister's Kindle, and while I'm sad that I don't get to keep this particular one, I'm at least pleased that it's as pretty and technically impressive as I had hope. It's unbelievably thin and light (something which appeals to me after a long time spent with troublesomely massive new hardbacks) and the screen is genuinely uncanny to look at. It doesn't look like a screen at all - the text appears to be printed on a sold surface and doesn't fade or distort depending on the angle you're looking at it from. The "e-ink" also requires no power to stay on the screen, meaning the battery life is huge and you can leave a page up for as long as you like. I download a couple of free classics, to give them a test read - and K has a little play with it too. Mine is due to dispatch on Friday - can't wait!
K goes swimming tonight (women only, alas) so I do a nice dinner and leave her a plate out, before watching the final This is England 86, which I missed last night and which wraps up the four-part sequel nicely, and in typically Meadowsian harrowing fashion. Later I watch the beginning of Valencia v Man Utd, which turns out to be a drab affair with little quality on show - so little in fact that I give up on it well before the end (missing United's customary undeserved late winner) when K finally gets home.
I have a good bit of fun charging and setting up K's sister's Kindle, and while I'm sad that I don't get to keep this particular one, I'm at least pleased that it's as pretty and technically impressive as I had hope. It's unbelievably thin and light (something which appeals to me after a long time spent with troublesomely massive new hardbacks) and the screen is genuinely uncanny to look at. It doesn't look like a screen at all - the text appears to be printed on a sold surface and doesn't fade or distort depending on the angle you're looking at it from. The "e-ink" also requires no power to stay on the screen, meaning the battery life is huge and you can leave a page up for as long as you like. I download a couple of free classics, to give them a test read - and K has a little play with it too. Mine is due to dispatch on Friday - can't wait!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
