Day ninety: robo-tory

I saw George Osbourne interviewed by Andrew Marr this morning. It was embarrassing, it's like he's some schoolboy playing at being a politician. And the fact that they're favourites to win the next election fills me with dread. It'll be like in Doctor Who when the whole country gets taken over by Cybermen or something. My only hope is that the current Tory front bench will soon be revealed as some kind of Eton prank, and they are all, in fact, 13 years old.

I say, chaps, here's fun;
Let's de-bag that dastardly
Cad Brown. Hahaha.

Day eighty nine: I just booked a hotel room

I hate decisions
That are, in retrospect, driven
Completely by booze

Day eighty eight: not long left

Cor, it feels like no time at all since we all started these 100 days pledges, and now there are less than two weeks left. In a strange way I think I'll feel a bit sad when it ends, but the night celebrating it as part of the London Word Festival should be a great send off.


I know I'll still be
Coming up with fresh haiku
Weeks and weeks later

Day eighty seven: an ode to London Popfest

London Popfest starts tonight, for all your indiepop needs in London. I couldn't go last year, but lots of people I know did, and there was an underlying theme in all the photos I saw from it:

I've never seen so
Many people smiling so
Much at the same time

Day eighty six: oh nostalgia

I saw an old friend on the train home earlier. We talked for a while, but it was clear that we weren't the same people we once were. I know it's sometimes inevitable that you drift apart from some people, but still...

It is a shame when
A great friend becomes someone
Who you used to know

Day eighty five: a lapsed Catholic education

I'm sorry Dad, but
Matthew, Luke and John never
Made a Mark on me

Day eighty four: take whatever you want but don't touch my face

This is fairly self explanatory.


I abhor violence.
Not that I'm a pacifist,
But I'm a coward.

Day eighty three: Hello E1

As you probably know, I left my last job just over a month ago with the intention of moving to London, yet without a job or anywhere to live there. Having got a job a couple of weeks ago, yesterday I found a flatshare between Whitechapel and Bethnal Green. I move in next weekend. So in a moment of smugness:

First I got a job,
Now I've got a place to live.
It's all coming good.

This calls for a song

I Built Myself A Metal Bird - Thee Silver Mt. Zion from Constellation Records on Vimeo.

Day eighty two: Masterchef haiku follow up

I hope that by day
One hundred, that gif will have
Dropped off the front page

I said gif. Not git.

Day eighty one: be nice to everyone

Flatshare hunting is very tiring isn't it. And if after meeting the people you'd be sharing with and end up not getting the room, there are numerous potential reasons why, but...

How can you not take
It personally when you're being
Judged as a person

Seeing three more places tomorrow. Phew!

Day eighty: Masterchef's back!

Shouty shouty men,
Criticising seasoning.
Gregg loves his puddings.

Day seventy nine: my favourite day of the year

Today, for the first
Time this year, I felt the warmth
Of Spring in the air

Day seventy eight: yeah mate, yeah mate

I'm generally quite well spoken (albeit a bit foul-mouthed at times), but I have noticed that at times I subtly alter my accent depending on who I'm talking to. For example:

I can't help going
All cock-er-nee when I talk
To taxi drivers

It's a bit embarrassing and I wish I didn't do it, but I'm sure I can't be the only one.

Day seventy seven: week of plagiarism

From days 72 to 78 Josie proposed a week of plagiarism, and this is my contribution. I've been loving looking at the photo projects that a number of the hundred dayers have been doing, they're frequently beautiful and inspiring. This isn't so beautiful and inspiring, but it says what it needs to say. It's called Monday morning 7am:

Day seventy six: other people's cats, part 2

Sam and Lisa live in Nottingham, they've got a lovely boy called Ted, and a strange cat called Phil. Phil's got a tiny head, or as I said when I first met him:

It's like if you put
A cheese triangle on a
Microwave oven.

This is Phil

Day seventy five: grrrowlo!

My friends Rachel and David live in Florida, home of the manatee. Rachel has a cat called Rowlo, which not only is a great name for a cat, but he is also a fine looking beast, so...

If Rowlo met a
Manatee, he'd surely floor
It with his beauty

Here's the little fella:

Day seventy four: in hiiiigh speeeed

I was going to write about how SHIT Southeastern trains are, but who wants to hear that? So here's a positive message (as positive as damning with faint praise can be anyway) about the Southeastern highspeed service:

It's almost like being
In a country with a real
Infrastructure: France.

I may have had a drink.

Day seventy three: muggerlugs

I got a request from marancat to unleash hell on muggers. I hope this doesn't mean that she's been mugged, particularly because space restrictions meant I had to descend to frivolity:

Can I write about
Muggers without rhyming it
With buggers? Um, no. 

Muggers are buggers though, clearly. They're motherfuggers. I was mugged in Madrid once - I was asking for it really, but it was still traumatic.

Day seventy two: WAKE UP!

The daily commute;
Early morning sleeper train.
Alone with music.

Day seventy one: I'm on my way...

No matter how much
You need to leave somewhere, the
Leaving's always hard

Day seventy: ch-ch-changes

Wow, day 70, that's mental.

I started day one of this hundred days project as someone who'd worked in Scunthorpe for a few years, but with an aspiration to go "home" to London. Today, day 70, will mark my last night living here, I start my new job on Wednesday, and by day 100 I will be a fully paid up resident of London (staying at my parents in between - groan!). It is all really exciting, but I'm pretty nervous and daunted at the same time. Plus I haven't done nearly enough packing yet, to the extent that I might have to be up quite late tonight finishing it off. I'll still keep doing the haiku but I'll more often than not be e-mailing them to blogger from my phone, so I apologise in advance for the crappy formatting. Packing is really horrible isn't it, I find it so hard. I was just staring at a wall for a good few minutes instead of doing it. And you get crazy thoughts going through your head, like:

Maybe instead of
Packing, I'll set everything
On fire and leave it.

An appropriate bit of Bowie

Day sixty nine: a study in procrastination

I should be packing.
I just paired up all my socks,
Singing to Bowie.

Day sixty eight: ingredients for a session

London Pride, Duvel,
Budvar, Cava, Hoegaarden,
Lunch: mashed potato

Day sixty seven: too much thinking

Laying in the dark.
Tick tock tick tock, beats my heart.
Brain hamster-wheeling.

Day sixty six: oh happy day

On day sixty six
I got a job in London.
I start on Wednesday

That's right, it's all go from here. I'm dead chuffed.

Day sixty five: and so to bed

One of the great things about the human body is (in my opinion) the ability to adapt to sleep patterns so quickly. To that end I'm off to bed:

I have taken to
Going to bed early. Yes,
I'm nearly thirty.

Of course I don't really attribute it to age, just temporary habit. This time next week I could be saying "pfft! Going to bed at half 10? Whatever". Words to that effect anyway. Bit of a potential future haiku tease for you there, dear readers. Or should that be reader?

Have a song

Sorry I've been a bit lax for the last few days. Here's a lovely song.

Day sixty four: confessions of an unfulfilled mind part two

If you say "badgers"
Instead of "badges", no-one
Bats an eyelid. Fact.

Day sixty three: confessions of an unfulfilled mind

I sometimes say "jizz"
Instead of "cheers". No-one seems
To notice, or care

Day sixty two: the lark ascending

I got a comment on a previous post requesting a bit of hope that the winter will soon be over. I can totally empathise - I like every season in its own way, but it's when you get to around this time of year that you really get sick of winter. Still, it's February now, so we can reasonably expect that within 6 weeks we'll start to notice the onset of Spring.

If I want to feel
Spring-like, I just listen to
The Lark Ascending

here: