Le Chat Noir

We went to Battersea Dogs and Cats Home last weekend, to have a look at the cats that needed a new home. We've been mulling this over for ages, after the Burmese kitten we were going to get last year died, along with the whole litter, before we could bring him home. The registration process is quite long winded, I guess they want to make sure that their inmates are not going to need rehousing straight away again. NB It seems to be the ideal workplace for self-harming Goth girls.

We had a good look around the cattery, and all of the mogs that we liked the look of were either categorised as not suitable to live with other cats, or had already been snapped up. Then we saw a very shy little black puss that had been picked up as a stray a few weeks earlier. He'd been sitting around in the cattery for a while because he was so timid he didn't really sell himself. After waiting ages we finally got an assistant to let us have a look at him, and she gave him the big sell. She was quite genuine in her bigging up though, and when we agreed to take him she gave us a free cat basket, blankets and loads of food. They micro-chipped him before we left, and he endured a nightmare ride home with me behind the wheel again.

This is all we saw of him for the first few days:


But he's opening up a bit now, and this morning didn't even bolt under the sofa when I went into his room. He's currently living in the study/spare bedroom. We bring him down to the living room in the evening. He doesn't seem to mind being picked up, but is incredibly jumpy, any sudden movements, and he's off like a shot to the darkest corner he can find.



At Battersea they called him Quincy for some reason, but we've re-named him Treacle Tar-Baby (geddit?). When he's finally relaxed he's far more affectionate than Pud and is already easing his way onto our laps. They estimated his age as 3-4 but I think he's younger than Pud, and certainly a lot less chubby.



All that remains now is for us to introduce him to Pud, which may take a few weeks. They suggest swapping their blankets over so that they get used to each others smell, but Pud doesn't have a blanket, and doesn't like the idea of being rubbed down with one either. Ah well I'm sure it will be fine.

Reading this blog are ya?

On the internet yeah!
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Clicking yer little mouse are ya?
...yeah looks like it an' all!

A Scanner Darkly

Went to the Waterman's to see Richard Linklater's version of the Philip K.Dick Sci-Fi novel "A Scanner Darkly" last night with Susie.The animation-style 'rotoscoping' was interesting, and well suited to the trippy topic, and certainly better than watching another tedious CGI-fest. Read the original book many years ago, and have fond memories of it, but it seemed a lot less episodic and unresolved than the film. Maybe I need to read it again to try and make more sense of it though.



The ever wooden Keanu is definitely meant to be a comic book character, in fact maybe he doesn't really exit at all and is just a Hollywood C21 leading man CGI construct.



The central theme that societies ills are invented by the same faceless corporations that then provide the solutions to those problems ( at a profit) wasn't bludgeoned hamfistedly into your face, in fact trying to follow who was who and what the hell was going on required considerable effort. This opacity was certainly a deliberate disorientating effect, but us old folk struggle with this hi-tech post-modern mish-mash sometimes

This, from the Philip K. Dick foundation (run by his kids) gives the film a certain legitimacy:
"A Scanner Darkly is one of our father's most personal stories because much of it is based on his own experiences. For this reason, it was especially important to us that it be done with all of the right intentions. His struggle with drug abuse is well documented, and he (and we) have witnessed many casualties. The novel is filled with his humour and his own tragedies. And we believe that Richard Linklater's screenplay manages to capture these key elements -- he has even included our father's poignant afterword in his adaptation."



And this quote from "Publishers Weekly", gives some sense of the dense layers of spaced out paranoia:
"America in the near future has lost the war against drugs. Though the government tries to protect the upper class, the system is infested with undercover cops like Fred, who regularly ingests the popular Substance D as part of his ruse. The drug has caused Fred to develop a split personality, of which he is not aware; his alter ego is Bob, a drug dealer. Fred's superiors then set up a hidden holographic camera in his home as part of a sting operation against Bob. Though he appears on camera as Bob, none of Fred's co-workers catch on: since Fred, like all undercover police, wears a scramble suit that constantly changes his appearance, his colleagues don't know what he looks like. The camera in Fred/Bob's apartment reveals that Bob's intimates regularly betray one another for the chance to score more drugs. Even Donna, a young dealer whom Bob/Fred loves, prefers the drug to human contact. Originally published in 1977, the out-of-print novel comes frighteningly close to capturing the U.S. in terms of the drug crisis and the relationships between the sexes. But the unrelenting scenes among the addicts make it a gruelling read."

Good quote from the Grauniad:
"It is an odd fable that partakes of, and seems to endorse, the crazed ramblings of its demented, paranoid characters..."

Read it, then watch it.....or vice versa...or smoke it!

Poker Nite

A good night last Wednesday, popped the shades on when I had a hand that I was prepared to bet with, which seemed to intimidate people. Ended up 50 squids up. Just as well as massively over-drawn after recent hols.

Green Man Festival

Day One
Got off to a slow start, leaving Bath quite late, me driving, in the pouring rain through the complicated one way system, you're 'aving a giraffe mate. In a freaky reverse of our normal entry into Wales, as we went over the Severn Bridge, the rain stopped and the sun came out, Hurrah! We didn't get to the B&B in Crickhowell until 2 ish. We decided to walk along the main A30 to the site, it didn't look far on the map, the blokey at the B&B said it was only a mile and a bit. It turned out to be twice that, walking along an incredibly busy road, with no footpath for nearly an hour. We were ready to leave as soon as we got there, not least because the minute we got inside the main gate the heavens opened.

Hywel and Malcolm had also driven from Bath in the rain, and gone off to pick up the narrow boat that they'd hired for the week (at a hefty £800) which they sailed along the canal and moored directly outside the site. Brilliant wheeze really but way too expensive.


We met up with them later on and saw a few damp acts, Billie was happiest sheltering in the Chai tent drinking Earl Grey and reading The Grauniad. She was impressed with M Ward though, who was American, and quite tuneful in an only very slightly folky way. Also saw Circulus; all crumhorns, lutes and swords:

There were three stages, the main stage was in a natural bowl which had been terraced to make it easy to sit on the banked hillside and see everything. The sound was good, and even from the top of the hill was clear. There was a big top tent housing the Folkey-Dokey stage, and another small stage at the Green Man Cafe. There were loads of stalls and bars and food outlets and so forth, and no queues for the loos. After M Ward, Hywel and I wandered off to see The Skygreen Leopards but they were a bit naff, so came back to the main stage to see The Aliens, a wacky off-shoot from The Beta Band.

Even though it was only about eight, it was peeing down and we all decided we'd had enough of bloody festivals for today, so we wandered back up to the boat for a cuppa before heading off along the pitch black canal bank back towards Crickhowell. Luckily we'd purchased a Morrocan lantern for a fiver which lit our way, otherwise we'd have ended up in the murky depths.

Day Two
The weather was a bit brighter but still showery. We'd arranged to meet up at The Green Man Cafe to see Charlotte Greig, wife of famous Cardiff author John Williams, at 1:30.


She was pleasantly folky, doing lots of trad. material plus a Sonic Youth cover. Because the rain started again while Charlotte was on we decamped to the literature tent for the afternoon, which was being curated by John. We saw a local young poet Owen Sheers, who was actually very good, and a young novelist whose name I can't remember. Then John did an interview with famous sixties producer Joe Boyd. He produced the first Pink Floyd single and ran the UFO club, as well as producing loads of the best folk acts of the time. That was all very interesting, and took us through to a break in the rain. So we went out to the main stage to watch Tuung, who were also pleasant (pleasantness being a kind of the theme of the whole weekend musically). Then:
Bat For Lashes - All girl trio, Cat Power singing the songs of the Shangri-Las, in the voice of Bjork, backed by the Velvet Underground - probably my fave act of the whole event.
King Creosote - Scottish laddie with nice voice and nice tunes.
Micah P. Hinson - Gruffer voiced than ever.
Silver Jews - Gloomy Americana.
We left after a few numbers, as the rain had started again. I'd driven in so getting back was easier, and despite the rain the car park wasn't a bog.

Day Three
Hardly any rain all day, indeed the sun even popped out for a few minutes. We were booted out of the B&B at 10.30 - "We've got the BBC stayin' yer tonight" - and so parked and walked up to the canal for coffee and cookies with Hywel and Malc, joined by John and Charlotte. Because the weather was so obliging we were able to dive back and forth between the stages (all timings were very strict, and the different stages had staggered start times, which meant you could walk between stages, and hardly miss anything). Managed to see some, or all, of:
Onions - Folky duo
Nancy Elizabeth Cunliffe - Very folky, played the Welsh Harp (much tinier than Joanna Newsome's).
Fink - Folky duo
Emma Tricca - Folky solo
18th Day of May - Nice Fairport Convention tribute band, groovy accompaniment to my delicious vegetable chilli.


Juana Molina - Spanish ex-stand up, using lots of effects to build up songs in layers. Nice to lounge around and read the paper to.
Archie Bronson Outfit - Rockers...lots of people felt they were out of place, I was ready for a bit of raucousnesss at this point, they just weren't very good.
Marissa Nadler - Goth folk, sang an Edgar Alan Poe poem.

Martha Wainwright had cancelled, replaced by Cerys Matthews, so we decided to beat the traffic and head off to see my mum. All in all a pleasant event, but in need of a bit more edge, and a lot more sunshine.