Music Monday – choosing a path between the stars

David Bowie died today.

I never imagined that this day would ever be a thing. David Bowie doesn’t die. David Bowie changes into something else, something more wonderful than the previous David Bowie. David Bowie is not human. He can’t die.

Turns out David Bowie was human.

I sat on the bed at 7am. Ant had just called up the stairs with the news. Nothing had been said on the radio, they were just playing songs. Then they said. I cried. I cried for 20 minutes without moving from my spot.

Then I cried in the shower.

Then I cried on the sofa.

I cried by text. I swore on Twitter. I’m a heartless cow when it comes to public grief, can’t be dealing with bleeding hearts, so today I just said “fuck”.

I put him on shuffle on my Spotify to walk to work. It played Everyone Says Hi. I cried in the street.

Lots of crying. I doubt I was the only one.

I read Martin of Ruth & Martin’s Album Club’s wonderful post and I cried.

***

I was born at 2.58pm on Saturday 16th April 1983. A rainy day apparently. David Bowie was at number 1 with Let’s Dance, not his greatest song, but still. David Bowie was at number 1 when I was born.

I don’t remember the first time I watched Labyrinth, I just know that it’s always been there. Wheeled in to the school hall on that giant TV trolley that only schools and hospitals had, and played on a video so well worn that the tracking was a bit shifty.

I don’t remember noticing the bulge. Just one day, there it was.

I do remember sitting on my Grandma’s piano stool in the middle of her living room watching Labyrinth one Saturday afternoon. Just because Labyrinth.

Labyrinth. A school days staple, like trips to St Fagans. Always at least once a year.

I’m not really sure what to do with myself now. I’ve been drawing, but I’m not sure. Lots of staring into space while listening to hour upon hour of wonderful music.

I’ll survive. I lived on the Earth at the same time as David Bowie. That’s something to be proud of.

There’s a Starman waiting in the sky.

Decemblog

Did you miss me?

It’s December 1st and that officially is the start of Christmas for me. It’s the same month and everything. It’s even snowing on WordPress. I love that.

Today I put the tree up, as I do every year on the 1st. I wasn’t really feeling it today, mind. Not sure why. I seem to have to force myself to enjoy things that I usually love. I blame Cameron, the ham-faced gimp. Anyway, I put the lights on the tree and plugged them in. Dead. My trusted John Lewis lights died. On the tree. Ugh. Cancel Christmas. So Ant decides that we should get new ones. Off we go to Tesco at 9pm. 100 lights, half price, £4. Score! We bought some custard creams too, because custard creams. Get home, feeling a bit more with it, and plug the lights in. They work!  Yay! BUT as I unravel them they stop working. NOOOOOOO!!  Why do you test me so, God of string lights?! We took out every bulb and the fuse. Nothing. Back to Tesco at 10pm! No way am I not having lights on my tree tonight. I’m too involved now. 10.40pm and there are lights on the tree. Also on the tree are my old lights that belonged to my nan and are older than I am. TAKE THAT, STRING LIGHT MANUFACTURERS. I’m not doing any more to the tree tonight. I might leave it naked as some sort of hipster protest. Nah. I have about 600 baubles to go on it. That’s a full day’s work.

I am aware that I have used too many tenses in the above story. I don’t care. It’s sausage to me.

Today’s festive musical offering comes from the lovely Gruff Rhys. Enjoy.

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Spotify link.

An owlsome weekend

I had the most brilliant Bank Holiday weekend EVER.

On Saturday, we went to see owls. OWLS! Ant bought me a falconry experience for my birthday so we drove up to Forge (near Machynlleth) and it was amazing. This is me having a nice cwtch with my favourite owl ever in the whole wide world. Her name’s Mog:image

 

Mog is a little White Faced Scops Owl. You know, the ones that do that crazy thing when they feel threatened. She was adorable, even if she pooed on me.

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Mog loved Ant too. Actually, all the owls like Ant. He’s like some sort of owl whisperer. I knew there was a good reason to keep him around, he attracts owls!image

On Sunday we had a little lie in (as much as the cats would allow) before walking to Riverside Market (because sausages) and had lunch at Pieminster. Coffee and pie on a Sunday – what more could a person ask for?! This was actually not the pie I ordered, but it’s the pie that I ate. I think it was actually nicer than the pie I ordered so I was pleased at the error!image

Many lovely new records have come to live with me in the last couple of weeks. This weekend I acquired the new Tigercub single, Neu 2, Suede and Gruff Rhys’ American Interior which is just bloody lovely. image

Record Store Day 2014

It’s that time of year again. Yay!

Not going to lie to you, I have been dying of yuk all week (conjunctivitis, chest infection, swollen glands, sore throat, fever…) and could probably done with not getting up at stupid o’clock on Saturday and standing in a cold alley for 3 hours. But I did. I had to sit down (before I fell down) once or twice but I did it. After 1.5 hours my wonderful cousin Adam appeared and brought me a coffee. He’s a good boy.image

The first people in the queue had been there since about 1am. I was glad to be asleep in bed at 1am, though I admire their determination and miss being so enthusiastic about things. Good for them. I think I finally got in to the shop around 10.30am. Eyes on the prize. I wanted the Suede single and I was going to get it…image

…and get it I did. Along with other lovely things. I got Adam the Machinehead record, the queue was headed to St Mary Street by the time he got there, and he did get me a coffee, so it was only fair. I’m a nice cousin too. We’re nice people. It’s genetic.image

Have you ever seen a record ever so pink as this?image

I actually picked up the Pink Panther LP on Monday as Ashli from Spillers was tweeting about it on Saturday night and they had some left. Noink! It’s an awesome record, I’m really glad I got it. Also, pink as heck. The Suede single is really good too, sounds like it belongs on Head Music which is underrated as far as Suede albums go. Have a listen, it’s so 1998.

Remember – a record shop is for life. Look after your record shop and it will look after you.

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www.recordstoreday.co.uk

www.spillersrecords.co.uk

 

In my room

The bedroom.

When you’re growing up your bedroom is your sanctuary. It’s where you play, where you do your homework, where you tell your little sister to piss off because she’s just there being annoying when you’re trying to be cool with your mates. It’s where the walls start off plain (or with Woofit wallpaper in my case) and then evolve through Care Bears and rainbows to Take That and then, almost overnight, you can’t see the walls through posters of Nirvana, Pulp and Beck until your A0 sized X-Files poster that cost £3.99 in Virgin Megastores on the weekend after your 14th birthday falls down and rips a hole in Mulder’s face (I cried when this happened) and so you fill the space with photos from disposable cameras of your friends and cat. Mostly the cat.

When you get an entire place of your own you don’t need your bedroom as a retreat. You have a whole home with lots of rooms to spread all your random crap around, and your bedroom becomes just that – the room with your bed in it. The place you spend a lot of time in, but doing anything special, just sleeping (or not, thanks to my neighbours who seemed to be having a pretty good time last night. I didn’t need to hear that.)

I was lying in bed the other morning, feeling very pleased that I didn’t have to go to work because it was Saturday, and started thinking about our bedroom. None of the furniture in it belongs to us (it’s a rental) so in order to personalise it we need “things”. We haven’t really put any things in the bedroom. We’ve got a big vintage granny blanket on the bed and a crocheted rug on the floor, and a mirror from my nan’s house on the wall but that’s it. No falling down X-Files poster, no fairy lights (I will remedy this), not even any pictures on the wall. I’ve got nice stripy bedding on at the moment (BHS) but otherwise there’s no personalisation to the room at all. Not even a radio. I should put a radio in there. It’s easier to wake up to a radio. I’ll get a radio.

I’d love our room to look like this, including cat:

Dream bedroom

I doubt Ant would like that room though. That’s the other thing about not having just your own room – you have to consider the person who shares the room with you! Not that I’d have everything pink but still! Also think I need some plants in there. I’ll have to do cuttings from Charlie, but I don’t want to kill him accidentally. I’ll practice on Charles II who lives on the fridge. He’s freaky already.

Lots of songs about rooms, but naturally I’ve picked Dinosaur Pile-Up to end this post.

Brown paper packages tied up with string

I love presents. I love giving presents, and I think I’m pretty good at presents. I don’t give presents and expect reciprocation, I do it because I get a kick out of it. I love shopping and wrapping and seeing peoples’ faces when they open them. I give presents all year round, so Christmas is like, well, Christmas for a giver like me. To quote from an article in issue 33 of Mollie Makes “Present-giving is an ancient way to show affection via the medium of… stuff.”

However, while shopping for other people, one can’t help but find things that one would really not mind receiving oneself. Etsy is especially dangerous for this sort of thing…

Love Birds Amongst The Orchids with Sterling Silver Chain and Initial Leaves by tinycottagetreasures on Etsy
Kooky Forest in Pearl & Charcoal Cushion Cover by TigerandHare
Handmade Fiery Goblin Doll by The Curious Panther
Friends of the Forest print by evajuliet
Handmade Long Wallet BiFold Clutch -Woodland Nutty Squirrels by faithonearth
Dinosaur planter by crazycouture
Fox Laser Cut Brooch by the Owl & Otter

I’ve been a very good girl this year :)

Yes, I do feel better

This may be a pretty poor return to blogging, but if I don’t actually do it on November 1st then NaBloPoMo will never happen.

I have spent much of the day [lies, about an hour] pondering something to write. I am still devoid of ideas so I’ll just post this…

Bernardtweet

Yes. That is a tweet to me from the one and only Mr Bernard Butler, and yes he has used the hashtag #selfieboobs. I don’t know why. I don’t care why. All I know is that little old me over here has received a tweet from a musical hero and I am supermegaawesomely happy about it.

I am the guacamole of truth into which you may dip the nacho of need

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