Saturday, December 31, 2005
Friday, December 30, 2005
Happy New Year
Happy New Year
No more champagne
And the fireworks are through
Here we are, me and you
Feeling lost and feeling blue
It’s the end of the party
And the morning seems so grey
So unlike yesterday
Now’s the time for us to say...
Happy new year
Happy new year
May we all have a vision now and then
Of a world where every neighbour is a friend
Happy new year
Happy new year
May we all have our hopes, our will to try
If we don’t we might as well lay down and die
You and i
Sometimes I see
How the brave new world arrives
And I see how it thrives
In the ashes of our lives
Oh yes, man is a fool
And he thinks he’ll be okay
Dragging on, feet of clay
Never knowing he’s astray
Keeps on going anyway...
Happy new year
Happy new year
May we all have a vision now and then
Of a world where every neighbour is a friend
Happy new year
Happy new year
May we all have our hopes, our will to try
If we don’t we might as well lay down and die
You and i
Seems to me now
That the dreams we had before
Are all dead, nothing more
Than confetti on the floor
It’s the end of a decade
In another ten years time
Who can say what we’ll find
What lies waiting down the line
In the end of eighty-nine...
Happy new year
Happy new year
May we all have a vision now and then
Of a world where every neighbour is a friend
Happy new year
Happy new year
May we all have our hopes, our will to try
If we don’t we might as well lay down and die
You and i
What I wanted to do by stealing this song was to invoke the kind of hope I felt at our family New Year parties back in the seventies, I can't find a copy of the tune anywhere - well, probably if I knew where to look, I could, so these stolen lyrics will have to do. The site I stole them from didn't even credit the writers (SCANDALOUS). So I'm linking here instead - which does cite the writers (Benny and Bjorn, of course) and you can even listen to the track if you sign in.
Anyway it's time to put 2005 behind us - every year I hope that the next year will be better. In some ways this year has been great: the Artist has sold 10 paintings in 2005 and is hoping to go back to work sometime in the New Year. Arty, Daughter, Surrealo Son and the Two Year Old Genius (or Harry Potter, the Boy who lived , as he prefers to be known) are all thriving and I planetd a garden and even did some writing (thanks Cheryl, Erin et al for the encouragement).
The poor allotment hasn't been touched since September 6, but I placed a large order with Thompson and Morgan yesterday - mostly for plants so I can't just leave it or they'll all die. Hopefully the dry weather forecast for next week will give me the chance to get down there and clear the plot ready for this coming year.
Happy 2006
No more champagne
And the fireworks are through
Here we are, me and you
Feeling lost and feeling blue
It’s the end of the party
And the morning seems so grey
So unlike yesterday
Now’s the time for us to say...
Happy new year
Happy new year
May we all have a vision now and then
Of a world where every neighbour is a friend
Happy new year
Happy new year
May we all have our hopes, our will to try
If we don’t we might as well lay down and die
You and i
Sometimes I see
How the brave new world arrives
And I see how it thrives
In the ashes of our lives
Oh yes, man is a fool
And he thinks he’ll be okay
Dragging on, feet of clay
Never knowing he’s astray
Keeps on going anyway...
Happy new year
Happy new year
May we all have a vision now and then
Of a world where every neighbour is a friend
Happy new year
Happy new year
May we all have our hopes, our will to try
If we don’t we might as well lay down and die
You and i
Seems to me now
That the dreams we had before
Are all dead, nothing more
Than confetti on the floor
It’s the end of a decade
In another ten years time
Who can say what we’ll find
What lies waiting down the line
In the end of eighty-nine...
Happy new year
Happy new year
May we all have a vision now and then
Of a world where every neighbour is a friend
Happy new year
Happy new year
May we all have our hopes, our will to try
If we don’t we might as well lay down and die
You and i
What I wanted to do by stealing this song was to invoke the kind of hope I felt at our family New Year parties back in the seventies, I can't find a copy of the tune anywhere - well, probably if I knew where to look, I could, so these stolen lyrics will have to do. The site I stole them from didn't even credit the writers (SCANDALOUS). So I'm linking here instead - which does cite the writers (Benny and Bjorn, of course) and you can even listen to the track if you sign in.
Anyway it's time to put 2005 behind us - every year I hope that the next year will be better. In some ways this year has been great: the Artist has sold 10 paintings in 2005 and is hoping to go back to work sometime in the New Year. Arty, Daughter, Surrealo Son and the Two Year Old Genius (or Harry Potter, the Boy who lived , as he prefers to be known) are all thriving and I planetd a garden and even did some writing (thanks Cheryl, Erin et al for the encouragement).
The poor allotment hasn't been touched since September 6, but I placed a large order with Thompson and Morgan yesterday - mostly for plants so I can't just leave it or they'll all die. Hopefully the dry weather forecast for next week will give me the chance to get down there and clear the plot ready for this coming year.
Happy 2006
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Every Little Helps
So, as if our life was not difficult enough, we have now been boycotted by the Tesco delivery drivers at our local store.
You may remember, those of you who have been paying attention, that we are stuck in a 2nd floor flat with several furry things, three children of varying sizes, a bloke with a poorly leg and worse arm (according to the council "at danger of becoming housebound") and me with a bad back.
Perhaps they thought I was getting a bit above myself and didn't really deserve to have my shopping delivered. A bit posh sounding, too many fresh fruit and vegetables for someone living in a council flat with a piss stained lobby, liable to phone the helpline to ascertain that yes, you lazy bastard, you are supposed to climb the stair and DELIVER her shopping to the front door (unless of course you can make up some excuse to do with health and safety at work and then you'll have her over a barrel).
After an angry exchange via the intercom and accusations involving the sighting of a hypodermic syrringe, I called the local store who apparently knew all about it. They didn't. Neither did the local housing office, environmental services or street cleansing emergency response team who are actually the poor souls who have top go out and retrieve these things.
Another call to another bod at Tesco who apologised but said she could not compel her driver to deliver to me under their terms and conditions. She was informed that according to the City Council there had never, ever been a report of a needle and none had been cleaned up from here. She passed me on to head office who were supposed to email me. Jim (a very nice man) rang me to say one was on its way - of course none turned up. He rang back the next day and spoke to the artist who's not great on the phone when both arms work but the upshot was that the hypo - was not really the issue - it was the piss and the skanky nature of our abode - not his words - mine. He was very pleasant and as helpful as could be at all times. He also informed us that we had now been boycotted (again, my word) by all the drivers.
Now, you probably think I should be furious with Tesco. I'm not. I'm furious with the first driver who had been to the flat before and very reluctantly had had to deliver up the stairs.
I'm humiliated by the fact that the whole garage has boycotted us and in fact one of them called me "number X", our address.
In the mean time, we are back to lugging it all on the bus - there's no advantage to a cab as it would only stop in the self same plaace as the bus - to cap it all off very nicely the wheels on the shopping trolley went yesterday.
Tis the season to be jolly, fna, fna, fna.
You may remember, those of you who have been paying attention, that we are stuck in a 2nd floor flat with several furry things, three children of varying sizes, a bloke with a poorly leg and worse arm (according to the council "at danger of becoming housebound") and me with a bad back.
Perhaps they thought I was getting a bit above myself and didn't really deserve to have my shopping delivered. A bit posh sounding, too many fresh fruit and vegetables for someone living in a council flat with a piss stained lobby, liable to phone the helpline to ascertain that yes, you lazy bastard, you are supposed to climb the stair and DELIVER her shopping to the front door (unless of course you can make up some excuse to do with health and safety at work and then you'll have her over a barrel).
After an angry exchange via the intercom and accusations involving the sighting of a hypodermic syrringe, I called the local store who apparently knew all about it. They didn't. Neither did the local housing office, environmental services or street cleansing emergency response team who are actually the poor souls who have top go out and retrieve these things.
Another call to another bod at Tesco who apologised but said she could not compel her driver to deliver to me under their terms and conditions. She was informed that according to the City Council there had never, ever been a report of a needle and none had been cleaned up from here. She passed me on to head office who were supposed to email me. Jim (a very nice man) rang me to say one was on its way - of course none turned up. He rang back the next day and spoke to the artist who's not great on the phone when both arms work but the upshot was that the hypo - was not really the issue - it was the piss and the skanky nature of our abode - not his words - mine. He was very pleasant and as helpful as could be at all times. He also informed us that we had now been boycotted (again, my word) by all the drivers.
Now, you probably think I should be furious with Tesco. I'm not. I'm furious with the first driver who had been to the flat before and very reluctantly had had to deliver up the stairs.
I'm humiliated by the fact that the whole garage has boycotted us and in fact one of them called me "number X", our address.
In the mean time, we are back to lugging it all on the bus - there's no advantage to a cab as it would only stop in the self same plaace as the bus - to cap it all off very nicely the wheels on the shopping trolley went yesterday.
Tis the season to be jolly, fna, fna, fna.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Favourite Carol
After the soothing papfest which is Saturday night telly had become just a blur in the background, Arty Daughter had us all trying to work out which carol she was talking about.
"It's got a robin. A frozen robin. It's really sad. You used to sing it". The only thing I could think of was an awful song we learnt for a singing competition with our school choir. Which went something like this:
Robin on a leafless bough
Lord in heaven how he sings
Now the winter's cruel wind
Makes playmates of poor dead things.
Cheery, I know - great song for ten year olds to sing.
Anyway it turned out to be, after much deliberation, In the Bleak Midwinter (words by my fave rave Christina Rosetti). It set me to thinking what blogland's favourite carol was, or yours anyway.
Mine is Angels from the Realms of Glory (please note popups if you click through) and note that I prefer the traditional french tune not the American one. Which is yours?
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