Crap Song Lyrics - 1

I just read an article on the NME web site with 50 crap lyrics, and I really thought they could have done much better. For example, "This is man's world, but it would be nothing without a woman or a girl" came in for criticism for neglecting 50% of the population.  Still, no-one ever said music journalists were intelligent.

In an effort to redress the balance in favour of truly crap lyrics, I'm going to start sharing some favourites of mine that I've discovered over the years. My particular favourites are unromantic lines in love songs...

Boys II Men - I'll Make Love to You
Number 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 for 14 weeks, and it won a Grammy too.  It does include this unfortunately unromantic pair of lines though:

Throw your clothes on the floor

I'm gonna take my clothes off too

Sounds like they're still Boyz to me.

JLS - Love You More

Jack the Lad Swing (did you know that?) is what the letters stand for, but they seem to lack a little imagination when it comes to sweet-talking the ladies.

Day one I first laid my eyes on you.

Day two I can't help but think of you.

Day three was the same as day two.

Day four I fell in love with you.

Seriously? "Day three was the same as day two?"  For today I'm going to ignore the ghastly stress on the word "the" that is induced by putting these lyrics to that tune.

Can you imagine gazing intently into the eyes of your beloved, whispering something along the lines of, "I remember that day when first saw you. The next day, I couldn't stop thinking about you.  The day after that was the same as the previous day. The day after that I fell in love with you."

So not only are you completely killing any kind of narrative, and losing the emotion of the moment (by repeating day two on day three), you're also telling her that it wasn't love at first sight, but that you had to spend two full days thinking about her first, before falling in love.

How unflattering that sounds, not even taking into account that someone who analyses their romance in that sort of detail is unlikely to be the catch of the century.

More Crap Song Lyrics as I find them...

Presqu'hebdomadaire

I'm rather pleased with a few things that have taken place in the last 6 days.

On Saturday, I was on the Ridgeway at 8am with the dogs and a book ("DarkMarket: cyberthieves, cypercops and you" by Misha Glenny). A two-hour walk in glorious autumn sunshine ensued, with the temperature rising from 4C to 6C while I was out.  The views were magnificent, which meant I didn't read as much as I'd expected to, but that really wasn't a problem, given the fact that I covered 6 miles with the North Wessex Downs for company - as well as finches, terns, red kites (almost obligatory on this blog), and a wealth of other birds that I've yet to identify.

Monday evening was host to a few achievements.  Firstly, Aimée and I made our way to that London, as I'd won a pair of tickets to see Mumford & Sons at the Roundhouse, in Chalk Farm.
The first delight was the look on Aimée's face when, while on the M4, I mentioned that I didn't know where I was going to park, and that we didn't have a map. Trusting in my Zen-like ability to navigate successfully, I followed my instincts (and a modicum of a plan, from having looked at a map a week earlier) and parked legally, free of charge, on Shepherd's Bush Rd (near Tesco if you know the area), about 5 minutes' walk from Hammersmith Underground station. 40 minutes later we were at the Roundhouse, where the queues were surprisingly long, considering that the doors opened at 6, and we got there at 7.15. We soon discovered that over half the people queuing didn't have tickets, and were hoping to glean a place not taken by a competition winner.  Presumably, if you won tickets for Mumford & Sons, and you lived in Glasgow, and you weren't really keen on them, you wouldn't bother.

So, we were in the main room at 7.50, for Willy Mason's support act - notable mainly for being excellent background music, and for the young lady playing the saw (no prizes for guessing what instrument Aimée wants to play next).

M & S themselves were excellent.  "Sigh No More" was performed, not A Capella, but "Sans Electricité".  4 voices, a guitar and a banjo, and properly, totally, unplugged.  A couple of thousand people shushed themselves and listenened intently, apart from a couple of wazzocks near us who got an uncontrollable fit of the giggles.  They could have just sodded off to the toilet or the bar, rather than annoying the bejeebers out of everyone around them - ho hum!

Lots of songs later, with a couple of songs left, I noticed the people in front of us kept turning round and looking at the balcony.  I had a gander myself, and realised that Chris Martin was there, having a good old boogie, with Gwyneth alongside, and another, younger, shorter blond, who I've since worked out might be Carey Mulligan.  According to that there internet, they were all there (as was Adele), so I think it must have been them.

Last note of gig played at 10:40pm.  We were home at 12:27am.  Result! London Confusion: 0 Joneses: 1.

Waiting for us in the kitchen was a surprise from the fairies that live in our house - a flask of hot chocolate. Perfect end to the night.

In-laws arriving tomorrow.  Will have to find a way to get one of them to drive us to the Bell in Aldworth, so I can have more than a pint.  Sunday lunchtime perhaps?

Oh yes, another thing of note occurred on Sunday morning - what I think was a Sparrowhawk landed on our back garden gate while we were taking coffee in the conservatory (living the life, eh!) and flew off about a second later, possibly with a sparrow. Gulp!

The Return of the Baking Fairy

Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!
The fairy came back yesterday!
The tempting scent of yumptious treat
Foretold of cupboard shelves replete
With chocolate brownies, robed in goo
And pizza-flavoured muffins too.
And when I thought my lust was fed
My search revealed a gingerbread.
My taste for this stuff's rather picky,
This was perfect - rich and sticky.
A wholemeal loaf completes the day.
Oh Fairy, never go away!

Knowing I, Knowing Thee, Aarrrrhhhhaaaaaarrrrrrrr.

Today, September 19th, is "Talk Like a Pirate Day".  How ironic that my good lady wife is (in her own words) as sick as a parrot.  Doubly ironic, as there seems to be an ornithological undercurrent to this non-diurnal journal.
I was prompted to jot these thoughts down as YARK (Yet Another Red Kite) swooped towards the window while I was wondering whether it would be reasonable to experiment with creating Access Control List entries automatically, based on a manager's IT resources request for a new employee.
In other bird-related news, yesterday I drove within 20m of a buzzard that was feasting on one of half a dozen dead hedgehogs, within the space of 100m.  I hope any surviving hogs have realised it's not a great place to cross the road.  This morning, our local quartet of bickering starlings were very miffed to see that the mealworms they scoffed yesterday had not been replaced.  As I ate my breakfast, I had the pleasant view of a collared dove, a field sparrow and a blue tit lined up vertically; eating bread, bird seed and nuts respectively.  If I were smarter than the average bear, and a bit less of a Luddite, I might take some photos of my feathered chums and share them with the world.
The grand plans for planting shrubs amounted to nothing, to tonight's chore is to get the bamboo from the front garden to the back, then start digging, planting and watering.  If that gets done in time, I'll be cleaning the conservatory roof.  If the plans are still functioning, I'll be cleaning the windows tomorrow.
Luckily there's sod all on telly before it gets dark, so there's little chance of me getting distracted.  However, the dogs do beg me for a walk, and there's the not-so-trivial matter of probably making the dinner, and definitely eating it.
In all, if I get 30% of tonight's plans done, I'll have done well.
So long, shipmates, and brace yerselves for stormy weather ahead - aaaaaaarrrrrrr!!!

Web Logging

As the final third of September approaches, I'm going to have to face the fact that it's simply not as warm outside as it has been.  And so I suspect that Friday, or possibly Saturday, will see us putting the heating on for the first time in this house - I've been here since early June.  It would have been nice to go 4 months without heating, but I don't think we'll quite make it.
On the downside, that means ordering some oil.  On the up side, it also means that I can bring our open fire into play.  The question is, how do I feel about gathering wood?
Not that I'm concerned about the physical effort required, as I walk about 3 miles a day anyway, but the morality of "nicking" fallen wood to burn on my fire.  Is it right?  Is it even legal?  Much of the woodland around here is commercial forestry, so I think it's a little more clear cut in that situation.  The land belongs to a private owner, and therefore so do the windfalls.  However, on public land I think the line between right and wrong is a little more blurred.
So I think that if I take a small rucksack out with me, and pop in a few bits of naturally fallen wood, that's OK.  Nothing more than, say, 3" thick (7.5cm), and no more than I can reasonably carry. I reckon that bag's contents would do for 3 or so hours of firewood.  Our grate is small, but the sitting room is also small enough that we'd keep the door open and heat some of the rest of the house too. Daily gathering, daily burning.  The circle of life and all that, eh?
On other matters: we had a great weekend.  The day out at the Royal Berkshire County Show on Saturday was excellent.  Ferrets were possibly the highlight - and a couple of utterly magnificent bulls.  Pictures may follow.  It's always slightly moving to watch a Spitfire flying overhead, as we did on Saturday, but it was even more so on the Sunday, watching it from our home (about 3 miles from the Showground).  As it plunged downwards below the treeline, the distinctive two notes of the Merlin engine seemed to drift apart.  The deep thrum getting deeper. The higher element of its voice become more shrill and piercing.  I suspect that little on that horizon had changed in the last 70 years, and I confess a lump came to my throat as I imagined myself watching "our boys" heading off to square up to whatever had dared to cross the channel.  I was surprised at my own reaction, but not unhappy.
Shrubs to plant in the back garden tomorrow.  I might surprise myself and do some in the morning before work.  Or I might just linger a little longer while walking the dogs, and pick up a few sticks along the way - just in case there's a nip in the air later in the week.

The Baking Fairy

For over sixteen years now, I've suspected that I've been followed around to everywhere I live by a Clothes Fairy.  I leave dirty clothes in a pile (a tidy pile, I should add) and they re-appear a few days later, clean and ironed.  But now, a new fairy seems to have appeared - the Baking Fairy has come to stay.
On Monday, I came home to discover cheese scones waiting.
On Tuesday, there were strawberry shortcakes and a chicken & mushroom pie.
Wednesday, pizza-flavour savoury muffins (the first muffins I've ever enjoyed); Swiss roll and a dirty great chocolate cake.
Today, we've just been trying to catch up with the Baking Fairy, who seems to have taken a day off at last.
Not to worry though, there's still cake, Swiss roll and those amazing pizza muffins to tuck into tomorrow!
I'm a lucky, lucky man.

Clear head, cloudy sky

A frustrating seven or so hours of grappling with Xpages draws to a close.  The weather has become gradually more blustery, in parallel with the turmoil on my monitor.  At last, all the bugs I wrote this morning have been fixed.  I've even managed to make things look vaguely user-friendly too.
I've been so engrossed I've had little time to glance out of the window, but this morning's sunshine has certainly given way to a right old mixed bag of clouds.  The wind appears to have backed round to about WSW, and is still a decent strength.  Autumn is definitely either here, or not far away.
Also not far away is the Royal Berkshire Show.  I suspect that the free parking for it will be about the same distance from the main gate as our house.  Do we go for the £5 premier parking, or head across the fields.  Given how knackering the day is likely to be, I might just drop the family off near the gate, drive home, and cycle over.  Although that means a longer wait for them when I have to pick them up later.
Saturday looks the better day for weather, so it might be wise to buy the tickets tonight.  Does that mean we miss the horse and carriage procession through Hermitage?  I hope not.