Waterstones and the wishlist

On Sunday I pulled up in the rain, parking the car under the drooping trees in one corner of Blythswood Square. Before you think it, no, I was not kerb crawling, Blythswood Square being one of Glasgow's old hooker haunts(I don't think they hang around there anymore). Ka had been out shopping all day with her Mum, so I was heading into the city centre to meet her for the cinema. Escaping the rain in the streets, I dived into Sauchiehall Street's Waterstones and headed for the design books. The best way to escape the bad weather - Waterstones. Not only is there shelf upon shelf of wonderful, colourful, story and picture filled books aplenty to browse, but there are even comfy chairs, toilets and, if it's a big branch and you've done your homework, a coffee shop. Not sure if the one in Sauchiehall Street has a coffee shop though, I wasn't there quite as long as I'd usually hang about bookshops what with having to meet the wife with her shopping bags.
You are also sometimes lucky enough to meet famous people in these quiet, calm surroundings, usually after waiting in horrendous queues, undoubtedly behind a smelly person. Being a geek, (but an unsmelly geek I should point out), I've waited in more than one queue in the past decade or so. Michael Palin, Tom Baker and Terry Pratchett are among the luminaries I've queued to meet, hanging around bookshops.
There's also been a few failed attempts. A year or so ago I almost met The Mighty Boosh, but had to escape, running out into the rain soaked street, grimacing in pain. After fifteen minutes of waiting in their queue my eardrums exploded from the noise of the screaming girls surrounding me. Screaming girls surrounding me is not something I'm entirely used to (violins please!).
More than a few years ago my Mum sent me into John Menzies to get Paul Young's autograph. Unfortunately she was most disappointed when I cam back informing her that it wasn't the young, quiffed eighties singer, signing autographs, but the Scottish fisherman with the cap and tash who usually sat on a boat, in a Loch somewhere, talking to a camera.
Simon Pegg's going to be in Sauchiehall Street tomorrow. Unfortunately I'm working. I would have hung around Waterstones to meet him, though I suspect there'd be more ear drum risk.
These large bookshops are great for hanging about in. Loads of people do it. Picking up large books they'd love to read, but have absolutely no intention of buying, probably because it's way too big and expensive to actually take home. Too big even for their coffee table. I'm sure some of the books people look at in these stores come in the form of coffee tables. Anyway, the 'customers' will then settle down on a large comfy, leather chair and enjoy a good, quiet read, probably a far quieter read than they'd get sitting at home. After a while, the time depending on the person and their objectives for the day, they'll set the giant book back on it's perch and then move on their way, back out into the rain and miserable shop strewn streets.
While I was browsing the tomes of the design section I searched for anything that was on my amazon wish list. My new tool that I'd just discovered a few weeks ago. Your amazon wish list, a tool I'm probably ridiculously late in using and one that's actually fairly fun to use, for a while at least. You can click away at products online to your hearts content, pretending your spending money, when in fact your not. Your account is just taking a note of all the products you'd like to buy but for one reason or another, you can't.
It's quite cruel really, doing that to yourself. Like the end of Bullseye when Jim Bowen shows you what you could have won. Even if it was a speedboat, it was still horrendously cruel. I wonder how many people actually wanted to punch him when they rolled out that speedboat? Even if they had lived in a one bedroom flat in the middle of EK, they hadn't realised how much they'd wanted that speedboat until that moment. Jim Bowen, you sick b****rd!
Anyway, torturing yourself for not being able to afford things is the big minus of the wish list. Spending hours wistfully staring at it's contents with that Scottish Power bill waving at you from the hall. "Yoohoo! Over here!"
Whilst browsing, in the actual shop, I came across a new hardcover by the name of 'Just My type', a book by author, Simon Garfield, about fonts.
Ahh, fonts. Those were the days. The days when I spent hours looking over books about fonts and actually caring about what fonts I used. Working on newspaper adverts you spend as little time as possible doing that kind of thing.
Helvetica? That'll do.
Something bold? Helvetica Black. It even sounds bold.
Something fancy? Times.
Something fancier? Time New Roman.
Something even fancier. Bloody hell. Palatino then.
No, let's really roll out the barrel.
Roll out the font barrel, are you nuts? Okay then, Zapf Chancery.
Nah, that's just too fancy. How about this one? I like this one?
But that's Courier..?
Corbusier Stencil. Apparently if I were a font I'd be Corbusier Stencil. According to Pantagram's website anyway... Balanced, geometrical, imposing but with good reason and impeccable judgement... hmmm. Not sure about the 'impeccable'. Looks a bit boring to me... I'd better go and pay that Scottish Power bill.

Mallowy goodness

Back in Glasgow last night for The Mighty Boosh at the Clyde Auditorium. Parked the car in a street filled with young girls in tutus with glow sticks. We had been wandering what the crowd would be like at a Mighty Boosh gig and were rather surprised to find the street filled with under agers in tutus, jabbering excitedly whilst buying glow sticks from various vendors set up at different points over the street. We entered the large red tunnel red tunnel, which crosses the Clydeside Expressway, amongst loitering policemen, in throngs of younger folk who looked slightly inebriated. I had not expected such a young mental looking crowd but it wasn't until we got to the lights at the end of the tunnel that we seen the signs for Clubland 2008 in the main SECC building. This accounted for the glow sticks at least, not sure about the tutus. After a brief run around inside the Armidillo trying to find our way we eventually took our seats. Vince and Howard both swept on to the stage singing about sailors from the future with the help of The Boosh Band who hid behind the main stage back drop for a good fraction of the whole night. The comedy was great and at it's best when Vince and Howard were out on the front section of the stage, infront of the closed curtain, squabbling and trading both thoughts and insults. The internal monologues of Howard's mind were particulary hilairious. Plus the inclusion of the infamous Hitcher. The strange green creation of Noel Fielding with green skin, a big nose and thumb, dressed in black with a top hat and voiced with a gnarly cockney accent. A brilliant show if your into the Boosh.
Woke up late this morning after having a wee glass of wine once we arrived home last night. Wine accompanied by a bit of Editors and Roxy Music. Today, here has not seemed to have broke yet as a thick white mist has hung over the streets of EK all morning and afternoon. I can barely see the opposite end of the street from the window. I'm half expecting a long line of mysterious shapes to emerge slowly from the mist and drag me away into the fog to a sorry, icy fate.
Evening now. Had to go and so the shopping there. Curse those money hungry supermarkets! Coaxing us in with their 2 for 1s only to get us to spend the saved money on other things. Other things such as Tunnocks Teacakes. Just had one with my tea. The first in years. Full of chocolatey mallowy goodness. Brilliant.

Renovation

Anyone watching Dead Set on E4 at the moment? It's a rather entertaining drama horror based around the premise of a Big Brother rudely interupted by a zombie outbreak in the best George A. Romero fashion except with a more 28 Days Later atmosphere to it all. It's actually surprisingly better than I thought it would be and a lot more dramatic with a lot less comedy. Charlie Brooker is the man behind it all. He usually writes for The Guardian and does a show on BBC four called Screenwipe in which he reviews and snidely slags of tv. Like Harry Hill except without the stupidity and a ladelfuls more sarcasm (and when I say Harry Hill, I mean the TV one, the one with the big glasses and collar, not the one that I go hill climbing with!). We've also been watching more of The Mighty Boosh, 'The Legend of Old Gregg', to be precise in which our hero Howard Moon has a scarring encounter with a strange, transsexual merman who likes watercolour. Brillaintly weird as always.
Talking of brilliantly weird what's all this about David Tennant leaving the TARDIS? Gawds sake. Gutted! Who could possibly replace the mighty Tennant as the Doctor?! It just cannot be done! When Tennant first donned the suit I wasn't so sure but his sheer enthusiasm and brilliance in the role got me hooked again (more than Eccleston's personification did). Steven Moffat is taking over the writing duties as of 2010 though (a great tv writer), so that should breath some new life into it. Was never a major fan of Russell T Davies' arc building and then disappointingly demolishing...
Passed Crystals in EK the other day. The other night my sister claimed it was being demolished and replaced with a very similar building. It is in fact being renovated and is now surrounded by scaffolding. Ah shame... those sticky floors always made those Crystal nights memorable. It was a bit of a dive. It got so bad that at one point, earlier this year, Ka, Chaz, Kenny and myself opted for Centre Point instead... and that's saying something.

The genre spanner

How long it's been since I've bought something from the ice cream van. The ice cream van hits our street at least twice a day at the weekend and once every night during the week and I've never used it. Not until tonight. Ka had an ice cream and I bought myself a Dime bar, or a Daim bar, as they are now known (I'm a sucker for that sweet almondy taste). A late dessert. Today was a lazy day. Got off to a slow start with a headache from last night's beverage intake in Glasgow's West End and the rest of the day did not really pick up any pace. Skipped the usual Sunday worship for the first time in months - body worship in this case. Will just have to do double the workout at the gym on Wednesday. Watched some of The Mighty Boosh in the afternoon followed by some messing about on iTunes. For some reason I missed most of the adventures of Howard Moon and Vince Noir when originally aired so am watching them all on DVD now. Fantastically, brilliantly weird stuff. As evening approached, Ka made a beautiful chicken dinner with paprika, spices and chillis together with some salad and tatties and have now just sat and watched Bayona and Del Toro's 'The Orphanage'. A brilliant little spanish horror about a family losing a son in mysterious circumstances in a supposedly haunted orphanage. Last night's night out in town seems like ages ago already. Ka, Chaz and myself went out into the West End after laughing at the X factor following dinner. Hitting The Loft first and then moving on to Media, or is it The Venue? The club underneath Oran Mor anyway, with its overpriced entry fee, serving overpriced drinks and dark, crowded interior in which going to the bar is a major undertaking. A bit like one of Howard Moon's quests. We had a good laugh though, especially when Ka kept slipping on the dancefloor and subtly tried to blend it in to her natural dance moves. Naturally, she did not pull the wool over my eyes. No siree. Unlike afterwards when we were walking back up Byres Road, after a short needless walk, and some guy was singing something along the lines of 'Nice leather Jacket! You've got a nice leather jacket! Nice leather Jaaaaacket!' along to the tune of "There's only one 'football player's name inserted here'". Making a point of stopping and saying thank you very much, I then proceeded to tell him I'd got it as a Christmas present from my dearest Ka, not realising he had not actually stopped chanting at me. Ka pulled me away hurriedly tutting under her breath. There's nothing wrong with my leather jacket. It's the height of fashion! Just jealous, obviously...