MY BETTER HALF...

This woman is cleverer, funnier and stronger than I am. So she can certainly kick YOUR ass...

LEAST ACTION HERO...

So many deadlines and dinosaur incursions, so little time...

JOURNEYMAN...

Lay back and think of the air-miles I'm earning...

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Archive for June 2006

Timing and Tiding.

My parents met at school, dated for several years and got married. That was the best part of forty years ago.

Meanwhile, I've just been to see Hollywood's latest take on romance: The Lakehouse. Oh, it's a highly predictable story about an impossible romance about two people who are almost always separated by two years of events. It's the kind of inoffensive but enjoyable date-movie film that would have been perfect for Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. They got Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock instead, but that's fine. It does the job and I could watch Sandra Bullock read a telephone directory and still guarantee it at least 2 stars on credit. There are no real big surprises and it's a typical Hollywood rose-coloured glasses, semi-tragic story that'll make a decent amount at the cinema and huge amounts on DVD. It's all about time... and waiting for the perfect thing, or not wasting your time waiting for the perfect thing - it's still up for debate. Grab some popcorn. Maybe a tissue too.

But on the way back I couldn't help thinking that however artificial the Hollywood vision might be, we all undeniably buy into it, or want to at some point. Over the years I've seen my friends grow up, form lasting relationships, get married, have kids, sometimes divorce, sometimes live happily ever after, sometimes move away. Years ago I was best man for two friends of mine and though they live less than three miles away I haven't seen them in ages, through no other reason than time passes and before you know it the ties have loosened. That's a shame. Equally, I was a guest at a wedding eighteen months ago of close friends who I no longer see socially. Their loss.

Maybe it's a combination of the film (damn you Hollywood and your sly, manipulative ways!!) and the fact that I'm editing Kit and Ariel's wedding video at the moment, but I can't help noticing that life has a way of moving on when you're not looking. But I wonder if we sometimes enjoy the familiar too much, whatever its failings. Nowadays it's easier to be content than go for 'happy', easier to stick to the rythmns and routines that have proved they get us through the day relatively unscathed, rather than actually notice that the days, weeks, months are ticking by and the whole 'it's the journey not the destination' maxim is running on vapours. We don't change because it's easier not to. Kit and Ariel stepped up to the plate and moved things forward. I'm betting they knock it out of the ballpark.

But as I watch people from the sidelines, having never quite got my own timing right, I sometimes wonder what things I'm holding onto and what things I've held to too tightly. Like Sandra and Keanu, there's a point where you have to decide what you want and what you'll settle for, what you think you deserve and what you truly want in the grand scheme of things...and who's to say which should be the yardstick?

My parents met at school, dated for several years and got married. That was the best part of forty years ago. In that time, for all the ebbs and flows, I've rarely seen a relationship that matches up to it. I guess that for better or worse, that's my yardstick.

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Epilogue: London or Bust

In the week after the trip I slept a lot and wrote a lot and got half the things I should do done. I e-mailed with Kerry, Dawson, Holly, Shaleah and Fran and made promises about the speed of getting photos sorted. Sue me, I got distracted. No, wait... lawyers reading. Don't sue me, forgive me, I'll get right on that.

Kerry was in Paris for several days, but with the change in weather and with most people who ahd been staying over in the city gone within a few days, I think she was looking forward to spending some time in London. Not wanting to abandon her to her own devices in my country (she'd likely own half the city before she left), I promised to keep her company over her final weekend. I went down on the Saturday (3rd June) and brought excellent weather with me (hopefully breaking an almost slanderous assertion that I bring storms in my wake!).

I dumped my bags in her hotel room and we did the traditional tourist thing of taking in the Thames, riding the London Eye and then watching rape, murder, betrayal, cannibalism care of Young Billy Shakespeare at the Globe (a production of Titus Andronicus that was so bloody that two people fainted). I kept upright and concious in a clearly manly manner, though it wasn't for the faint-hearted. Interesting note: The actor who played Aaron was also in Doctor Who the same week).

 The hotel room, just off Piccadilly Circus was noisier than mine had been a week before, but with the aid of ear-plus I got some sleep. On the Sunday Kerry and I walked around some more and ended up at the War Rooms and the official Winston Churchill exhibtion before taking in some more ice-creams and working on my tan in the still-excellent temperatures. I headed off late on Sunday, back to Leeds via coach. Much longer trip than by train, but I did have my laptop again and managed around another 1000 words on my novel. That makes...probably only 70,000 more to go.

Kerry's flight left early Monday as I set off for work. Later I even played with Google Earth again and tracked it for a while. Yes, I know, I should be sorting photos... but technology is so much fun.

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Biarritz or Bust #9 (Homeward Bound)

Saturday 27th May -
Saturday started early, but by the time I was 'up-and-at-'em' most of the chateau crowd were gone, away to catch flights or trains which would whisk them up to Paris or elsewhere. By 7:30am the only people left were myself, Kerry, Ellen and Alex. The decision was made to get down to the train station early - both to give Ellen a good start on her six-hour + road trip back north and in the hope that we train-travellers could possibly get an earlier train to avoid the repeated rushing around in Paris.

We missed the Wolcotts' train by about all of ten minutes and found that there was no way to get on earlier trains without paying vast sums of money. Alex's train was mid-morning, Kerry and I were on the same train as each other leaving about 2:30, though she was in First Class (see, the Karma Gods listen!) and I was in mere mortal class (see, the Karma Gods don't listen!). So I'd ultimately see Kerry for all of five minutes the whole trip. Still, a few solid minutes of sleep and some laptop viewing would make the trip travel faster.

To kill the time at Biarritz station Kerry and I had some food, ice-cream and light refreshment and tried to use the less-than-well-turned-out toilets as little as possible. I worked on my tan. I still looked British though I had a warmer hue. The train turned up on time and I dragged my luggage aboard. As mentioned he trip was largely uneventful, but I finished my Michael Connelly novel and rexolved to do more work on my own.

However at the other end there was another repeated rush. Kerry and in got a taxi from Montparnasse to Gare De Nord but with the Biarritz train coming in over ten minutes late, the pressure was on. As the very vailaint taxi-driver (who spoke excellent English) did his best, it seemed less and less likely I'd make it to the Eurostar terminal in time. I arrived outside GdN with literally five minutes to get across the station. It still seemed unlikely I'd make it and I had Kerry's number as back-up in case I had to stay in Paris overnight (which seemed a fair alternative) - however fortunately/unfortunately, I made the Eurostar with seconds to spare. Kerry headed iff for her hotel and another few days in Paris.

Proving that I was leaving the holiday behind, the clouds started gathering as soon as I left Paris and when two or so hours later I pulled into London's Waterloo, there'd already been rain lashing the windows. Certain Underground strands were closed (Hello UK!) so the route to my hotel was less easy than anticpated. It was drier in central London but the hotel I was staying in overnight was a disappointment - incredibly basic, quite noisy and more expensive than the great one I'd used on the way out.

King's Cross main station was closed on Sunday for planned 'essential maintenance' so all the trains heading in my direction were starting further up the line at Finsbury Park. K's X caters for thousands of people very day, FP... not so much, so you can imagine the chaos on the platform. The train arrived late (oh, back in the UK for sure, now!) and I wound my way homeward. I arrived in Leeds late afternoon and eventually slept like a very sleepy thing...

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Biarritz or Bust #8

Friday 26th May - It occurs to me I haven't mentioned the ninja-kittens. The local cat (we think it belongs to the chateau's caretaker) had a bunch of kittens who would run for cover at the merest sound of you breathing when we first arrived. To most of us they seemed to be incredibly cute, but I do think that maybe they were (literally) milking us for every moment of sympathy. Charles' patience paid off later in the week when they finally took food from his hand and by Friday some of us had managed the trick too (us feeding the kittens, not us taking food from Charles). Ellen was convinced that the poor little things weren't fed properly (I'm not so sure), so when she and I went to the store later, the cat population got some treats in our bag too.

I woke up on Friday morning begining to appreciate the problems that Kerry sometimes has with her sinuses. Whether it was an overdose of lavender from the garden the evening before or not, I did feel a little bunged up and the scent of lavender was ever-present. People were acutely aware that though most weren't leaving Biarritz until the following day, that this was the day for packing up and readying the exit strategy. Food was there again in the morning, though I had major sympathies for Kerry once again when the last of the eggs were used before she could make a vegetarian alternative (the veggie version having been consumed earlier). Much discussion ensued on a) what we'd all been doing on 9/11, how we watch our news and how to spend the final day beyond the necessities. Paintball was ruled out and (if memory serves me right) Charles and Michael took a walk to the local pub (about 5km away) only to find it closed. My sympathies go out to Charles who was in the hammock ouside for more nights than I'd have handled and now a long-promised afternoon libation was snatched away too!

Holly was off to the villa/townhouse to stay with Dean and Fran as they were all off VERY early the next day. I have to admit that I'd been thinking (wrongly) we would all be getting back together for the proposed last supper on the evening, so the first round of actual farewell and adieuing was suddenly there and then gone. I've promised to stay in touch with Holly as us top-level (and highly modest) journos have to stick together. Besides, she's a Michael Connelly fan and who can argue with additional good taste that?

On our trip to get food (CHOCOLATE!!!!!!) from the supermarche Ellen and I had spotted an alternative resteraunt to the one that she, Holly and I had spotted on the UDO (Urt-ish Day Out) and found it could easily cope with the remaining Chateau-dwellers. We got back to the chateau about 5:30 and, with Kerry's tele-linguist skills confirmed our booking for just after 8:00pm.

Everyone got ready, smartly dressed (or at least what we hadn't used/packed already and we car-pooled off for food. The nosh was delicious though Kerry ordered a dish that clearly seemed to be vegetarian until she got it and there, not so cunningly hidden, was lashings of bacon. The karma gods certainly owe her one, especially as she proved to be the best translator at the table. Otherwise the food was terrific and the atmosphere a delight. On hearing that we were celebrating both the wedding and our last night in Biarritz, the owners gave us all a free round of liquer. Charles got some alcohol after all!
It was a great final evening for us and could only have been better if everyone who'd joined us through the week was there too, but in that case we'd have taken over the restaurant itself, rather than just a good 1/4 of the main room. It was after midnight when we left, all well fed. Tomorrow would be a long and tiresome day, some would be up before 5:00, but for now some rest was needed. The chateau decended into an unusually quiet night...

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Biarritz or Bust #7.2

Thursday 25th EVENING - No, one big event in the ballroom in a week wasn’t good enough for this reprobate bunch of journos, lawyers and actors, so Thursday evening was the ‘masked ball’. Firstly there was some filming of extra footage (probably forthcoming on the Director’s Cut DVD) and - with the main door finally being opened - a chance to greet guests in style (just mind the ping-pong table as you go through, please).
As festivities began much of the ensembled players sang to Ariel on the balcony. In what can only be described as a ‘D’oh!’ moment it would be MUCH later when I played back the video of said throng that I listened to the words, thought ‘Sounds like a Disney song, something about a character lacking feet….hmmm… that’s strange, oh must be The Little Mermaid, oh wait… Ariel… of course (slaps head)’ Everyone had donned masks and waited for Ariel to vote for best in show. My carefully planned ‘I’m behind the camera so no-one can see me…’ gambit failed miserably and apparently by utterly shameful begging on my knees didn’t win the day either. I’d have tried money but the Euro isn’t worth much at the moment).

Though I was on camera duties most of the time I did manage to put it down for some of the time. Enjoyed a dance with Holly, though I have two left feet when it comes to formal dancing (I’m more of a ‘free-style’ guy). Much fun was had on the dance-floor and afterwards with talking in front of the fire (not sure the climate warranted an open flame, but it looked picturesque.

Curling up on the sofa and long talks late into the night as everyone one by one drifted off was nice. With Friday being the last full day, making every moment worth it was important. Who wants to head home after a week like this?

Outside the temperature was perfect and even though I was ready for bed, there was enough time to step outside and look back at the house from the grounds - its various windows illuminated under a relatively cloudless sky. Picturesque doesn't cover it. It was like the final shot of 'The Waltons', only not quite as dated or wholesome. Then again, what is? ;)

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Biarritz or Bust #7.1

Thursday 25th. There was some confusion as to who was going to do what on Thursday. Though the Bilbao trip had been too early the previous day, I'd planned on accompanying the group that might start out much later on Thursday - probably to San Sebastian rather than all the way to Bilabo. However it soon became clear that with Ellen's car insurance not covering a journey across the border, spaces were suddenly very limited. While several people including myself wanted to go, there would never be enough room in Kit's car and though Kit had initially assured me a place, I felt it was only right to drop out and let someone with lesser access to Europe to take advantage. So, once again, it was a do-what-you-please-day and with the sun shining as nicely - as it had continued to do much of the week - there was no real problem.

Kerry decided to relax finishing her book and try to shake-off a migraine, so Ellen, Holly and I went for a quick two-hour trip around the local area in Ellen's car. We travelled through Urt (can you be travelling and In-Urt at the same time. Discuss?) and then up through a designated trail back towards Bayonne. The views were impressive and there was a nice relaxing atmosphere. We absolutely did not get lost at any point. Nope. Not a bit of it. And for anyone who might disagree, I would point out that WE - unlike the San Sebastian posse - actually found an open shop and came back with some supplies ;)

Later: thrashed Kit at table-tennis, then got thrashed by Kit at table-tennis. Objection sustained, dammit! Later still....the masquerade ball...

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Biarritz or Bust #6

Wedneday 24th May... Despite the success of the wedding, I think everyone let out a huge sigh of relief that all had gone well and from the Wednesday onwards there was less a sense of urgency and more a case of 'What can we fit in in the rest of the week?'. On Wednesday it was decided that everyone could do what they wanted, separately or together. Holly, Dean and Fran had planned in advance to go off to Bilbao, but though they ahd space in the car, was too tired to be dragged up for a 7:00am start so decided to pass (hence I eventually got up just before lunch). Some stayed at the chateau and some of us went into Bayonne (I think by this time, Kerry had seen Bayonne so many times, that the chateau and book-reading was a welcome quiet alternative... and as I keep telling Kerry to rest, relax and enjoy the week off - but her enjoyment usually seems to be involved in organising, creating and catering - the fact that she's actually quietly sitting reading is a victory! ;) ). Bayonne is just a short trip out anyway, and we're gone only a few hours. We had a look around Bayonne's main church and then enjoyed mucho eating. The highlight was a tie between my consuming of a crepe suzette AND a banana split... and the group viewing of Shaleah's impressive jugs.


The group divided up into girly shoppers ("Isn't it ironic we're going shopping in an American make-up store in Bayonne?") and the manly explorers ("Quick, let's make shadow-hand-puppets against the castle wall and discuss the velocity created if we fell off one of these battleme...THUD!")

Both groups headed home separately late afternoon and sedate relaxing ensued. With Dawson having left the evening/early morning before, there was no discussing of Buffy and no energy to stay up late. Holly got back late evening and by the time everyone else retired, the sound of contented Spanish-themed snoring wafted gently across the servants' quarters...

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Biarritz or Bust #5.x

Some pictures paint a thousand words.

Clockwise from top left:
1) Holy trinity, Batman! The bride, the groom and the pre-ordained.
2) Lighting of the candles.
3) Frock n roll!
4) I do, They did.
5) Olympic Pouting
6) The full chateau ensemble (minus the darned photographer!)
7) Candle-lit!
8) Come hither?

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Biarritz or Bust #5.2

The wedding went off without a hitch. Or rather with only one hitch which is the hitching that's supposed to happen. The non-chateau dwellers (we will refrain from calling them the tail section survivors as the Lost metaphor is getting old) came up from the villa/townhouse in plenty of time and around 7;30pm I went to get changed. I'd brought the traditional collarless suit (mandarin/grandfather style) which Kerry referenced in her 'vicars + tarts' speech. It's my best suit, what can I say... and looks somewhat spiffy even without the need for a tie.

As videographer/photographer I handled the tech side and the only annoying thing was that my own video camera somewhat cut off the very top off Kit and Ariel's hair/heads becasue they weren't standign quite where I thought they'd be. Photos were much better. The ceremony was lovely, largely candle-lit with the great idea of lighting candles one by one through the 'audience'.

God bless Dawson for starting his duties by quoting from The Princess Bride. "Mawwige..." surely a great omen of wonderful, lovely things and not a warning of rodents of unusual size. Dawson's speech was informal but poignant and his self depricating humour was balanced perfectly by the serious side of the ocassion. There were speeches, tears, vows and rose-petals and when all's said and done what else do you need?

A party perhaps, and one was forth and fifthcoming. Wine and beer mixed freely. The bridesmaids looked good enough to eat (peach-flavoured?) ALL the ladies looked great: Kerry, Holly, Laura, Tina etc, you looked fantastic. Ariel, this was your day. Guys, we washed and brushed up okay too! There was dancing and smooching and I-poding and can-can-can-ing. Though some energy would be saved for the 'masked ball' on the Thursday night, Tuesday ended and Wednesday began in the best way possible.

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Biarritz or Bust #5.1

Tuesday 23rd. Early.
(Pic: Shaleah, Laura and Ariel... in prep)

Have you ever had one of those dreams when you find yourself alone in a house? That's pretty much how Tuesday started. I woke up at a relatively civilised hour only to find Kerry and Ellen gone and Holly still sleeping. A trip downstairs to the first floor (second floor if you're US based) showed no signs of intelligent life and I went down to the ground floor (first floor, if you insist) to find the house still and quiet. It was a good five minutes before I found Steve outside and almost embraced him for fear we were the last survivors of a Lost/Twilight Zone plot device. Only he and Tina were awake and around the house. Almost everyone else was off running errands, getting last minute shopping or hijacking the unsuspecting bride and groom to take them off to luxury spas for the full treatment. I was left kicking my heels and caught halfway between 'ha, there's nothing *I* need to be doing' and 'hmmm, shouldn't I be doing something, dammit?' It was early afternoon before the shoppers returned and then plans moved ahead slowly but surely for the wedding. It was planned to take place around 8:00ish in the ballroom/theatre room and until then it was a matter of getting the room ready, makig sure everyone knew their place and duties and an eerie sense of calm.

There was even time for some guests to play Fribbage. This is the newly created French version of Cribbage (all the cool people will be playing it soon!) and followed in a long line of activities and music christened by Laura and Shaleah - others included Frabble, Fronopoly, listening to Frip hop and Freggae. At one point I said I could clearly see a fruck in a pond. Thankfully everyone knew what I meant.

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Biarritz or Bust #4

Monday 22nd May: Monday morning came early... with just a few hours sleep to be had before the dawn broke through the sky-light of the room I was in. Myself, Holly, Kerry and Ellen had the three small rooms at the very top of the chateau (because we were obviously the most important, or maybe because they looked suspiciously like the servants' quarters in days or yore) and by the time I dragged myself downstairs some people had been up an unfeasible amount of minutes. Breakfast was eaten, nay consumed, as Michael took on the recurring role of chef (a role for which he may yet receive an Academy Award nomination). French toast - it's not Freedom Toast, get over it - has never tasted so good.This was the day before the wedding and so much had to be done to make Tuesday go with a bang. Or without a bang. Whichever is better. Some of us guys went shopping. No, ladies, don't laugh, we had good intentions and we came back with carrier-bags full of essentials (and some non-essentials, though I truly believe that chocolate falls into both catergories). Then there was the rehearsal to rehearse and I assumed the role of official photographer - probably only because my camera looked more intimidating than anyone else's and ma tripod est grande! Laura told everyone what they'd be doing, where they'd be sitting and what NOT to do. Dawson mentally went through his lines and everyone pinched themselves to prove this was actually happening. ome people may even have pinched other people just to make doubly sure.The evening brought the rehearsal meal (actually a real meal, with real food and available to all, not just the immediate family). The food was good, the entertainment even better. Michael, Kit and Ariel re-enacted the Bradford trip and Scottish proposal (complete with fake car and props), Kerry explained how I'd first met Kit and Ariel (vicars and tarts and parties, oh my! - I have pictures of that SOMEWHERE!) and much amusement was had.The company was great and the drinking of the wine would again go on until the early hours, if not quite the late early hours of the previous morning. However, all appetites were eventually satisfied and sleep beckoned in the way it only does once you find yourself exhausted in a French chateau. I highly recomend it.

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