idleformat

Republican

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Sun, 27 May 2012 09:00:00 +0000

Joan Smith in yesterday's Guardian:

My own observations of the Queen are that she isn't actually good at her job. I've seen her at Buckingham Palace garden parties – I was introduced to her once at a Christmas party. I said "hello" and smiled at her, and she looked absolutely aghast. She stared at me for a moment and then cut me dead and moved on, because I didn't curtsey and didn't speak until I was spoken to. I think she should have had the manners to say, "Very nice to meet you" or something.

Staunch Republican here. Can't bear the thought of more fawning, unquestioning TV coverage coming up over the next few weeks.

Jubilee Protest, South Bank, 3 June

Jony Ive

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Wed, 23 May 2012 17:49:00 +0000

“We’re keenly aware that when we develop and make something and bring it to market that it really does speak to a set of values. And what preoccupies us is that sense of care, and what our products will not speak to is a schedule, what our products will not speak to is trying to respond to some corporate or competitive agenda. We’re very genuinely designing the best products that we can for people.”

Great interview with Apple's newly-knighted Jonathan Ive in today's Telegraph.

Creative Commons + Flickr

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Mon, 30 Apr 2012 09:00:00 +0000

creative commons by libraryman on Flickr

Spurred on by my good friend Dom's comments to my post wondering whether it was time to leave Flickr, I spent a few hours over the weekend changing the licenses to most of my content on the photo-sharing site.

So, around 8000 images from the past seven or so years have been set free under a Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0) licence. This allows anyone to copy, distribute, transmit and adapt the work and to make commercial use of it (as long as I am attributed).

Initially, I thought of making the images for non-commercial use only but then remembered my photography has been used commercially by my friends at Brighton's QueenSpark Books in the past, so I figured I would like similar organisations to be allowed such freedom too.

Thanks to Dom for his original comments and help via Twitter. His Flickr photos have been available for a while under a Creative Commons licence and can be found here: Globalism Pictures.

the beauty is in the marriage

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Wed, 25 Apr 2012 15:41:00 +0000

bill by joebusy1 on Flickr

"There is nothing you can say about a surfboard that you cannot say about a sailboat, an airplane, a ski. The artistry follows the function and the beauty is in the marriage. The grace of line is an expression of potential force. Motion holds its breath in every swelling curve. The trembling flank of a horse, warm under the palm, could not be more loaded with motion. But a board, if it is made by an old-school, traditional shaper like Bruno, is made just for you. He may ask where you like to surf and your skill level, but his assessment is mostly intuitive and is made in the first quick glance as you meet - the breadth of your shoulders, your animation, the length of your limbs, your quickness to laugh, all somehow as important as your height and weight and ability ... As many measurements as he records in his drawings, even a board out of his computer can't compare to what he shapes by hand from the foam blanks. Every board he creates is a unique animal with its own personality and potential for brilliance."

from Kook: What Surfing Taught Me About Love, Life, and Catching the Perfect Wave by Peter Heller (Free Press)

childhood cars

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Fri, 13 Apr 2012 13:00:00 +0000

On Sunday we headed to Weston-super-Mare for an afternoon walk on the seafront and to check out the new Grand Pier, now open after the old pier burned down almost four years ago. When we arrived the town was basking in Bank Holiday sunshine and therefore packed with locals, Bristolians (no doubt) and plenty of people from the Midlands judging by the accents. Martin Parr would have had an absolute field day.

The pier was... ok. I was disappointed that you're not allowed to walk the entire way around. Cynics would say this is to force you through the arcade at the sea end and spend some money. Not us - we turned around and walked back the way we'd come.

A bigger draw for me was a car rally on the lawns beside the seafront. Normally, I'm not much interested in cars: I don't drive, I know nothing about engines and I can't tell the difference between a Vauxhall and a Peugeot. But I was fascinated to see old models that I could recognise from my childhood: Ford Capris, Escorts, Hillman Imp, Austin Princess, other ones I can't remember the names of. The one car I was looking out for but didn't spot was a Ford Zephyr. My grandad owned one of the newer models back in the 70s and I always loved sitting sandwiched between the driver and passenger on the bench seat in the front.

There are more photos I took of the rally over on Flickr.

welcome to my breakfast table

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 11:00:00 +0000

“There’s something sacred about reading a blog post on someone else’s site. It’s like visiting a friend’s house for a quick meal ’round the breakfast table. It’s personal — you’re in their space, and the environment is uniquely suited for idea exchange and uninterrupted conversation. In many ways, we should be treating our blogs like our breakfast tables. Be welcoming & gracious when you host, and kind & respectful when visiting.”

Trent Walton

via swissmiss
original via Trent Walton

Stokes Croft sign

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Tue, 10 Apr 2012 12:22:00 +0000

Finally managed to get a photo of this great sign in Stokes Croft this morning. It looks pretty official (note the Bristol City Council logo) but it's almost certainly the work of these guys.

full circle

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Thu, 05 Apr 2012 17:07:00 +0000

I knew the unfocused, randomness of this blog would come back into fashion one day...

52 Tiger:

I’ve noticed an interesting shift in blogging. In short, there’s a trend moving away from hyper-focused niche blogs, back to what I’d call “personality” blogs. It makes me think of when I started writing online in 2000, and I like it.

Today I see the “personality” blog returning. Consider Daring Fireball, The Loop, Shawn Blanc.net and 512 Pixels, to name a few. You could argue that each is a “tech site,” but that’s not the whole truth. Daring Fireball is John’s voice, personality and interests. He’s as likely to write about the New York Yankees as he is the new iPad. The Loop reflects the interests of Jim, Peter, Shawn and the the other contributors. The same is true of Stephen and Shawn Blanc.

The niche blog will never be replaced, of course ... I’m glad personality blogs are swinging back into popularity.

I'm nowhere near in the same league of course, but indeed it is nice to have a bit of personality in blogs.

PF Flyers

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Mon, 02 Apr 2012 11:00:00 +0000

Check this out - a new pair of PFs for the summer!

I've gone through a few pairs of PF Flyers over the last decade or so but more recently it's been harder to buy them in the UK. Back in the 1930s they were designed for use on the basketball court. They gained popularity in the 50s and 60s but then everything went quiet until they were resurrected in 2003.

'PF' stands for 'Posture Foundation' which, as far as I've been able to tell, means the ball of your foot is supported better than in many other types of trainer - a wedge in the insole shifts your weight to the outside of the foot which evenly distributes your weight.

I prefer the chunkiness of these to Converse Chucks. Interestingly, in the early 70s, Converse purchased the brand, but the American government filed an antitrust suit arguing that if both companies merged they'd have a monopoly for sneakers.

Apparently, PFs feature prominently in the film The Sandlot, a comedy about young baseball players during the summer of 1962.

is it time to bail on Flickr?

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Thu, 29 Mar 2012 13:00:00 +0000

Is it finally time to ditch the photo-sharing site Flickr? I ask myself this question each December when the time comes to renew my annual $24.95 Pro subscription. I've been a subscribing member for over 6 years now but in recent years it seems to have become increasingly irrelevant. Amongst friends of mine who are users, there has also been a decline in uploads.

So what's stopping me quitting? Answer: the knowledge that should I stop paying my annual subscription I will lose access to all but my most recent 200 photos. The more I think about this the more appalled I feel. Regardless of the fact that when I uploaded my images I was a paying subscriber, Flickr will, as photographer Thomas Hawk says, hold the rest of your photos hostage on their site until you renew. Moreover, Flickr makes the process of quitting and moving your photos elsewhere - or even batch downloading them - difficult. Tools are available, though they potentially involve a cost.

I joined Flickr in December 2005 to use it as a repository for the increasing number of digital photos I was taking. It also seemed like a good way of showing them off. I soon discovered friends of mine were using the service and I like to think that I introduced a few others along the way too. Comments began to come in from fellow users across the globe and this spurred me on. On the odd occasion I received feedback that helped me improve (for example, keeping the horizon straight). I was a bit more diligent with my tagging back then and I'd add photos to various Groups. But as I began uploading more and more the process of going through each image, giving it a title, description and tags, adding it to a Set and then to a map and then to a Group became a laborious process that I didn't relish. Nowadays I upload photos to Flickr as somewhere to keep them backed up but each year, when renewal time comes around, I think I really should find a way of downloading them all from the site and leaving it to gather dust on the web.

Yahoo! has owned Flickr for a good few years now but, as Thomas Hawk has repeatedly pointed out, you could ask yourself whether they really understand what they've had their hands on for all this time. There has been little in the way of innovation to the point that Flickr looks as though it is still stuck in 2004, or worse, dead. This has allowed competitors such as Google, to steal a march and tempt users over to its Google+ service where you can host photos for free. There seems to be a huge contingent of serious photographers making the switch right now. Anybody that's left seems to be using Facebook.

Over the next few months I'll investigate various alternatives and I'll be sure to blog about the process here.

Thomas Hawk's Digital Connection
idleformat on Flickr

dead heat

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Mon, 26 Mar 2012 19:51:00 +0000

After several months of helping out behind-the-scenes, this weekend saw all the hard work come to a head with the staging of Bespoked Bristol Handmade Bicycle Show at Brunel's Old Station. I was there as a member of staff.

After a day of unloading as exhibitors arrived and set up, the show finally opened at 5pm on Friday. The hall was busy and, due to the unseasonably warm weather, rather stuffy and within a couple of hours I'd - rather unprofessionally - sunk some much-needed refreshment in the form of the specially-brewed Lugs ale. So whereas earlier in the evening I'd successfully managed to fend off the guys from South Coast Sprints into embarrassing myself in a race on one of their roller cycles, things were different after a couple of pints. Consequently, in the final hour of the show's first day, I found myself sat on a saddle with 80s BMX legend Tim March on the bike beside me gearing up for a race with an expectant audience watching on.

You might be asking, 'What's roller cycling?' It's basically two bikes each sat on a platform with their rear wheels set on rollers and connected to computers that gauge how far and how fast they've travelled. At the start signal the riders have to peddle like crazy. Behind them a large screen displays the data from the computers so everyone watching can see how the riders are doing. The winner is the first to 250 metres and riders at the show were clocking up speeds of around 13-15 seconds. Even if I took a bit longer, it didn't seem too long to have to pedal flat out.

There was a delay while Tim's bike was calibrated with the computer - time enough for it to (a) dawn on me what a huge mistake I was making and (b) wish I were somewhere else. How many years had it been since I'd ridden my old Raleigh Burner around our estate? Getting on for 30 I thought. Then it was time to start. I just hoped I wouldn't embarrass myself too much.

3... 2... 1... GO!!!

At least I still knew how to peddle. My legs were going as fast as they could. One of the guys from South Coast was commentating. I knew Tim had gone into an immediate lead. After a few seconds my initial burst was losing momentum. My legs began to tire. It began to feel as though I'd slowed right down, as though I were out on a leisurely Sunday morning ride along the promenade back in Brighton. Surely one of us had gone 250 metres by now?

'Halfway!' the commentator shouted.

How had I only travelled 125 metres? More to the point, how could I possibly pedal for another 125? Somehow my legs kept going. And then I became aware that perhaps Tim was faltering too. It sounded as though this race was perhaps closer than I imagined. Hey, I was still in this!

I wasn't actually aware that I had to stop. It just seemed as though the race was over so I stopped pedalling. I looked over my shoulder at the screen behind me and it said 'Red bike wins'. I had been cycling on the blue. But then after I got off I looked closer at the screen and our times were exactly the same: I can't remember the exact time but it had taken us a gruelling 15.458 seconds or something. Both exactly the same. A dead heat!

I could hardly breathe. I could hardly stand. My heart was trying to beat it's way out of my chest. People were congratulating me for drawing against a racing legend. I had to go and sit down.

After sitting down for a minute or so it was clear I wasn't in good shape. I somehow made my way to the toilet where, for the next 20 minutes, I sat in a cubicle fighting the urge to throw up. I felt cold but was sweating. I thought I was going to die but I didn't want to die in a toilet. I thought about texting M to come and collect me and bring a bucket with her. Eventually the feeling passed and I was ok to see out the last half hour of the show. I didn't tell anybody about my near-death experience.

That was, not until the following morning. As the exhibitors began appearing for day two of the show, I met Tim as he came in. I was amazed when he said he'd had the same symptoms as me and had had to go outside after the race to throw up. I told him about my stint in the cubicle where I'd gone to recover myself.

Before the show was over we agreed not to have a re-match at Bespoked next year.

walking, photography & graffiti

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Tue, 20 Mar 2012 11:00:00 +0000

While reading Geoff Nicolson's beautifully-written The Lost Art of Walking I was interested to read this, regarding the great walker and psychogeographer, Iain Sinclair:

Photographing graffiti is a suitably Sinclairian thing to do. One of the essays in Lights Out for the Territory has him walking from Hackney to Greenwich Hill and back to Chingford Mount, recording all the graffiti he sees on the way.

This resonated with me because walking around taking photos of graffiti was how I originally became interested in photography. In the early 2000s I would wander the streets and lanes of Brighton documenting the graffiti that, in some cases, was there one day and gone the next. The fact that arresting works of art made only fleeting appearances usually spurred me on to get out and capture their existence as soon as possible. To be honest, the threat to pieces was usually from the mindless acts of taggers rather than being painted over or buffed. If I was lucky I'd have my camera on me and I wouldn't have to make a mental note to return - this was around a decade ago, before I made it a habit to carry a camera. Mobile phones with decent cameras would also come later.

The artwork illustrated here, by The London Police (a pair of English graffiti artists who based themselves in Amsterdam) was a classic example. These instantly-identifiable characters have been drawn in locations across the world and to see them on my doorstep was very exciting. I first noticed them early one morning in August 2003 as I walked to work. A few days later, on a gloomy Sunday morning, I set out with my camera to photograph the couple I'd seen and look for more. Eventually I'd go on to locate three or four pieces in the streets around Western Road. Early the following week, as I walked to work again, they were being cleaned off by council workmen. I wanted to ask them to stop.

I like the fact that Iain Sinclair found graffiti a worthy subject to photograph on one of his walks. But while he would walk and document graffiti, my walks were because of the graffiti. So I won't claim to be part of a great tradition of psychogeographers. I do, however, find it an interesting topic so I'll be sure to write a bit more on the subject in the future.

The Lost Art of Walking: The History, Science, Philosophy, Literature, Theory and Practice of Pedestrianism by Geoff Nicolson is published by Harbour Books (East)
Record of some of the older graffiti in Brighton: Tatty Seaside Town
My Brighton Art Crimes set on Flickr

Noam Chomsky on technology

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 10:30:00 +0000

Technology is basically neutral. It’s kind of like a hammer. The hammer doesn’t care whether you use it to build a house, or whether a torturer uses it to crush somebody’s skull.

via Brain Pickings

10 albums I'd buy tomorrow if Spotify disappeared overnight

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 11:00:00 +0000

I've been using Spotify Premium for a few months now and consider it value for money, but if the music streaming service suddenly disappeared overnight or, more likely, I quit shelling out £9.99 each month for the service, these are the albums I'd be looking to purchase, soon as...*

Department of Eagles - In Ear Park (4AD)

My new favourite band.

Ambitious and complex, it's stuffed with cocooning harmonies and shimmering, sunlight-smacking-the-Pacific melodies-- a languid, easy West Coast record (think Randy Newman or SMiLE), infused with classic East Coast anxiety. (Pitchfork)

Jon Hopkins & King Creosote - Diamond Mine (Domino)

Just incredibly, achingly beautiful.

King Creosote and Jon Hopkins spent some seven years making Diamond Mine, during which time no deadlines or even strict musical guidelines were imposed - a true labour of love. The final results are of such subtle beauty they take the breath clean away. (Music OMH)

Ryan Teague - Field Drawings (Village Green)

Sparse and beautiful.

An elegant, fastidiously constructed album from the Bristol composer. This is music of such beautifully non-specific, enigmatic tone that it comes as no surprise to learn that Teague’s compositions are regularly used by TV programme makers and advertisers to enhance their images. (BBC Music)

Arcade Fire - The Suburbs (Mercury)

Sounds of the suburbs... and summer.

The Suburbs is [Arcade Fire's] most thrillingly engrossing chapter yet; a complex, captivating work that, several cycles down the line, retains the magic and mystery of that first tentative encounter. You could call it their OK Computer. But it’s arguably better than that. (BBC Music)

Gem Club - Breakers (Hardly Art)

Everything on Breakers, their first full-length, sounds frozen over: icy, quiet, austere. You know that eerie feeling when you find yourself alone in a huge public place that's usually crowded-- maybe a shopping mall or a playing field-- but at that moment is totally empty? This record sounds like a sustained version of that feeling. (Pitchfork)

Youth Lagoon - The Year of Hibernation (Fat Possum)

The record mixes feelings of protection and safety with the tug of adventure and wraps it in compulsively listenable music that explodes at just the right moments. (Pitchfork)

Hospitality - Hospitality (Merge)

Deft sketches of young New Yorkers falling for new loves, droning away at dead-end jobs and dreaming of far-away homes. The melodies are stickier than hot tar, but it's those vivid little scenes that lodge in your head the longest. (Rolling Stone)

Daniel Rossen - Silent Hour/Golden Mile EP (Warp)

Not actually on Spotify at the moment as it's not out until March 19th. (Pitchfork interview)

PJ Harvey - Let England Shake (Island)

An extraordinary album of deep emotion. (The Telegraph)

Pepe Deluxe - Queen of the Wave (Catskills)

I'm cheating again - I haven't actually heard the whole album because it's not on Spotify - I'll probably have to download this very soon...

This album is bizarre. REALLY bizarre. It’s a pop-opera based on a crazy novel about Atlantis from the late 1800s, with a style that mixes up hundreds of musical sub-genres in each song. Each individual element seems too far-fetched to enjoy, but when combined something wonderful and twisted is created. This album is exciting, exhilarating, overwhelming, and epic, to give a few choice adjectives. (ZME Music)

* despite the fact that in an earlier post I said I don't listen to albums anymore (!)

digital music, streaming and listening habits

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Tue, 13 Mar 2012 20:35:00 +0000

Over the past months my music listening habits have been revolutionised. It began when I finally gave in and purchased a Premium subscription to the streaming service Spotify. In an instant I gained unfettered access to millions of tracks: old stuff I'd listened to decades ago and forgotten about; new stuff that I'd never heard of. And everything inbetween.

Well, perhaps not everything. As a consequence of this ability to stream music through the house, our CD player soon became covered in dust and was finally relegated to a cardboard box at the back of our cupboard. That meant the hundreds of CDs, on display in our spare room, went with it. After all, I could listen to those albums - and more - just by clicking on a computer. But then one evening, after searching fruitlessly on Spotify for Mos Def's classic Black On Both Sides, I realised I'd have to battle my way to the back of the cupboard and go through a bunch of boxes to find my copy of the CD.

Eventually I did find it - and a host of others that also weren't available to stream. These I had to rip to iTunes which, aside from being time consuming, is incredibly boring to do. I learned that Spotify is by no means perfect but, afer several months as a Premium user, I'm more than satisfied with my experience of the service so far. The clincher for finally paying for Spotify was being able to sync offline over 3000 tracks at any one time with my iPhone. This means I can listen to whatever I want (within the limitations of course) on the walk to work or while travelling without using my data allowance.

But I must confess to having become a bit of a kid in a sweet shop with all this access to music. I'm definitely listening to more music. But I'm also constantly searching for something new, starring it, creating playlists of music to listen to when I have more time - but never getting around to it. I go through phases of listening to one artist but am always looking for the next that's going to satisfy me. These days I've pretty much stopped listening to albums. Having everything available on an iPod or computer hard drive - or even streamed via the free, ad-supported version of Spotify - lend themselves to random, self-created or generated playlists or just individual tracks cued and listened to to suit a particular mood on the fly. My days of putting a record or CD on and sitting back to listen with headphones have disappeared completely - though I would also put this change in behaviour down to different living circumstances these days.

I imagine my behaviour will upset vinyl junkies, CD stalwarts and aesthetes, but my move to digital music has been on the cards ever since I bought my first iPod almost a decade ago. My racks of CDs became so annoying to have to pack up each time I moved that I ditched the plastic cases when I relocated to Bristol three years ago. Not ideal, I know, but far less cumbersome. At the time I would have loved to have had everything stored digitally on my hard-drive but unfortunately, as I've mentioned before, ripping is a time consuming and laborious process.

Yesterday I came across the phrase 'Compulsive Listening Disorder' (CLD), coined by Rough Trade's Stephen Godfroy in an article for Wired magazine. As I read it I wondered if he was referring to behaviours exhibited by somebody like myself:

[P]artly exacerbated by the deficit in credible "multi-format" retail options to-date, partly fuelled by a particularly acute era of technology consumerism, there are always those who overzealously adopt the latest as the greatest. In this instance, we're talking about an ultra-pro-digital contingent, identifiable by their corporate-sponsored intolerance to inconvenience, duly medicated by continual mass technology updates.

These time-poor souls gorge on cheap, plentiful, easily accessed digital music (often symptomatic of a more serious digital content gluttony problem), blindly forgoing the essential cultural nutrients and rich multi-faceted ingredients that can only be found in digesting the "music dietary fibre" of physical formats.

Someone suffering from CLD typically engages in frequent episodes of uncontrolled listening, downloading and streaming, often consuming music past the point of knowing what they're listening to. Their obsession is demonstrated in that they spend excessive amounts of time devoted to digital content in general.

Despite reading his article a couple of times I still can't make my mind up as to whether Godfroy is actually being tongue-in-cheek. Rough Trade are, after all, in the business of selling physical formats, so it makes sense that he'd be critical of digital downloads which have cannibalised sales of these. But that said, the company are about to move into the MP3 download market themselves - a bit of a turnaround by Godfroy who a couple of years ago was quoted as saying, 'There's nothing cool about digital … If you've just got a download, you're not a fan' (link).

Regardless of what the director of Rough Trade thinks of me, the Spotify experience is suiting me down to the ground right now. With the recent introduction of Spotify Apps I've been able to discover new music far more easily than in the past. And sites such as the superb Britify (Spotify playlists from BBC Radio programmes) and Biblify (collates reviews of new albums and links to them on Spotify) have contributed greatly to the overall experience. Moreover, it's been fantastic to stream music throughout the house very simply and cheaply using Airfoil. But maybe Stephen Godfroy has a point: perhaps he's right in criticising unfettered access to millions of tracks. Perhaps it would do me good to control my listening and be a bit more selective about it; to stream an album in the order presented, with headphones, while listening with my full attention. Notice I said stream. For me, there's no going back to physical music formats now... but it'll still be hard getting rid of all those case-less CDs one day in the future.

added extras

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 18:00:00 +0000

I've been busy adding a few new pages to the blog this afternoon.

If you're reading this via the RSS feed head on over to idleformat.com and check them out. They're listed underneath the big orangey/red logo on the left-hand side of the page.

is tagging really so bad?

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Sun, 26 Feb 2012 19:33:00 +0000

From the March issue of Bristol's listings magazine, Venue:

"Is tagging really so bad? It's pretty small-scale, when you compare it to, say, whoever was responsible for ramming the M32 right through the heart of Eastville, dividing the once-united Easton and St Pauls. Look at that giant ugly concrete monstrosity, towering over people's homes. Look at the damage to the community, the pollution of noise and air, whole streets razed to the ground, a river buried in concrete. It's hypocritical to shrug at such ill-conceived destruction but then get angry when a local boy dares to write his name in the underpass he now needs to use in order to get home."

Absolutely this.

The effect of the M32 on Stapleton Road, Bristol (Google Maps)

Bristol's M32: The Grand Opening (news footage via BBC)

storytelling

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 19:32:00 +0000

On Thursday night we met some friends at Clifton's Lansdown pub for an evening of stories, song, laughter, surprise, sadness and alchohol. It was time for the annual Bristol Storytelling Slam, part of the city's Storytelling Festival 2012. This was my first Slam and I'll make sure it's not my last - it was a shame to have to go home, for this was one of the most enjoyable evenings I've spent in Bristol since moving here over three years ago.

Ten brave souls had put themselves forward to tell a tale of no longer than ten minutes. The cosy upstairs room, with its wooden chairs and sofas, was packed by the time proceedings kicked off just after 8pm.

The host, Martin, was brilliant. He kicked things off with a historic tale of his own about Bristol and a one-armed ghost said to haunt the upstairs rooms of local pubs. Then, the first of the competitors began the Slam proper. I didn't think to take down the details of the ten storytellers and wouldn't want to praise one over another (even though this was a competition and the audience would later vote for a winner) because I was full of admiration for anybody getting up and having a go. But over the course of the next three hours or so we listened intently to stories involving mice, snakes, heaven, hell, the velcro-effect of a bald stubbly head, princes, princesses, rolling pins, curry, a dragon residing in a matchbox, a Newcastle Brown Ale-drinking talking dog and a tent-invading hedgehog. Every story was enthusiastically received. It was superb.

The winner was the lovely chap pictured above who was in the UK from Sierra Leone where he promotes storytelling in communities. Wearing traditional African dress he was a worthy winner of the 'ball of string on a stand', otherwise known as the winner's trophy (a 'spinning yarn' I guess). The whole audience fell in love with him - I'm sorry I didn't get his name.

As we left, stumbling into the freezing cold Clifton night air I felt dizzy from too much cider and giddy from an evening of fantastic tales that were still spinning around my head. And I also felt rather sad that there won't be another Slam for a whole year...

Sunset

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 18:32:00 +0000

Super nice sunset this evening.

Friday x10

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 15:01:00 +0000

At work on Fridays I've occasionally been emailed a random mp3 or two from a couple of colleagues. This gave me the idea to publish a short 10 track playlist each Friday afternoon. There have been two so far this year, the aim being to keep it going throughout 2012...

Friday x10 - 06/01/2012 on Spotify

Friday x10 - 13/01/2012 on Spotify

In terms of tracks I'm going to try to keep my choices as wide as possible, influenced by the superb French radio station FIP which was famously available to us Brighton folk on our FM radios a few years ago. That said, the emphasis will probably err on the side of cheesey-listening and the slightly odd - that's just the way my musical tastes go I'm afraid, so these probably aren't playlists to impress a potential boy/girlfriend with.

Have a listen and see what you think.

And if it's not your bag and you like the idea of listening to a stunningly beautiful album then check out King Creosote & Jon Hopkins' Diamond Mine - my ears have been glued to it for the past three days...

unplug at 8

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 19:59:00 +0000

During the winter I find it's so easy to come home from work, where I stare at screens all day, make tea, wash up and then spend the rest of the evening staring at more screens until it's time to sleep.

This year that's all changing. Inspired by GOOD's 'Unplug at 8' challenge, all my screen-staring activity stops at 8pm from now on.

No email, no blogging, no Facebook, no Twitter. The internet gets switched off at 8pm every evening.

Instead, maybe I will read all the books that have been taking up space on my shelves for so long. Maybe I'll start writing. Or drawing. Or playing board games with M (unless she's staring at one of her own screens). Maybe I will use the time to organise myself and get my bag ready for the following morning, or by making tomorrow's lunch...

The possibilities are endless. It's time to unshackle myself from the chains of the internet, to seize the evening, to -

- time's up, it's 8pm.

Time to unplug.

Bullitt revisited

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 12:15:00 +0000

I have this little tradition where I try to watch the movie Bullitt during the limbo period between Christmas and New Year. It started in the late 90s when I watched it on DVD for the first time and I've revisited it almost every year since. But lately, in my Bristol years, that tradition seems to have fallen by the wayside. So this year (that'll be last year now I guess), as soon as our last Christmas guest had been dropped off at the station, I was rooting around our cupboard for the box of DVDs we'd retired earlier in the year. Outside it was cold and grim, but indoors was nice and toasty - perfect conditions for my Bullitt reacquaintance. I can't get enough of those late 1960s sunny San Francisco streets and the gutteral roar of the Ford Mustang engines during that incredible chase scene through the hilly streets. Even the opening title sequence with Lalo Schifrin's classic score puts hairs on the back of my neck.

When we visited San Francisco in 2010 I was eager to locate Frank Bullitt's (played by Steve McQueen) apartment in the film. We found it easily, thanks to this excellent in-depth tour of filming locations. The apartment is on the corner of Taylor and Clay Streets. In the film the building was painted a dark blue but has apparently had a few colour changes since then and a garage has been added too.

In the film, Bullitt visits a grocery store opposite his apartment and it was nice to see that the store is still there today. In fact, such was the range of city locations used in the film, it was difficult to avoid running into others as we walked around.

This was the first time I'd seen the film since visiting San Francisco. I can now appreciate how that 10 minute chase leaps back and forth across the city, from North Beach and Russian Hill to Potrero Hill and back again. But this in no way detracted from my enjoyment. Bullitt is a terrific film and watching it again helps to reconnect with that tiny little piece of me that I left behind back in 2010...

rainy afternoon at the seaside

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 18:26:00 +0000

This afternoon we made the short trip west to the seaside town of Clevedon. Despite the rain we took a walk along the pier, one of two Grade I listed in the country (the other is what's left of Brighton's West Pier).

Being by the sea, with the salty air, rain coming down and dark clouds hovering above was a real shot in the arm for me. I really miss living by the coast. There's definitely something different about us folk who grow up beside the sea, I'm pretty sure of that: landlocked towns and cities make me feel slightly oppressed and claustrophobic; I lose my bearings, not having the sea to tell me what direction I'm facing.

The space, the air, the sound of the water, the ability to stand and stare into the distance with only the ocean separating you from all the other amazing coastal places in the world; people just like you doing the same thing thousands of miles away...

Here's to a great 2012 and more trips to the seaside! Happy new year!

wake up and fight

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 20:58:00 +0000

A list to end the year with. Woody Guthrie's new year's resolutions for 1942...

1. Work more and better

2. Work by a schedule

3. Wash teeth if any

4. Shave

5. Take bath

6. Eat good — fruit — vegetables — milk

7. Drink very scant if any

8. Write a song a day

9. Wear clean clothes — look good

10. Shine shoes

11. Change socks

12. Change bed cloths often

13. Read lots good books

14. Listen to radio a lot

15. Learn people better

16. Keep rancho clean

17. Dont get lonesome

18. Stay glad

19. Keep hoping machine running

20. Dream good

21. Bank all extra money

22. Save dough

23. Have company but dont waste time

24. Send Mary and kids money

25. Play and sing good

26. Dance better

27. Help win war — beat fascism

28. Love mama

29. Love papa

30. Love Pete

31. Love everybody

32. Make up your mind

33. Wake up and fight

via Brain Pickings

Cretan sky

noreply@blogger.com (idleformat) — Sat, 17 Dec 2011 20:43:00 +0000