In true - real? honest? actual? literal? - househusbandnot style, am sitting at home waiting for someone to come and service the boiler. As I was staring aimlessly out of the kitchen window waiting for the kettle to boil, I noticed a man in full white anti-germ suit entering the block of flats over the road.
Having recently seen 28 Weeks Later, I got to wondering what particular deadly virus he was there to clean out, this drama somewhat tempered by a really annoying Observer supplement on allergies and kids that I read yesterday. Maybe the suited up bloke was just going in to see his nephew who has a severe nut allergy. (Apparently some people are allergic to tomatoes. I don't see how this works since tomatoes - although the devil's work - are just a big round glob of water aren't they? It would be like having an allergy to cucumber or apples. Are some people really allergic to water nowadays? Although I read somewhere that the water in and around London is so full of stuff that it can act as an effective contraceptive for women if drunk regularly. Maybe that's a myth, because people are still having kids nut allergy-full or otherwise. )
Mind you, one of the many pieces of informal research being conducted here at hhn HQ is the long term effect of things on people. Stuff like diet coke, and Starbucks coffee, and dry cleaned clothes, and ipods, and mobile phones, and rom coms (to which mrs househusbandnot is clinically addicted). All those things we have only been exposed to for a few decades and no-one really knows what effects they might have on us long term. (Funding for this research is limited btw, but I will be bringing the results to you one day.)
Have also noticed a lot of ladybirds around this summer. Are they going to take over the planet?
In other, not entirely unrelated news, my mate *&^ came over last night to sort out my itunes. In the process he downloaded pretty much his entire cd collection onto my computer. Amazing that this can be done so easily and quickly. I now own his hours of collecting and listening and living and loving of music, all at a click or two of a few computer keys. Which reminds me of my marketing idea for ipod, which would involve swap station (iswaps?) where you could take along your music-stuffed ipod and swap it for a week with someone else's, and have a whole new library of music to listen to for that week. I guess there would have to be matches to the sorts of music you liked, and also the actual amount of music you had on your ipod. It would be kind of annoying to take along your ipod with 10,000 songs and leave with someone else's which only had I Love Music 54 on it. I like this idea. It is kind of pro-individual choice, and sort of social networking and personal, and pro music. Although Styx is on an interesting why have music all the time gig at the moment, arguing that this whole move towards having access to as much music as possible all the time on the smallest possible gadget doesn't give anyone any space or real time to sit and actually enjoy music. It is more about the collection and storage than the actual pleasure you get from it. He has a (typically obtuse but interesting) point. I sometimes find the transition from listening to music and not listening to music difficult. One minute you are wigging away, the next you are taking off your earphones and saying good morning to everyone in the office and sitting down and turning on your computer and trying to stop wishing you were in a band, or on the road or at Glastonbury or something. And I'm not sure that greater access creates greater pleasure- although am deeply looking forward to tucking into *&^'s collection in the coming weeks.
Jun 11, 2007
Jun 7, 2007
Alphabet Street: It's A List Return People
Well thanks (kinda) for your various comments while I have not been at househusbandnot HQ, and rather ignoring my duties to you kind (six still?) hhn readers. Apologies but have been busy...well bolloxing around. Since we last spoke I have:
Accepted that I truly will never really understand the difference between a website visit and a website page view (it would not matter so much if the (*&^ing discussion didn't come up so much, mostly because I am sitting near to head of IT - aka The Growler - in my new job)
Been along to x2 to try and get into the Antony Gormley show on the South Bank (but on getting there on both occasions seen that I had to queue to get in and - in a similarly imperious manner that The Waunch and I feel insulted whenever we are expected to pay on trains for our brief forays outside London - refused to queue for a show [any show] , and also reminded myself and mrs househusbandnot who was along for the ride that Gormley is a bit of a one trick pony and not worth waiting for/on)
Cooked a three course vegetarian meal (almost as dull cooking it as it was eating it, although worms in hhn wormery were well fed that evening - sorry blokewhoiassumeisstillavegeterian but pulses and stuff still ain't rocking my sausage-craving boat)
Deeply Defeated mrs hhn at Scrabble (on our first game since our marathon scrabble sessions in Greece a few weeks ago after which I was forced to design a new Olympic logo encapsulating the vision of the fact that I was much much stupider than mrs hhn)
Enjoyed the fact that mrs hhn finally admitted to me that she was missing hhn posts (and this was unsolicited)
Fought and won a battle with itunes and my ipod (although I recognise it was only a battle rather than a full blown war/campaign)
Googled myself (hey, I said I had been busy, not necessarily productive)
Held back the urge to go and shake hands with Whispering Bob Harris when I was in a room with him last week (anyone under the age of 35, please ask your mum or dad about this one)
Ignored a lot of advice from horoscopes (although I did have an idea for a book once about someone who lived their lives by horoscopes, but then Dave Gorman did his show about it before I had a chance to write the book)
Judged myself to have been too harsh on Madame B when she sent that nice comment about spending quality time with her son (and then gone straight back to the Madame B Is Dirty Old Slapper camp as a result of her more recent comments and suggestions)
Knowingly and enjoyably met for lunch with Styx at the restaurant Roast (which involved much important discussion of all things important including bread sauce, wives, city tossers, parents, the bright future of English wine, J Mascis, Vinderama@weloveu.com , annoying art dealers, Bob Geldof, the cricket, and the true - and not necessarily so media palatable - definition of 'organic' chicken)
Loving and continuing to love a very beautiful picture that a much loved and much missed friend left me in their will some few days ago (I though long and hard about mentioning this in the hhn context, but it is something I have been really thinking about)
Managed to not get my hair cut (and therefore resorted to brylcreemed comb back which makes me look more like Ray Winston than usual, although on celeb lookalikey I found myself sitting next to Johnny Vegas the other day and was reminded of going to a party a few years ago and a girl starting a sentence with "You need to take this the right way, but you look like a much better looking..." [I asked her to stop at this point but she felt the need to finish the sentence] )
Neglected to call the boiler repair man (even though we have some weird new nanny state boiler that has a built in timer that does a count down of the days before your next boiler check is overdue and then turns itself off)
Organised a lazy summer evening in July when me and Bad go out lobster potting on his boat in Suffolk (for which I have earned hhn prospective relaxation points 5, and mrs hhn whenwillthosedrugsthatmyhusbandsmokedatuniversityeverleavehissystem points 0)
Planted some mint (which has failed to materialise above the soil surface so far: any hints from Mr B The Gardener Mrs B without reference to priapism and vegetables/fruit?)
Quizzed (pretty unsubtly) mrs hhn on what she wants for her birthday next week (all I've had so far is pretty emphatic regulation on what I can't buy her, including clothes and CDs and meals in restaurants other than in the ones I have asked her to name but she says I should know which ones they are if I have even listened to her since we got married...)
Realised with some interest that I have an entirely irrational but active hatred of Sebastian Coe (I think it may still be the judo thing with William Hague)
Sat quietly in Russell Square in the mornings trying to enjoy a quiet coffee and few tunes on the isquad before going to the office (only to be - EVERY morning - disturbed by the freaks and fools and felons and fellow Londoners who trawl the Square at that time in the morning, the latest of whom approached me for money yesterday because he could not believe that "the police man, they took all my skunk off me", begging the question as to what he had been expecting them to do with it: gift wrap it for him? vacuum pack it for him? give it back with a product endorsement? )
Trudged briefly and slowly up and down the pool a few times (like daily hhn posts, my languorous, long swims have fallen victim to actually having to get up and wear matching shoes and go to an office and think and be and exist in the real world)
Understood with some relief that I have no idea what the last comment to hhn before I sent this post out - "if u were Mrs Hhn, then I know what you reaction would have been to finding such a spectacle.So if you are, what did yo do next?I will know if it is she?Similarly if you are not Mrs hhn, you agree that old hhn is a big lad (picture he sent you), so that particular act of self mutilation would prove a bit difficult practically.Mrs hhn can be that vulgar,even uses the C word, but she wouldn't be unnecessarily, so I think you are not.But I have other questions that could prove it.I like this game" - is about ( nothing to report in this bracket)
Veered inexplicably and with deep regret towards tapping my foot to a Razorlight track playing in the pub last night (I can only beg forgiveness here people)
Wondered briefly about the true identity of Madame B (although I can categorically confirm that I think - can you categorically think? - that she/he/it is not mrs hhn)
Xcited the interest of The Sun sufficiently for them to print a favourable article about the organisation I am working for this morning (I rock)
Yawned idly and often at my PC's screen (rather than written an hhn post)
And
Zoo-watched (with a recurring dream where me and mrs hhn and others are on a ledge at a zoo looking down at lions attacking really random prey like turkeys and oil-slicked porpoises and old people, and then suddenly some of the loins have figured out how to climb up onto the ledge and we have to lay back on our backs and time our movements to their leaps at us so that we can kick them back down the ledge)
I sometimes wish I was making this shit up....x
Accepted that I truly will never really understand the difference between a website visit and a website page view (it would not matter so much if the (*&^ing discussion didn't come up so much, mostly because I am sitting near to head of IT - aka The Growler - in my new job)
Been along to x2 to try and get into the Antony Gormley show on the South Bank (but on getting there on both occasions seen that I had to queue to get in and - in a similarly imperious manner that The Waunch and I feel insulted whenever we are expected to pay on trains for our brief forays outside London - refused to queue for a show [any show] , and also reminded myself and mrs househusbandnot who was along for the ride that Gormley is a bit of a one trick pony and not worth waiting for/on)
Cooked a three course vegetarian meal (almost as dull cooking it as it was eating it, although worms in hhn wormery were well fed that evening - sorry blokewhoiassumeisstillavegeterian but pulses and stuff still ain't rocking my sausage-craving boat)
Deeply Defeated mrs hhn at Scrabble (on our first game since our marathon scrabble sessions in Greece a few weeks ago after which I was forced to design a new Olympic logo encapsulating the vision of the fact that I was much much stupider than mrs hhn)
Enjoyed the fact that mrs hhn finally admitted to me that she was missing hhn posts (and this was unsolicited)
Fought and won a battle with itunes and my ipod (although I recognise it was only a battle rather than a full blown war/campaign)
Googled myself (hey, I said I had been busy, not necessarily productive)
Held back the urge to go and shake hands with Whispering Bob Harris when I was in a room with him last week (anyone under the age of 35, please ask your mum or dad about this one)
Ignored a lot of advice from horoscopes (although I did have an idea for a book once about someone who lived their lives by horoscopes, but then Dave Gorman did his show about it before I had a chance to write the book)
Judged myself to have been too harsh on Madame B when she sent that nice comment about spending quality time with her son (and then gone straight back to the Madame B Is Dirty Old Slapper camp as a result of her more recent comments and suggestions)
Knowingly and enjoyably met for lunch with Styx at the restaurant Roast (which involved much important discussion of all things important including bread sauce, wives, city tossers, parents, the bright future of English wine, J Mascis, Vinderama@weloveu.com , annoying art dealers, Bob Geldof, the cricket, and the true - and not necessarily so media palatable - definition of 'organic' chicken)
Loving and continuing to love a very beautiful picture that a much loved and much missed friend left me in their will some few days ago (I though long and hard about mentioning this in the hhn context, but it is something I have been really thinking about)
Managed to not get my hair cut (and therefore resorted to brylcreemed comb back which makes me look more like Ray Winston than usual, although on celeb lookalikey I found myself sitting next to Johnny Vegas the other day and was reminded of going to a party a few years ago and a girl starting a sentence with "You need to take this the right way, but you look like a much better looking..." [I asked her to stop at this point but she felt the need to finish the sentence] )
Neglected to call the boiler repair man (even though we have some weird new nanny state boiler that has a built in timer that does a count down of the days before your next boiler check is overdue and then turns itself off)
Organised a lazy summer evening in July when me and Bad go out lobster potting on his boat in Suffolk (for which I have earned hhn prospective relaxation points 5, and mrs hhn whenwillthosedrugsthatmyhusbandsmokedatuniversityeverleavehissystem points 0)
Planted some mint (which has failed to materialise above the soil surface so far: any hints from Mr B The Gardener Mrs B without reference to priapism and vegetables/fruit?)
Quizzed (pretty unsubtly) mrs hhn on what she wants for her birthday next week (all I've had so far is pretty emphatic regulation on what I can't buy her, including clothes and CDs and meals in restaurants other than in the ones I have asked her to name but she says I should know which ones they are if I have even listened to her since we got married...)
Realised with some interest that I have an entirely irrational but active hatred of Sebastian Coe (I think it may still be the judo thing with William Hague)
Sat quietly in Russell Square in the mornings trying to enjoy a quiet coffee and few tunes on the isquad before going to the office (only to be - EVERY morning - disturbed by the freaks and fools and felons and fellow Londoners who trawl the Square at that time in the morning, the latest of whom approached me for money yesterday because he could not believe that "the police man, they took all my skunk off me", begging the question as to what he had been expecting them to do with it: gift wrap it for him? vacuum pack it for him? give it back with a product endorsement? )
Trudged briefly and slowly up and down the pool a few times (like daily hhn posts, my languorous, long swims have fallen victim to actually having to get up and wear matching shoes and go to an office and think and be and exist in the real world)
Understood with some relief that I have no idea what the last comment to hhn before I sent this post out - "if u were Mrs Hhn, then I know what you reaction would have been to finding such a spectacle.So if you are, what did yo do next?I will know if it is she?Similarly if you are not Mrs hhn, you agree that old hhn is a big lad (picture he sent you), so that particular act of self mutilation would prove a bit difficult practically.Mrs hhn can be that vulgar,even uses the C word, but she wouldn't be unnecessarily, so I think you are not.But I have other questions that could prove it.I like this game" - is about ( nothing to report in this bracket)
Veered inexplicably and with deep regret towards tapping my foot to a Razorlight track playing in the pub last night (I can only beg forgiveness here people)
Wondered briefly about the true identity of Madame B (although I can categorically confirm that I think - can you categorically think? - that she/he/it is not mrs hhn)
Xcited the interest of The Sun sufficiently for them to print a favourable article about the organisation I am working for this morning (I rock)
Yawned idly and often at my PC's screen (rather than written an hhn post)
And
Zoo-watched (with a recurring dream where me and mrs hhn and others are on a ledge at a zoo looking down at lions attacking really random prey like turkeys and oil-slicked porpoises and old people, and then suddenly some of the loins have figured out how to climb up onto the ledge and we have to lay back on our backs and time our movements to their leaps at us so that we can kick them back down the ledge)
I sometimes wish I was making this shit up....x
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