secret knowledge of backroads

No Country For Old Men On Motorbikes

2010-04-10T13:32:00.005+01:00

It's Britain. It's sunny. It's warm (kinda).

What does that mean?

It means the roads are shit-thick with retired solicitors wobbling around on ill-advised Harleys after they've spent all morning stuffing their diamond-patterned Pringles into some twice-worn leather chaps whilst jamming their whisky-guts behind the zip of their unfortunate Arnie jacket.

Elsewhere, garages have run out of charcoal briquettes and Sainsbury's only have one packet of sausages left, and they're 'quince and rhubarb'.

If you don't mind queueing though, Morrisons have loads of sausages left because, let's face it, their customers don't barbecue whilst there are still chippies open. Morrisons' bangers are skinny and cheap and right next to the slug pellets.

Right I'm off to Simonize my Morgan, before the Masters comes on.

Alliums

2009-06-26T12:44:00.001+01:00

Alliums

2008-07-04T15:10:00.001+01:00

Alliums
Originally uploaded by backroads on the move

Euston, we have a problem!

2008-06-27T06:16:00.001+01:00

Euston, we have a problem!
Originally uploaded by backroads on the move

At last! A bench...

2008-06-26T19:30:00.001+01:00

At last! A bench...
Originally uploaded by backroads on the move

... opposite the V&A (Cheryl Cole Wing)

and this doesn't help!

2008-06-26T19:29:00.001+01:00

and this doesn't help!
Originally uploaded by backroads on the move

I've hurt my back

2008-06-26T14:34:00.001+01:00

I've hurt my back
Originally uploaded by backroads on the move

Board

2008-06-24T22:14:00.001+01:00

Board
Originally uploaded by backroads on the move

Bored

It's Windy

2008-06-22T11:32:00.001+01:00

It's Windy
Originally uploaded by backroads on the move

I pray that something picks me up.

That's the Ticket

2008-06-21T18:58:00.001+01:00

That's the Ticket
Originally uploaded by backroads on the move

I've got to 41 and never bought a book of raffle tickets. Until tonight!

BUSTIN' A GUT

2008-04-15T18:26:00.003+01:00

I set myself a completely unrealistic target today. I decided that I'd cycle into town (about 7 miles), lock up my bike at the station and then get the train into Manchester. I had a route planned in my head which I'd convinced myself was more or less downhill. Plus, I'd planned to avoid the uphill slog home by catching a local train connection to the station in the next village.

Well, I set off and got less than a mile before the huffing, puffing and the sheer negativity generated by such a relatively modest degree of exercise had got the better of me. I returned home a mess. Now, I do need to lose a few pounds and am not aversed to exercise, I need to get my heart rate up 4 or 5 times a week, but I didn't need to put my heart monitor on to know that the exertion required to coax a mountain bike up and down the pennine terrain was likely to kill me.

I grew up near the seaside and used my bike every single day, riding for miles. But it was all flat! Round here, cycling is an absolute nightmare. You seem to hit an instant wall of self-hate well before any exercise generated endorphins deliver a wave of positivity and euphoria. So the bike's back in the garage. Indefinitely.

By the way, I'd psyched myself up to enjoying a nice train journey avec book and iPod only to be robbed of that by a combination of my own inadequacy and millions of years of volcanic activity rendering the local area a uncyclable(!), by me at least. Therefore, having failed to help myself but determined to help the environment, I drove to the next village to get the train and couldn't get a parking space for love nor money, so instead I spent my usual unproductive hour driving myself and no-one else over the tops and over the top.

HAPPINESS IS A WARM BUN

2008-04-07T13:17:00.005+01:00

I saw an article in the paper at the weekend about Timothy Ferriss, who's book 'The Four Hour Work Week' is a runaway success in the USA and is about to land in the UK with attendant promotional hype.

I'm kind of intrigued by the concept of prioritising and outsourcing your activities to the extent that you need only work four hours per week. However, I'm not sure that ramping up my current workload to that extreme would be good for my blood pressure. Which reminds me. The doc's still on at me about a lifestyle change to get my BP down, so today I went and got myself hypnotised in order to stop eating junk. It's working really well so far, although you can take that with half a pinch of lo-salt as I am on a bit of a rush after a Tunnock's caramel wafer.

ANY OLD IRONY

2008-04-04T14:07:00.004+01:00

I'm working from home today, which means that I was up dead early in my jimmys crafting a presentation which I'm due to deliver in a couple of weeks, but which needs to be submitted today.

After that, I snuck out to B&Q to return the two excess bags of bark chippings which were surplus to requirements when I was working from home yesterday and covering the garden with the stuff. Then I whipped into Comet for a new iron as our previous one died mid-shirt last night. Now, irons. You can literally spend anything from £3.96 to £396.00 on an iron. Plus the latest thing seems to be a steam generator, which looks something like a normal iron sitting on top of a 1st Generation iMac. I plumped for a generic pink Phillips at £24.99... allegedly half price.

After a decent lunch here I'm now listening to the third Collings and Herrin podcast. I'm working through them in order to catch up. To be honest, they are not so great but it may be because the ones I'm listening to are a few weeks out of date. I listened to the Stephen Fry Podcasts the other day too. The first was very odd and rambly, recorded just after he'd broken his arm whilst filming in South America. The second was an overly scripted rant against dancing and Brits who think American's don't get irony. This rush to podcasting is thrusting people into full-on Prince-style quality v quantity territory. However, they do help me get to sleep.

THAT'S WEIRD, LOVE

2008-04-02T10:25:00.004+01:00

Tottering through WHSmith yesterday I did a double-take whilst walking through the books department. They have a section called Paranormal Romance, stuffed with paperbacks sporting dark, mysterious and vaguely gothic looking women on their covers.

Intrigued, I spent the next few minutes for other new categories. I was particularly interested in Psychedelic Business Studies or Ergonomic Crime, but not there I'm afraid.

SO TIRED

2008-03-19T09:22:00.003Z

Monday night. Made juvenile schoolboy error of starting to watch Lewis in bed. He wasn't in bed, you understand. I was. Anyway, I made it as far as the first adverts before starting to snore. Mrs Backroads watched it all and doesn't want to watch it again. Doh!

Last night. Started to watch the Bionic Woman in bed. She wasn't in bed, you understand. Which is a shame. Anyway, made it to second adverts before nodding off.

Tonight, I'm going to attempt to catch up with Lost.

TONIGHT'S THE (LADIES) NIGHT

2008-03-06T11:54:00.003Z

If you were at last night's Neil Young show at the Hammersmith Odeon, I was the arse who shouted "Oi! Atomic Mutton! Sit the fuck down!" at the three dozy birds dancing in the aisles and blocking the view for half the circle.

Tip jar's below.

WELL IT'S NOT RAZZLE

2008-03-04T10:40:00.003Z

Right then, cheesemonkeys, I've been Blogwhipped by Kid Afmip. Here's the deal:

Find the nearest book and type out sentences six, seven and eight from page 123.

I can do that:

The distillery, with its curiously anthologous architecture, is in a very visible spot on the road with a heavy tourist traffic, but relatively distant from any other distilleries. Its regional appropriation to the western Highlands is supported by its being close to a sea loch. "We are a coastal distillary" insists manager Colin Ross, standing in front of the mighty mountain.

It's from Michael Jackson's Malt Whisky Companion and relates to 'Ben Nevis' as produced by Ben Nevis Distillery Ltd.

FYI, its house style is:

Fragrant. Robust. Waxy fruitiness. Tropical Fruit. Oily, a touch of smoke. Restorative or book-at-bedtime.

So now you know.

There's no point me nutmegging anyone else, cos no-one reads this anymore.

THE DAMNED IPHONE

2008-01-11T10:52:00.000Z

You know how user interfaces on computers work in films, don't you? Y'know, all instantly loading web pages and smoothly animated transitions between one screen and the next. Well that's how the iPhone actually works. Yes, yes, I know there are phones out there with better cameras, with cut and paste, with more bluetooth capabilities and 3G, but make no mistake, the iPhone is a thing of beauty.

I've dumped Orange to get an iPhone on O2. The biggest chunk of my bill was always data, as I browse compulsively... news... sport... gossip... sauce... whatever. Now I get this all bundled in, and at great speed when I'm at home on wifi or out and about on free networks.

It has YouTube built in too. I have always dumped YouTube in with the likes of MySpace and Facebook as being dumb, ugly and not for me, but on the iPhone it is stripped of it's tatty website and is easily searchable for videos which load quickly and play fullscreen without any faff.

The iPod and iTunes store also work great, with videos looking crisp and clear. Eric Prydz has never been so popular. Also it is worth the investment in better headphones. I paid a small fortune for these, but they are worth it (plus they have a built in mic for handsfree calling).

The touch screen works like a little version of the computers in Minority Report, particularly when browsing or looking at photos as you scoot things around the screen, easily zooming in and out. It also knows which way up you are holding the device and automatically switches the picture around on screen for you which is absolutely great except for when you want to particularly study the latest Lindsay Lohan upskirt blunder and it keeps turning her the right way up.

What else...? I have received Coupland's Everything's Gone Green on DVD but not watched it yet. jPod is being made into a sitcom and I've been perusing the trailer.

I spent my Christmas Waterstones vouchers on these three books and am half way through The Damned United. Get it read.

Lastly, the doc tells me I have high blood pressure and need a lifestyle change. I haven't changed it yet.

REVISIONISM

2007-12-20T11:45:00.001Z

I read this thing on Andrew Collins' blog about him getting a call from a mate at the Telegraph and being asked to knock up a 1200 word piece about some fluff in about an hour to get into the the following morning's paper, which he did. I was quite impressed and thought, well if he can do that, then I can at least write a few lines of drivel for this blog.

I've tidied away some of those 'YouTube posts for the lazy blogger'.... they really can make your site look a mess. Social networking sites and video sites like myspace and YouTube are so ugly. I don't get it. Perhaps I shouldn't.

I've just been taking pictures of the village children getting their presents from Father Christmas. He was a bit rubbish, frankly. I could do a better job. I have the physique and I reckon that even I could wear a beard so that the moustache was below my nose and not hovering just below my eyes. Anyway, the kids didn't seem to notice as they were handed some tat to open.

Last night was Snicket's Christmas play in the church. The teachers thought it'd be a good idea to put the big kids at the front and the tiniest ones right at the back, behind the table upon which a chubby girl dressed as Scrooge spent most of the time lying down. Therefore, photo-opportunities were scarce. Even standing up on the rear-most pew with my longest lens, the pic above was the best I got just as he was leaving the church... and this was the evening session. Mrs B had come home in tears after the morning performance and even had words with the Head. Made no difference... but Snicket enjoyed singing the Fezziwig Rock and Roll in the trumped up version of Christmas Carol which they were butchering.

I obviously haven't blogged for ages so here's a quick catch-up. Saw Richard Thompson twice, saw Kate Rusby twice, saw the Wedding Present, saw Crowded House (I know), saw Squeeze. Didn't see Battles. Went to Disneyland Paris, entire family ill for duration, sparrow hit windscreen on return home. Went to Amsterdam again. Bought more vinyl. Went to the ballet. Got one of these.

Looking forward now, it's nearly Christmas and work is quieting down nicely. The Family Backroads is done and dusted shopping and wrapping-wise and we have six Christmas trees!!

BLESS

2007-08-02T15:18:00.000+01:00

I got to the end of the book that mustn't be named. It was alright.

I went to see Amy MacDonald last night at The Plug. She was very good after the worthy but dull support acts. I think she needs to ditch the songs she wrote five years ago and but otherwise she is as a button. Did Mr Brightside too.

I shouldn't have had the chilli burger here beforehand... it's still bouldering around inside me somewhere.

The Plug is a pokey hole, so it'll be entertaining to see how Richard Thompson and band squeeze in next week.

The whole of Sheffield is a construction site. I have been in and out of Sheffield a million times in a million different directions but had to admit defeat in the end and get the Sat Nav out. Came home over Strines Moor in the end. Sort of like Middle Earth as imagined by Compo and Clegg.

Have you been here yet? Or seen this?

The New Order situation is getting out of hand too. These ramblings are Hooky's post in sobriety!! It's all very Spinal Tap.

DETERMINING GAPLESS INFORMATION

2007-07-25T12:07:00.000+01:00

Up and out early yesterday for a pitch to the client. Went pretty well and quick too, giving me an extra few minutes to continue relighting my fire for actual fact interesting music. Strolled to Oldham Street and to Piccadilly Records which I have followed around Manchester over the years. I could spend all day in there. I got some great records. Studio’s West Coast album hase just been re-released on 2x45 and it is big and fat and great. Map of Africa are interesting too… but one of the best is a great mix CD from Sweden’s Prins Thomas who successfully squidges Boards of Canada and Hawkwind onto the same disc.

Then, before leaving town, I have a little time to go to the Hacienda exhibition at Urbis. Very, very good. Happy/sad memories for me and for many others I expect. I desperately want a pair of Fac 51 Y3s, but at £345 for one of 250 pairs I don’t think it’ll happen. The only thing I don’t get and never have is Miranda Sawyer. Why is she?

Back into work and driving off to another grimy northern town listening to Prins. A fun meeting which was also a bit nostalgic as it was about web layouts, colour ways, intuitive navigation, click-throughs, etc. It was just like the ecommerce wars of the 1990s all over again.

Back home to find that the wife and kids have left me. Great!

They’ve gone camping in someone’s garden in the next village. So after a listen to my new records I take the dog for a drag in the first evening sunshine we’ve seen since April and go visit the family. Not a step does that dog walk and I have to heave him all the way. (On the way home though, he trots along like butter wouldn’t melt. Nice puppies!)

The family are set up in a big eight man ubertent. Brownsea Island it ain’t. I pump their beds up, have a glass of wine and off I go.

At home I get to play music really loud without being told off and read some more of the book that mustn’t be named. I also watch Nick Lowe from BBC4 the other night. Really great… and he’s only 85 you know.

THAT’S NOT GINGER CAKE SON, IT’S PARKIN

2007-07-23T15:56:00.000+01:00

Something of a washout today. Up at 5am to get ready for the 6 o’clock train to the smoke. The bleary eyed chap in the mirror looked a good ten years older than me. Still, caught the train. Too awake now to properly doze so got the book that must not be named out of my bag. Most of the other passengers seemed to be reading the same thing except for those who, somewhat sniffily, were pointedly reading something else. Bet they save it for when they are tucked up in bed. I was hoping to get the adult cover, you know the one with Hermione in a hippogriff-skin unitard on the front, but they didn’t have any in the crate when I annexed ASDA. I was going in for four of their bargain-basement loss-leading fiver-a-copy jobs, but it was limited to two per customer so I had to go in a second time in disguise. I swapped socks. Why four? One for me, one for Mrs B, one for Alley and one for Mrs B’s sister. Alley reckons she’s already finished it, but I don’t think that’s possible in just a day, especially when most of it’s been spent running up the phone bill.

Anyway, I’d just got to the bit where XXX XXX XXXXX snuffs it when the train ground to a halt. And that was that. Line problems. No more London. Get off here at Grantham and go home. So I did. Took me ages and now I’m knackered and have had a complete waste of a day.

To be honest I haven’t got over racing to complete my last book in order to ready myself for the book that must not be named. It was the third Andrew Collins autobiography and, to my mind, the least satisfying. It follows his last fifteen or twenty years as he fails to really get into any of his dream jobs. It all seems so unsatisfactory. By the end I’d lost sympathy a bit. I thought I’d check up on him at 6music only to find that he’s quit that job now. Stickability, that’s what you need Collins, you fly-by-night. Stickability, like what Maconie’s got. Anyway, good look with your talking head work.

Of course, like all right minded sorts, I’ve been spending a lot of time listening to The All Day Breakfast Show and can heartily recommend it, especially to those who listened to Morning Edition before Radio Five became Live. I can especially recommend the episode entitled Dump, Chubby, Trolleys, Dim-Sum and Ark as I am on it. I even let Danny Baker get a word in.

I have recently been investing in my mid-life crisis, by replacing a lot of CDs purchased over the last twenty years or so with vinyl LP copies. Perverse, maybe, but it’s so exciting when a 12” mailer envelope arrives at the door. Oh, and coloured vinyl still gives me a semi. The downside to this activity is that I can’t sneak new purchases into the house as easily. Mrs B caught me red handed the other day with my Excellent Italian Greyhound tucked under an arm.

Perhaps I should get a job as a DJ, then it’d be so much easier to bring my work home with me. Not as far-fetched as it sounds. Got another request to do a kids’ party the other day by another local milf who had heard about the legendary DJ Dad’s Halloween play-outs. No-one can segue the Hokey Cokey into Disturbance at the Heron House quite like me.

The dog’s settling down now, thanks for asking. Mind you, he’s knackering my new lawn. Can’t seem to understand the purpose of going out for a walk, so he saves his business for the garden when he gets back. Although, it’s not only the toileting aspect of walking he hasn’t grasped, it’s the actual walking bit. Which is fairly fundamental to going for a walk I find. It’s more accurate to say that we tend to take him out for a drag. We were told that they’re a lazy breed, but blimey. I have fetch his slippers for him.

Time for a brew. We’ve gone all loose leaf in this house. No more bags for us. Have you seen what they put in sausages?

SUPERFI

2007-06-20T12:52:00.000+01:00

I'm up and down from the loft a lot at the moment. Why? Well because I only got a turntable for Father's Day didn't I? Fantastic. So I am unleashing my records on the Family Backroads bIt by bit. On rifling through, there's a lot of crap, but some great stuff too.

I also spent a little time browsing the minimal amount of vinyl on sale today. I picked up the latest Wilco which cost a fortune but comes with a CD too. The tracks are split across two LPs each weighing about the same as a dustbin lid, but they sound great.

I reckon this is better than buying a motorbike to celebrate middle age, don't you?

RECEPTION

2007-06-01T11:47:00.000+01:00

Sitting in a corporate HQ’s reception area whilst tapping away at a PC is a bit like wearing an invisibility cloak. Everyone thinks your doing some last minute prep for a meeting before someone comes to collect you whereas, in fact, you are drafting an entry from your blog and watching the world go by. You should try it.

Right now it’s 1.50 pm, so there’s a general drift of people returning to work after a stroll round the city. However, there’s still a steady stream of folk heading out into the sunshine. Where are they going at this time of day?

I think the lady next to me on the leather couch is here for an interview as she’s poring over a CV, which I’m guessing is her own. She looks smart in an ordinary way. However, her shoes are semi-porn star, patent leather slingbacks in a deep cherry with high soles and heels. I’m wondering how this will affect her chances. Depends on the interviewer I suppose.

I spot a couple of my own colleagues waggling their passes through the electronic turnstiles. They fail to see me and I don’t make myself known, other then by sending a text to one of them saying that she looks good in green.

There’s a shelving unit with a load of corporate magazines on it directly behind my seat. One of the receptionists has just taken it upon herself to restock it and it’s making me feel uncomfortable and paranoid. I always prefer to have my back to the wall, as does Mrs Backroads. However, I always concede this position to her whenever we visit a restaurant. This means that there’s often a niggling feeling of discomfort in the back of my mind when I am out for dinner with my lovely wife, but I do this because I love her and because she’d get a monk on if I didn’t.

Somebody’s PA came and collected interview-girl. I’m guessing, therefore, that she’s being interviewed by someone execcy. This raises the chances of it being a man in this organisation but certainly doesn’t rule out a woman sizing her up. I wonder if she’ll get the job?

TRACTOR RAPE CHAIN

2007-05-29T05:52:00.000+01:00

I'll often pass a few idle moments coming up with song titles for the once great, now extinct, Guided By Voices. They clearly don't need them any longer and, for that matter, didn't need my help coming up with them in the first place. Nevertheless, it's as addictive as Sudoku. True, it's hard to beat things like Christian Animation Torch Carriers, Jellyfish Reflector and Sunfish Holy Breakfast, but still worth a go.

There's even an online GBV song title generator so you can have a go yourself.

Alternatively, just pick up the latest catalogue from Lakeland. It's full of strong contenders for Bob Pollard's canon:

Hands Free Universal Pan Strainer
Heat Diffuser
Ten Fat Trappers
Swan Neck Turner
Electric Knife Wizard
Mermaid Hard Anodised Flan Tins, and my personal favourite,
Nut Chopper

NO ORDER

2007-05-27T11:47:00.000+01:00

I’m ambivalent about the New Order split. On the one hand it’s a shame that they couldn’t hang in there for the release of the new Joy Division movie, Control. On the other, they had gone a bit crap. However, they had never actually split before, just taken long breaks and sent Gillian home. Now, they’ll have to reform, which puts them more in the Take That category than the Rolling Stones category.

TRADE

2007-05-25T11:46:00.000+01:00

Had my first dissatisfying eBay trade last week. Some spare glass doorknobs from New York. They took ages to arrive, but that wasn’t really the problem as we weren’t in a rush. Spares, see. However, when they turned up they were too small and quite damaged. I decided to discuss it with the seller in a grown up way, via email exchange rather than by tit-for-tatting adverse ratings for each other. So we sort of agreed to disagree offline and gave each other reasonable scores. Is this the right thing to do, or is this devaluing eBay’s trader rating system?

Anyway, as we can’t use these knobs I’m thinking of sticking them back up on eBay. Some silly sod’ll buy’em.

READ IT IN BOOKS

2007-05-24T11:25:00.000+01:00

I’m in one of those ruts where I can start books but cannot finish them. I have the latest Andrew Collins on the shelf ready to go, and they are normally a breeze. However, I’m loathe to ditch the current Iain Banks which I should be loving but is just OK.

I hovered over a copy of Baden Powell’s Scouting for Boys in Waterstones at lunchtime today after watching a Sky Plussed recording of Ian Hislop’s programme about it from last week. Put it back on the shelf in the end along with my square ruled Moleskin. Sometimes I just can’t be bothered.

NO REPLY AT ALL

2007-05-23T11:24:00.000+01:00

I’ve been purposefully off the grid for a while. Needed to recharge the blogging batteries as I find it takes increasingly more effort to read and write the things but I can’t quite let it all go.

What can I tell you? Well, we have selected the latest member of the backroads squad and he’ll be joining us in a couple a weeks. A male lhasa apso, as yet unnamed. Current favourites are Wicket, Fidget, Spike, and Gripper Stebson… any other suggestions?

As for the weekend, nothing unusual, we constructed a scarecrow, watched the League One play-offs, had Sky News round to film a piece on planning law (think that hit the cutting room floor as some silly sod torched the Cutty Sark… we are now today’s fish and chips wrappers).

I can’t get my SACDs to play the multi-layer properly, but I have decided to liberate my vinyl from the loft and acquire a new turntable. That’ll be strange.

It’s Chelsea Flower Show this week which looks great in HD. I quite like the idea of gardening.

IN CHURCH HALL, IF WET

2007-03-30T16:48:00.000+01:00

I was driving along the East Lancs Road
Listening to an Audio Book of the Da Vinci Code
When I got three points for taking a call
From 1974, it was Stuart Hall
And he said, tell the producers of Life on Mars
That you won't get Merlot in Salford bars
until the early '90s when they build the Quays
But other than that he was really pleased
Though he added tell John Sim he's more Van Gogh
Than Bernard Sumner so I said 'Fuck Off'
24 Hour Party People's a documentary
So don't come round here taking an inventory
Of all the Fac numbers I've collected
And Northside b-sides I've rejected
Get well soon Mr Tony Wilson
But don't be fooled it's not the real Mondays without Cowhead.

Sorry I'm late, but I've tried to put more ideas in the last paragraph than I normally get into three months blogging so....

... they're putting on a festival in the field next to the new wing of Backroads Manor. 10,000 expected. The logo looks like the view from my bedroom window. Well, they've got the Proclaimers and Badly Drawn Boy and, er, Nizlopi, all for only £80. If you don't fancy that, I've put some speakers in the back garden and I'll be playing Achtung Bono and Post Reformation TLC back to back all weekend.

W4NKA

2007-02-08T07:24:00.000Z

It was cold but beautiful yesterday as I hurtled across the Pennines.

It was like one of those car adverts where there's nothing else but you and the open road, so I cranked the heater up, opened the sun roof and put the music on blare in the knowledge that no-one else was around.

Trouble is, I got so into it I kept this up right into the centre of Manchester and into the carpark. Trouble was, by that time, the Live Lounge CD had got around to James Blunt doing a Lemar tune. Double shite! What the outraged locals parking there cars must have thought as I circled looking for a space I dread to think. I'm pretty sure that it was only the lack of a personalised number plate that prevented them hauling me out through the sun-roof and scrawling TW4T on my forehead.

IT'S A SHAME ABOUT RAYS

2007-01-17T08:49:00.000Z

I'm propping up the bar on a little speck of an island in the middle of the Indian Ocean. I'm alone for a little while. Mrs Backroads has gone off diving with Sergio the Divemaster. He's half Japanese half Brazilian and cunnilingual. Apparently he takes her deeper than anyone's taken her before. She came back looking a little flushed yesterday. Apparently, she needed to manually blow some air back into Sergio's tank before he'd let her pass her diving exam. She passed, so things all came off quite well. So much so, they're having another practice whilst I kill a little time before my appointment with Saichai. I am having another 'Fusion' massage today. I like it when she kneels on my thighs and pulls me off
the massage table.

Even Saichai won't let me go diving (on account of my ears) but I can go snorkelling. Yesterday I saw a white tipped shark, a moray eel and some squid. Later I'm hoping to see a manta ray. They're top of the food change around here, despite which little is really known about them. All the attention goes to their sneaky cousins the sharks apparently. Which is a shame.

Most of the other guests here are more interested in catching rays whilst sprawling on their loungers in the brief gaps between the plentiful and sumptuous meals. Nationalities are diverse in our little community. There are the French (moody and ignorant in the main, they don't even nod a hello when you pass them on the beach), Americans (less annoying than you might think), young Russian mobster types with their many mobile phones which all seem to have Sam Brown's 'Stop!' as their ring tone... their girlfriends are young and pneumatic... I don't stare too much though...don't want to sleep with the fishes. There's the Spanish contingent... instantly recogniseable as they each carry a minimum of 40 cigarettes in case they run out during their starter. There are some Japanese... always the first at breakfast as they flew West to get here. There are one or two other Brits... like us often last at breakfast as we flew East and can't get out of bed.

Anyhow, the beautiful Saichai awaits...

She's wonderful but her English isn't great. When I asked for extras she mumbled something about Ricky someone, disappeared and came came back with some crappy DVD which is very popular here apparently. I'd not heard of it so me and Mrs B slipped it in after dinner. It was crap, so we shagged in the jacuzzi instead. Sergio dropped the video camera in so I've nothing for YouTube.

Laters.

GONE FISHIN'

2007-01-11T21:33:00.001Z

Back soon.

COUNTING DOWN

2007-01-03T11:23:00.000Z

I actually managed to get home early enough yesterday to take the children swimming with Mrs B. Snicket had a lesson, so we threw Boo at each other for a while to pass the time.

Today, I'm ~~blogging~~ working from home and it's busier here than in the office. What with carpet-fitters, sparks, plumbers and gardeners all wanting access to Backroads Manor and any number of delivery firms dumping bulky cardboard boxes with our sale purchases on the doorstep at Backroads Shack I haven't found time to download any thing from iTunes yet!

Actually, that's not quite true. Can I recommend the following:

Midwest Product
Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly.
Camille

TEMPERATE

2007-01-02T10:31:00.000Z

It's fair to say that I'm glad Christmas is over. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of these regular humbuggers who moans about it every year. Not in the least. I love Christmas. This year, however, there has been to much other crap going on leaving me with an stubborn residue of grumpiness throughout the festive period.

Now, of course, I'm back at work, the prospect of which accounted for a sizeable chunk of that residue I was going on about. Still. At least I can start my count down. After today, I'll have only seven more days to work before Mrs B and set off for sunnier climes.

WALKING AFTER MIDNIGHT

2006-12-30T22:25:00.000Z

I can't sleep. So I've started walking around the village in the dark, which is a bit tricky when you are up and down stiles and the like. I nearly ended up in a pond last night. That's where my head torch comes in.

Anyway, I went to give blood with Nanna Backroads this evening at the Methodist Hall. They kicked me out on account of me having been to India recently and Nanna B could only manage a quick spurt. The whole thing was like an episode of Jam and Jerusalem thoughout. Open hostility and infighting amongst the nurses. One of them refused to work in a draft, another wouldn't stand next to the heater, one wouldn't do tea and biscuits and one had been taking the piss out of donors all day instead. As for the brain donors themselves, there were loads. One woman got a certificate for 25 pints you know.

JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE GOING FORWARDS DOESN'T MEAN I'M GOING BACKWARDS

2006-12-28T21:07:00.000Z

We'd planned to celebrate Hogmanay in Scotland as it should be done. After all, Mrs B's Uncle Danny has a semi in Keith. Anyway, it seems Keith's furious, so we're not going now. He'll have to broil his own Clootie Dumplings this year.

Here's another thing to look forward to in '07.

IN THE YEAR OF '39

2006-12-27T21:23:00.000Z

I suppose that I've been in quite a bad temper for a while now. Is it a number of weeks? It might be a number of months actually? It could be most of 2006. Must try harder? Perhaps. It could be the trying harder that's putting me in such a foul mood.

That said, it's been a pretty eventful year and here, in review, are some of the highlights:

Two visits to India.

They don't even have to bother coming over here to take our jobs any more.

41 locks in a single day.

I'm sure people have done many more, but to canalling newbies like us, it seemed something of an achievement. In 2007 we will endeavour to take on the Four Counties Ringpiece. Maybe we'll see Harrison Ford with that skinny bird.

Numerous visits to A&E.

Haverfordwest saw Boo's mystery injury which pushed her back to crawling for three weeks. Something to do with a helter skelter in Fishguard. Nearer home, Snicket had his finger broken by his friend. Horseplay. Grandpa Backroads broke a toe after Snicket's birthday party stacking the chairs "the right way" for the Village Hall Committee.

A brief sojourn to Amsterdam. Nice town. The airport's a right Schiphol mind.

Three booze cruises.

We have a little routine. Grandpa Backroads, Alley and I take all the seats out of Mrs B's bus. We get up at some ungodly hour and hurtle towards Dover. We always book on the 11 o'clock ferry but invariably catch the 9.30. We load up on our pre-ordered drinkies, have an omelette and frites at a town centre bar and then head for the fleshpots of the square. In summer it holds a fair, in the winter an ice rink. We swerve around the world's scum so they can't grab a hold of the underneath of the car in a desparate bid to stowaway to Britain to plot it's downfall at our expense and then we head for the Battle of Britain Memorial dreaming of those heady days of airborne carnage. Then its the M25 and home.

A new house.

Well a temporary house really. It's a Schiphol really. Whilst Backroads Manor has a new wing built and gives the neighbours something worthwhile to moan about, we are lodging in a rental up the road. It's warm but damp. Everything in it is of the poorest quality imaginable. It's small. In short we can't wait to go home.

What awaits us in 2007?

A thumb up the bum.

I am now 40 which means this treat awaits me at my annual medical. No extra charge either. It's in May. I need to lose some weight before then.

A trip to the Maldives.

Me and Mrs B are off to sunnier climes for some sand, some snorkelling and some, well Mrs B will be scuba diving, but I won't on account of my ears.

Back to the Old House.

God I can't wait. Should be home for Easter.

A dog.

We are thinking of getting a lhasa apso when we get home. Apparently they need 0-20 minutes exercise a day. Grandpa Backroads says we can do a dog share with him if we like... as long as we keep the ends that shits.

THE UNACCEPTABLE FACE OF MANTAX

2006-12-23T21:10:00.000Z

ENOUGH ALREADY

2006-12-06T21:35:00.000Z

Of all the nights to go Christmas shopping at the Trafford Centre I pick tonight when Salford United are playing Benfica. Anyhow, after fighting my way through the traffic I set off round the shops armed with my list and did surpisingly well. Had it all done in an hour.

I am Ubershopper. Favourite purchase - DSLite for Snicket. I'm getting him used to mantax early.

UP THE HILL AND DOWN THE SLOPE

2006-12-05T22:07:00.000Z

There's something incredibly life affirming about being asked for your ticket on a train and handing over a valid token for travel. The guard smiles and nods and thanks you. Your fellow passengers feel happy in the knowledge that they are amongst like minded contributors to a fair and equitable society. You sit cocooned in your snug, slightly too warm, slightly too crowded carriage and almost everything is right with the world.

In other news, I have just ironed my Dad's blue shirt. He left it here at the weekend by mistake. There's something quite sad about ironing your Dad's shirt.

EVERYTHING FALLS APART

2006-12-04T19:55:00.000Z

My car is bust so I was on the train today, which worked out pretty well actually because it was time for me to take the team out for a nice Christmas lunch and I got to imbibe a little too much whilst most of them were driving.

Trouble is I then get a little antsy on my way home and start sending rambling illegible emails to fellow bloggers from my phone, whilst listening to Death Cab for Cutie dead loud on my noise cancelling headphones. I got a tap on the shoulder from a bloke telling me that I might want to consider taking them back because as far as he was concerned they were still making a right racket. I thanked him for his considered input with an encouraging "thanks for coming, our kid, now get back to your Manchester Evening News 'easy' Sudoku challenge" before shuffling to the ear-splitting thud-core of Iron and Wine's version of Love Vigilantes. I am so rock. I am. Oh yes.

WHO'S THE BIGGER FOOL? THE FOOL, OR THE FOOL WHO FOLLOWS HIM?

2006-12-03T21:14:00.000Z

It went quite well really. My gadget didn't arrive so I busked it with my iPod and my guitar amp. Nobody noticed. We ate cake. We did an air guitar competition. Grandpa broke his toe putting one of the tables away.

I have had quite a lot to drink today. Mind you I've just had a game of Monopoly Junior with Snicket and it is SO much better than proper Monopoly. It's actually bearable!

Le Cool.

TWENTY FOUR MINUTE PARTY PEOPLE

2006-11-30T12:23:00.000Z

The week's improved a little as the jet lag has faded. It's busy though. This weekend is Snicket's birthday party. It's a joint one with his mate and it seems like most of the class is coming along. As normal I am cast in the role of DJ Dad.

For the annual village Halloween bash I normally rent a CD Mixer, PA and lights for the full on disco experience, but it seems a little bit OTT for a birthday party, so I am planning to hook my iPod up to my little guitar amp and administer things from there. A head torch covered in a sellophane sweetie wrapper should suffice as the light show. Bugger.

I've bought this though.

EVERY DAY I WRITE THE BOOK

2006-11-27T19:58:00.000Z

The day dawns.

I've been up three hours already due to West to East jetlag.
I have a telephone argument with a work colleague ending in me shouting at them and hanging up.
I take a call from our builder who tells me that the wall his guys built on Friday has been pushed over in the night. (We suspect our disgruntled neighbours who aren't happy with our extension. They are somewhat hard of thinking and unable to articulate their concerns in a more appropriate manner.)
I accidentally destroy the 1 gb memory stick out of my phone, killing evidence of two holidays and two interesting work trips.
My laptop seizes up. I hard reboot. It dies.
The customer cancels a major project at work, leaving me to sort out the aftermath.
One of their systems promptly falls over with a Severity 1 failure.

It's 8pm and the jet-lag returns. I ache for sleep.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

EH?

2006-11-20T10:17:00.000Z

I have just bought some noise cancelling headphones so I can tune out on a long trip east today. How do they work? I think it is probably just a scam for the gadgetally insane. Nevertheless, I will let you know how it goes later. I will be watching Cars.

SLEEPLESS IN SETTLE

2006-11-18T05:33:00.000Z

There's a word for it.

Boo wakes up demanding milk. I get up, get it and give it. Now she's asleep and I'm writing crap lyrics and commenting on people's blogs whilst they too are asleep.

I'm going to London later on. It's for a very secret blogmeet. Yes I'm going with Mrs Backroads and she doesn't know about my nasty blogging habit, so how's that for the ultimate guerilla gig.

If you want to come and say hello though, that'd be nice. We'll be stood bickering in between G.A.Y. and the Harmony Adult Superstore on Charing Cross Road about 10.30pm. I'll be the baldy short-arse with the honey ten years his junior and the 'can't quite believe his luck' expression. But don't mention anything about the internet, or Jill Halfpenny, or Amsterdam.

She thinks I was in Catford.

L'ETRANGER

2006-11-16T16:44:00.000Z

Note to self: Must get some baps on the way home.

CAMUS FEEL THE NOISE

2006-11-15T22:38:00.000Z

I sit hunkered into the snug of a street corner bar in old Amsterdam.

Tonight the home side have held England to a draw but I am not here for the football. I am here by chance. I sit waiting for the outpouring of despondent fans off to drown their sorrows or find comfort in the pigeon chest of some Latvian teen in a dayglo bikini. I am all cozy. I sip on a large single malt whilst listening to the Gotan Project tango in the night. Hands up for Dwarsstraat. I love this city.

GLORY DAYS

2006-11-11T07:41:00.000Z

Did anyone listen to FiveLive Breakfast yesterday? A whole feature on Shy Bladder and Shy Bowel Syndrome. Laugh, I nearly peed myself, except I couldn't because I was in traffic and the truckers were putting me off. It's serious though. Very serious.

The bloke being interviewed was so insecure that he felt that if he went into a cubicle to have a wee, his mates would immediately conclude that he was a gay cruiser. How ridiculous is that? You'd never get a festively decorated narrowboat into the cubicle at Worksop Services would you? Not unless you poked it through one of those holes people make under the bog-roll holder. What's that about?

Anyway, speaking of internet shopping, how come none of the supermarkets can get it right? Sainsburys are a disaster, ASDA are unable to meet their agreed timeslot and even Tesco cannot seem to find an alternative product for Mild Cheddar Cheese, leaving the Family Backroads cheeseless for a week. One of us might have to go outdoors now. Doh!

ALMOST BLUETOOTH

2006-11-07T11:54:00.000Z

Snicket was really fed up when he discovered that Bluetooth wasn't a character in Pirates of the Caribbean. I had to put him straight with a fascinating demo of my phone. He was obviously riveted. Mid-demo, whilst we were stuck in a traffic jam on the M62, I did a quick scan of local devices and discovered lots of people's phones nearby. The best bit was looking through some of the names people give to their phones. This was how I discovered my new hobby.

Here's a sample from a couple of quick scans on my way to work this morning:

Flangelina
Big Arms
Gary G
Barbados 4 U
Sex Panther

As a reward I sent them each a picture of Ana Matronic to brighten their journey.

What's yours called?

SOMEBODY ELSE'S GUY

2006-11-04T21:10:00.000Z

I've been to organised bonfires and firework displays for years, but tonight reminded me just how long it is since I've been to a disorganised one. Bloody scary with fireworks falling over and zooming straight into the gathered families.

Won't be doing that again anytime soon.

At least they threw a proper Guy on the fire rather than dramatising a Bengali folk tale though.

ICKLE JUGS

2006-11-01T13:30:00.000Z

It's brilliant timing! Those boffins have grown a miniature liver just at the same time that I have cultivated some miniature onions in the Backroads allotment.

Just need to find a miniature jug of gravy now.

THE KIDS ARE ALL RIGHT ON

2006-10-30T08:57:00.000Z

Those of you without children really ought to think about it. With today's modern conveniences child rearing is a snip. Take Sky Plus for example. The nippers wake up and demand anything from the widest range of quality programming choices. It could be a bit of Lilo and Stitch - The Series, Power Rangers - Mystic Force, or even Teletubbies. I don't think that the politically correct amongst you could cock a snook at this approach... it leads to well adjusted little people, the ambassadors of our future. The presentation demographics on Cbeebies ensure that all viewers know that everyone is either very camp or black. Which is, of course, true. Unless you are very camp and black.

Snicket used to like to watch that Crocodile Hunter too but they don't show that anymore one the basis that he knew everything about animals, but sod all about fish.

BACK FOR GOOD

2006-10-10T14:56:00.000+01:00

I was almost moved to tears by the new Take That single today it is that good. It's up there with Chelsea Dagger and Put For Hands Up For Detroit for the coveted SKNOB tune of the year award.

Anyway, I have been off the grid for far too long on account of moving house and believing BT's assurances that swapping my phone line and broadband to a house less than two hundred yards away would be a simple matter.

Anyhow, it's done and my sanity is restored.

Have you been watching the enviroporn that is Autumnwatch. We at Backroads Shack are addicted. Snicket thinks it's great that that bloke out of the Goodies's Dad is doing a programme about rutting. I just like Kate Humble.

Anyway, I have been commenting hither and thither and the normalish patchy service should now be resumed. However, in order to kick-start my re-emergence it's probably worth saying that MOST POPULAR BLOGS would never be so crass as to do something like that to boost their ratings.

Fnrrrf.

OK GO

2006-09-11T12:48:00.000+01:00


Snicket loves this. Plus, I dress like the guy in the waistcoat and white shoes for work.

ANIMALS, CHILDREN, ETC.

2006-09-05T10:34:00.000+01:00

We walk to school (ahem).

Snicket started school today so we all walked with him. He looked pretty smart as it goes, all chipper and excited with his book bag in his hand.

Mrs Backroads was in bits. This is a day that hits Mums pretty hard it seems. Still, other than dealing with Boo she now has all the time in the world to go food shopping which is where she is now... as a distraction I think.

Snicket was excited to see a huge garden snail scaling the school wall. He ran off to meet some friends and brought them all over to see the snail, by which time I'd accidently leaned on it, crushing it's shell and smearing it's still throbbing innards halfway down the wall.

Blimey... and they're only just getting over the whole Crodile Hunter thing.

So that went quite well I thought.

A NIGHT AT THE OPERA

2006-09-02T16:03:00.000+01:00

THICK PIDGIN

2006-08-31T14:25:00.000+01:00

I'd arranged to meet a colleague at 1pm. His PA wrote to me to inform me that the meeting was being "preponed" to 12.30pm.

SHIP OF FOOLS

2006-08-17T20:23:00.000+01:00

If you're looking for the Family Backroads, we'll be circumnavigating the Warwickshire Ringpiece.

Back soon.

LOOK MAM, YOU CAN SEE HIS PACKED LUNCH!

2006-08-14T20:25:00.000+01:00

God they were everywhere! Picking bugs off each other. Screeching. Sticking their backsides in each other faces. Peeing themselves. But Sky insisted on making the tickets for the English National Ballet/Opera event free so even common people were allowed into The Lowry.

Despite their best efforts, clapping in all the wrong places, turning up late, sitting in the wrong seats, mobile phones going off mid Don Quixote (‘Shakira! Shakira!’), the assembled povs failed to ruin an excellent show.

Following the show, and after delousing, Mrs Backroads and I headed off here for supper, before our late night run in with Superman.

Walking through the Printworks at midnight and on up through the cinema is like being in a scene from Total Recall. It just needed an alien foxtrumpet with three breasts to tap me on the shoulder with a proposition. As it was there were enough vaguely human foxtrumpets knocking about to engender mild throbbage.

The Printworks’ undercover street reminds me of one of those ‘Life In The Victorian Age’ street scenes that they have in museums. In the future, when they try to recreate early 21st Century life, it will be just like the Printworks on a Saturday night.

On Sunday, we went to Knowsley Safari Park where the baboons behaved better than the chavs hanging out of their cars begging to have digits removed.

MY(SPACE) GENERATION

2006-08-11T18:48:00.000+01:00

Being dead witty and not even slightly up my own arse I often like to risk life and limb whilst driving in to work and listening to Radio Five Live by texting in hugely funny one liners for the team in the studio to read out to entertain my public.

Obviously, they have NEVER EVER NOT ONCE read out any of my missives, but am I bitter? NO!

Well this morning they had a feature on up and coming nobodies ‘The Horrors’ who are the next big thing for the MySpace generation. ‘Shockingly’, they have only got 15 minutes of ‘material’ and have never even heard of the ‘Jesus and Mary Chain’.

Yawn… anyone still there?

Anyway, the way the programme trailed the item was by asking “The Arctic Who?” which was much more though provoking, as it got me thinking about what a great tribute act The Arctic Who could be. They could do songs like “The Kids Are All Right Cold” and “Snowball Wizard” or even “My Generator” or “I Bet That You Look Good on a Vespa”.

Amazingly, Radio Five Live passed up this once in a lifetime opportunity to palpate the listeners’ collective chuckle muscle so I’ve opened up the deal your good selves. Shall I add the Donate Via PayPal button yet? This stuff doesn’t write itself y’know.

Moving on.

Tomorrow, I will be openly snubbing an aggregate of bloggers getting together at Urbis and thus foregoing my chance to win a free wireless to go instead to distant Salford to see the ENB/ENO collaboration which forms part of Sky’s takeover of Manchester this weekend.

Now I know that you’ll think I’m dead highbrow and that, but I did try for tickets for Lazytown and they’d sold out. However, I’ll be setting my controls for the heart of the sun afterwards to go and see Superman Returns in 3D at the Printworks IMAX. So I’ll wave at y’all whilst you’re swapping RSS feeds. Have a good one and don’t forget kids, it’s not big and it’s not clever

SUPERMASSIVE BLACK PUDDING

2006-08-09T19:51:00.000+01:00

Muse are one of those bands I instinctively dislike. I sometimes take against a band purely on the basis of a silly name and, even if the rest of the world swears by’em, I can’t tune in. Super Furry Animals are a classic example of this. They are rubbish. Whatever you say.

Muse on the other hand haven’t got a particularly daft name. In fact, my dislike was nothing more than a ‘I know they exist but I’m not interested’ until Supermassive Black Pudding came out. I think it’s the Hipgnosis style sleeve (also infecting their album) which, on any records brought out after 1976, simply smacks of desperation. Check out the Cranberries ‘past their best’ effort “Bury The Hatchet” if you don’t believe me.

Anyway, SBP had just come out ahead of Muse’s pretentious album, when I was sat having a cup of tea on purpose at the Titchy Coffee Co in Manchester’s ‘The Triangle’. At the table in front of me was a young bloke in a Muse Absolution t-shirt sitting with his girlfriend/mother (I couldn’t decide on account of her being a bit of a biffer). They were chatting away, minding their own business when a smart looking young woman of ample proportions more or less assaulted him with ravings about how she loved Muse… how great and different SBP was… how nervous she was on hearing the title before she heard the song… how great serious/pretentious bloke’s falsetto is, etc etc.

Absolution Boy and his girlfriend/mother were somewhat taken aback but joined in as gamely as they could until the raving robust foxette surrendered to lunch with her own mother. Blimey. What a shame she was so excited about Muse, I thought. Why couldn’t she have spotted the teeny weeny screen on my iPod, realised I was listening to Hot Chip and instead slathered me which her spicy enthusiasms whilst jiggling temptingly before me?

The only thing sexier than a buxom foxtrella passionate about music is a buxom foxtrella passionate about gadgets.

Actually, the only thing sexier than that is a buxom foxtrella passionate about music and gadgets.

Actually, the only thing sexier than that is a buxom foxtrella passionate about music, gadgets and me.

Well at least Mrs Backroads is buxom.

And she doesn’t like Muse.

JUST ADD WATER

2006-08-06T23:19:00.000+01:00

It's entirely possible to have a day trip to France, even if you live oop North. For best results...

Leave at 4.45am. Aim south.

M1/Wave at non-existent workmen whilst doing mind-numbing 40mph/M25/M20/Dover/Ferry/Calais/Collect Wine/Eat Omelette/Drink beer/Go on dodgems/Ferry/Dover/Battle of Britain Memorial/Picnic/Drop bottle of Martini out of car/M20/M25/M1/Wave at non-existent workmen whilst doing mind-numbing 40mph.

Home at 10.30pm with 286 bottles of wine.

IT’S HARD TO BE A SAINT IN THE CITY

2006-08-02T22:19:00.000+01:00

I know, I know.

It’s been a week or two, but I’ve been away and despite buying a new phone ‘with Blogger built in’ (yes if you’re in America) I have been unable to blog.

South Wales.

Which is pretty good when you get the weather.

Which we did.

When we set off Snicket had already got a virus and was running a temp of 105 degrees. He has an affectation for Victorian diseases and this time had been diagnosed with Slapped Cheek Disease (honestly!). In our caring, sharing way we said ‘sod it, let’s take him on holiday anyway’.

Alley, at 12, simply had her usual Face Like A Slapped Arse disease, so we stuck her in between Snicket and Boo, lashed a windbreak to the roof and the bikes to the back and hit the road for a week’s camping near Manorbier (Myffanny).

So, once there, other than Boo’s helter-skelter incident in Fishguard (Lummpfyssh) which prompted an immediate visit to A&E in Haverfordwest (Heffellummp), and a follow up in Tenby (Dinby-fysh-Piecod) Cottage Hospital, things went surprisingly well for the Family Backroads.

I got a brown head and grew a beard.

Mrs B got brown sauce all over the Primus and grew annoyed.

We did some body-boarding at Newgale (Dyppsinch). Alley and Snicket floated on the surf like turds at Blackpool. I sank like a fat bloke in a wet suit lying on a piece of polystyrene.

Me and Alley road our bikes down to the beach but got Mrs B to come and pick us up because the hill was a bit steep. Aren’t bike racks brilliant?

There are some great pub lunches to be had and it’s better than Cornwall because it only takes a mere 7 hours to get there. Also, it’s more commercial than North Wales, so the locals don’t immediately lapse into Welsh every time you nip into their shop. Also, we are more than capable of setting fire to our own tent thanks.

I didn’t see Cerys Matthews when we were there, but I listened to her on the radio on the long journey home. She was talking to Stuart Maconie at the Cambridge Folk Festival. Even though she has bandy legs and an appetite for booze which would shame Charlotte Church, her voice still gives me a semi.

There’s lovely.

ONE MORE CUP OF COFFEE

2006-07-14T09:08:00.000+01:00

Suppered here last night.

Nice.

FARMYARD CONNECTION

2006-07-12T12:43:00.000+01:00

It was 11.50pm on Monday night. I was at the computer looking at partially clothed tubby ladies as usual when I saw Mrs Backroads' car coming up the road. She flashed her lights and I waved with one hand and readjusted my attire with the other. Just then I realised she wasn't flashing at me but ushering a small brown calf up the lane.

Without finishing my download, I rushed downstairs to meet her and between us we managed to wrangle the stray baby cow into our back garden. The question was, who did the cow belong to? Was it…

a) Ted - part time farmer and owner of scattered fields around the village who lives in the direction from where the cow was running?

b) Ned – psychotic 'git orf my land' type, known to shoot intruders and owner of the field behind Backroads Manor?

c) Fred – owner of the local dairy herd and from whom we get our milk?

The answer interrupted our speculation. A long series of anguished moos drifted down from the dairy. We had our mum. We also had Fred's number. Before we had chance to explain he blurted down the phone 'ave you got our calf?'

We replied that it was safe in our garden nibbling at our prize lupins. Right, said Fred, I'll be straight down. Like a flash he turned up twenty-five minutes later with Fast Eddie his eldest cowherd and son, by which time, the little cow, stuffed to the gills on lupins and violas had scrambled over our wall into psychotic Ned's field.

We told Fred that the cow had escaped from our clutches but reassured him that it was safe in Ned's field and all the gates were shut. 'That's as maybe' said Fred, 'but it's the middle of the night and that's a 30 acre field… and the last time I saw Ned he was shooting all over our lass'.

'Ah…sorry' we said as the little cow disappeared into the inky blackness.
We left them to peer into the force-field protected enclosure by torchlight and went to bed. Thrilled by the smell of the farmyard, Mrs Backroads helped me finish my download before we nodded off…

…by Tuesday evening, the little calf still hadn't been found. Seems it had gone to ground somewhere in Ned's massive field and no-one in the village was brave enough to trample Ned's corn and risk taking the full force of his weapon in the rear.
Until I got home from work that is.

Mrs B had been hanging out of the bathroom peering at the horizon through her binoculars (she normally keeps them by the bed as there's often the a chance of glimpsing a nuthatch through the sash window). She reckoned she could see something moving about at the top end of psychotic Ned's field. I pulled out my Canon and poked it's length through the bathroom window and quickly confirmed that there was, indeed, something moving, but that it looked more like a bin-bag caught on a fence, but I was happy to go and investigate.

Taking my life into my hands I entered Ned's enclosure. This week's copy of Heat tucked down the back of my pants to protect me from buckshot, I began the long trudge through the corn to the top of the field.

Ten minutes later I emerged at the other side of the field looking significantly more Worzel-like than I when I'd set off. The good news was though, it was no bin-bag, but our little calf. The bad news was that it had befriended another cow and calf through the fence into the next field… also belonging to crazy Ned.
I alerted Fred the Milk to the little tinker's location and scrabbled my way back home through the edge of the crop, feeling that the mystery was at least half resolved. I arrived, clothes covered in thistles and the copy of Heat had left a sweaty tattoo of Colleen McLoughlin on my bum (I will never wash it again). Mrs B, evidently quite keen on rumpled farm-boy chic put down her ironing and expertly defuzzed my crevices on my return.

…and that's where we currently stand. Somehow the calf needs to be magically levitated out of Ned's field and delivered back to its fretting ma. Whether that can be achieved without some sort of incident ending up halfway down a page of Ceefax is anyone's guess.

Addendum: Calf recovered at 10.50pm last night. We have been awarded a free pint of semi.

11TH UNTITLED SONG

2006-07-10T20:33:00.000+01:00

7.32 On Time
It's quite refreshing travelling to work on the train. It feels special because I don't do it very often. Today I got to stroll in the early morning sunshine to the station in the next village, pick up the rattler into town, to change a few minutes later bound for Manchester Piccadilly, all the time listening to my shufflicious soundtrack of the day.

Unfortunately, the last leg of the journey requires a cab, which kind of breaks the mood. Also, on my train home, the air was thick with the unmistakeable odour of alcohol-laced sweat which made me feel a bit sick. Other than that, public transport is absolutely great.

I hope my car's fixed tomorrow.

Bob Mould - High Fidelity
Boards of Canada - Dayvan Cowboy
REM - World Leader Pretend
A Certain Ratio - Wild Party
Infernal - Fram Paris to Berlin (Zinedine Zidane Bouffant Headbutt Mix)
Stockhom Monsters - How Corrupt is Rough Trade?
Sufjan Stevens - Come On Feel The Illinoise!
Iron & Wine - Love Vigilantes

THERE, THERE MY DEER

2006-07-07T11:38:00.000+01:00

How am I supposed to concentrate on work when this little fellow's staring at me from the field next door?

TWO WHEELS GOOD

2006-07-07T08:43:00.000+01:00

Those of you travelling east on the M62 last might have seen me lurking on the hard shoulder waiting for a breakdown truck. I'd been trundling my merry way home and was just thinking about a move from the middle to the fast lane when I realised that I could turn neither left nor right. My steering had locked.

Happily my onboard computer displayed little message saying "Steering Fault" which was handy as I'd never have guessed as the road began to bend under my feet and I remained dead on course for the Little House on the Prairie, the crunchy way.

Eventually I managed to exert sufficient pressure to slowly coast towards the hard shoulder, hazard-lights-a-blinking, and call for help.

Quite exciting.

On a separate but similarly vehicular note, I took my bicycle in for a service the other day. I asked the geeks to give it a good fettle up and be sure to fix my gears which won't make the leap onto the big cog (dead technical, me).

Anyway, yesterday Mrs B collects it. When I'm eventually dropped off at home with the car in a flashing-lighted rescue truck (much to Snicket's delight) I go to check out my bike. Mrs B hands me the service run down and there is inscribed a little note saying "Chain won't move onto large cog...is it needed?" Now apart from the fact that I'd specifically asked them to sort it out out, isn't that like saying saying " well I've serviced your Porsche* but it won't go any higher than third, but I didn't think you'd be needing those cumbersome big numbers..."

The bike's going back today for gears 15 to 21.**

*I don't have a Porsche by the way.
** Maybe that should be gears 1 to 7.

LOUDER THAN BOMBS

2006-07-06T09:31:00.000+01:00

Yesterday was the day that Mrs Backroads had her Balloon Race. She's been hassling the villagers for weeks trying to get them to buy a balloon. Most did. They're scared of Mrs Backroads. As am I. A bit.

Anyway, after the under 10s disco at the Village Hall, (not me on the wheels of steel this time and obviously not as good), it was time to set the balloons off on their merry way.

We await the return of all the little labels from maybe Belarus or Batley.

99.9 FAHRENHEIT DEGREES

2006-07-04T12:17:00.000+01:00

Hey. If you happen to see the most beautiful girl in the works canteen, don't drop your mug of tea down your pants.

In yesterday's heat, I cut down to the local picture palace to watch Suzanne Vega. Last week I was in here swathed in smoke and in the company of gentlemen making Ian Broudie rich whilst watching England stumble. Last night I was in the company of genteel men and women in comfortable footwear to offer respect and polite applause to Ms Vega. She was very good and, without wishing to damn her with faint praise, extremely proficient. Her little anecdotes and ad libs had the air of the well rehearsed about them, but at least she drew the meat raffle. She's sort of like a cross between Beth Orton and Margaret Becket… more political than the former, better songs than the latter.

COMMUTER LOVE

2006-06-13T17:51:00.000+01:00

On the train to London this morning was a beautiful Italian looking couple sitting right opposite me. He was all olive skinned and dark curly hair. She was blonde and tanned and desparately upset over something and he was trying his best to comfort her with kisses and cuddles to little avail.

Being in touch with my feminine side myself, I felt terribly guilty staring at her breasts like that.

PRETTY GREEN

2006-06-07T14:43:00.000+01:00

We sit drunkenly poised on the brink of another tantalising but ultimately dispiriting World Cup campaign. Nevertheless, the weather is hot and sticky and full of promise. ASDA's got a job lot of chairs decked out in the flag of St George and larger ladies walk past all thick nippled in unwise tops. I can't get a Super Soaker of sufficient industry to drench the boy, so I settle for a flat strip of plastic which you attach to your hosepipe (bans permitting) and drape across your lawn like a slide. On Radio 4 they're debating the art and beauty of the quintessential English rock and roll lyric, which sparks excitement in the boys.

I'VE BEEN TO A MARVELLOUS PARTY

2006-06-06T19:10:00.000+01:00

I was designated driver on account of my ears, which always makes for an interesting bash.

Things started out well enough as the bizarre combo of Yorkshire Life horsey set and Huddersfield's gay party boys tried to gel. It sort of worked for a while until the shirts came off, the poppers came out and the dancing started. That was just the horsey set. Never had them down as Gina G fans, but you live and learn.

I managed from 8pm until 11.30, by which time Mrs Backroads and our next door neighbours The Ginnells had torn a hole in the space-time continuum. I said I'm going home for a brew... back in an hour. They said OK. By the time I got back only Mrs B remained... I found her sandwiched between a farrier and a topless bear. The Ginnells had had a fight and set off walking. We found them eventually and it took some coaxing to get them into the bus.

Nearly hit a badger on the way home.

BACK FROM SOMEWHERE

2006-05-27T23:06:00.000+01:00

I was in Rome the other day. I sat in a pavement cafe just outside the Vatican wall and enjoyed pleasant lunch with Mrs Backroads, Snicket and Boo. At the next table was a comedy punk couple. Old enough to know better. He was a bit Billie Joe from Green Day (who is 38 for God's sake), she was a bit Minnie Mouse. Hugely made up, kinda cute, alluring abdomen.

Three days later I'm in London going to a meeting. Deep under the pavement at Bank Station, I walk past Minnie from the Vatican restaurant. She sees me. I see her. We walk on. What are the chances of that?

(NOTHING SOUNDS AS GOOD AS) I REMEMBER THAT

2006-05-25T07:45:00.000+01:00

Down with a horrible cold. Plus I've gone deaf again in my right ear meaning I've gotta go and see the specialist again today. Scary really. I've gone almost completely deaf once in my left ear and three times in my right over the last couple of years. If it happens in both ears at the same time, I'm knackered. Already everything is beginning to sound dull, especially all the current press clamour regarding the re-emergence of Radiohead which sounds incredibly dull.

Stuff I'm excited about.

DON'T TRY TO STOP IT, DON'T TRY TO STOP IT!

2006-05-02T21:11:00.000+01:00

Yes our Roman holiday was great thanks. We ate ice cream, saw the Colosseum, ate more ice cream, threw coins in the Trevi fountain, etc, etc. We love Italy and over the course of three holidays have gradually worked our way south from the lakes of the north, through Tuscany to the Rome area. We'll finish the rest sometime before death I imagine.

This is all despite the fact that the Italians are the rudest people on earth. Even in Rome, where you can easily feel like an extra in Nuns On The Run, their manners are spectacularly shitty.

As we queued politely to pay our excess baggage toll at the Ryanair desk at Ciampino this morning a priest took it upon himself to jump right to the front of the line and start blabbering about some great injustice. After I'd pointed out that erm, there's a queue pal, he took it upon himself to declare that he was here before me, to the shock and awe of the four patient limey queuers in front of me. I suggested in no uncertain terms that he was rather late for confession and perhaps he should try fucking off to it now, and taking a long deep look into his mortal soul whilst he was at it.

Oh leave me alone. It's just a job.

KITCHEN SINK DRAMA

2006-04-24T20:05:00.000+01:00

I'm an optimistic packer. We're taking Snicket (4) and Boo (1) to Italy for seven days and I've got out four novels, a PSP with 4 games and two films and a portable DVD player with a CD wallet of about 20 DVDs all to fit in amongst the nappies, toys and Mrs Backroads' thongs.

What are the chances of tackling any of those? Slim, that's what. I'm gonna unpack them all.

Yes, what's far more likely is I'll buy some something highbrow at the airport like, er, NUTS and that'll be my intake of culture for the week. At least Ryanair won't be able to charge me for being overweight.

Oi! The cases.

I'M BEING CHASED BY THE NATIONAL TRUST

2006-04-17T17:14:00.000+01:00

A visit to Hardwick Hall places you not only in the clutches of the NT but also that of English Heritage who have the Old Hall next door. The idea in the 15th century was simple. Fed up with your collosal mansion. Build a bigger better one right next door. At least that was Bess of Hardwick did and she was only a shopkeeper's daughter. Ah, life might have been brutush and hard, but you could still make something of yourself with some pale make up and a fancy ruff. I mean, you wouldn't mess would you?

Little did she know that 500 years later there'd be coach-loads of M&S'd up trippers tucking into butternut squash soup in her kitchen... never mind the stuff in the gift shop. We bought a stress ball, a frisbee, a travel mug and some Joy Division oven gloves. Now that's a cultural day out.

BRING BACK HANGING BASKETS...

2006-04-13T22:21:00.000+01:00

...that's what I say. You can tell spring is here because it hasn't snowed for three days. Plus I still have the cough and cold from deepest winter which should tide me over until Whitsun.

Check out Manchester Passion tomorrow. It'll either be toe-curlingly embarrassing or toe-curlingly embarrassing.

Hallelujah!

IT'S LIKE PULLING TEETH

2006-04-11T15:20:00.000+01:00

Went to the dentist this morning. He'd been on a canalling weekend near Skipton which, due to the adverse weather, sounded a throughly miserable affair. His twelve year old son said to him.

"Dad, this reminds me of cross-country running at school"

"Why's that, son"

"Well I always prefer cross-country running in heavy rain because people can't see that I am crying."

Sad but funny.

NOW THAT'S WHAT I CALL QUITE GOOD

2006-04-10T17:18:00.000+01:00

A roast chicken dinner accompanied by a fine bottle of wine, eaten with friends in a North Yorkshire cottage in front of a real fire whilst watching the elements do battle outside is a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon. The journey home was hazardous but all in all the Family Backroads had a good day.

Felt lousy this morning though. The bug that's been shadowing me for three weeks has finally taken hold. Had to go into work though but, thankfully, my afternoon meeting was pulled so home I came. Tonight it's Alias, Lemsips and curling up with a good wife.

A DEAD HORSE

2006-04-08T12:58:00.000+01:00

I've placed a bet. Look and learn:

Hedgehunter £5 each way - Starting Price
Forest Gunner £2.50 each way - Starting Price
Iznogoud £2.50 each way - 201 to 1

AT WAR WITH THE BISCUITS

2006-04-07T10:56:00.000+01:00

As I'm struggling to keep up the momentum with my blogging output at the moment I thought I'd post tomorrow's entry early. Then I can have a day off.

Well exercise didn't work.

Diets failed.

Yep, hypnotism is all the rage chez backroads. Paul McKenna is our best mate. All you have to do is read his "I can make you thin" book (quite amusing in three places), listen to his CD each day (28 minutes of voodoo hocus pocus which makes you turn into one of Kreskin's stooges (younger readers ask your dad) every time you set eyes on a donut).

All you need then is his "I can give you more free time" book and CD to enable you to find the 28 minutes each day to lock yourself in a darkened room away from job, kids and life to listen to the Get Thin CD. Trouble is you have to find time for the 25 minute Free Time' CD* as well. I tend to put this on my iPod and listen to it whilst I'm having my regular Big Mac Meal of a lunchtime.

Cheers then.

*Despite all this it really works. Oh yes it does. It really works. It does. Yes.

PLANNERS DREAM GOES WRONG

2006-04-06T09:24:00.000+01:00

Seems the arduous process of convincing a series of local authority f**kwits to approve our plans to extend Backroads Manor is over and, despite some bizarre alterations to the original plans made just so the thick-arse civil servants can feel like they have some power in life, we seem to have got a tick in the box. In triplicate naturally.

L FOR LAMBRETTA

2006-03-13T07:41:00.000Z

Snow just isn't the same is it? It came down all day yesterday and still there isn't enough to roll a snow-ball. Everywhere just looks like Kate Moss has been round with a hole in her pocket, in her pocket, in her pocket, with a hole in her pocket.

That, however, is good enough for me. I shall be ~~blogging~~ working from home today instead of traversing the M62 summit... just in case. By the way, just near the M62 summit is Scammondon Reservoir, the car park for which is, apparently, a top dogging venue. Now the police (spoilsports) have taken to taking down everyone's car registration numbers and writing to them to tell them to stop doing it outside in case they get a chill.

I have explained to Mrs Backroads that we will have to go out dogging on our scooter in future in order to avoid interference from the fuzz. She seems happy, but has asked that we leave off until the warmer evenings are here. I have agreed to this and have taken to watching two episodes of Takeshi's Castle each day as a sort of bromide replacement.

TOUCHING FROM A DISTANCE

2006-03-08T14:38:00.000Z

It's been a while, I know. I'm still here though. Since we last met I've been to a funeral, seen Richard Thompson and Bob Mould again, been to Delhi (bit like Tenerife, less messy) and back.

Things are pretty much the same I see. Fluffy's done a Fluffy again, I note. If she's sprung up somewhere else in my absence would somebody drop me a line. AFMIP and jonnyb are still pinnacling the apex of all summits and Watski and Unlucky Man gave up the ghost before I did.

Other than that... any questions?

COMMENT ALLEZ VOUS?

2005-12-04T17:30:00.000Z

Wouldn’t it be good if individual comments within comments boxes could spawn off their own individual comments boxes so you could comment on the comment without commenting on the blog post. That way we could do away with the blogverse and just live in the comverse. It’d be so much easier and lots more fun.

*Drags dusty typewriter down from the loft… .leans back… cracks knuckles… clears throat.*

“Dear Dr Haloscan…

RATS!

2005-12-01T09:49:00.000Z

Serves me right for laughing but we’ve got mice in our garage now too.

Mrs Backroads has bought some of those humane mousetraps. They’re good because little Mickey sits there all snug and cosy in his own shit until you gently release him back into the wild, preferably some distance away from the house.

Alternatively, do what I did and, in planning to drive the mouse a long, long way away, rest the trap on top of the car whilst putting a few things in the boot, then slam the boot door, watch the mouse trap wobble and fall off the roof, hit the drive and smash open. Observe concussed mouse noodling deliriously from side to side straight back into the still open garage and back behind the washing machine. Doh!

THE PROJECT MANAGER’S FEAR OF THE MILESTONE

2005-11-27T21:29:00.000Z

Everyone knows when planning a big project that the target launch date is the very best day to book a day’s holiday. Not because you don’t want to share in the glory of success, but because you know that that will never ever be the live date. There’ll be slippage, issues, risks, etc etc.

The best thing when working on a project is when you’ve slipped and failed to complete something you’re meant to deliver but you know that someone else has slipped even further, thus completely disguising your own tardiness.

You see, you don’t need to run faster than the bear. You just need to run faster than your brother.

THE UNBEARABLE WHITENESS OF FREEZING

2005-11-25T21:26:00.000Z

I put my duffle coat on plus my gloves and scarf in the hallway. I’m nice and toasty warm. I then leave the house and plunge myself into a frosty world of arctic temperatures and walk ten yards to the car. I then stand at the side of the car and remove my scarf and coat. By the time I’ve leaned in and draped my coat over the back seat I am freezing.

I get to work nice and toasty warm. I park up and open the car door. A whoosh of freezing air engulfs me as I stretch for my coat and wrap my scarf around my neck. By the time I’ve locked the car up I am freezing.

It could be worse. A colleague left his running car on the drive to warm up yesterday morning whilst he had his breakfast. When he emerged from his house, no car, no laptop, no palmtop, no phone… erm… no insurance.

Anyway, it’s dress down day today. I’m in my suit as normal but with one of Mrs B’s sparkly thongs on underneath. Clever, eh? I don’t have to put a quid in the collection and no-one but you knows that I have dressed down after all. Well, until I bend over to tie my shoes.

GOLD STAR FOR ROBOT BOY

2005-11-23T14:12:00.000Z

Back at base now and New York seems so long ago. Good memories though.

Hey, gadget boy bought a PSP. Not in New York though... they don't do bundles... By the time you've bought the games it's dearer there than it is here... plus you've got a knackered guarantee and a crappy US plug... so I waited until I got home.

It's a thing of beauty though... shiny and black with a huge bright screen... what a geek!! Anyway, Wipeout Pure looks a dream!!!

What else? Well this Saturday I'm taking Alley to France to pick up a load of wine ahead of the Christmas period. An elaborate charade but it saves more than a few quid when you knock it back like Mrs B (I just supervise). Plus, it's a day out in the Backroads Bus. It's forecast snow but who knows!

I forget to set SkyPlus for New Order/Joy Division's induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, so I assume someone qualified induced them as appropriate. Anyone see it?

Other than that I've been listening to this and reading this.

IF...

2005-11-22T00:21:00.000Z

... a picture paints a thousand words. Well it's nice to be home and sift through the pictures we took. After the fact though, there's only so many skyscrapers you can go 'ooh' at isn't there. So, that said, here's my favourite shot of the trip other than those of Mrs Backroads legs akimbo in the buff which won't be going on the net. Well not on this site anyway. Oh go on then... just one.

LEAVING NEW YORK

2005-11-20T19:45:00.000Z

Time to go now after eating our way around this town. They're just getting into the swing of holiday season here with stores unveiling their window displays and Christmas trees appearing all over the place. The town is much more old fashioned than it thinks and some of the things people say and do are downright quaint. In a good way.

(NO) ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK

2005-11-19T19:36:00.000Z

Despite our best efforts we couldn't get off Manhattan due to a flaky Long Island Rail Road timetable combined with a little bad advice. I tell you what though, the city that never sleeps doesn't wake up until 10am. When you're up at 5 every morning that's no fun. A guy can't get arrested.

SIMPLE MEN

2005-11-19T10:34:00.000Z

Today we leave NYC for the day to visit the Vineyards out at the far end of Long Island which, Hal Hartley fans is actually a terminal moraine.

THERE'S A MILLION STOREYS...

2005-11-17T22:19:00.000Z

... in the naked city and we're only on the 10th. However, NYC is a lot like York. Except with less Americans. Obviously.

THERE IT IS

2005-11-17T09:47:00.000Z

When you get here you realise that NYC is a town like any other. A bit like Hebden Bridge but without the traffic and rude people. Anyway, took a limo from the airport, had oysters at the Grand Central Station Oyster Bar, got drenched to the skin in a New York minute and had steamy sex uninterrupted by skriking kids as did Mrs Backroads.

Missing Alley, Snicket and Boo though.

"NEW YORK" SAID HE. "NEW YORK?" SAID I.

2005-11-14T19:44:00.000Z

We've all gone to look for America.