Fri 5th November 2010

Ten French wines, with little dishes of mussels, smoked chicken and venison pâté. All OK to good, but not enough tannin in any of them for me; you can see how the New World is casting its jammy, sweet shadow over France nowadays. Best was a nice dark Cabernet Franc, a bit dusty, like dark chocolate gone beyond its sell-by date. Personable, patient and socially adept hosts who put a lot of effort in to the evening, despite French pronounciation not being their strong point.

Ingrid was making me feel a touch nervous towards the end as she got rather surprisingly drunk. At the bus stop afterwards she said "That text you sent me..." (the one in which I said "There's something a bit sexy about you.") "Yes?" "I don't want to go in that direction. Let's keep it as friends." "Fine," I said. "Honestly, that's good. I like everything to be straightforward."

Then she went a bit odd, accusing me of talking about her in a disparaging and insulting way to Brian. Uh-ho - time to start talking in neutral. "Ingrid, there's nothing about you I wouldn't say to your face, as I hope that text indicated." "Well," she protested, "I don't want to be an object, or a..." "No, no, of course not. When's this bus due?"

The bus was uncomfortably hot and she said she felt nauseous, putting her head on the rail in front of her and sighing a lot. She stayed on the bus past her stop and got off with me. Why, I don't know. I walked a short way with her and then I left her to go home. Normally in such a situation, I'd have kissed her goodnight, but I wanted to indicate that I was putting a bit of distance between us.

I had a suspicion she was in the mood for one of those combative drunken conversations in which she could play with the power she has of me finding her attractive. But she came across as unstable and manipulative, and the burgeoning sexual attraction I had felt for her disappeared last night. And the woman who can't handle a bottle of wine a night is not the woman for me.

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looby, n.; pl. loobies. A lout; an awkward, stupid, clownish person

M / 61 / Bristol, "the most beautiful, interesting and distinguished city in England" -- John Betjeman [1961, source eludes me].

"Looby is a left-wing intellectual who is obsessed with a) women's clothes and b) tits." -- Joy of Bex.

WLTM literate woman, 40-65. Must have nice tits, a PhD, and an mdma factory in the shed, although the first on its own will do in the short term.

There are plenty of bastards who drink moderately. Of course, I don't consider them to be people. They are not our comrades.
Sergei Korovin, quoted in Pavel Krusanov, The Blue Book of the Alcoholic

I am here to change my life. I am here to force myself to change my life.
Chinese man I met during Freshers Week at Lancaster University, 2008

The more democratised art becomes, the more we recognise in it our own mediocrity.
James Meek

Tell me, why is it that even when we are enjoying music, for instance, or a beautiful evening, or a conversation in agreeable company, it all seems no more than a hint of some infinite felicity existing apart somewhere, rather than actual happiness – such, I mean, as we ourselves can really possess?
Turgenev, Fathers and Sons

I hate the iPod; I hate the idea that music is such a personal thing that you can just stick some earplugs in your ears and have an experience with music. Music is a social phenomenon.
Jeremy Wagner

La vie poetique has its pleasures, and readings--ideally a long way from home--are one of them. I can pretend to be George Szirtes.
George Szirtes

Using words well is a social virtue. Use 'fortuitous' once more to mean 'fortunate' and you move an English word another step towards the dustbin. If your mistake took hold, no-one who valued clarity would be able to use the word again.
John Whale

One good thing about being a Marxist is that you don't have to pretend to like work.
Terry Eagleton, What Is A Novel?, Lancaster University, 1 Feb 2010

The working man is a fucking loser.
Mick, The Golden Lion, Lancaster, 21 Mar 2011

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Long Dock and Coats der Rooseyun

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looby, n.; pl. loobies. A lout; an awkward, stupid, clownish person

Rummage in my drawers

The Comfort of Strangers

"Just sit still and listen" - woman to teenage girl at Elliott Carter weekend, London 2006

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