Wednesday, November 25, 2009

A Weekend in the Country - My First Thanksgiving

Chicago, like most major cities, is growing outwards. The lake stops it going east but nothing is stopping it from covering the other three compass points. Its continued sprawling has left little access to proper English style countryside. There are some nice parks or commons but little in the way of real open areas. Another thing is that unlike most of the UK (Norfolk excepted) Chicago metro area is very, very flat.

So a weekend in the Northwest of Illinois, in a cabin amid a birch forest seemed a nice idea. OK, granted it meant spending the weekend with people I didn't know too well but it was only Friday midday through to Sunday afternoon so it was copeable with. As it turned out there were to be five of us: me, my new friends Ellie & Jeff, their friends Biker Bill & Sandy. Oh yeah a Rottweiler. The Rottweiler was a 6 yr old male named after a vicious Greek leader, Alex. This was my first meeting with the dog and we didn't get off to a great start.

Jeff & Ellie turned up around 10am on an unseasonably mild Friday, the day after Thanksgiving. In the sky there were patches of blue in-between large puffy, luminescent clouds. It was a beautiful day to be going somewhere. We pushed my bags, beer & guitar into the back of their SUV and I slipped into the back seat alongside Alex. He was sat up on the seat and therefore, he was taller than me. He looked me in the eye and growled. It was a long, deep menacing growl. Then he moved his head a little closer to mine and growled again, lower & longer this time. His eyes burned red and his breath smelt of dead Englishmen. I sat still but maintained eye contact and so me and dog tried to stare each other out.

Finally, Ellie decided it was safest if I sat in the front after all. So she came to the back door of the SUV and opened it. Alex wasn't going to let me get out that easily. He carefully placed one of his front paws on my right thigh, leaned forward so his weight was fully on it and growled again. I was beginning to feel concerned but Ellie shouted and pushed and pulled him until finally, reluctantly he let me go.


I have to say after that he was a perfect gentleman the entire weekend. Well almost, we were 20 miles shy of home on Sunday when he dropped the smelliest fart of the whole event and possibly ever.

Anyway tiff between man & dog over we finally got underway. We met up with Biker Bill & his lady Sandy a gas station. They nodded at us from their SUV, we waved and we were at last genuinely underway.

We headed west on the I90 towards Rockford, A route I have only traveled once before and it was still just a boring road. (Actually I was going to go into detail on the last time - but that is a whole different story with very few laughs).

After an hour or so we stopped at another gas station for a coffee and toilet break. Inside I spoke with Biker Bill, who was a healthy 40ish weather beaten biker & carpenter with long blond hair. He had met Jeff & Ellie in a bar called Bungalow Joe’s and they had hung out from time to time ever since.

Back outside we all took the opportunity to meet Sandy, who is Biker Bill's (in biker terms, only) Laydee. Sandy was about 5.5 and thin and looked a bit like you expect a biker's mole to look like. 20 years ago she must have been a classic Californian blond.
I was introduced to her, not unreasonably, as Being from England and I said something like.
"Pleased to meet you. Looks like we are in for fun weekend."
She responded.
"Oh you’re from England. Do you speak English?"

Now normally on meeting any new Americans I will politely endure the usual comments. They tend to come in two categories: hopelessly out of date and uniformed (these ones base their knowledge of the UK on Monty Python or worse still Benny Hill) or the over informed Anglophiles who try to impress you with their knowledge of Britain and ask you opinion on things you've never even heard of. Sandy was plainly somewhere below the first type.

As I say I'm normally polite but being asked if I spoke English was too much. I laughed and so did Jeff, Ellie and even Biker Bill. Unfortunately, Sandy just looked offended. Oh well.
We drove on for another 90 minutes; the sky became heavy and gray before eventually releasing a fine drizzle but then something magical happened. The landscape had been small farms and fields for some distance suddenly did something great. We were about 20 miles from the small town of Elizabeth when the ground beneath us started to rise & fall. Only a little at first but the further on we went it became an undeniable fact. These were hills! Real hills! I looked out of the car windows and there where more to our left and to our right while in front was the biggest yet. This was the first time in 11 months I had been amongst hills and it was great.

Then as we crested that hill there spread before us, was Elizabeth. We drove straight through the middle (well you would wouldn't you).

We stopped again. Because Jeff & Ellie had only rented the cabin for 2 people, Biker Bill' Sandy & me had to wait while they got the keys and hoped no one would see us going in.

* * *

I had no idea what to expect of the log cabin. But what we got was cool.
A large house set on/into a hillside over looking a heavily wooded valley the tall silver trunks of already denuded Birch trees standing like an army ready to march. Inside the house was on 2 levels. Upstairs were 2 bedrooms, the kitchen, a small and functional bathroom and a large living area with big fireplace.
The lower level was a very similar layout except there was no kitchen and the second bedroom was a utility room. Off of the lower living space was a balcony with hot tub, looking out at the forest. At the upper level was a similar balcony but with a swing seat and a grill instead of the tub.

The sky was still gray and the drizzle was a constant, gentle spray. The temperature was mild (especially for Illinois). The leaves carpeting the floor around the dwelling still had their beautiful colours and it felt for an instant like an October day on Leith hill. I stood for a while and let the drizzle fall on me - eyes closed, face to the heavens and arms out wide. 8000 miles there and back in split seconds......

Later on we went to the nearby town of Galena to get lunch. We found a small restaurant and settled down. At this point Sandy announced she only ate once a day. Luckily for us this was the time. We all ordered and Sandy decided as she was on holiday that she was going to push the boat out and have a whole salad!

Galena was apparently a well off mining village at one time however, the mines closed and the village became almost a ghost town before re-inventing it self as an oldie worldie tourist resort. By American standards it is old and because it was a depressed town for most of the 20th century a lot of its buildings are original. It is renowned for its antique shops and its narrow busy pavements with bustling shops, winding roads and a high street on a hill made it a very comfortable little town. After lunch we wandered round the shops for a while and then headed back to the 'cabin'.

Once back Biker Bill built a fire and we cracked open few beers. Ellie suggested a cozy game of Scrabble. Now the weekend had already started to feel like an episode of Big Brother and a little bit of friendly competition was an explosive idea.

And then we had another 2 Sandy moments.

All five people were sat around the table and it was clear it was to be a the scrabble was turning into a death match. So I made a suggestion.
"In case of arguments over words why don't we just go with consensus?"

Most people nodded but Sandy' brows were furrowed.
"Can't we just agree instead?"

No one even sniggered. We were very proud of ourselves. Once the game was underway she hit me with another. One of the other players was studying their tiles Sandy turned to me and said:
"I'd like to know more words, like you do."
I said:
"That's a good ambition."
"I have a dictionary at home." She said "and it's a special one."
"Oh that's nice." I said unsure quite what to expect next.
"It's got a lot words in it." She said
"Mmmmm, they're the best kind of dictionaries." I said, totally confused where we going with this.
"No!" She said clearly annoyed at my lack of understanding. "Lots of words that mean the same thing!" I was lost. Then suddenly, like a lighthouse beaming through the mist for a lost sailor, I realized what she meant.
"Oh a Thesaurus." I said and waited for the conversation to continue.
There was a pause and her brows again took on that furrowed hurting look. She finally said.
"Yes, I expect that's in there too."
(BTW her second word in the scrabble game was 'nite' and I didn't have the heart to say it wasn't a proper word and nothing will ever get me to recount her description of what the word 'anus' meant).

Well the beer flowed and the game eventually ground to an everybody-having-3-tiles-left stalemate without too much more trouble. Most if not all the bipeds were quite drunk and a call was made for the guitar. So I played some songs and we had a bit of a sing-along. Sandy seemed a little miffed that I couldn't do any Motorhead or Metallica but we all chilled out a bit.

Later on we all got in the Hot Tub. It seemed weird sat in bubbling bath on a balcony at 2 in the morning with a bunch of other people. The temperature had dropped outside to near freezing as well. Very strange. Here obviously is a country with more electricity than is needed (California excepted of course).


* * * Saturday * * *
It was surprisingly early (around 9) when all parties re-convened in the upstairs living room. I looked around the assembled party and realized this was going to be tricky. Last night had been 5 people en-route to oblivion, this morning we were 5 cranky, tired & slightly hung over people.

We had wanted to go horse riding (horseback riding in local parlance) but the only open stable would not allow trotting, cantering or galloping and I for one don't feel I've been on a horse unless I lave been terrified, nearly fallen off and had my testicles jammed back to where they spent the first 13 years of my life, so we decided to go hiking instead.

Timidly and probably over diplomatically, we all started suggesting what we could do on this hike. About this time Ellie decided to take Alex for a jog. Apparently this upset Sandy, as she had wanted to go as well. And we were off to a good start to the day. (Hey! Aren’t you impressed that I avoided saying Ellie just didn't take Sandy along because she couldn't cope with two dogs (damn I just did it!)). After another hour of fart-arsing around Biker Bill got all manly and finally made a decision for everyone.

Now Jeff & Sandy were the crankiest of all of us but Biker Bill was feeling none too chilled either. It probably didn't help that I just mooned around being non-committal offering no useful opinion on anything.

We took both trucks because Alex was coming with us and there isn't space for 5 plus a Shetland Pony sized dog in any one truck. Biker Bill said he knew the way and so led.

He shot off at a great speed and Jeff decided that not being able to keep up might be a good thing but unfortunately for all concerned Biker Bill slowed each time we fell back and even came looking for us when we where trying to get lost. After a relatively short, but at times, exciting, journey we arrived about 500 feet up on top of a ski slope, which had no snow. At the bottom of the steep incline was the Mississippi. Biker Bill led us down the slope and we spent an ever increasingly tense 90 minutes exploring a dirt road, the railroad track & the banks of the river (not really hiking) but by the time all 6 of us had climbed breathlessly back to the top of the ski run the atmosphere was crystallising and not in a pretty way. At least it wasn't raining.

We all returned to the cabin and Ellie, Jeff and I decided we had to eat as it was mid afternoon and we were normal human beings. Biker Bill and Sandy decided they wanted to go and look at a Harley shop. So around 2.30 we split up.

The three us had a pleasant enough time eating a small lunch (we had a big meal at a cool restaurant planned for later) and wandering around shops looking at weird stuff. Ellie even bought herself a didgeridoo and then bought Jeff a dulcimer for Christmas. We had a coffee and looked at some crystals and then set off back.
* * *

We got back to the 'cabin' around 6 pm. Biker Bill announced that as we had gone out to eat he had assumed we wouldn't be going out to eat later so he and Sandy had eaten already. Remember she only eats once a day! The rest of us were not sure if we should be pissed off or pleased so we each retired to our rooms. I put on my MP3 player and got out my guitar to see if I could play along with any of the songs. Now my door was open and they must have been able to hear me and there was another living room downstairs but the upstairs living room erupted into a loud and visceral argument between Biker Bill and Sandy.



It was f***ing brilliant! I did get the distinct impression that we were meant to hear and that Sandy was 'staging' this. I will spare you the details but some were intimate (sexual performance, personal hygiene, financial status) whilst others aimed just to be inflammatory (your friends are stupid etc.). The argument followed the course of Sandy raising a point Biker Bill answering, then the two of them would bat it back and forth for while until it was well and truly dead and then Sandy would produce another topic. My fingers were quite sore from all the playing last night and on Thanksgiving Day but I could stop playing otherwise it would be obvious I was listening. Each time the argument seemed to end Sandy would stoke the flames again. Even Alex must have been impressed by how doggedly determined to raise hell she was. But eventually even the most bilious and intelligent of people run out of steam and as she only possessed one of theses qualities after about 40 minutes it seemed safe enough to come out of my room.

They were sat at either end of the enormous curved sofa in statuesque and frozen silence. The fire was cracking and glowing, burning a few good size logs but any heat it was generating was more than compensated icy cold surrounding the biker and his (obviously not a) laydee. I tried to make some small talk and Jeff and Ellie appeared as well. Biker Bill decided to get something from his car and Jeff went with him leaving Sandy with Ellie and me. As soon as the door swung closed behind the two guys Sandy started on us. She told us how tough her life was and how bad Biker Bill was. How unfair his treatment of her was. Ellie and I just tried to stay non-committal and looked embarrassed.

Fortunately Biker Bill and Jeff returned before we were submitted to too much and the time before heading out to our evening meal passed quickly. The three of us normal diners left around 9pm, ate well and returned at 11pm. As we pulled into the drive there was something clearly wrong.
Biker Bill's truck was gone. We entered the house apprehensively but it was empty apart from Alex. They had decided not to remain for the final 12 hours. We had noticed that while we were waiting to go out Sandy had downed a six-pack of beer and judging by the empties around had continued when we left. Later we learned that pretty much as we drove out of the drive they had started another huge argument and Biker Bill had decided he couldn't cope anymore and packed their stuff and they left. I am not sure how he got through the journey home but he did say he'd made her sit in the back

We cleared up a little and I played a few songs but for some reason I went down the Verve/Travis/Radiohead route. I did do 'Why does it always rain on me?' in honour of Matthew and James because after all a log cabin is almost camping and as ever when camping, it was raining again. I guess we were all a little down (well utterly suicidal after doing the Drugs don't work and High and Dry) when we went to our beds. Maybe I need to learn some Madness and Bare Naked Ladies numbers?

Sunday
Sunday was quick and we tidied up and packed and made our way back to Schaumburg with only Alex casting that cloud when we were nearly home and coming close to choking us.

Weekend in the country? Weekend in a reality show!


Any similarity between characters in this story and anybody real is entirely intentional. Most character profiles are either absent or brief due to a need to keep some friends. Names changed not because there were any innocents but I don’t need to be sued.
Remember. If undetected, ignorance can pose a serious health problem to you and those around you.
Lastly.
At 20 you can be pretty & stupid and survive but at 40 you'll just be pretty stupid.

This story is 95% true and there is even a video to accompany it. It all took place in 2001 and I'm glad to say I am still good friends with at least one of the characters in the story (Jeff). I am reminded of it at this time because my wife and I are about to head north for thanksgiving with another couple, their sister and a dog …..


<Enter stunningly witty and clever tagline here>


Bazza

Saturday, October 31, 2009

Rue Du Désir


Although by ten O’clock the late August sun was already high and warm in a spotless blue sky, the nights had been getting cooler; it wouldn’t be long until the harvest. I stopped the old tractor and killed the engine; silence washed into the vacuum left by the rusty motor’s noise. From the driver’s saddle I could look down across the shallow valley at our three large fields of corn. I found myself wondering again how the crop could wash and ripple across the fields even on perfectly still days like this. It can be mesmerizing and the ocean is only broken by the straight narrow strip of the road to St. Martenne. The highway may be a normal two lane road but at this point in the summer the corn crowds to its edges giving the impression of a narrow avenue.


Looking to far end of the road I saw the blue convertible appear. Since the middle of July it had passed by every morning at this time. It is why I too, was here again. The car sped between our fields, parting the golden sea. The fawning corn stands back while it passes only to sweep back to the road once the car has gone. The corn bustles excitedly and rustle-whispers ‘See her? Did you see her?’ And I did see her. She was magnificent. Her fair hair shielded from the wind under a patterned silk headscarf, her eyes hidden behind large lensed sunglasses which, in turn, accentuated majestic high cheekbones. Her lips always had a slight smile playing along them. And her arms were bare and lightly tanned like her face. She looked for the all the world like one of the dames à la mode from my mother’s 1960s Paris Match magazines; the ones that are stacked in low columns around her dark and musty room. But those ladies are faded, distant and dead or dying now, the woman in the convertible was not. She was a like a movie star but just as untouchable even though she was only a fifty meters away.

As she passed I noticed my arm had risen to wave but as always before she either did not see or probably thought it was just part of the swaying crops around her. Then she was gone. My arm fell back to my side while the excited corn returned to a gentle ripple. I exhaled, I seemed to have been holding my breath.

Leaning forward I pressed the large black button that restarted the old tractor. It rattled and shook into life, the noise and the oily smell of the exhaust brought my mind back to the day’s chores. Yes, soon we will harvest and she could not help but see me up here then however, I knew, in my heart, she too would be gone; back to the city and summer would be over.

<Enter stunningly witty and clever tagline here>


Bazza

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Rocket Man

I vividly remember writing this blog. It was on a flight to Denver in February 2008. Yeah, the trip that resulted in the Tibia Trivia fun. In all the excitement I forgot about the blog for ages. Then my editor (or wife, as she is sometimes known) said I was too libelous with some parts. So eventually I cleaned it up a bit and present it to you here.



A few nights ago I was at a karaoke evening and Elton John's Rocket Man was a chosen sing-along. Something has always troubled me about the song and so I paid extra attention as the words scrolled across the screen! Aha! I know what troubled me. It’s a load of crap!

There are two things that most get to me about this song. Working week and raising your kids on Mars.

First the bit about being a rocket man five days a week. You can hardly go home for the weekend Mr. Dwight! You cannot turn the ship around every Wednesday lunchtime because you don’t wanna miss Stars in their Eyes. No, like a sailor (hence why it’s called a ship oh ex-director of Watford FC) you are there for the voyage. That’s bad but the stuff that really bothers me is the stuff about Mars.

According to Reggie, “Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids.” Yer think?
“It’s cold as hell.” Excuse my transplanted follicles friend but isn’t hell hot? The nuns at Sunday school said it was. Maybe Dante had a little freezer section for people who die after moving to Boca Raton (probably quite full if my visits to the town are anything to go by) but I believe the general view is ‘hell is hot’.

But here’s the real weird bit. In the next line our height challenged pianist says.
“And there’s no-one there to raise them if you did.” What the heck! Shouldn’t we raise our own kids and where is his spouse? What kind of judge would give custody of kids to a tantrum prone homosexual man living on another planet?

Kinda made me start wondering about his other songs - could he really see Daniel waving goodbye?


<Enter stunningly witty and clever tagline here>


Bazza

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Giving The World Away







Spud and Moochy arrive Saturday for a visit. It reminded me of an unfinished blog piece from about six months ago. That was in the middle of the longest time we had ever gone without seeing each other. I found the piece and here it is:

The four Rolls Royce engines on the Virgin Airbus A340 decrease in pitch and the plane noticeably slows. Beneath the wings the blue waters of Lake Michigan give way to the flat grid of the north suburbs; a buzz of excitement passes through the cabin as the aircraft banks right to start it’s loop into the airport.

Two thousand feet below, on the back-step of a rented suburban family house, sits a solitary man enjoying the contrast between the warm early May sun on his face with the cool glass of the French doors on his back. He is strumming ‘Kingston Town’ on an old worn guitar. It is not unusual to find him there while the daily Virgin Airbus from London turns over St Charles and follows the broad line of Lake Street into O’Hare.

By the time the airliner gets to him it’s so low it feels as if he can see straight into its oval windows. He fancies again, as so often before, that he can see the big green eyes, round with anticipation, of a small boy's face. That face pressed against the aircraft’s Plexiglas. The guitar quiets in his hands as his soul seems to leave him and fly alongside the aircraft.

All too soon the plane passes and lands moments later. Off stream hopeful business men, excited tourists and home-comers; the latter anxiously scanning the crowded terminal for a familiar face. A squeal, a hug, maybe some tears and flowers. Then they pour form the building in a cloud of excited chatter and heavy cases and fall into the waiting cars; they are back among their own.

Two miles north, on the suburban back-step in the early May sunshine, the solitary man goes back to strumming Kingston Town. Quietly he sings “If I had the whole world I would give it away just to see the boys at play …”


In case you re unfamiliar with the song:

UB40 Cover

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Bazza

Friday, July 17, 2009

Faces Royally Flushed

Moochy is clearly growing up to be a smart kid - I'd never tell him but he's smarter than i was at that age (his brother is no slouch either). I still have my moments too, those these days they're more often 'senior' moments.


So with me and the Moochy's combined brain power you can be forgiven for thinking we never get caught looking really really stupid. Unless you had been in a certain computer games retailer last year.


Me and Mooch were looking for a new game. We wanted a multiplayer game and preferably one that didn't just require fast fingers. We were looking at board and card games when we got to discussing poker.


"You know it's funny," I said to the 14 year old, "you never see multi player poker games for the Playstation."

Moochy looked puzzled too. "You're right, I wonder why?" he mused.

We decided to ask

The guy behind the counter seemed a little bemused at the question; his head tilted to one side, brow creased as he looked from me to Moochy and back again. Finally he said


"Well, you'd be able to see the other person's cards ..."


We left the shop very soon after.


<Enter stunningly witty and clever tagline here>


Bazza