A Grim North

Musings from a northerner living in the deep south…

Posts Tagged ‘YPG’

Mmmm Beer

Posted by Alan on May 21, 2009

Mmm Belgian Beer

This week featured the BCS Member services conference near Holborn.  This of course was an opportunity to socialise a bit with the other YPG volunteers and have a few beers.

Billy (cowfish, see links) took us to this bar –http://www.lowlander.com/ – the beer above is a dark Belgian beer called Troubadour Obscura, which was very tasty (and at 8,2% you only needed one to mull over for a while). Worth a look in if you are near Drury lane with a few quid to spare.

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And so to 2009

Posted by Alan on January 26, 2009

Another post arrives some 20-odd days late. 2008 was a bit of a washout for me in many ways. OK, there were a quite a few good things but a few things I probably wouldn’t want to do. Moving house twice  within 3 months, across the Thames both times was probably the most traumatic experience I really don’t want to do again…

More positive, 2009 is going to be a good year – this year I have to find myself a permanent role at work. So there’s going to be a fair bit of work to do. The YPG stuff is all coming along nicely now (see YPG blog to the right) and I’m generally much more organised.

Yes, 2009 promises to be a really great year 🙂

And the first posted lyrics of 2009? I’m finally getting into reading on the tube, let’s start with a bit of Scottish alt-folk that tells a story…

Sons & Daughters – Rama Lama

On a blue antique night
In early October
His wavy brown hair
Stuck wet to his shoulder
And its click, click, click
Go the heels of his feet
Listen
How long has it been since the boyfriend has visited
The milk’s in a pile by the door
Her series is playing on terrestrial T.V. the neighbours they don’t even know
And its click, click, click
Go the heels of his feet
Listen
Did you hang her out to dry?
The meal that she was going to eat for her dinner
Is left on a plate by the stove
While there’s unopened bills and letters and junk mail
All strewn on the mat by the door
And its click, click click
Go the heels of his feet
Listen
Did you hang her out to dry?
Rama lama lama
Shake, shake, shake, shake
How long has it been since the boyfriend has visited
The papers are filling the close
While she’s face down on porcelain
An inchful of bathwater
The neighbours they don’t even know or care
And its drip, drip, drip
Goes the tap on her ankles
Listen
Did you hang her out to dry?
Rama lama lama
Shake, shake, shake, shake

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