Archive for the ‘the rest’ Category

Christian Doctor

In the rest on March 20, 2013 at 11:12 pm

[‘Beat’ means like a pause, a second or so]

Patient is fine, but worried, doesn’t know what’s wrong.

Christian doctor is smiley, doesn’t look at patient in the face except to say religious stuff.

D: (walking around curtain) So… who have we got here? (leafing through clipboard)

P: It’s Paul (beat) Paul Adams?

D: Ah, Paul… (looks up wistfully)

Patient is non-plussed. Beat

D: And you have been in pain now for… (leafing again)

P: Well, I think it’s past the worst now… (slight grimace as he/she shifts in bed) but I suppose it started…

D: (interrupting) Not that it matters particularly. We’re all just visiting, eh? (looking P in the eye)

P: Yes, um…

D: You have a non-mortal, well, ha, I say non-mortal…

P: (interrupting) You mean… I could die…?!

D: (interrupting) No, (sing song) you’re not going to die. I just mean, you’re going to die, obviously (patient thinks he means because of the pain/disease) but not because of this. Probably.

It’s basically the kind of strife we’re destined to endure, another part of this fleeting experience we call life (smiling calmly)


You’re not from round here, are you?

P: No, um… I’m sorry, it’s a non-mortal form of what?

D: Is that Australia? Denmark? You’re hard to place!

P: I was a, I went to school over here, but yeah… Sorry, what is it that’s, you know… what have I got?

D: Sorry, sorry… Your tumourous region is…

P: I have a tumour ?!?

D: Sorry, ha, uh, no no, I mean your… your… when you eat, um… It’s your nether regions, not your nether regions, when your food is finished with…

P: My bowels?

D: No no… um…

P: My intestines?

D: Sort of… well, no…

D: When the uh, waste isn’t… when the waste is waiting…

P: My arse? Poo? What are you talking about?

D: It’s stuck.


P: Poo? (beat) My poo is stuck?

D: (silently agreeing with pursed lips)


P: Well what can I do? Is there a pill or something?

D: If I could just refer you to my colleague…



Moral Philosophy

In the rest on March 20, 2013 at 6:20 am


It’s not the thought that counts

Not when you’re thinking hm i wonder whats for dinner and you run over a small child

fuckin aristotle virtue bullshit

It’s the consequences that count

Except when actually, it’s not your fault

Maybe we should just use rules of thumb like ‘do unto others’

Except there’s an exception to every rule

fuckin descartes

I guess we’ll all just have to decide on a case by case basis – if it feels good, do it

We should just leave eachother to make our own decisions

Hold on, that’s a rule

We should just let bygones be bygones (except nazis etc)

That works

In fact, if if we just loop the brackets into the definition of bygone (non-nazi etc) then the rule stands: leave people alone unless they aren’t bygones (those who its ok to leave alone)

Apart from if theres something else going on, and its like ‘how can you just stand there? do something!’

So it’s like do something when necessary (and get those non bygones bastards)

but not just for the sake of it, cuz thats like ‘woah, too many cooks’ or ‘hold on you just fucked everything up even more you doosh’

so be evidence based, or something

like if on balance it appears a course of action is worthwhile, do it – watch out for fucking everything up cuz then youll look like a well meaning twat. but don’t not do anything for fear of fucking up either

but give yourself a break, I mean, consider your self interest too (unless you’re a non-bygone in which change or die)

just do what you can and if you get it wrong, well, it’s the thought that counts, eh??

Watch (or listen to) this space…

In Music, the rest on January 13, 2013 at 10:03 pm

I decided that this year I would record all my songs. And since I don’t really perform any more, this blog is going to be how I share them

So, here’s some stuff to look forward to:

1. A second verse and a bridge (as yet lyricless) to Five Months (which is now called Going Fast).

2. A second verse to Isla (less exciting than 1.)

3. An angry-ish, insecure song that’s quite good.

4. One of my oldest songs, about worrying that I’ll ‘break’.

5. A pretty jazzy one, that’s all ‘Oh Baby, love me, love me like you used to,’ then goes all improvised.

6. One that I wrote when Suzannah gave me a heart cut out of velvet on her lunch break while she was working at Fabric Mills (back before uni), when I was heavily influenced by that poem in In Her Shoes (as in stole the lyric and then repeated that lyric… you’ll see ((well… hear))).

I think that’s it. And anything else I come up with in the mean time, obviously (like words to the bridge of Going Fast). There’s some incidental piano and guitar stuff that I might record if I can be bothered, but it’s the songs I’m aiming to get up here.

So keep tuning in! (don’t, I’ll post new songs on Facebook)


In the rest on May 29, 2011 at 10:00 pm

Unpacked most of our stuff this evening. Weird being with just Suzannah, Isla was with her Mum and step-Dad. Probably the longest we’ve been just us since Isla’s birthday.

And it’s basically done. Sofa’s now free of stuff, all boxes downstairs are empty, kitchen stuff in cupboards, bed’s made – so tomorrow night could be the first in our new home.

Home – isn’t that a strange word? I refer occasionally to Kent as home, still, and my Dad’s house. Then when we’re in Monmouth unpacking in the new house, I’ll say, ‘Let’s just do this and then go home,’ meaning Suannah’s Mum’s. What does it even mean? Well, whatever it does, Wyefield Court may not be home now, but it will be soon.

Mostly just stubbing my toes on things, rather than collapsing in a heap, which is nice.

The hobs need to be turned on for a bit or something before they work. This became apparent after pasta didn’t boil, just kind of half-cooked in the pan. A second lot of boiling water did the job, though, and we had it with a load of pesto and butter (small tomatoes chopped up, too). And Coppella apple juice (don’t get me started).

Looking forward to being in, hopefully the spare flat-screen TV is still at Dad’s, no room for the heavy old one. Equally, might just carry on watching all our TV online.

Why are you even reading this, imagined reader? Why am I even writing it? I know all this stuff – I don’t need to write it. You may not, but if you know me personally, you’ll just find out eventually. I guess I’m just getting all habitual on the blogging front.

Hard being apart from Isla for Suzannah, but she’s ok. First time she’s really spent any significant time apart from her. For me, driving away the for the Humanitarianism/Communication exam last Sunday was the worst. Just had to swallow whatever I was feeling, otherwise I wouldn’t have made the journey. It’s weird, you get on with things, then it all comes swelling up. Then you realise you won’t be able to get anything done if you don’t swallow it again, then you’re just messed up.

But happy.


In the rest on May 28, 2011 at 8:31 am

Just moved our uni stuff (furniture too) into Mum’s house in Monmouth. I should explain – she bought a house a few years ago, intending to rent it out, then, when we found out we were pregnant last year, being empty we asked her if we could live there till we can support ourselves. It’s lovely, though, so the dream would be to just buy it off her/be the tenants. We’ll see.

Anyway, now we’re just waiting to go arrange all our furniture etc, unpack the boxes, and then… live the rest of our lives? It’s all pretty inchoate. Maybe that’s why I can’t sleep. After clubbing with coursemates on Wednesday to celebrate the end of our degrees (woop woop!), I just lay there for three hours, head pounding, thinking about… well that’s the thing: what am I supposed to be thinking about?

Haven’t got a job lined up, so that’s pretty big. But then we haven’t organised a phone line or internet, which seems pretty urgent. I also need to make some decisions about what jobs to go for – part-time stuff nearby, while pitching ideas freelance?, full-time graduate jobs near enough to commute to?, full-time anything nearby to just get a bit of money in, or just leave it all a bit and pray I’ll get a BBC or ITN traineeship this Autumn? Needless to say, you don’t resolve such questions while staring at the ceiling, exhausted and aching, at 5am.

Oh! And I need to get a CV together – but what kind? Should it stress academia, or journalism? ‘Transferable skills’ – still nauseatingly necessary?

And how are we going to move the piano from Dad’s (he doesn’t play)?

And where will I get the paint to touch up the flat’s walls in Kent on Thursday (after official end-of-degree bash)?

And what book am I gonna read next?