Goldfrapp, Brixton Academy, 10.11.08

The Kiwi and I have seen Goldfrapp live a couple of times to date, and have always been impressed by the live shows. You'd be hard pressed not to, the lengths they go to to put on a real spectacle, and last night was more of the same. It was the last gig we'll see in the UK, now Ben Folds in Manchester has been postponed until next May.

In general, overall, it was brilliant, like always. We knew she's ace, we knew every track would be a winner, and we knew they'd do Black Cherry and Strict Machine as encores, and we weren't disappointed. A blistering version of Train, and Happiness complete with dancing mop / sheepdog monsters (pictured) were the highlights, along with Strict Machine, which absolutely shook the building.

Image from Dave Smith on Flickr, used with thanks but not permission.

But something seemed missing somehow. She did mention that the whole band had colds (in a rare moment of verbosity); perhaps that was it.

The first few tracks suffered from a weirdly bass-less sound, none of that gut-shaking thunderous bass-ness that we know Brixton can summon up. This came back, to an extent, later in the night, but it left the whole thing feeling a bit of a lack of punch. The odd bit of feedback didn't exactly make it feel like a professional production.

Secondly, and I know I've ranted about this before, but the crowd sucked massively. It's part of that whole thing where, once a artist gets to a certain size, no one at the event seems to be there to listen to the music, and seems perfectly happy to stand around yapping to each other. In recent Goldfrapp tours this probably wasn't such an issue, but with the recent tracks being a little more subdued the chatter was all too obvious.

So on the whole, the band were brilliant as always, but were let down by a dodgy sound system and a bunch of idiots in the crowd. My last and lasting impression of London gigs.

Half marathon done, legs falling off

Well, there we have it. My first half marathon completed in the pouring rain, wind, cold etc, in what the Kiwi and I think was about 1hr 52mins or thereabouts. I can't verify this yet as the organisers continue to compound what was a pretty poor event by not telling anyone their times. Judging by the forum posts on the website, it's unlikely we'll get them at all, as some people have had texts, some people haven't, and most people seem to have been sent the wrong times. If the data's that messed up, it won't get unmessed any time soon.*

Still, I know I beat 2hrs, which was my goal all along, so I'm relatively happy. The pain in my legs, hips, knees, shoulders and feet all feels sort of worth it, especially as the non-localised muscle pain suggests that I've not damaged anything significant. That said, I've never experienced pain quite like the final four miles or so. It felt almost solid, like something I could hold onto or bite down on, quite a new feeling for me. The weirdest moment was right at the end, coming across the line and slowing down, and feeling the endorphins wearing off as the pain notched up every few minutes. Amazing things, bodies, eh?

As I mentioned though, the event management was a bit of a shocker. Looking through the website this morning has reminded me of a few things. Firstly, that the distance most runners with GPS's ran was actually about half a mile longer than stated, so it's not actually a true half marathon, and the mile markers were all wrongly places, so we couldn't pace properly. Secondly, that no one had the faintest idea where to start - I stood in the rain for about 40 minutes and ended up near the start - other runners had to jog/walk for about half an hour before they got anywhere near the start line. Thirdly, that the course is listed as 'mainly flat' when in reality it had some pretty mean hills in it. It was compounded by the weather (drizzle turning into torrential downpour) and the transport issues (the whole tube network being snarled up, pretty much), but even without these things it was pretty poorly handled.

In fact, some kind soul has detailed the route here: http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=2248895, showing not only a half-mile extra, but also the distinctly not 'mainly flat' elevation.

Anyway, I'm happy with my time, as I said. I reckon I need to do another one before too long though, and to prepare for the next one properly. I can honestly say I did no training for this one at all, and I reckon I could aim for 1hr 40min without too much trouble. The Kiwi was absolutely brilliant throughout, waiting in the rain for me to start, hurrying to meet me at just past the halfway mark, and hurrying back to catch me at the finish, all on her own in the rain (everyone else, supporters and runners alike, had dropped out due to illness, transport issues or general can't-be-arsed-ness). I can't tell you how good it was to see her bouncing up and down and yelling encouraging things half way through.

So that's the last event for this year. The next scheduled bit of physical exercise will be snowboarding in December... then I think I'll have to look for another half marathon to run in Auckland!

 

 

*edit: the provisional results came out at 1630 on the 6th Oct, and show my full time as 01:54:35. Still happy with it, puts me in the top 25% anyway. Looks like I need to work on my tactics though, as I passed the halfway mark at position 1413, and the finish line at 1795.

Sore legs, decent result

I’m in a rather unusual situation at work at the moment, in that I’m trying to write a paper on maintaining levels of service across an organization or some such, and in order to do so I need to refer to some stuff on the internet, and our internet access is currently down, so I’m a bit stuck. I’m also completely devoid of blood sugar and thus concentration, so trying to even draft a structure for the thing is futile at this point. So, I’ve decided to write a blog entry in the 30 mins or so that remain before it could be considered reasonable for me to head out to lunch, for one of those amazing ciabattas that the Tasting Room serve in Borough Market.

One of the main reasons my blood sugar is so low, I’m sure, relates to my efforts yesterday in the London Duathlon. Without a doubt, it was one of the most demanding things I’ve done, right up there with the second sprint triathlon I did a few years back. A 9k run, 20k bike and 5k run strung together, I was a bit concerned before going into it, especially as I’d done next to no training, and had spent the previous week drinking and eating to excess in southern Spain; not ideal.

On the day though, after I’d warmed up in the first 3-4k, I began to really enjoy it. The legs were starting to feel a little fatigued towards the end of the 9K (45:08 – bit below par), but a decent transition of 02:23 went smoothly enough and gave me a bit of time to get some fluids in comfortably before getting on the bike. Two laps of Richmond Park is something I’ve done before, but not after a 9k run. To be honest it wasn’t that bad; running then biking is ok, it’s the other way around you’ve got to watch out for. Two downsides on the bike: firstly I’d done pretty much no training, so my legs weren’t as up for it as they could’ve been, secondly the fastest downhill bit of the course suffered from a massive headwind, so I managed a time of 49:45, some way off what I think I could have done.

Still, a slightly quicker transition (02:07) got me out on the run without any trouble, save the inevitable crunch when you start running and the pain begins. It was basically 5k of sheer slog, with a slight incline up the first 3k or so. Quite a few walkers on this bit, which sort of spurred me on to not stop at all. Kilometer 4 was probably the worst; constantly thinking my legs were going to give out and a few of the quicker runners flying past me. I got home in 25:41, surprisingly quick considering how slow it felt and only a few minutes off what I’d have done with fresh legs.

That gives a total of 02:05:03, which is an improvement on my target of 02:15:00, which is great. Making the day pretty much perfect was the sight of the Kiwi and some friends of ours cheering me on every now and then, and being there to meet me at the end. The highlight of the day? Hearing that wonderful woman say ‘I’m so proud of you’ at the end. Simple things, but there you go, means a lot to me.

Now, I’m hoping that I can get my legs to work properly again in time for the Half Marathon. I’m still short on sponsorship, so all are welcome to donate at http://www.justgiving.com/[my name with no spaces]. Thanks!

Houston, we have a sore head

It's the last day of the conference and I'm hiding in the main hall, pretending to be working so that no one will try to talk to me - I'm suffering a bit from what's basically been a three-day bender and am in no fit state to talk retail strategy. It's been a lot of fun though and, despite the lack of sleep, insane heat and the occasional moment when I realised I was completely out of my depth, I'm really glad of the opportunity to do this. I'll be coming home with a sheaf of business cards, a pretty good understanding of how partnering with Microsoft works, and a firm resolution to detox next week.

Naturally, the thing I'm looking forwards to the most is getting back to my London, my flat and my Kiwi, but there's a whole lot of time in between now and then; two flights (including that horrible connection again) and hopefully not too much stress. What I want to do right now though, is just go... to... sleep...

Flying

There's always something a little unreal about travelling to Dublin like this. I think it's got something to do with getting up at 0445 and stumbling dreamlike through the passages from home to tube to plane to bus to office. It doesn't entirely leave one in a suitable frame of mind for presenting complex multi-million Euro business models.

This morning, though, has been unusually calming. I've found that as I've got used to the journey (although I've not been too much lately), I've started to notice littler things about it which sort of take the edge off - the example this morning which prompted me to get out the laptop and document it before coming back down to earth was on take-off.

London was covered in thick fog this morning, the resultant gloom confusing the mind into thinking it was earlier than it was. Surging off the runway, the Airbus 321 broke through the fog within 10 seconds or so, into glorious sunlight and clear blue skies.

I don't think I'll ever get bored of flying. I know it's quotidian and mundane to many of us these days, but there's something about the seeming impossibility of getting off the ground, travelling so fast and ending up in a completely different country (and in Dublin's case, a completely different century) that never ceases to fascinate. You'd have to be pretty dull-minded not to marvel in childish wonder at it all, you really would.

Anyway, today's the last day of this sprint. The Irish project is still barrelling forwards, alarming some and exciting others. The Project Manager, with whom I'm getting on much better now I'm more comfortable in my role, is on holiday next week, leaving me to pick up from him and drive the project forwards into the next phase. Hopefully this time I'll be able to get a proper handover and won't end up feeling like the idiot I did last time.

And tonight - the perennially amazing Maximo Park at Brixton Academy. I've not seen them since the release of their last album earlier this year and, although I've seen this lot more often than any other act, I'm still so looking forwards to it - it's guaranteed to be brilliant.

Eh?

Weird. Really really weird. You know how I've been building up for the past 7 weeks to this earth-shatteringly important presentation which was supposed to happen last Thursday? Well, it didn't happen. Things all went, in the words of our MD: 'a bit Roald Dahl'. Took me a while to work out the 'Tales of the Unexpected' link but there you go, pay attention, 007.

What went on, basically, is that whilst we've been beavering away working on a spanky retail solution for a media entity, said media entity was considering alternative options itself. And as happens has decided to go down a completely different route from the one we were working on. This isn't entirely a bad thing, as they're still keen to work with us on whatever it turns out to be, but it's still mildly galling to have worked on something for ages and have it all turn to custard in the final couple of days.

So, the poor Project Manager will be on this for a week longer than she expected, whilst I go on to start work on a really-quite-exciting project for a bunch of chaps in Ireland. Being sanguine about it for a minute I suppose it was a good first project - plenty of experience gained but as nothing was actually produced, nothing to be judged by in months to come. And we did get paid for it, so it'll all count at bonus time.

The Kiwi and I have been dead cultured this weekend. Friday evening we went to the much talked about Anthony Gormley exhibition at the Hayward, 'Blind Light'. Now I've always been a bit of a Gormley fan, ever since I first saw 1991's 'Field'. I'm not sure what it is about his stuff that attracts me - his writings on his work always leave me cold, but the work itself really gets me in quite an alarming way.

'Blind Light' is no exception. The titular piece is quite astounding (the glass box filled with a thick white fog, into which you walk), a genuinely unique and extremely disorientating experience. Visibility is about 18 inches, so you can see about to your waist once you're right in there. It's strangely calming and I really quite enjoyed it. I'm not sure what to draw from it though, the novelty factor sort of overwhelms any deeper reading, which is a criticism I sometimes do have about showy installation work.

The other bits of the show were also typically brilliant, although overshadowed by the party piece. I was absolutely transfixed by 'Event Horizon', which consisted of a number of casts of Gormley's body placed on top of buildings within a 1.5km square from the gallery. Once you're outside on one of the gallery's sculpture terraces, you begin noticing the figures, all of which are turned to face the terrace that you're on (there are a few of them). There's this really eerie sense of being watched, of a silent army of witnesses impassively staring at you.

There's also something incredibly melancholy about these chaps all lonely and exposed on the tops of buildings - in a way the sympathy this stirs up cancels out the unease they generate, leaving an odd but delicious confusion and mixed sentiment. It's also great to be able to see this piece from all around that part of London - every now and then you'll notice one brooding down at you from a rooftop and some of the initial wonder and excitement you experienced on the first view will briefly come creeping back.

There must be something in the air at the moment. Yesterday afternoon whilst drinking a bit more rum than was decent (Havana Club 7yo though, so it's sort of allowed) in a cuban bar off Kensington High Street I got transfixed by a snippet of Shelley in an article in the Guardian and properly went off on one to the Kiwi who presumably thought I'd finally gone entirely mad.

And that's the lot of late - we spent most of today in Kew Gardens at a gentle family event laid on by work, which was lovely and sunny, now I'm blogging from the kitchen (I'm so cutting edge) whilst roasting a chicken and trying to remember how to make cauliflower cheese. On the whole, stuff is good.

Final week

Six weeks have flown by in a whirl of new people, places, numbers, processes and clothes. I'm not totally sure I'd really looked this far into the future when I started (even seeing the end of the first week was a struggle), so everything's seeming like it's all becoming very real all of a sudden. I suppose this is the reality of consulting; we'll deliver the multi-million pound business model to the client at the end of next week (Thursday morning, to be precise) and then I'll be onto something else, another client, another site, another project.

Provided our proposal's taken up, the development elves will take our place, filling the client's offices with computers, wires and gadgetry whilst they build the shiny new commerce platform we've been sketching out in Visio. While all this happens, I'll be somewhere else dreaming up big dreams for another client.

I know this sounds like a dead cert for Pseud's Corner, but the thought struck me whilst walking along the river yesterday and the sunset was colouring a damp Embankment that sort of nicotine yellow and Ryan Adams' new album was playing (specifically 'Two') and for a few minutes everything seemed silent and calm - in these sort of moments things seem to fall into sharp relief, and I noticed the somewhat nebulous quality of my role. Still, pays the bills and keeps me out of trouble I suppose. And I do enjoy it, very much.

So, the reason I was wandering thataways was that I was en route to meet my old boss in a bar in the Oxo Tower, who spectacularly failed to turn up (not that I was that surprised as he'd been somewhat cryptic about whether he would or not). Not to worry, enjoyed the sunset overlooking the Thames with a couple of Peronis and chuckled at the typically splenetic Evening Standard until the Kiwi arrived. Dinner at a so-so pizza place on Gabriel's Wharf, quick look round the newly refurbed Royal Festival Hall (considering membership, decided to probably not), then a final pint in a horrid pub on Villiers St as the lovely Gordon's was rammed and then home.

So, today I'm doing a bit of work, nothing strenuous, then off to drop in briefly on a birthday party and tomorrow's lunch in Sarf London with the family who so kindly put me up for the first few months of me living in London. Writing this has also reminded me that I really should be looking around for something else to work on post-next week. I'm not sure how this works but something tells me I'd better find out pretty quickly...