Gay Nazi Sex Vicar in Schoolgirl Knickers Vice Disco Lawnmower Shock!
« Beginning againMummy's new boyfriend »


  Tue 3rd January 2012

To Silverdale, a village as pretty as its name, and my friends Steph and Tom's house. We go to the Huddersfield Contemporary Music Festival together but I've known Steph for many years. We met when I was employed as an interviewer for an academic who was writing an oral history of women's experiences of work during the Second World War, and Steph was a Lecturer in the same Department. The book was authored by Penny Summerfield, who, for the wrong reasons, deserves the unusual distinction on this blog of the use of her real name.

I enjoyed the work and I was good at it, both the interviewing, as I sat with beguiling elderly women who fed me endless cakes and scones while they talked, and the background research, writing footnotes to explain some of my subjects' references (the "Pilling Pig", for example - the now closed railway line between Preston and Knott End On Sea), and clarifying the pronunciation of proper names (so the village near Blackpool called Rawcliffe is "rake-ler", not "raw cliff").

The project ended and some time later the book was published. I was astonished to see that my name didn't appear in the acknowledgements. Whole paragraphs of that book were elicited by me. I only hope that it was a production error, although she's never been in touch to say this, neither did she bother to alert me to the book's publication.

Steph's invite to their conversazione untemptingly offered "gentle socialising" and "gluten-free snacks", but this turned out to mean a hectare of alcohol, several yards of delicious homemade food and an arty but unpretentious company. The children were low-key, unobtrusive, and autonomous; three very pretty early teenage girls, dressed in the cord pinafore dresses and thick tights favoured by the academic classes for their offspring, were the daughters of a magnetically beautiful woman who reminded me of Seriouscrush: slightly dark complexion, artfully untrammelled black hair; a woollen black and dark green knee-length dress with an attractively kitschy design of cats. Her English was just short of mother tongue. I hope she didn't hear my smitten involuntary sigh when she told me she was French. Her husband was the only person there who was difficult to draw out; I gave up with him after I felt like I was in a game of Twenty Questions.

I rang the doctor's this morning about my water on the knee. It's a recurring problem after I slipped on some ice last year and banged my knee hard on the pavement. I had to swallow a snort of juvenile, tactless laughter when the receptionist said "So that'll be 3.40 then, with Doctor Wong."

Tomorrow I have to be up at 5am to take Melanie to have her eye operation; then, hoping that I can stay lively enough for anything that might occur, I am off to Leicester to see Mary-Ann and stay overnight. She's engaged in diplomatic manoeuvres to park her teenage daughters elsewhere for the evening, but if that doesn't come off we'll go to a pub and embarrass the youth of Leicester with the sight of middle aged people pawing each other.


Comment from: [Member]

You’re not a man, are you?

Tue 3rd January 2012 @ 17:06
Comment from: [Member]

I’m not sure what you mean, but I am both more and less of a man than those men who cleave to a Butlerian performance of masculinity as a subsititute for enjoying being male. Confounding them is nowadays less a source of mischievous pleasure, more a way of acquiring interesting friends. But if it’s a disguised compliment, then thanks!

Tue 3rd January 2012 @ 20:28
Comment from: [Member]

i wouldn’t say you’re not a man - but your attention to the tiniest detail of a womans attire is notable! i find it nice when a man notices when i’ve taken a bit more care with my clothing choices… and a teeny bit annoying when i’m channeling my inner bag lady and he notices that as well! happy new year!

Tue 3rd January 2012 @ 22:07
Comment from: young at heart [Visitor]

I have to admit, I don’t know what it was I read when I first started reading you ……. but I thought you were a lesbian……it was a bit confusing so then I read over the back-blogs and got it straightened out……makes more sense and is much funnier now!!

Tue 3rd January 2012 @ 22:50
Comment from: [Member]

DF: Thank you! And Happy New Year too. I bet your bag lady chic looks a lot better than most people’s stylish.

YAH: So I come across as a lesbian? No wonder I went for a decade without sex.

Tue 3rd January 2012 @ 22:55

Ha Ha, you lesbian you. Hidden and dark secrets.

But they do have a point. You have to learn to ignore the packaging and describe the meat.
Bouncy and taut?
Droopy but comforting?
Tight and bursting with exotic spices and unguents?

Best of Luck with Mary-Ann. If any pig-ignorant youth even tries to malign your mutual passion, just say “Try it in 20 years, acne-face, and see if YOU will be able to get it up”

Wed 4th January 2012 @ 05:58
Comment from: isabelle [Visitor]

Sometimes the comments on here are (almost) as funny as your posts. But I for one have never for a second doubted your gender or sexuality. And I’m so hoping you mean Butlerian in the Erewhonian sense.

Oh , and lots of luck and passion with Mary-Anne.

Wed 4th January 2012 @ 18:45
Comment from: nursemyra [Visitor]

the youth of Leicester have it coming….

Wed 4th January 2012 @ 20:46
Comment from: Jonathan [Visitor]

Daisyfae has it right, one of your defining characteristics as a writer- and one I always think would be the most unattainable for me, if I ever sought to emulate your style- is the way you introduce girls to us and bring them to life by describing their outfits. One sentence from you about a polka dot dress is enough for me to picture not just the dress but the person inside of it. If it was me I would think I was doing a fine job by even noticing she was wearing a polka dot dress.

Fri 6th January 2012 @ 22:11
Comment from: [Member]

TSB: Thank you - I couldn’t help but get some quite specific mental imagery from that comment and if any of those phrases pops into my head while I am in delicto flagrante with Mary-Ann I will sue you for Provoking Detumescence.

Nursey: As you konw by now, we didn’t have to find a bus shelter with a sparse service in which to carry on.

Isabelle: Sorry - I was thinking Judith more than Weedon(?). And thank you - more chapters of this to be written I hope.

J: That’s very kind. And I’m sure you’re a little more observant than that.

Tue 10th January 2012 @ 16:27

Form is loading...

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

M / 58 / 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

The Comfort of Strangers

23.1.16: Big clearout of the defunct and dormant and dull
16.1.19: Further pruning

If your comment box looks like this, I'm afraid I sometimes can't be bothered with all that palarver just to leave a comment.

63 mago
Another Angry Voice
the asshat lounge
Clutter From The Gutter
Eryl Shields Ink
Exile on Pain Street
Fat Man On A Keyboard
gairnet provides: press of blll defunct, but retained for its quality
George Szirtes ditto
Guitars and Life
Infomaniac [NSFW]
The Joy of Bex
Laudator Temporis Acti
Leeds's Singing Organ-Grinder
The Most Difficult Thing Ever
Strange Flowers
Trailer Park Refugee
Wonky Words

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

Bristol New Music
Desiring Progress Collection of links only
Golden Pages for Musicologists
Lauren Redhead
The Rambler
Resonance FM
Sequenza 21
Sound and Music
Talking Musicology defunct, but retained

  XML Feeds

Multi-blog engine

©2022 by looby. Don't steal anything or you'll have a 9st arts graduate to deal with.

Contact | Help | b2evo skin by Asevo | b2evolution