Sunday, March 28, 2010

Leather and Lace ~ Stevie Nicks and Don Henley

I couldn't find an official video and the live footage was poor. But this is just so fantastic, I had to share.

Happy Sunday people!

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Gonna Make Sweat ~ MCW

My contribution to Movie Clip Wednesday.

Apparently, this has been shamelessly knicked from Flushed Away.

I love it regardless.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Mudcrutch - Scare Easy (video)

I've been hitting Lastfm quite a lot recently.

Tom Petty Radio especially.

And I just love this. Really do. Enjoy.

Monday, March 08, 2010

Assuming the Position

The meal went well. Really well. Except I'm a bit fragile. Okay, more than a bit. Yes, I over-indulged. But damn it was fun.

Chicken was a definite success. I'm glad I tinkered with the marinade on Saturday. The extra ginger, chilli and coriander made all the difference. I knew my cooking was good when Boy came back from his dad, took a look in the stew pot, squeaked and filled up a plate full. A couple hours later he came down again and emptied all the pots of their contents. All I've got left is some salad and a bowl of dressing.

I'm moving slow today. A good night's sleep and I'll be raring to go again. The week is a-calling. I have things to do. Projects to catch up on. And I will....tomorrow.

Friday, March 05, 2010

Homesick

I was born in Trinidad, in the West Indies. I have chosen to make my home in Norwich, England. I don't regret this decision, despite living so far from my family. The tickets have been booked. On the 3rd of April, Boy and I will fly out from Gatwick and in 10 hours, delays etc notwithstanding, I will be home again. It's been 3 years since I've been, and I ache for it.

The Trinidad I knew when I was growing up, no longer exists. It's a harder, more dangerous place to be. But I ache for the warmth of the sun, the sound of crickets and gekkos in the house, the softness of the evenings, the effervesce of the people. Everything is so much brighter, louder there.

The part of me that is a Trini, for most of the time, is unseen. I lost the accent very quickly when I moved here. When I'm in the UK, I'm considered a bit exotic, a little bit different. Over there, I'm nothing special. Over there, I can disappear into the woodwork. No one asks me where I'm from, how long I've been here, the heritage of my parents.

I'm cooking a Trini meal for some friends on Sunday. This morning I did the shopping. On the menu: avocados, salad, stewed chicken, rice 'n' peas Roses style, plantains and pigeon peas. I had to go to 5 different shops to get all the ingredients. My final stop Waitrose. I just needed some Lea & Perrings, avocados, limes and alcohol. When I rocked up to the checkout, the very prim and proper middle aged woman in front of me, took one look at the contents of my shopping trolley, sniffed and pressed her lips into a thin line. I didn't think 4 cans of cider, 2 bottles of red, 1 bottle of white and a bottle of Trinidadian rum excessive for one o'clock in the afternoon. But hey, what do I know?

This afternoon, I seasoned the chicken. Lots of garlic, onions, ginger, chilli (without the seeds), thyme, chives and coriander, lime juice and the Lea & Perrings. Note to self: get a large mixing bowl. I washed my hands 3 times, there are some mistakes that don't get repeated: rubbing eyes after chopping chilli, being the main one. I put the chicken into the bottom of the fridge and then I sniffed the air.

It smelt of home: La Seiva Road. I could see my Dad potter about with my lovely niece; my nephew laughing, as he does from his belly. The grandma from my brother's wife side, chatting with the maid as they cook the meals for the day. My brother heading off to work in his brown overalls and trainers, his gorgeous wife whirling around to follow him. I nearly cried.

When Violence is the Only Answer

The other night, I assumed the position on my very comfy sofa. There was a glass full of drink next to me, I'd just finished my dinner. The work during the day left me feeling pleased with myself and what I'd achieved. I switched on the telly, ready to enjoy some NCIS action. All was well in my world. And then it came on...

Always have a new feminine hygiene product. Someone thought it was a good idea to place a CGI pad on a mechanical bull (motorised rodeo thingy, used to test drunken men's manhood in Texan pubs. One assumes the real men would be on the real thing with sharp hooves and pointy horns). The mechanical bull whirls around with the pad firmly attached, with the odd whip crack to emphasise....ye-es. The advert comes to a halt with a whip crack and a chirpy female voice advising us to have a 'happy period'.

I am a woman. I have never had a happy period in my life. The week's run up sees me spotty, snarling, bloated, weepy; the event itself sees me swallowing ibuprofen like a junkie, curled up sobbing through Amelie. Post-event, Boy goes off to therapy, counting the days off on the calendar when he can leave home.

I can cope with quite a bit of patronising. Nivea Visage Q10 Plus have informed me the reason I feel more confident now, than 10 years ago is purely down to their anti-age ingredients in their creams. Apparently, it has fuck-all to do with the fact that as I and many other women age, we realise it doesn't really matter. But, hey, I am currently coping with it.

I can cope with knowing that one day I'll go skiing with Tena Lady anchored round my loose bladder. I am even managing not to grind my teeth flat with the latest Halifax ads. I do occasionally want to smash their radio studio up, but it passes.

But Always is really, really begining to piss me off. It's not like I have a lot of choice for feminine hygiene products. Women are a bit of a captive market; unless of course I would care to try a moon cup. Which I don't, thanks all the same. What exactly do they think women do all day when afflicted by a period? I certainly wouldn't be on a mechanical bull, cracking a whip. In fact, I wouldn't be cracking a whip at all. And the cracking whip brings to mind all kinds of S&M practices that suddenly become really, really icky (or sticky) during the monthlies. EEeeewwwwww people, just ewww!

I just want to go out and hurt some advertising people now. Give them a stern talking to. With a whip.