The photographer arrives.

Posted on by Alex

“I’m sorry that I’m a bit early,” says the Photographer.

I assure him that everything is all right. When you are taking part in a photo shoot it is very important to get on the right side of the photographer and convince him of your professionalism etc. so that you do not start off on the wrong foot and give him ideas that he might want to make you look an idiot.

“It’s just that I could hear you shouting ‘arghhh! arghhh! Oh fuck he’s coming!’ down the phone, when I rang for directions,” the Photographer continues.

I smile weakly at him. I must have forgotten to replace the receiver properly.

I make him a cup of coffee whilst we discuss creative direction (nb technical term.) Given the title of the book, he is keen to do some shots with me holding an electric guitar whilst pretending to play bowls. I also have some strong ideas. We discuss them for a while before finalising the concept: I will hold an electric guitar and pretend to play bowls. We walk out to his car to find a location.

“Isn’t part of the book to do with a period of time when you were a househusband?” he asks. “Maybe you could wear an apron and perhaps have a basket of washing as well?”

We get in to his car. I do not take an apron, nor a basket of washing.

Five minutes later, I am standing in a muddy field beside the main road on the brow of a hill. I attempt various poses, waving the guitar about and in the air and things whilst pretending to play lawn bowls. A man drives past in a manure lorry and sounds his horn laughing. I lift my foot in a heavy metal guitarist pose, which is wankery enough when you are resting it on an amplifier, let alone a bowls bag.

“Can you hold the guitar right up in the air by the neck?” the Photographer asks.

I hold the guitar right up in the air, and look moody at it. The Photographer snaps away. There is more hooting. The LTLP drives past, a startled look on her face.

We complete the photo shoot. There are all sorts of pressures upon creative artists such as me; I am pleased that I have retained my dignity.

Weekend round up thing

Posted on by Alex

I prepare for a photoshoot!!!

Somebody is coming round tomorrow to take photographs of me, for an Important Newspaper Feature. It is exciting, and I am planning to spend today worrying about what to wear. I am hoping that I won’t be put under any pressure to don deeply, deeply unfashionable shoes, as I wish to retain my dignity and artistic integrity. But if they order me to then I will, because it might sell a book.

I shall post a report soon. Until then, here are three things…

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I have been meaning for ages to link to Idiot Johnson’s E.P. Under the ridiculous assumed name of ‘Tim,’ Idiot has been reading and commenting here since the very very very early days; we’ve been in regular correspondence, and he has sent me regular MP3 files – I have been helping him out with some musical and production consultancy by telling him stuff like ‘yes, they are very good’ and things. Anyway, Idiot actually visited the Village during the summer, met Short Tony, and was present at an unfortunate golf cart/chicken owner accident. Go listen to the songs – they are seriously good (particularly the title track).

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I have received a postcard from the Snailr project!!! This is Anna Pickard’s record of her esotericSnailR 1 trip around the USA – I like to think that this was in part inspired by my own esoteric trip round the USA last year, despite the fact that she lives in the USA and had said to me previously ‘I am going to do an esoteric trip.’ Anna is – without question – the most frighteningly, frighteningly talented writer I know, and I was looking forward to her poetic and moving descriptive reportage of the American panorama. Anyway, I have scanned in her postcard here. The best thing about having a blog has undoubtedly been getting to know people like Anna. (And, of course, some nutters as well, but you take the rough with the smooth.)

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And finally, there is an interview with me at Caroline Smailes’s site (if you haven’t seen it already.) I’ve kind of been in awe of Caroline since I read Like Bees to Honey and I was a bit blown away when I met her over the summer to discover that she’d heard of me and liked my writing, plus her bazongas were just about to fall out of her dress, so short of offering me chips and introducing me to Leonard Cohen it was basically my dream fantasy meeting. The competition that ran with the interview is now closed, but Brom went and won it, and he’s also been a reader here for a grillion years, so that worked out nicely.

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That is all for now. Enjoy the rest of your weekend. I have had my hair done especially and am trying to work out the correct moody yet available expression.

I sort out the LTLP’s car.

Posted on by Alex

“So what are you going to do with my car?” she demands.

The LTLP’s car has been surplus to requirements since I bought my massive old gas-guzzling 4×4. In fact it has not just been surplus. It has been an active annoyance, taking up space in the drive and meaning that the simplest trip to the shops has necessitated a Red Arrows-style formation car swapping-round routine, only – in the case of my massive old gas-guzzling 4×4 – with more smoke.

It is a dilemma. Her old car is not worth much, even though it has had only one careful lady owner, except for the unfortunate time when she ran over the elderly German tourist. I would put an advert in the paper, except then you get, like, people, coming round to your house and bothering you etc. And I cannot be doing with the ‘we buy any car’ people, especially the shame when they turn me away and have to change their entire advertising, slogan and company mission statement having taken one look at mine.

“Did I hear that you are looking to get rid of a car?” asks Len the Fish’s son.

I am in the Village Pub, talking loudly about the fact that I am looking to get rid of a car, to Len the Fish’s son. I look at him, startled. He cannot possibly want it.

It transpires that Len the Fish’s son has returned home from fighting in Afghanistan (nb on our side, not Taliban). He will need a car. This is brilliant.  I cannot think of a better home for the car.

“How much do you want for it?” he asks.

I protest that I do not want anything for the car. He is a friend, and Len the Fish has done me loads of favours in the past, building chicken coops etc. I would be embarrassed to take anything for it, and would rather he had it for nothing. Plus, as many people know, I am a bit of an Americanophile, and buying a massive old gas-guzzling 4×4 then giving my old car away to a returning war hero will practically make me an honorary American.

He protests that he cannot take the car as a gift. I do understand this. We negotiate for a while before reaching agreement. I return to the LTLP to explain the news.

“You have exchanged my car,” she repeats. “For some meat.”

“Yes.”

Len the Fish’s son pops round later with some nice beef that has been freshly-butchered by Len. I give him the keys. It is a win-win situation. I get some nice meat and the feeling that I have done somebody a proper favour; he gets a cheap and reliable car that will last him for many years to come.

Sometimes the simple things in life are the best.