"Debussy... crazy name, crazy guy."

The writing of Nachtmusik episode 2 rumbles steadily on, now introducing new characters to hide the plot vacuity at its core. We now have the feeding scene with all-new Dracula joke, an anecdote about Lenin and a scene involving a packet of biscuits. Plus, the exciting new character Mad Dave or Crazy Wayne or whatever the hell I'm going to call him.

Incidentally, one of the librarians here at SOAS bears a striking resemblance to David Cronenberg.


Librarian or Canadian body-horror director?


Aaanyway, despite having work at a restaurant, I'm still looking for a job, because I'd need forty hours a week to be comfortable and there's no way I'm going to get that many shifts.

The last shift there demonstrated that our teachers were right in at least one thing, though. Andrea and I were sent off to Tescos to buy Coke and milk. Five one-litre bottles each of Coke and Diet Coke were required. They were only available in 1.25 litre bottles, but demonstrating the mustard-keen intellect that netted me enough A-levels to scrape into university, I suggested we get four of each.

As for the milk, the manager had written only "6" and circled it. Did he want six pints? Six four-pint bottles? We tried to phone to check, but there was no answer. I mumbled something about using our initiative. Yet more agonising indecision followed.

"I'm all for this initiative thing," said Andrea, "But maybe another time." She tried phoning, again unsuccessfully. Eventually we decided that seeing as he's a Canadian, he must be thinking in metric. (It made sense at the time.)

We were wrong, but the point is that, as GCSE Maths repeatedly drummed into our heads, it's vital to always write down what units you're using. Otherwise, something as trivial as a Coke-and-milk run to the supermarket can turn into a debacle, even if you send a Serb and a Chinese-speaking ex-pirate.

Italiano

Hmm... I'd forgotten about this. There's an Italian version of some of the APAGear stories, including Brutta faccenda a Rocca Bianca, which I originally wrote in English as Bad Day at White Rock (non-speakers of Italian can just click on the 'testo originale' link at the top there).

In the index, the translator describes it as 'ermetico', which is very nice of him (her?), as I believe it means 'watertight'. At least, I think that's a compliment.


In fact, while I'm blowing my own trumpet in Italian, there's also....Esperance

Semi-Employment Occurs

Well, that was quick. I've got a couple (three, whatever) shifts a week at a restaurant. It isn't great. I should have an interview with that think-tank some time this week, which might be better, but it's contract work so it's not exactly steady. Hey ho.

Leo is back from Shanghai for a bit. He's a corporate shill now, or such is my understanding. Go him. I wish I were a corporate shill, or possibly a government yes-man. I bet that would cover the rent. Better than "Writer, Film-maker, Adventurer", which is what it says on my business cards.

There's a machine that prints them at Stockwell tube station. What can I say?

Incidentally, have you ever noticed how similar the instrumental bits of Rock DJ by Robbie Williams* are to Stop The Cavalry by Jonah Lewie? Some might say that I have too much time on my hands, but I am looking for work, honestly. It's just all a bit demoralising -- once you've been a professional pirate, no other job application is ever going to be quite as much fun, is it? Maybe I should go travelling after all, have some adventures, Hemingway-style.


*You know, Mork from Ork.

Unemployment Looms Again

Well, what's been happening?
Last weekend (I think, or possibly the one before), I went to Hitchin for Ciaron's birthday. He was celebrating with a pub crawl based on, of all things, the GW board game Talisman. My team (me, Kirsty and Sean) won by a scarily large margin, based mostly on Sean's unexpectedly prodigious facility for rum-drinking (he was playing the pirate) and my own surprising victory over a red-headed Scotsman in a Guinness speed-drinking contest.

The re-rig of the ship is finished, and therefore so is work, mostly. There's still some cleaning up to do, and we have to get rid of the temporary wall and the hired dock pump, but that's about it. Hmm...

I'll get going on those gamebook outlines, to give myself something useful to do. Speaking of which, I just bought the Spaceship Zero RPG. I'm not sure why, I think I just like the idea of a licensed game based on a TV series that doesn't exist.

The Homewreckers' Club have an upcoming gig, and though I'll only be able to make it to a couple of rehearsals beforehand, I hope to be able to join in for a song or two, in my position as "Consultant Guitarist".

The Post Southampton Boat Show Post

So, my alleged intent to write a proper post upon my return to London was revealed as nothing more than a fraud. Things have been too busy on the ship of late, and I don't have very regular net access, so sorry about that.

At any rate, the show was very good - loverly weather and all that, and I met lots of great people, whom I naturally have utterly failed to stay in contact with. So, on the off-chance any of you are reading, and in the tradition of the great Internet long shots, here's a hello to (in no particular order)....

The guys on the Sunsail stand, especially Sophie, Mark, Kate, Laurence, Helen and Graham; Emily and the other security guards whose on-board tea break was so rudely interrupted; our volunteers - Rebecca, Dan, Terry, Roger, Norberto and Maria; and anyone else I've neglected to mention.

Those who want to get in touch, just drop me a line here.

And no, Terry, we didn't find your glasses.

Back in the Big Smoke

I have returned to London, and moved my stuff into the house. The Hind remains in Southampton, ready to be towed as soon as the winds drop to Force 4 or lower. I'm looking for work again, for when the boat thing is finished.

So, I'm writing this in the SOAS computer room. Here at the college, an AUT/Unison strike has thrown much confusion into the start of year registration process. In happier news, SOAS now has an impressive revolving door in the lobby.

Carole has put me onto an interesting possibility for a job, so I'll stroll up and see them later. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to get a sandwich.

Dialogue From France 3

(to a surprisingly small charter group)
"What, don't you have any friends?"

"Let's go and spill some of the gin on that palace."

"While this boat is racing, there's one guy who stays below deck and moves all the sails around and sorts them out. He's called the sewer rat, and you can spot him in the team photo because he's the one without a tan."
"He usuall has big pink eyes, as well."
"And webbed feet."
"Really?"
"Yeah, it gets pretty damp down there."
"He doesn't have any friends."
"I wonder if he's at the show."
"He's skippering the other boat."

"I can hardly get her number if you don't go closer."
"I'm trying to go past on a more impressive point of sail."

Proper post once I get back to London. Promise.