random acts of senseless beauty

Family

Today I uploaded about 100 pics to Flickr - of last Monday’s trip to Eastbourne with Mum & Dad, and of today’s trip to the park with Lizzie & Claudia.

There’s still so much left to say, but you’ll have to wait a week for the big stuff.  It’s been quite a week though.

Change is a’coming.While you wait for the words.  Look at two of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever been blessed to spend time with.  15 is a great age when you have a best friend. I had Alex, bikes, the tennis club, and a never ending summer.  Lizzie & Claudia have each other.

BFF

Jump!

Eastbourne Rock

Here’s the first of the pictures from my trip to Eastbourne on Monday with Mum, Dad & Cath. I warn you there are many more, but it’s too late to edit and upload them all now.

I’d also like to say Happy Birthday, Cath to my beloved sister. She truly rocks.

And still the words don’t come.

Thing is, that’s not exactly true.  I’m still as dramatically verbose on iChat, at work, and with my wee reviews as I ever was.  It just seems to be here, on my beloved blog, where inspiration fails me.

I click open Firefox and see my blue and yellow banner.  I see the date of the last post and feel that oh-so-familiar feeling of  gently nagging guilt. I hear in my head all the things that I can’t write about, and it’s then that instinct kicks in;  ignore it, move a way quickly, pretend you don’t see it, and it’ll go away faster.

So I click on Facebook, or Flickr, other peoples blogs… anywhere I can look to see if anyone else has words for me.  Bones to pick through.  A refreshing glass of water.

You see, it’s not that I don’t like words right now.  I always like words.  In fact I’m beginning to realise how desperately I need them all around me to inspire, encourage, reassure and amuse me.  I’ve always known they’re important, but now I realise they’re a complete necessity like oxygen, enabling me to breathe, to live, to love.

I’m sorry, dear blog, that you’ve slipped down my agenda.  I promise I’ll try to make it a short and passing phase.   You’re still a part of me.  Always.

“As we journey through life, discarding baggage along the way, we should keep an iron grip, to the very end, on the capacity for silliness. It preserves the soul from dessication.”
Humphrey Lyttleton, 1921 - 2008

An amazing man has passed away. Humphrey Lyttleton; extraordinary musician, irascible wit, absolute gentleman, and my pin-up of choice above my desk for the past 2 years.

This train terminates at Mornington Crescent.

Jumping Joyful Jude

I’m sitting here at JFK, getting through the three hour wait by using wireless that I’ve apparently paid for, but I don’t know how. It’s been the most fantastic four days, and there are plenty of pics to prove it. I’ve got today’s lot still in my camera and they’ll have to wait to be uploaded when I’m reunited with my luggage.

It’s great to get away. It’s great to wander round the streets of a city that you love, but only occasionally. It’s great to rekindle a friendship that has only ever got better with time. It’s great to have the freedom and energy to jump for joy in a yellow coat underneath the Brooklyn Bridge.

I know I’m coming back sometime soon to New York (right JL? we still on?) and I’m already counting down the imaginary days. But now? Now I have to find something to eat so I can sleep for as long as humanly possible on the plane.

Across to Manhattan

As London gags under the pall of euro whiff I grabbed a low cost fare and came out to see Abi and Susan for a few days.

The first set of photos are up on Flickr… stories to follows.

These days may feel like in-between-days, but they’re passing with flair.  Situation:  Good.

Life: Good

Han & Tom got married

Work: Good

Cute Clare
Captain played in The Hub for Steve Merchant’s show

Levels of Siliness: Good

Self Portrait (with moustache)

Coming Week-Day-Weekend: Looking Good.

Proof.

It’s official. I produce the best radio programme. The Best. The BEST.

This is according to the Broadcasting Press Guild, which is a collection of all the Radio & TV Critics across all the press. It’s a small but seriously prestigious award, and I’m hugely proud of it. Other people being honoured included my hero and friend Simon Mayo, as Radio Broadcaster Of The Year, the wonderful Andrew Marr as presenter of the year, the brilliant drama Cranford, the amazing comedy Gavin & Stacey, and Top Gear. A wonderful group in which to be included.

To be honest I’m a little bit lucky… because pretty much all the glory should go where it’s deserved, to these two amazing fellas. Mr Adam Buxton and Mr Joe Cornish. And honourable mentions to my glamorous assistants Claire, and Charlotte who got the show off the ground last year.

Joe & Adam

Gentlemen, You are a joy to work with. And I couldn’t be more delighted for you/us. We rock!

blooming early

It’s been a while, eh? Sorry about that.

Writing has been done. Photos have been taken. Time has been spent. Songs have been sung. Hearts have been searched. Poetry has been read.

Here’s a few photos I’ve taken…

Danny Goffey from Supergrass in the 6 Music Hub

My brother and niece, Easter Monday

Our band knocking out 20th Century Boy and the office party

Ed O’Brien of Radiohead at the BBC Radio Theatre

And there’s LOADS more where they came from. Click on any image to go through to the set on Flickr. I’m really chuffed because some of my Radiohead and Supergrass shots have been used on the official BBC sites! Hoorah!

I’ll leave you, promising to come back sooner than last time with a poem by e.e.cummings. It’s sums up most of my mornings.

it is at moments after i have dreamed
it is at moments after i have dreamed
of the rare entertainment of your eyes,
when (being fool to fancy) i have deemed

with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;
at moments when the glassy darkness holds

the genuine apparition of your smile
(it was through tears always)and silence moulds
such strangeness as was mine a little while;

moments when my once more illustrious arms
are filled with fascination, when my breast
wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:

one pierced moment whiter than the rest

-turning from the tremendous lie of sleep
i watch the roses of the day grow deep.

Lizzie and Claudia

These girls are the reason I happily give up my Friday evenings to hang out with 11 - 15 year olds. The eldest pair in my youth group, Lizzie and Claudia are best friends, or sisters from another mister as they say. The best thing is that they include me in that sisterhood in a way that a 20 year age gap will allow.

There was no JYGSAW (Junior Youth Group St Anne’s Wandworth) on Friday so the three of us just went for dinner. Being 15, we sat in Pizza Hut, cramming as much into our salad bowls as we could and talking about boys. Awesome.

::

The evening had started somewhat less salubriously, as a rainy evening made the steps into Oxford Circus tube station something of a death trap. Walking steadily down in the midst of the rush hour throng my right foot skiddied out from under me. My left foot followed suit, and I came crashing down hard on my bottom, lower back and hands.

Everything stopped for that second where you mentally figure out how on earth you didn’t hit your head. Eyes looked at me from the bottom of the stairs, asking questions that my inability to find any breath made impossible to answer. I moved wrists and ankles as I realised that nobody was passing me; a glance over my shoulder (pain) let me see about 150 people backed up the stairs, keeping well back. It must have been a pretty spectacular fall to make Londoners stop still in the rush hour.

I’m feeling much better now, but the last 48 hours have been weird. It’s strange to think how a tiny slip like that affects you. I’ve been sore, achy, stiff, nauseous and for the first few hours was burping almost constantly! It just shows how everything is shaken up when you hit the ground hard.

::

If you get the chance I’d like to humbly suggest you listen to a couple of things that I’ve produced this weekend. If you’re yet to subscribe to the Adam & Joe Podcast, then do it! But if not, then do listen to this weeks’ show on Listen Again. Bizarrely Joe was away this week, but the WONDERFUL Garth Jennings (director of brill music vids like Blur’s Coffee & TV and the upcoming movie Son Of Rambow) was in his seat and it’s a great listen.

Also double fabulous was this afternoon’s Stephen Merchant show. We had the staggering Beth Rowley in session and you just have to hear it, then go and buy all her music because not only is she fabulously talented, but a wonderful wonderful person who deserves all the great things that are coming her way. So there.

night night.

Treasu(red)

Wonderful H in Los Angeles has sent all five of our fabulous group of girls matching shirts. They speak assurance to ourselves and also mean that, when needed, we can show solidarity in our uniforms, however great the physical distance between us.

I’m at the end of a few days at home, using up leave and trying to get writing done. I’ve got some, if not all of it finished, but I’ve also used the time to fall hopelessly back in love with the words of one of my favourite lyricists; Guy Garvey.

I’ve been listening to the new Elbow album The Seldom Seen Kid on repeat and, as always with new Elbow, there’s a couple of tracks who’s lyrics hold me totally captivated.

Here, for your delectation, are the lyrics of The Bones Of You, a song about - frankly - the way music makes you its bitch:

So I’m there
Charging around with a juggernaut brow
Overdrafts speeches & deadlines to make
Cramming commitments like cats in a sack
Telephone burn and a purposeful gait
When out of a doorway the tentacles stretch of a song that I know
And the world moves in slo mo
Straight to my head like the first cigarette of the day

And it’s you
And it’s May
And we’re sleeping through the day
And I’m 5 years ago and 3 thousand miles away

Do I have time?
A man of my caliber
Stood in the street like a sleepwalking teenager
No, and I dealt with this years ago
I took a hammer to every memento
But image on image like beads on a rosary
Move through my head as the music takes hold
And the sickener hits; I can work till I break
But I love the bones of you that I will never escape

And it’s you
And it’s May
And we’re sleeping through the day
And I’m 5 years ago and 3 thousand miles away
And I can’t move my arm
For fear that you will wake
And I’m 5 years ago and 3 thousand miles away

And, while you’re digesting that, here’s a picture of me dressed as Audrey Hepburn/Holly Golightly from Hannah’s hen-do at the weekend.

Judy Golightly

MGMT@ICA

After a significant dry spell this week brought a hatrick of live music.

Tuesday night was Mr Lawson’s Solo Bass Night at Darbuka. Yolanda Charles and Steve were both brilliant, and wonderfully different from each other. Yolanda is the most amazingly funky woman, and was beautifully nervous considering the kind of gigs she’s done in the past (if you’ve ever seen a woman playing bass on telly or at a big stadium show… it’s likely to have been her). Her voice was beautiful and you didn’t miss the rest of the band at all! Lawson did as Lawson does, and held us all in a beautiful contemplative bubble. He also dedicated Grace & Gratitude (my current fave of his) to me, which was lovely.

Last night it was MGMT at the ICA with Catster. In a completely trendy industry crowd, I was pleased to see lovelies from work, as well as a couple of surprise friends from the ‘real’ world - all of us worried that we might look a bit old… but no. The few teenagers and obligatory Japanese girl super-fan stayed in a tight pocket front and centre, as the majority of the crowd all tried to stand at the back and look cool.

The band got better and better as the set wore on, and although a couple of the tracks were so proggy-noodly-electro-with-rhyming-lyrics that they sounded like Flight Of The Conchords doing an impression (listen to Electric Feel and get back to me) it didn’t make it any the less fun. Their two encores, Youth and Kids respectively, also got everyone dancing like teenagers, and at the end I bizarrely found myself in a bit of a mosh with The Queens Of Noize and Mark Ronson. Weird.

Finally, tonight Rach and I headed over to The Bush Hall to see one of the new batch of wonder-girls, Duffy. The jury’s been out for me since the first time I heard Rockferry, which everyone seemed to love, and I thought was a bit boring. Then suddenly she’s all big noise and getting to number 1 with Mercy, which - I admit - is a fantastic song. Well… the jury’s back in now and the verdict is that she’s got a brilliant brilliant voice, but is totally dull. We agreed it seemed more like the entertainment you’d get on the most expensive cruise you could go on.

Sorry Duffy… We got more excited about dropping soggy lemon pieces into the handbag of the horrid moo that was standing in front of us, then heading to the bar for some free drinks, and to talk about boys. (Who are great. Fact) Now THERE’S some fun for an evening.

I’ve got this week off and am using it to get done the big writing piece I’m in the middle of. Well, that I’m meant to be in the middle of but am barely getting started on.

My head is full today with a mixture of big questions about life, mediocre household chores and futures yet to be written. It’s also one of those days when none of these thoughts are the golden kind, but the ones that dwell on the obstacles, turning them into impossibilities and then getting stuck there. My brain seems intent on beating itself up… and in the noise of the fray the words I need cower somewhere else refusing to come out and be written.

On Sunday I went home after work to celebrate Mothering Sunday with mum. The following morning, before returning, Daddy gave me a wee tour of his newly erected shed. In here everything has it’s rightful place, ordered, labelled and easy to find. The right tools for the right jobs. I guess that’s what I’m trying to do with my mind… but it takes time.

Dad is slightly enthusiastic about his Best 22″ Saw.

Waterlily House, Kew. Sept ‘07

The burden of the semi-professional procrastinator is the absence of guilt-free down time. There is always something you’re meant to be doing.

Tonight, after a long, busy but good day at work, and even though I have writing waiting to be done, I allowed myself some time to just be.

I called ahead from the train so my favourite Thai take-away was waiting as I passed. I faffed around online, and cleared my email inbox from over 600 messages to 63. I had a long, hot, candlelit bath whilst listening to Loretta Lynn and Rosie Thomas.

I’ve always had trouble clearing my head of busyness; thoughts and worries collide ’til they’re so entangled as to be indistinguishable from one another. Tonight I tried to give each one time, moving carefully from one lilypad to the next, in remembrance of one of the most tranquil places I’ve ever been.

So I cosy down for an earlyish night with Sarah in my ears, more ready that I was to face tomorrow.

Floating Up

These lanterns-of-lights have hung above Oxford Circus since the run up to Chinese New Year. There’s something about the quality of light at the moment that makes them clear and oh so beautiful.

As I walk beneath them every night to get onto the tube home, I give them my day. Release it all and send it off with love. Tonight, as I took photos, I gave them my love and sent it off to the ether… fly well…

At home my beloved Bananie passed on the silliest most wonderful pick-me-up I’ve ever seen. I’m always wary of covers of my song, but this is the best thing ever. Always re-rember to ret me into your heart.

Half-drunk

My facebook status this morning announced that I was feeling subdued. Subjude, perhaps. Mike R’s wonderful response was the title of this post. Oh… the joy of being out-punned.

I find myself in a season of waiting: I am truly living in the now but not yet, and, at the same time, trying to discover how live it truly.

It’s a delicate balance that I am yet to find. I wonder if the only way we stumble onto the right path, or wrigle our way into the groove, is to veer from side to side for a while. This is certainly the way it seems to be happening at the moment.

As I’ve set out on a path of self-discovery I have stumbled upon parts of myself that I think I was unfamiliar with before. Reactions and habits are given names, and the weak points that have comfortably hidden away in the shadows like the naughty but much-loved and nurtured children they are have a spotlight shone onto their bowed heads. There you are! Come on Self Discipline! Come on Delayed Gratification! Why don’t you come out so I can take a really good look at you!

I’ve never been good at business before pleasure. Of getting the job done. Of healthily managing my free time. I am the queen of procrastination, and of over-filling my diary with a list of commitments that will become half-completed or done in rush. I envy those who have the time to read, to go for walks, to spend their free time… well, freely. What I’m learning to say is rather that I envy those who choose to have the time to read. Who choose to use their time off to walk, and talk, and spend time with friends.  I recognise that I also have that choice. I am the master of my time.

Yesterday I chose to run. I ran for 4 miles and can’t wait for the next time. Today, with Mike’s turning about of my introspection I chose to take myself to my favourite neighbourhood coffee shop “The Pantry” and (finally) get on with my writing. This afternoon I hose to find a cafe in town, with a window overlooking a cow on a roof, and blog.

Up and Adam, Adam.

Rooftop Cow - Reflection

Care of the Innocent news letter… This just made me laugh quite a lot.

Rookie The Dancing Dog

Canary Wharf

I had such great plans for today. Plans to write and tidy and accomplish so much as to feel proud of myself at the end of the day.

Nope. No tidying. No writing. Nothing ticked off the To Do list. But still I feel proud of myself. Today I made time with friends.

An unexpected call this morning took me out of myself long enough to it to be time to head out for lunch and a walk along the Thames with L and little M. She’s so beautiful…

M looks to mummy

Not yet 9 months but determined to walk as soon as possible. Each time I see her it takes about half an hour of being seriously checked out before I’m re-established as a firm friend.

The light along the Thames was amazing. Everything clear as a bell and yet hazy at the same time. Reminds me of something else… but I digress.

Tonight I came home to ‘get on’, only to get a text from Richard informing me that it was Nando’s Time. Nobody argues with Nando’s Time. Oh! The Chicken! The Spices! The Perinaise dip! The Corn on the cob! The Fries! It’s like being violated in the best possible way.

Writing nil. Conversations, laughter and openness with friends 3. And that’s not anything to be ashamed of.

Bring on tomorrow.

We’ve got the utterly lovely Alan Carr depping for Adam and Joe in the morning, and while he was in yesterday we made a silly video around the office.  Everyone had to try VERY hard not to laugh.

**edit**  For some reason the video won’t play anymore from here… but it’s still up so you can go and watch it here.  **edit**

Listen tomorrow (Saturday 16th) from 9am - 12noon or listen again online for a week.

Oh, and before I forget, go and subscribe to the Adam & Joe Podcast at iTunes now! I want to get to number 1!

two hearts

It’s unspurprising to blog about love today, but it’s something that’s been on my mind a lot lately. It’s dawned on me, in a scales-falling-from-my-eyes kind of way just how well loved I am.  When typing that it seems like the most arrogant of statements, but I don’t mean it in a “Woo! Get Me!” style. I mean… I am loved well.  And by so many people.

The love of which I speak is a many faceted thing: It is the affectionate kind that holds me close and strokes my arms; it is the joyous kind that laughs, open eyed, at things I do and say; it is the quiet kind that watches, hushed but smiling, from a distance - whether that’s from across a room or across an ocean; it is the firm kind that is not afraid to admonish recklessness and bring honesty - however difficult - with grace; it is the protective kind that puts itself between me and anything that even smells of insensibility; it is the naïve kind that looks with abandoned generosity from the eyes of a child, without even knowing what is being given; it is the purposeful kind that chooses to love in a dangerous time; it is true, it is honest, it is sweet, it is kind, it is tough, it is patient, it is glorious; it has made me who I am and pushes me closer and closer towards who I want to become.

In the recent film Stardust, Yvaine - a star fallen to earth - cannot shine when her heart is broken. But when she finds herself loving and loved - by the character Tristan - she can’t help herself; she glows without even knowing it. It’s all over her.

This is how I feel at the moment. The darkness is ever present; a fear that sits, restrictive, in my chest, but still I feel aglow.

In a key moment, Yvaine has a short monologue on the nature of love. It is such beautifully written scene that it brings a weight to the film that cannot be dismissed. I’ll leave you with that.

“You know when I said I knew little about love? That wasn’t true. I know a lot about love.

I’ve seen it, I’ve seen centuries and centuries of it, and it was the only thing that made watching your world bearable.  All those wars! Pain and lies, hate… made me want to turn away and never look down again. But to see the way that mankind loves? I mean you could search to the furthest reaches of the universe and never find anything more beautiful.

So, yes, I know that love is unconditional, but I also know it can be unpredictable, unexpected, uncontrollable, unbearable and strangely easy to mistake for loathing. And… What I’m trying to say, Tristan is… I think I love you!

My heart… It feels like my chest can barely contain it. Like it doesn’t belong to me any more. It belongs to you. And if you wanted it, I’d wish for nothing in exchange - no gifts, no goods, no demonstrations of devotion. Nothing but knowing you loved me too. Just your heart, in exchange for mine.”