And all was quiet

....

Gosh, how glad am I all the eating is over? Christmas day was a hoot - spent hours alternating between the kitchen and the lounge where I watched FG cuss and swear at his new game I bought him (evil grin). At around half one we sat down to a giant meal of a smidge of roast potatoes, roast parsnips coated with maple syrup glaze, garlic potato au grautin (the roast potatoes were more of a token, this year) , grilled peppers, lightly boiled broccoli and tiny canonballs smothered with fresh pepper and grated cheese, perfectly roast beef in a wine sauce and gammon wrapped in smoked bacon smothered with apricot jam, just for colour and extra flavouring. Holy heck - it was a lot of food - FG is still eating roast beef sarnies. But it was gorgeous! And thank heavens I only do it once a year.

FG made a scrumptious trifle which we nibbled at, I had also made a mouthwatering chocolate sunken souffle (so easy!) which we are still nibbling on as it is so incredibly moist...

It was good eating. I reiterate - thank heavens I only do it once a year!
Grin.

The rest of the holiday period was sitting around, reading, sleeping, eating, walks in the park, working on the old novel...good fun.

How droll that it has to stop.

Pout.

Here's hoping we win cazillions on the Euromillion...if we do, everyone gets to be invited to the Wolseley for cheesecake and champagne!

Tumbleweed...

I walked into the office this morning and thought I was walking through a lost memory belonging to that of the Mary Celeste! It was eerie. The silence, the deserted workstations, the drip-drip of the tap in the kitchen echoing louder than it should have…

I took a later train this morning, being wild and reckless. FG and Sparrow walked me to the station where about three people stood waiting for the shortened train. I felt forlorn as I waved them off, thinking longingly of my warm bed, comfy couch and delectable new books to read.

It was the proverbial “damn, I should have taken that half day’s holiday today”. But I didn’t. And here I sit. One boss in thus far. One rather miserable, hung over and depressingly quiet boss.

I feel like I am intruding in his personal space and eventhough I whipped around the office to see if there is anyone I can talk to…there is no one. Pout. I thought maybe I cheer him up with some Classic FM music but it turns out my media player isn’t an up to date version and it refuses to access the net.

I have two songs on my computer, both from Team America, neither of which I think he would appreciate as they are loud, raucous and full of swear words.

Here’s hoping the half day goes quickly.

Shuddering sigh of loneliness!

Kong Lives

The beast looked upon the face of beauty. Beauty stayed his hand, and from that moment he was as one dead.

We went to see King Kong – The Eight Wonder of the World – last night. I freely admit to having reservations. I mean, really, how exciting can a movie be with a CGI monster, shot against a blue background, even though it was directed by His Majesty Peter Jackson?

Well.

I freely admit to being smacked in the gob. I was very wrong. VERY wrong.

Kong is brilliant. The scenery, the minute detail, costumes and sets are meticulous, the acting is topnotch. I found myself really liking Jack Black’s character in the beginning and as the story evolved you realise exactly how manipulative and single minded he is in his hunt for glory and fame and money. And he corrupts almost everyone in the process to the extent where I was wishing Kong would tear him apart.

They have done amazing things with Kong – never once did I doubt him as a genuine 25ft monster capable of tearing a T-Rex apart with his bare hands. Or laugh at the vaudeville tricks Ann does to amuse him. Or shriek with terror at the things attacking them in the ravine. The “love” story between Kong and Ann is brilliantly portrayed – it is more one of genuine friendship and understanding, than anything else. I really sobbed my heart out at the emotions brought out by the characters and Kong himself – they did really well in that and I can only imagine how much study of big ape behaviour went into creating Kong.

The one thing I would say though – one criticism is that it is just that little bit too long. We went in at eight and came out at half past eleven. The first two hours flew by but then the old bum started getting uncomfortable on the threadbare Odeon seats. But, having said that, my attention never strayed from the movie and there were loads of people there, all adults, thankfully, and like me they oohed and aahed and shrieked (FG had to remove my nails from his thigh during some of the more anxious and suspenseful moments) and cried.

I would give it…five out of six guitar strings.

Sore fingers...

First lesson today with Phil of Twangg Guitars up the road from us.

What a lovely chap. The hour flew by. My fingers hurt from being shown the cords. We tuned my Fender, we talked about music, he showed me more cords, I sucked my fingers. He showed me strumming, I sucked my fingers.

I came away with two sheets of music which incorporates the chords I had learned today - Green Day's Boulevard of Broken Dreams and Let it be by the Beatles. He also handed over a cd of the Greenday song and told me to listen to it as I practice as it will make life easier hearing it being played as I practice. I have been given two sheets of chords as well with handwritten notes what to practice, technique etc. I will practice till I can play these. We didn't make another appointment for the next lesson - that can be in the new year as the stuff I had been shown today will last me at least three weeks to master. He is optimistic, I am worried stiff that I might need to break my fingers to get them into the position his fingers can go. Grin.

But, we shall remain positive.

Lets do lunch, dahling!

Wow - it has been a strange old week. Monday night we celebrated FG getting offered his job. Needless to say we were out of our respective trees by half nine the evening. Staggered into work on Tuesday morning feeling like shyte - how do people drink and survive? I haven't had a hang over or felt that bad in over three odd years. It was horrible.

I survived Tuesday in a haze of just sitting at my desk smiling blearily at people. I was treated well as my team knows I don't do drink ever, so they were being nice.

Wednesday was much better. I was treated to a lunch at the Wolseley restaurant on Piccadilly, opposite/next to the Ritz. The one director in my team, M, (she heads her own mini-department within the larger one) took Richard (her 2IC) and me out as a thank you for looking after her this past year and for all our hard work. It was one of the nicest lunches - the food wasn't very pretensious eventhough I had to ask loads of questions as to what is what as I have zero French and can just about pronounce "frittes". But, having said that, I opted for dessert - just to be wild and daring - and chose to have the vanilla cheesecake. OMG. I think I would happily sell at least two of my books to learn how to make that. It was absolutely mouthwateringly moreish and gorgeous. I ended up sharing with my director, M - it was a substantial piece and eventhough it was lipsmacking nice, I knew that if I had to try finish it on my own, I would end up with a migraine in a nano-second.

After scooting off from the restaurant we made a beeline for Hamleys, bought a gift (700 experiment science kit) for a very lucky ten year old...after which R insisted we go to Mortons. He had recently become a member of the exclusive private club. And as M was feeling even more daring than me, off we went. At the back of my saddo mind I couldn't help but worry about my work that afternoon...but M insisted it would be all right. She left several messages for the Head of the Dept who eventually rang and said I shouldn't worry about getting back at all - it was Christmas afterall.

So, we ended up at Mortons which is at the top of Berkeley Square. A lovely old building beautifully renovated with spectactular views over the Square. We lounged about like IT-girls and boys, drank (non-)alcholic drinks, had nibbles. In the end I invited FG to join us at the end of the working day to celebrate his new job and M's boyfriend got invited too, to take her home as she professed to be too tipsy to figure out where she was.

All of us trooped off just before eight the evening feeling very posh indeed, even if a few of us were a bit unsteady on our feet.

It was a lovely day - I felt ontop of the world, yet desperately longed for my couch.

We are planning to return to the Wolseley just to go and have some cheesecake. Grin. Oh hell, why not, dahling!?

Dazed and confused

I am confused.

More so than usual. Life is a mystery.

I keep being asked “Who is your favourite band? Are you going to get their songbook and play their music?”

And I think to myself…WTF? I am a bit slutty that way. I have no favourite bands. I love all of them equally. I have got 3 playlists set up on my Zen – Noise; Girly Music; Everything Else. The playlists make complete sense to me. On my Girly Music I have Marilyn Manson eventhough he is clearly Noise...but somehow some of his songs fit. As does Bruce Springsteen. I can see the hesitation in my two colleagues at work after I stared at them blankly after they asked the question about the song books.

Is it necessary to have a favourite band? I still love Pavarotti and will sell my hair to go and see Roby Lakatos play his gypsy violin in Budapest. I can dance around the house like a maniac listening to Bond but I can also appreciate Diana Krul and her voice like velvet and treacle. I still put on the Doors when I am in a foul mood and when I feel homesick I listen to Harry Connick Jr. I save U2 for lazy days at home when no one else is around as it is music I love and am comfortable with.

I remember loving certain bands whilst growing up but I never had a fascination with them to the extent where I had all their albums and knew their music off by heart. Is this what they mean about favourite songs and bands? If it is, I think it is unhealthy - the whole range and scope of the music world is there to explore!

So no, I haven't bought any music books. I probably won't, not for a while yet. I will find out what my tutor knows and take it from there.

Songs to learn...

Right, tutor-person Phil (first class to be the 16th December) said I should make a list of songs I would like to learn, basically from some of my favourite artists...

So, I pondered the question of "what music and what bands...?" So far I have got The Man Who Sold the World (Nirvana) Summer of 69 (Brian Adams..."I bought my first real six string...") and I am stuck...what else?

I have recently fallen in love with Creed (pic above) and one of their songs really makes my breath catch. This is it:-

With Arms Wide Open

Well I just heard the news today
It seems my life is going to change
I closed my eyes, begin to pray
Then tears of joy stream down my face

With arms wide open
Under the sunlight
Welcome to this place
I'll show you everything
With arms wide open

Well I don't know if I'm ready
To be the man I have to be
I'll take a breath, take her by my side
We stand in awe, we've created life
With arms wide open

Under the sunlight
Welcome to this placeI'll show you everything
With arms wide open
Now everything has changed

I'll show you loveI'll show you everything
With arms wide open
If I had just one wish
Only one demandI hope he's not like me
I hope he understands
That he can take this life
And hold it by the hand
And he can greet the world
With arms wide open...

Written by Tremonti/Stapp Published by Tremonti/Stapp Music(Adm. by Dwight Frye Music, Inc.)/Dwight Frye Music, Inc. (BMI)Produced, Engineered & by John KurzwegMixed by Kirk Kelsey

I will ask to learn this too. It is nice as he pointed out that he does his lessons around what you want to learn, not what the tutor insists on having you learn. He obviously will be teaching technique and frets and chords and all the actual things, but he reckons that he finds people respond better to actually learning songs to play - it makes sense, doesn't it? Learning to play a song all the way through makes you feel accomplished and lo! inbetween you have learned chords, frets, posture etc. Cunning. We see how it goes though. I have to kiss my nails goodbye though but it is a matter I am happy to comply to.

Fender Dreadnaught

Isn't she gorgeous? Tones like liquid honey, and that says a lot as I can strum it with meaning, and she is being kind and sweet and hasn't made squawking noises at all!

We took a stroll around London today and after visiting a few shops, picking up various guitars (pronounced ghee-tarrs) and fiddling with them and trying to not look quite the novice, we chose this one.

She is a Fender Dreadnaught and her stats are as follows:-

TOP: Laminated BasswoodBACK

AND SIDES: Laminated Basswood

FINGERBOARD: Rosewood

NECK: Nato

BRIDGE: Black Stained Maple with Compensated Saddle

MACHINE HEADS: Chrome

Needless to say, at first this meant nothing to me but now I have a clue.

It is vastly exciting. What struck me was her sound - she had a deep body and fits comfortably on my lap and I can fit my arm around her nicely and grip the neck easily. The first shop we walked into we were offered an Aria. Which was pretty to look at but sounded like a honky-tonk gheetar. Thankfully we walked out and did some more shopping, listening intently as other people spoke about sound, comfort, etc.

Then, a tiny sign appeared which read "guitar sale" and we scooted off in there and in a shop no larger than my diningroom we found the Dreadnaught. The owner was strumming her, in demonstration. Another young girl was fingering one, looking as happy as a clam, listening to him. Then her older sister, mom, tutor or partner - who knows, there was a gaggle of them - took it over and the sounds she made on it, dropped my jaw. They decided to take one, I got handed the demo-instrument, was shown a chair and started strumming my little heart out, only to find that honey was pouring out of the instrument. I was enraptured.

The owner popped back as FG and I chatted, amazed at how beautiful she looked, her back and neck is this deep rich almost red-almost brown colour. And the fact that she was an affordable acoustic gheetar, and a Fender, sold us. (Snobbish??)

We were packaged up with a free gig-bag with backpack straps, a handful of different picks and within seconds I was transformed from Mundane Liz into Almost Acoustic Fender Rock Chick.

I am planning to pop up there on Monday to get an electric tuner. I have been promised a few books on grips and chords, so I will wait until then before buying my own books.

FG has been really sweet about it - he was the recipient of constant hugs and kisses during the day, much to his joy.

So, all I have to now is limber up my hands who have not seen strings or a keyboard for about eighteen years. Yikes! But, I hold over hope. Maybe I even do guitar lessons locally - who knows? All very exciting!

From PA to Rock Star to Creative Genius!

The cat is out the bag.

To prevent any kind of disastrous present buying this Christmas FG and I have decided to swap present ideas.

His list is a lovely one of loads of little things to buy, so it looks promising. I will take a day off to go and do his shopping quite soon. We have decided not to spend loads this Christmas as the sales here are utterly insane and you pick everything up at half price afterwards, or even less.

My list though is a bit of a nightmare. I don’t want anything, really. I have got loads of books which I want to read, there are many more I want to get, but in reality there is no space in the house, I don’t need jewellery as I like the shinies but forget to actually wear them. There will be the invariable bits of smellies from the Body Shop which is always loved and appreciated. But as a present for myself, I didn’t have a clue. So I sat there, looking perplexed.

FG, however, is a considerate bean and knows my little heart and pays attention during the year when I make noises about some treasure or other and he has hit on the idea of buying me a guitar!!! I am so totally over the moon about this. I have roped in advice from everywhere. We are starting our hunt this coming Sunday. And the fantastic thing about the guitar is, I don’t have to spend £300 plus on one (unless I win the lottery this weekend and then the sky is the limit!)

Beaming.

Of course I have these delusions of picking up a guitar and winding it like Slash. Or Hendrix, belting out the Star Spangled Banner like he did that improv at Woodstock back in the day. In reality it will probably be more Phoebe's “Smelly Cat” from Friends. But it is a start. I am not generally a patient person but I can read music (back in my churchgoing days I used to sing in the choir and murder a recorder) so I am hoping that I can remember something at least and I am stubborn.

It is, in all honesty, shaping up to be a promising new year. I have decided to be more creative – not just with my writing but doing craft projects. I have the time, in the evenings and over weekends to do it, it is just the motivation that is lacking now and again.

This year I am planning to complete my novel I started a few months ago. Advice from an author friend in Australasia and Wordweaver ( a multi-talented lady who not only creates magical poetry , but is a singer-songwriter and a fantastic chef!) is to get the story out and on the screen and then worry about everything else after the fact. I think, as it has been shouted at me enough, I am happy to do this.

2006 is going to be a very creative year. So, beware of handmade presents, jams, chutneys, windchimes, bound journals, papier mache “stuff” – as Creative Liz is about to strike!