I'm Kristen and I'm living in Crawley, Sussex (hoping to return to my beloved Brighton 'n' Hove when my ME/CFS allows). I drink a lot of tea, ride a lot of buses, go in a lot of charity shops, draw, sew and knit (and attempt to crochet), take a lot of photos, spend a lot of time sleeping, read a lot of history books and follow Jesus Christ. <3
Email: busstopgirl (at) googlemail (dot) com
I love love LOVE Green Wing. The pre-launch trailers for the show totally put me off. I couldn't believe it had any connection to Smack The Pony, (it's devised and produced by Victoria Pile, whose credits include Spitting Image, Smack The Pony and Los Dos Bros), it looked like rubbish. But it's fantastic - dark, surreal fun, with a cast drawn from many of my favourites shows - Black Books, Smack The Pony, The Book Group, The Office AND Spaced. (Great to see Stephen Merchant pop up in one episode too - working in the path lab.)
I really enjoy the bits involving minor character Harriet 'Mumsy' Schulenburg - losing children, fishing mashed potato out of her handbag. Mark Heap is a joy as pathetic, obsessive Dr Alan Statham, hopelessly devoted to undeserving HR boss Joanna. And Michelle Gomez - what a body! I never noticed while she was playing Janice in The Book Group, but blimey, missus - as permanently-on-heat Sue Hill she gets the chance to work it... great legs, madam. And then there's the delightful Julian Rhind-Tutt as Mac, causing many hearts (and other organs) to flutter. I have to link to this: blogger Sophie's montage of the Mac and Caroline kiss (perfect for we who have to get our romantic kicks vicariously...). She's a Mac/Caroline shipper - good girl. As if the appalling Guy Secretan stands a chance with Caroline... tuh!
Still from Wieden & Kennedy's 'Hate Something Change Something' ad for Honda, 2004
I LOVE the ad for Honda's new diesel engine - the one with the dirty, noisy engines flying through a animated landscape of rainbows and peacocks and exotic topiary, been shot down by bunnies wearing ear protectors, while Garrison Keillor sings a specially written folk song.
Click here for the full animation and news on the site they're launching to accompany the ad. Altogether now, "in the key of 'Grrr'...":
"Hate something, change something
Hate something, change something
Make something bett-errrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...'
Heartbreaking Country Ballad Paralyzes Trucking Industry '..."There's been an alarming number of loads that don't make it to their destinations. And the ones that do make it are usually behind schedule, because they're being loaded, transported, and unloaded by crews brought low by the thought of a good-loving woman a man loves best packing everything up but her wedding dress and going back to the town she never should've left."...'
Would anyone else be freaked out by walking into a pub to join a birthday celebration, and finding yourself introduced to your GP, who turns out to be the girlfriend of one of the birthday girl's friends? No? Just me then...
A fine Saturday night was spent at Brighton's Komedia, at the Krater Comedy (or is that Komedy?) Club, compered as ever by the ludicrously energetic Stephen Grant. Favourite act was Lucy Porter. Never heard of her before, but she was brilliant - and managed to totally win over the crowd despite being (a) five foot nothing (b) on first, so folk weren't that drunk yet. Cute AND funny - I hate people like that.
Yesterday I saw Harry Potter. Well, why not? I'd never read any of the books, and had avoided the movie hype, but even so it's pretty good fun, if a little long. Lots of top-notch actors - including a bizarre cameo by John Cleese and 20 seconds of the wonderful Julie Walters. Folk flying, folk turning invisible, secret rooms and fantastical monsters - made me realise how much I miss reading fairytales - might have to have a Grimm session sometime soon. Also made me realise how much my movie-going companion looks like Harry - not an insult, dear - honest!
'I was walking across a bridge one day, and I saw a man standing on the edge, about to jump off. so I ran over and said "Stop! don't do it!"
"Why shouldn't I?" he said.
I said, "Well, there's so much to live for!"
He said, "Like what?"
I said, "Well...are you religious or atheist?"
He said, "Religious."
I said, "Me too! Are you christian or buddhist?"
He said, "Christian."
I said, "Me too! Are you catholic or protestant?"
He said, "Protestant."
I said, "Me too! Are you episcopalian or baptist?"
He said, "Baptist!"
I said, "Wow! Me too! Are you baptist church of god or baptist church of the lord?"
He said, "Baptist church of god!"
I said, "Me too! Are you original baptist church of god, or are you reformed baptist church of god?"
He said, "Reformed baptist church of god!"
I said, "Me too! Are you reformed baptist church of god, reformation of 1879, or reformed baptist church of god, reformation of 1915?"
He said, "Reformed baptist church of reformation of 1915!"
I said, "Die, heretic scum", and pushed him off.' Emo Philips
I am so into The Good Life at the moment. They've been re-running it on BBC2, and I've never watched it as a adult - I'd never realised how brilliant it is. When it was just something my parents watched, I was of course duty-bound to find it 'booooring!'.
It's so well-written, very funny and with a fantastic cast of characters. Just flick through some of these stills. Paul Eddington as the hen-pecked Jerry with his filthy laugh. Felicity Kendal (Barbara), who, back in 1976, was the Kylie of the buttocks world, and definitely the thinking man's (ie. my Dad's) crumpet. Strangely enough Richard Briers (Tom) always reminds me of Dad - even looks rather like Dad did in '76...
Star performance, however, must be Penelope Keith as redoubtable snob Margot, swooshing in and out of rooms in double-layered chiffon and a selection of bejewelled turbans, intimidating members of the Music Society and patronising tradesmen: "I sellotaped it to the handle of your pickaxe!"
Went to see one of my comic heroes - Victoria Wood - at the Albert Hall. She excels herself everytime. Who else could get an hour of organ-rupturing comedy out of having an emergency hysterectomy? Like all great comedians, her comedy comes the hard way - she's frank about eating disorders and depression, honest about her marriage and family life.
After taking the mickey out of Paul Daniels, she adds, 'Poor Debbie McGee - everyone has a go at her, when all she did was fall in love with a bald magician - and we all do that...' We got to meet glamourous cruise singer Stacy-Leanne; recently discovered when a camera crew arrived on her ship The Watery Queen, to film a docu-soap for the BBC. I don't think I've ever been in the same room as my dad when someone used (no, sang) the word 'clitoris'. '...You didn't say, "Hey, what's this?"...' Fantastic.
The weekend before last veered from the ridiculous to the sublime. On Saturday, I took a coach trip with 18 esteemed colleagues to Monkey World. Yes, Monkey World. And a 9am start, on a Saturday! Once we'd hung around for 45 minutes waiting in vain for the dozen or so hungover no-shows (and I'd grown accustomed to the all-pervading smell of Turns-Your-Tongue-Blue Pickled Onion Monster Munch), we set off for Wareham, Dorset. A great day. Spent time with old friends, met some new ones, had a wee dram. We all got back way past our bedtimes, but without leaving anyone behind, or indeed bringing any additional primates back with us (despite the best efforts of the more simian-smitten amongst us). And our inflight entertainment? Why, Mighty Joe Young and King Kong, of course.
And so to Sunday, and something completely different. Bjork was, as expected, stunning. Accompanied by Matmos, a Canadian throat singer called Tagaq, a full orchestra, electronic harpist Zeena Parkins and a 14-piece choir from Greenland; it was, as a live show should be, a wonderful assault on the senses. White feathers falling through a beam of light over Bjork's seated silouhette, as she cranked the handle of a music box. Scary guttural belches and shrieks emanating from Tagaq's svelte, satin-clad, gyrating form. The giggles of the Inuit choirgirls as they bobbed and swayed along with the dance beats so unfamiliar to this grand venue. Vast video screens of epic icescapes and microscopic organisms. The huge swelling sound from the orchestra vibrating through our seats, the pure power of Bjork's voice slicing through the air. The rattle of the bells hidden beneath her red feathered skirt, each time she jumped forward and back, like a child trying to stamp on their own shadow. So inspiring. So what have I done lately that is in anyway this creative? As a wise man once said, Do Something Pretty While You Can.