YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST

I met a very interesting man in one of my second-home bars the other day. Even though we talked for hours (which I'm always more than happy to do with a fellow Aquarian) I'm still not entirely sure quite what he did other than write lots of books and head up a company that appeared to do lots of things, none of which I particularly understood (he was very bright and I was very thirsty). Last week he was running a conference (amongst other things, like drinking with me), on disruptive innovations in healthcare, whatever that means, and we got talking about medical tourism.

I'm not sure which one of us pointed it out first, but clearly I am doing it the wrong way round. I have had more medical appointments since being in this country than I've had in about the last 20 years. And I'm PAYING for them. What kind of total loser am I?

But so it continues, because Saturday morning found me at 'urgent care' with the worst earache I have ever had, and total deafness to the point where if it wasn't for the earache keeping me awake, I would have been able to sleep right through the night for the first time in months on account of not being able to even remotely hear the TH snoring.

The 'urgent care' doctor (read strict, hassled, impatient, not wanting to be at work on a saturday) was strict, hassled and impatient and clearly didn't want to be at work. She stared in despair into my ear, proclaimed it infected and full of 'gunk', which is a medical term I am not totally familiar with, threw a prescription for some antibiotics at me and said she was referring me to see an ear specialist at the hospital on Monday. Blimey. This immediately prompted me to check in the mirror that my ear was still actually in place on the side of my head, as to get referred to a specialist within a day in the UK you have to be on your deathbed.
Hell, no, you have to be dead.

Approximately 154 painkillers later (thanks travellers - that's the real medical tourism....) and I'm sitting next to a very sweet ear specialist (in yet another co-pay situation ) whose real specialism is the inability to give a straight answer to any question. 'Well I could say that MAY be true, but I won't, incase it turns out NOT to be true, and then I'd have been wrong'. Uh?

Anyway, he managed to hoover my ear. Yes hoover. Which was one of those pleasurable pain type things, which I won't go into right now because that's just not today's topic.
The 'gunk' turned out to be a Telegraph Machine (of course) and about 2,300 really bad jazz demos which have clearly collected over a period of many years. And I now have hearing back, which is just lovely. And the antibiotics have kicked in nicely so I will be back to not sleeping through the night for the right reasons again tonight.

However, all of this recent medical activity in my life has led me to a rather disturbing conclusion.
Call me paranoid, but I think I'm being used in a Truman Show way as an unknowing victim of an Extreme Undercover TV show doing an expose into the American Medical profession.
You heard it here first......

BREAKING THE CODE

Did a sweep of the entire flat in the middle of the night searching for the Telegraph machine which the USA military or some such visitor had clearly very carelessly left in our apartment, switched on, whilst people are trying to sleep. Then I realised that this racket was actually coming from inside my head. It's amazing how tinnitus appears to be coming from outside not inside. Blimey. I don't envy people who suffer from this all the time. It's like having really noisy neighbours. No worse, because this lot are really bright and only talk in a code I can't understand. I also now have earache as well as deafness in morse-code ear, which is really not good.

This morning I got very worried that the noise was so loud that it must actually be able to be also heard by everyone outside my ear.... but the TH had a good listen up against my ear and could hear nothing, which is just as well 'cos I didn't want to be that disruptive 'morse-code-ear-sounds-person' that everyone turns to stare at, at the gig I went to this evening. The gig being the lovely Kendra Shank. And she really is lovely. I met her at the IAJE last week and really wanted to hear her sing after meeting her. So JB and I headed out to the 55 Bar tonight to her gig. Turns out that JB has known her for years anyway, so it's all fairly karmic and stuff, as it should be. Good gig. Kendra was as lovely as she is - just check out her smile - it says it all really. She sang some very adventurous repertoire - 'The Peacocks' by Jimmy Rowles, which is one of my all time favourite jazz tunes, and you have to be MAD to sing it 'cos the head just jumps all over the place. She clearly is mad though, so that's okay. She also unusually did a track from the soundtrack of the film 'un homme et une femme' (which I must recommend as a really beautiful album full of incredible arrangements, especially the string-writing) . She sang really well in French and should possibly do way more of the French material. Had lots of fun listening anyway. As she did singing I think. A lovely gig.

The ear thing is pretty weird. I was convinced there was a drummer in the band for about half the set until JB made me get up and actually look, when I discovered that my very clever tinnitus was actually creating a percussion part. All of which would be fine if it didn't hurt so much.

Think I might have broken the code though. Last night I actually beat the TH at chess. This is a hugely big deal because it's the first time I've done it ever, in like 8 years or something. So I have a theory now that the morse 'code' I'm hearing is a kind of subliminal chess-thing which is going straight to my subconscious and enabling me to be a really cool player (the TH was once told by a Grand Master that he was good enough to be a Grand Master....), so code =
' Rook to E5 which checks White's king. White counters by moving the king to F4 , which moves it out of check and threatens your rook. You move your rook to C5, which moves it to safety and threatens White's pawn at C2. White counters by moving the king to G3........etc etc.

DI-DI-DI-DAH-DAH-DAH-DI-DI-DIT

Today's interesting new flu-lurgy symptom is 'almost complete deafness' but with a fairly constant and insistent morse-code tinnitus thing going on. Have spent entire day trying to understand this code, because clearly something in the very depths of my head is trying to tell me something, but my morse is about as good as my German, which as my sister will tell you, is a fair bit worse than hers.

I am stir crazy with all this staying in the apartment trying to get well business. Feeling slightly dangerous after 2 days of it and had to resist radio phone-ins today. My resistance is already low and tomorrow is a whole other problem. On the upside I have sorted the good from the bad on US TV, which is a vast improvement on believing everything is bad, and I now have something resembling a viewing schedule. This includes 'Desperate Housewives', 'The Bachelor', 'American Idol' and 'Wife Swap'. And just incase you're wondering, yes, that's the GOOD stuff.....

I have also discovered and become a huge fan of WNYC radio. I am such a fan I will probably be a sponsor by the end of the week. Or better still, an employee. This station broadcasts the equivalent of all the best elements of BBC Radios 3 and 4, and reverts to the BBC World Service at other times. I have seriously not heard anything on there yet which hasn't really interested me. They have fantastic phone-ins, totally compelling interviews, serious political debates and, most importantly, incredible jazz programmes.

Actually I did briefly leave the apartment today, but only to put a card under the neighbour's door to tell her that I'm sick and she shouldn't come round incase she catches the lurgy. Felt compelled to do this after ignoring the doorbell three times yesterday. It has been very quiet this evening so clearly this is a working model. I still have a copy of 'Black's Medical Dictionary' somewhere, and a whole packet of postcards from Kew Gardens, so I reckon this new plan could buy me a couple of weeks of peace....

Oh, and incase you hadn't already figured it out - day 19 no cigarettes.

HIP-HOP/CLIP-CLOP

To an arty 'industry' type gig last night. The sort of gig which in London would take place at Cargo or 93 Feet East, the equivalent venue here clearly being the Cutting Room. And there they were - lots of venue programmers on a three-line-whip outing to see a series of bands who 'seamlessly blend classical, rock 'n' roll and hip-hop' - you know the kind of thing. Brought it all flooding back. Especially as I crashed into Sefton. Lovely to see him and catch up, although he had about 9 million meetings to go to, deals to strike and planes to catch (nothing new there then) so we only managed a quick drink/chat. Actually now that I look at it, that link is quite bizarre, like a trailer for 'Sefton the movie'.

So I saw two of the 'seamless blends'. Firstly the string quartet 'Ethel' who I've been meaning to catch for a while, since being introduced to the lovely Todd Reynolds, (one of their founding members), by Stevie in London last summer. However, said founding member doesn't seem to be in the group anymore, which is odd, and reeks of what Woody Allen would call a 'definite type of situation'. With or without founding member, Ethel is nevertheless a musical buzz-word in NY in a Kronos-type way at the moment, and deservedly so as they're hugely talented musicians, but I could have done without the 'performance' element - which at times was a little edinburgh-fringe in its delivery.....classical string players, still dressed all in black, but camping it up a bit when they play....hmmmm.

Next band on was DBR & the Mission. Again extremely talented musicians led by the very charismatic Daniel Bernard Roumain, who is, according to New York Resident Magazine 'One of the top 100 New Yorkers' , whatever that means (he recycles his trash correctly? keeps his part of the sidewalk free of snow? only drives if he has a full-carload of passengers?) The group have loads of energy and passion, and some very well-played and exhilarating repertoire, and DBR himself cuts a charming figure of a band leader, but it was all a little 'earnest' for me.... Bought the CD, so I'll reserve judgement until I've given that a run-through, but I can't help thinking that this 'seamless blending of classical and hip-hop' (clip-clop?) has all been seamlessly blended before.....Cinematic Orchestra comes to mind, and the wonderful '90s string sextet Instrumental.

Here's what I think the 'new interesting thing ' really is - the new-wave of extremely hip and innovatory musical figures in jazz and popular music emerging from dance companies - DBR is the Musical Director of the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company, and then there's Ethan Iverson of the Bad Plus - ex-Musical Director of the Mark Morris Dance Group. There's obviously a hotbed of exciting future music talent bubbling under in dance company MD posts. Now there's an interesting idea for a programmer to get their teeth into.

And today, I'm still coughing. Damn. Horrid endless lurgy-thing. Hospital test has been brought forward to 7th, which is good in that I now have an excuse not to go to the neighbours for dinner that day, (although it comes to something when one would rather have a colonoscopy than dinner with the neighbours), but it also means I need to get completely well by then, so need to be good to myself this week. Boring......

MOONDANCE

Very sorry to hear the sad outcome of the whale story. Personally I would have towed it back out to sea, but I guess that's easy to say from your bed 3,500 miles away.
Perhaps the most extraordinary element to this whole saga is the fact that I think this was the first International news story to make it on to US TV news since I've been living here.......

The birthday was very lovely thank you. Actually received presents/cards sent from Germany, the UK and Australia ON the day, which is fairly miraculous. The only present which arrived (only one day) late was from the Moon, so that's hardly surprising. Lizzy, I should be the first to tell you that I am your new lunar-neighbour and the proud owner of the acre next to yours. I think we should pool non-smoking plots and get a venue together. Whaddya say?

Spent the birthday mainly in bed watching DVD's (as am STILL recovering from the flu-lurgy), but the TH managed to drag me out in the evening for dinner and to see the lovely EST at the Jazz Standard.

SHARK TALE

In the light of recent odd dolphin happenings, I am slightly amazed that the whale situation is not being taken a little more seriously. But then what do I know, I'm just a shark.

THIS IS AMERICA AND SOMETIMES YOU JUST HAVE TO KICK SOME ASS

Well I've had better weeks. Have literally been in bed since Monday with horrible flu-type lurgy and nasty cough. Plus the abscess has been playing up, and now the ingrowing toenail is back!

It is my birthday today and I am 43. My body is clearly 44.

I am also obviously not cut out for work any more - 4 days of something even approaching work last week and the result is that I have to go to bed for a week. That's a net loss.

So the TH and I went off to the hospital yesterday for my appointment with the surgeon. It's really not so very different to the UK, other than everything costs a lot here and there are carpets in the waiting rooms. I still had to wait a month to get the appointment in the first place, and I still had to wait a good hour and a half to see the surgeon yesterday. Had a very thorough history & examination by the nurse. Then had a very thorough history & examination by the intern. Then had a 5 second examination by the surgeon, who like all bosses in every field, then proceeded to totally ignore all the field work done by his very thorough staff and jump to his own conclusion based on very little evidence whatsoever. (Incidentally, since giving up smoking I now have high blood pressure for the first time in my life, to which the surgeon usefully commented 'It's worse for your body to give up than to carry on if you've been smoking for as long as you have. Too much of a shock to your system'. )

Having said all that, everyone was very nice, and because you're paying (and because people like me now spend way more time in cyberspace than in kitchens or offices....or those other places normal people go occasionally), the surgeon is then obliged to spend the next half hour listening to your side of the story whilst you question their judgment and years of experience. Which is exactly what I did. And we actually had a very good chat and got on very well. I am of course a total expert on all things fistular now, having spent the last 4 weeks reading 5 million pages about said topic on the internet.

So the deal is that he thinks that my symptoms all point to the possibility of Crohn's disease, but I think it's unlikely. He thinks that my abscess has a low tract (and will hence be a relatively easy op) and I think it has a high tract (because I have been living with it for several months now, and can FEEL where it is), and that will mean a relatively difficult op. Anyway, he won't operate at all until he's done a colonoscopy to see what's going on and checked for the cause, which could be a myriad of things - Crohns, cancer, polyps, missing CD's (you know, the ones that are mysteriously not in their cases) etc...
In the meantime, we have very amicably agreed to disagree, and I very nearly challenged him to one of my well known 5,000 dollar bets, until I realised that that would be like totally shooting myself in the foot, as he'd be the one actually finding out who was right whilst I was under, so he could MAKE UP the result in order to appear right, and I would be none the wiser. Unless I got the whole thing video'd of course.....but that seems a little extreme.....

So I now have to wait another month, as his first colonoscopy appointment isn't until....wait for it.....Valentine's Day. Terrific. Still, I suppose it saves the TH from having to buy two lots of flowers.

The most embarrassing moment of the day (far more embarrassing than stripping off in front of a selection of strangers) was when I was given the instructions for what seems like days of preparation before the colonoscopy. I had a quick look and was alarmed to read that the whole of the day before, I'm only allowed a 'clear liquid diet'. This apparently includes 'clear juices, black coffee, jello (wtf?), popsicles (what a fabulous word) and BEER!'
And so, sadly I was that person asking at reception whether or not white wine counted as a clear liquid. My question got shouted around the office (as nobody was quite sure of the answer) in full hearing of the entire waiting room. Someone went to ask someone. They came back saying nobody knew for sure but they'd find out and call me..........
But no, I didn't leave it at that....even though the eyes of the whole waiting room were on me - I just had to go one step further.
My parting words at the hospital were:
' Do you have a pen....? Right, whilst you're finding that out, would you mind also asking about gin and tonic.....and vodka....and errrrr sambuca and.....'.

IAJE DAYS 2 - 4

So on Thursday we got our stand up finally with the aid of some twine, sticky-back plastic, old boxes etc. We even went all the way to FAO Schwarz to get some candy with which to entice people to the stand (well that was our excuse anyway). We weren't actually running a fruit stall, just incase you're wondering, although someone should have been, given the appalling choice of bar food available at the venue. But I digress.

Also managed to fit in a couple of very interesting seminars on jazz and public radio and 'turf wars' between jazz clubs and Arts Centres presenting jazz programmes. Then at 4pm we headed downtown to the Dutch Consulate's amazingly gorgeous and doubtless unimaginably expensive private residence for a reception. Which is of course when the day started to go a bit pear-shaped. For starters the wine was just lovely. And the canapes. And the wine. And the bartenders. And the wine. And then a totally divine man walked in - the sort of person whose very presence instantly lights up a room and commands a hushed respect and a kind of awe.
'Who is THAT?!' C and I chorused to a passing Ambassador.
That's 'John Clayton'.
And there began our 'conference crush'. (Because of course there always has to be one, to get one through the more tiring tedious 3am moments). C and I were both starry-eyed, and had to have more wine to recover. And then more wine to summon up the courage to go over to meet him and shake his hand and look into his eyes in a tongue-tied sort of way. Pathetic behaviour.

All this would have been just about okay and par for the course had we left then, but instead we fell into the company of some Dutch jazz musicians, including the very feisty and fun Ben Van Den Dungen . (Although one really does have to wonder about the sanity of musicians who go swimming with their saxophones). He was, inevitably, an adorably bad influence. We had taken the precaution of getting the lovely Peter from Wigan to cover us for the opening of the stand at 6pm just incase we were a little late, but by the time we had got a cab back from the Netherlands and staggered up to the furthest point of the furthest exhibition hall there was only 20 minutes of the opening event still to run. Felt very guilty, but due to wine intake was not sure I should be talking to the public and instead busied myself constructing the paper planes we had also taken the precaution of buying earlier that day, incase we needed them........

From there to the bar where we bumped into the lovely folks from Serious, and of course they don't drink at all. No not at all. I don't remember many details about Thursday after that but I know I also ended up at a Nordic reception until 1am. I know this because according to the TH I didn't get home until 2am and I found the invitation in my pocket the next morning, and photographs on my camera. And of course the Fins and Norwegians don't drink either. No not at all.....

Incidentally, the Finnish for 'cheers' is 'kippis' , which is pronounced 'keep pissed'. I'm not entirely sure how I know that.

Friday started way too early. I dragged my too-old-for-this-up-all-night-drinking-lark head (and body) to Starbucks for two coffees to go (there are days when one is simply not enough) and had a very alarming American-language moment when the person at the till said to me
'Next guest in line please'.
Guest?!
I don't want a room, I just want a coffee or two! Guest?!
I missed my moment unfortunately, because on this particular morning I was clearly incapable of speech until I'd actually consumed the coffees, but they'd better not try that one on me again......

Then to the stand to put in some 'chatting to the public about UK jazz' time. It only took about 1 minute to realise that we had been put in the 'music shops' and 'instrument makers' exhibition hall. Which loosely translated meant that at any given moment there were about 300 musicians trying out drumkits, brass instruments, saxes, keyboards, electric guitars etc etc starting at a distance of about 4 feet from our stand. An excruciating cacophony, which made it almost impossible to have anything resembling a conversation with anyone who wanted information. Hopeless. It also meant that my (beautifully blagged) website demo plan and itunes UK jazz demo folder was completely pointless as nobody could hear anything , even when the laptop was right next to their ears at top volume. We were not happy.

In the afternoon checked out the Andy Scott/Dave Hassell Duo (which was lovely and warmly presented) and the North Texas State University One O'Clock Lab Band, a group I was very much looking forward to seeing live, as I own a much-cherished 1975 album of theirs - one of my earliest jazz discoveries. They even played one of my favourite tracks from that album - 'FM', written by past-student Lyle Mays. Felt a whole lot better after that gig and primed for some more pointless miming on the stand.

Later to see 'Curtis Stigers' who was fine doing upbeat numbers and had a fantastically swinging band, but whose ballad-songwriting made me cringe. The sort of really obvious lyrics where you can guess exactly what's coming next and where someone is always being missed or kissed etc etc. Dear oh dear....I fear I had to disappear. Then to see 'Kitty Margolis' - a really talented vocalist from San Francisco, who I met years ago when she came over to the UK and did a performance at the RFH. She was on brilliant form and now also has an amazingly talented and astute drummer - Allison Miller, who was awesome to watch. In fact if I hadn't already decided on my conference crush......

Then to the bar where we met some guy who worked at the U.S Department of Justice and had a couple of hours of fairly interesting race-relations conversation with him (!) before the 11pm EST gig. They were superb as ever. Another late night.

Saturday raced by. Did some more pointless stand-miming then had a good look around the exhibition (and bonded with Avishai Cohen's agent), before going to see Kathy Dyson present her PhD paper on 'Jazz Improvisation and Schema theory', which was fascinating. Back to the stand and C had become some sort of kleptomaniac in my absence and had started to collect all sorts of tat freebie giveaways in a sort of panic-buying mode (or whatever the free equivalent is) . I mean, how many black industry mock-rucksacks does a girl need? And then to the hard-sell time of the conference - we were trying to get rid of all our remaining CD Roms and heavy stuff so that C didn't have carry it back to the UK, so we enticed with the aid of chocolate-covered coffee beans and paper aeroplane tricks. Anything, in fact, which didn't involve having to hear anything anyone said above the constant instrument racket. Janek Gwizdala turned up and we had a lovely catching-up chat (well more of a 'shout' under the circumstances), as I've not seen him for years. It really has been a 'bass fest' these last few days. Then we packed away the stand, which took all of 10 minutes and headed off to the final concert with the Eddie Gomez Trio, featuring Chick Corea and Jack de Johnette.

These things are over too fast - it was lovely to see so many UK (& USA) friends again, but no sooner do you start making new friends and bumping into people and having good project ideas than it's time to go home again and you're left with a load of business cards and a massive hangover, trying to piece it all together.
Why, for instance, do I have a Staten Island Botanical Gardens business card in amongst my jazz ones....? And who or what is Sibongile?

A Great Day in the Hilton. (How many d'you recognise?) 

IAJE DAY 1

How the hell out of practice am I at working?
So, we arrive to assemble our stand at the IAJE and of course realise within seconds that we should have brought tape, string, scissors, a mini-bar etc....Lizzy I so needed you there today.
Without said equipment, stand could clearly not be built. Had to retire to the bar.
(But not before seeking out and discovering illegal power and wifi sources, which will serve very nicely thank you for our website display, which didn't exist at all until I planned it just now).
Am not worried yet. The official opening of the stand is at 6 tomorrow, but there is the vexed question of the Dutch Embassy party from 4.30pm in a completely different part of town. And indeed the whole problem of fitting in building the stand at all into a very busy day. However, as our stand position is just about as far away from the entrance as it is possible to be (ie. the WORST position) we figured nobody would actually get to it till around 6.30/6.45, which buys us extra time to get back from the party even during cab-shift-swap-over-nightmare-hour. Or something.....

Crashed into the lovely Wayne Batchelor early this afternoon, and have been hanging out with him pretty much ever since. Really good to catch up, as I've not seen him for years. Plus he seems to know about 90% of the several thousand people at the conference. Have a large collection of business cards from all of Wayne's friends and acquaintances met today, including the extraordinary fellow-Aquarian Sun Ra Arkestra bass player, Juini Booth, with whom I spent an interestingly spacey half hour or so.

Tonight with Wayne, JB, Celia and the TH to see Christine Tobin at Joe's Pub. A really good gig, with some very interesting original material. The space really worked for her and she sang really well. Also it struck me that this is the first time I've heard Christine in a couple of years or something - probably because transport-wise it's sort of easier to get to a gig in New York from London than it is to get to the Vortex if you live in SE London.....

London really needs to sort its transport out. It's very evident to me after a few months in New York, that there is a much bigger audience at any and every gig here (and a whole load more gigs), mainly, I'm sure, because people can actually get to the gig in the first place and then get home afterwards without having to take out a second mortgage....

Right. Need to pack string and brain for tomorrow.

KURT ELLING

Spontaneous last minute decision to go see Kurt Elling last night at Birdland. And I'm so glad we did.
I've seen him live so many times and in so many different countries now, but this show (or rather these shows, as we also stayed for the second set) was one of the best ever. Second only perhaps to the first time I saw him years ago at Pizza Express Dean St, London, when I was so totally suspended on the edge of that extraordinary voice, hearing him live for the first time, that I couldn't eat a morsel of pizza. Yes you heard correctly - I left a whole pizza. And it was my favourite sort with extra capers. THAT'S how good he was ;-). I went back every night that week to see him over and over again. A not-at-all-well-known Jamie Cullum also at every set, sitting on the table next to me - we bonded in our total awe of this man and his music and virtually stopped the rest of our lives for a week to fully take it on board, to try to somehow breathe it all in.

Last night was one of those magical performances when everything was right - the audience loved it, hanging on every word and note, the band were having a great time, the music was totally inspired and effortless. Nobody wanted it to end - including Kurt I think, who did an encore after the first set (pretty unheard of when you have to turn the whole room over in 20 minutes for the next set). He was in that reckless joyous creative musical space where every note he sang and every story he told came straight from the soul, and easily - an instant desire-path. He just threw his head back and soared. It's one of the closest things to bliss to be in the presence of that 'thing' when it happens, and it always makes me cry. In fact I've only not cried at a Kurt performance once - at the Algonquin a year or two ago. But one of us clearly had to, so Kurt cried that night instead - moved himself to tears reciting the Pablo Neruda poem 'Horses'.

Anyway, possibly because I was out last night until 2am , I am now late for the first day of the IAJE.

BETTER LATE THAN NEVER

I've got two already, so I don't need this one (although it seems preferable to my two frankly). Anyway, if you don't have one yet and want this one then I'm willing to give it away, but please form an orderly queue so that you don't tread on anything and mess my blog up.

And if you don't like this one (although why wouldn't you want this one unless you're some really totally-weird-obsessed-too-far-gone-already-freaky-geek-type person and hence beyond the point where mere resolutions can help you), then you can click to get another one.

In the year 2006 I resolve to: Stop checking my e-mail at 3:00 in the morning. Get your resolution here

DEUCE. ADVANTAGE FAGS. DEUCE. MATCH POINT. GAME SHARK.

As it is foremost in my mind (weirdly), I first have to report cigarettes - 0.
However, calories - something like 11,000.
Thank you for all your support, but soon it will be impossible for me to smoke anyway as I will be too huge to leave my apartment/bed in order to go out to buy any cigarettes.

Whilst I am waiting to become that large (which is probably only a matter of days away), I have discovered that cinemas are a relatively safe haven. For one thing they don't sell cigarettes. They also don't allow smoking. So even if they did sell cigarettes it would be pretty pointless. And they also provide entertainment to take one's mind off smoking for several hours at a time, although this would be an even more successful plan if there was a law against smoking in movies, and I don't mean in movie theatres now, I mean in actual movies. I was horrified to find that after having forgotten entirely about smoking for like a whole 25 minutes or something today, the sexiest character in the movie then proceeded to light a cigarette with virtually every sentence. It was like no words were actually capable of leaving her mouth unless accompanied by smoke. Honestly, it's no wonder teenagers start to smoke. (Yeah course I want one, jealous of movie character, teenagers, anybody with fag, hate them all, losers, bloody smokers, filthy habit, arg, want a fag, no i don't, oh yes you do, oh no i don't).

Anyway, as I was saying. Saw the new Woody Allen movie 'Match Point', which was very good. Not funny, but definitely very good. It's an 8/10. And without giving anything away - contrary to 'The Libertine', (in which I didn't really identify with any of the characters,) 'Match Point' plays this dastardly trick on you, whereby you end up sympathising with the most morally reprehensible character in the film. It is very clever and believable and perfectly paced. Definitely worth seeing.

Apart from that today, a really cool thing happened. I went back to the gorgeous clothes shop ('Soho Woman on the Park') where I bought my wedding dress. I've avoided this shop since arriving in New York for fear of spending lots of money I don't have, but now I'm not smoking I have at least a tenner to spare, and we were practically walking past on the way to the cinema today so......
Not only was I welcomed with huge hugs and open arms, but having tried on a very bizarre sharky Indian affair and decided to purchase it despite not having the money, the shop owner then proceeded to wrap it up and give it to me FREE as a 'welcome to New York' present. How totally lovely is that?!

SHARK'S DIARY

Cigarettes - 0
Walkers all-butter shortbreads - 10
Cigarettes - 0
Coffee - 6
Cigarettes - 0
Alcohol units - 6 (ish)
Cigarettes - 0
Meals - Approximately 4
Cigarettes - 0
Snacks - Approximately 4
Cigarettes - 0
Pointless arguments with husband about nothing - 3
Cigarettes - 0
Remaining xmas chocolates - All
Cigarettes - 0

REVELATION, RESOLUTION, REVOLUTION.

It was one of those revelatory moments.....

Yesterday afternoon I was sitting at the kitchen table with one eye on the resolutions, (a cup of mint tea and the book 'Easy Way to Stop Smoking', which strangely I am reading at less than my usual book-devouring speed) and the other eye on three ongoing instant message conversations, when the doorbell rang. Actually it didn't just ring, it rang continuously in that ominous urgent type of way, which makes one immediately want to head for the cigarette packet (although in my defence I'm not even halfway through the book yet....)

Mrs N. stood outside clutching a hand to a bandaged face and waving the other one dramatically around 'you have to come round and look after me' she wailed. This clearly wasn't really a 'sorry I'm busy' moment, so I followed the staggering/wailing figure next door.

The back story, it seems, was that Mrs N had had a minor operation that morning and Mr N had gone out to get the prescriptions. 'I can't be on my own' she cried.
'You should have sent me out for the prescription' I suggested, through gritted teeth.

Never ever have I come across such a bad patient. She was wandering around the flat, one hand on face, screaming dramatically 'oh it's awful its awful'.
'Errr why don't you lie down?'
'There's so much to doooooooo'.
'Like what?' I so should not have uttered those words...

So for the next half hour I was putting flowers in vases (and being yelled at for picking the wrong vases and not cutting the stems correctly), taking her blood pressure (which unlike mine by that point, was perfectly normal) and being shouted at for the strap being too tight on her arm, making tea (you can just imagine how many things I got wrong there), giving her pain killers (and being accused of giving her the wrong ones and poisoning her) and cleaning up dog/pig excrement off the floor, because said dog-pig was also (understandably) completely traumatised by all the noise and drama.

It was whilst kneeling on the floor cleaning up this mess, with the dog/pig jumping all over me and Mrs N screaming that I was staining the carpet, that I had the revelation. And indeed the resolution.

I thought 'I have to get a job, and that way I will hardly ever be in the apartment'.

So. Finally on Jan 5th we have resolutions.
1. STOP SMOKING
2. As soon as I've recovered from MY op (after which I will NOT be ringing any bells on my corridor) - GET JOB.

MINDING THE GAP

3pm on 3rd. And still not started on the resolutions. Not even resolute, never mind resolved.

Meantime, trying to distract ourselves from the gap left behind by departed family (and the elf in particular), the TH and I ventured out yesterday in heavy rainfall to the rather weather-beaten-pour-your-own-coffee ‘Sunshine’ cinema to see the ex’s movie ‘The Libertine’.

Not falling into the ‘must-see-and-love-everything-Johnny-Depp-is-in’ camp, and knowing the original play so well (having been at rehearsals and performances in Chicago when Malkovich played Rochester so brilliantly) I wasn’t sure if I was going to like it, but was surprised to find it not only as true to the play as is probably possible in adaptations but also quite simply a very enjoyable film.

Depp and Malkovich are magnificent. And Depp must surely get at least an Oscar nomination for this role? On the other hand, I couldn't really grasp from Samantha Morton's performance(as Elizabeth Barry) quite what it was about her that Rochester fell for....

It is quite rare to see a film in which you don’t particularly sympathise (or empathise ) with any of the characters, especially the protagonist, and it's a challenge to make that work. But this film remains true to its opening premise (the 'You will not like me' Rochester speech), and still does work. I wanted to like Rochester, but Depp plays the ‘don’t want sympathy’ card so well that however endeared to him you want to feel, it’s simply not possible, although you can't help feeling 'moved' by the sheer force of his will and arrogance (and consequent charisma.)

The play was wittier than the film, and I missed the sundial scene and could have done without the Dr Bendo one (much more drawn out and funny in the play), and the scenes of Rochester’s decline were perhaps weighted too much towards the deathbed rather than the downfall, but all that said, it rated an unbiased 7/10 to us.

Elf replacement therapy courtesy of Catster's blog.

Your MONKEY DAEMON represents a nature that is
admired, detail-oriented, and full of
curiosity. Some people might call you
self-absorbed. You like to plan ahead, and hone
your various talents to perfection.


What Animal Would Your Daemon Settle As?
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