Gay Nazi Sex Vicar in Schoolgirl Knickers Vice Disco Lawnmower Shock!
« I lose it in GlasgowFucking useless »

Long on

  Fri 17th February 2017

I met up for a coffee with Melissa, who's up from London for a few days to see Kitty and Wendy. It's been a long time since I held a baby. I like the smell of their heads but that's about it.

But they're bringing up baby properly. I don't mean by paying him attention, talking to him a lot, putting his physical and emotional needs first, and all that poncy Southern rubbish. I mean that he's being trained into an appreciation of the finest game ever invented. We're going to clear a day for a visit to the Oval this summer so that all of us can go to see Lancashire beat Surrey.


Middle daughter went to London last week for an audition-cum-interview at a top drama school. Part of me is hoping she chooses the place in Glasgow instead; when we looked through last year's graduates on their website the other day, we noticed that apart from a couple of Welsh people, they all list their "native accent" as RP. One of them has a surname which includes the connective "de"; several of them list "skiing (advanced level)" amongst their skills. She'd be the only person paying her rent herself, and neither me nor Kirsty are in any position to match the subventions that the others will receive. The not-so-hidden injuries of class.

I was at Trina's that day, who was going a bit spare with Demented Mother. I took a recipe from Lancashire Life with me and was making a tomato and pumpkin seed bread. My phone went off in the other room. Before I realised what she was doing, she answered it. Even by the ragged standards of Trina's stunted emotional intelligence, I was staggered at the arrogance of her doing that. It was my actress daughter, enthusing about being chosen for a recall next week.


I didn't send Wendy a Valentines card; it's too obvious. Instead, I sent her an invite to a techno night in Manchester, having first got provisional agreement from her auntie that she could childsit.

I met her today. She was wearing possibly the sexiest of her dresses, although that would be a very difficult decision. Would you like to fuck me in this dress looby, or would you like me to change into that one and see which one you like fucking me most in? She said that she's going to arrange it at work so that she's off the following day, and as long as we can secure auntie's services, we're on.

4 comments

Comment from: kono [Visitor]

Lancashire and Surrey, i can only surmise the game you love so much is called Cricket, which coincidentally is the name of a strip club i used to frequent and single-handedly got the balcony shut down due to my shenanigans…

and for some reason while reading this various Smiths lyrics kept cropping up in my mind, don’t know why, the last bit calling out for There’s a Light the Never Goes Out…

Mon 20th February 2017 @ 03:24 Reply to this comment
Comment from: looby [Visitor]

I wish my light for Wendy would go out – won’t do anyone any good and me nothing but frustration. But I am smitten and lost and adrift now. Every night, every morning, every text, every time.

Mon 20th February 2017 @ 08:58 Reply to this comment

You guys are on or you’re “on.” Probably the former.

That fete STARTS at 11:30? I’m down for the count by then. I just booked a trip to Las Vegas with an old pal. We were having a laugh about how it’s a late-night town but we won’t take advantage. At least the crap tables are open 24 hours.

Wed 22nd February 2017 @ 11:30 Reply to this comment
Comment from: looby [Visitor]

“The crap tables” – you might not realise how funny that sounds to an English ear :)

Yes, I like the all-nighters. The music and the people are a bit more serious. And what with, er, one thing and another, it goes quite quickly!

What does your first line mean? Sorry – cant work that one out.

Wed 22nd February 2017 @ 12:51 Reply to this comment


Form is loading...

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


M / 56 / 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
Crinklybee
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
London's Singing Organ-Grinder
The Most Difficult Thing Ever
Quillette
Strange Flowers
Trailer Park Refugee
Wonky Words

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

5:4
Bristol New Music
Desiring Progress Collection of links only
Golden Pages for Musicologists
Lauren Redhead
NewMusicBox
The Rambler
Resonance FM
Sequenza 21
Sound and Music
Talking Musicology defunct, but retained


  XML Feeds

RWD CMS
 

©2020 by looby. Don't steal anything or you'll have a 9st arts graduate to deal with.

Contact | Help | b2evo skin by Asevo | b2evolution