faustus: (Comedy)
( Apr. 12th, 2011 03:28 pm)
I have a shelf of Doctor Who novelisations, pretty well all Target editions, presumably numbering somewhere in the region of a hundred, and stretching up to the end of Peter Davison's period, possibly including the odd Colin Baker. At one point it would have been complete, at least in the sense that I had all the novelisations available at that point. It became incomplete when they novelised virtually all the remaining Old Who stories (I'm guessing the Adams stories are the only ones left) and obviously there were Baker and McCoy adventures, plus the missing season. My records of which I have are not as accurate as they might be - I took a short cut when importing them into my database - and I think a couple have gone astray.

Every so often - as in on Thursday - I come across a bookshelf of novelisations, secondhand. A few times I've filled in gaps. It is an incomplete collection.

And that offends me.

On the other hand, I have virtually no interest in reading any more novelisations of Doctor Who, and certainly would not want to get into the Virgin adventures or New Who.

But, still. Offensive. Careless.


I notice Arden 3 has an edition of The Sonnets, unlike, as far as I can see, Arden 2.
faustus: (seventies)
( Mar. 26th, 2011 11:37 pm)
As far as I can tell, I have now got all the Shakespeare titles in Arden 2 -- having recently found a Love's Labour's Lost and now a Pericles and assuming there is no separate edition of The Sonnets. If I want The Two Noble Kinsmen I need to turn to Arden 3 (or possibly 4).

I am tempted to turn to Revels Editions, and indeed found a cache on Thursday, but they were mostly £6 each. Since I am unlikely to ever actually read them, this seemed a little excessive. I did pick up a The Alchemist, which I studied at ... A Level and didn't have a copy of. I need a better list, to check which I have already and some pricing research, although the two pound rule may be invoked.

I think I am up to seven copies of The Thirty Nine Steps, each of them a distinct edition. Six to go. The hunt continues.

I note also I have have been saying, "This used to be a bookshop" a lot this week.
faustus: (Default)
( Oct. 29th, 2010 07:30 pm)
I used to buy the Grauniad on Mondays (Media), Fridays (Film and music), Saturday (tv listings, books, old habits). Then I realised I had a pile of Meedja Grauniads I hadn't read. So I stopped Mondays. Then I stopped Fridays, for similar reasons.

I've not read the last five Saturday Grauniads. Tomorrow is a busy day. H'mmm.
There had been a plan for a two-pronged expotite on Maidstone, but that's been postponed for logistics reasons, so I thought, good, I can stay at home and watch season two of Survivors and write. So far today has been noticeable for the failure to do so.

Now I find I need a) a copy of Camera Lucida and b) to order stuff from Amazon which results in a need to go to the library and find wifi. It further occurs to me that I could buy the things that I need from town whilst I'm there. And this occurred just before I bought disinfectant in the corner shop - disinfectant I had anticipated buying in Morrisons after Plan C's visit to Staples, a visit shelved after a realisation I don't need to stuff from Staples right now. So library and wifi and shop and home - or library and Bux's wifi and shop and home - or library and wifi and shop and Rymans and Nerd and reading Memoirs of a Survivor and home.

Plans are multiplying.

None of them seem to involve watching season two of Survivors...
I am struck today that many businesses - especially artisan businesses - do not have websites. It might be that your business does not suit mail order - bottles and the post are no doubt expensive. But maybe a website that shows me a bit of ankle so I try to track down your farm shop would be kewl?

And if you have a website, well done, but if you are trying to sell me something, a large button marked BUY would probably be useful. If I click on SHOP and get a drop down menu, I'm likely to be distract by those drop down menus, each of which seem to presuppose I've ordered something already. If one of those pages has a link to a shop page, let it take me to the shop page. I don't want 404 dead link.

If you have a shop - say a shop that has all your beers and lots of European beers too - a decent map and directions on your website would help, with an optional link to Googlemaps, and showing public transport. (Your leaflet gives no indication of scale, and whilst it has a bus stop marked, how about a route number?)

Trying to be unchained here, and hitting the fail.

Edited to Add: I think being told a webpage works when this morning I could not work how to get through to your stock list is a little... well... Of course it's evident to you, but you've lost the trade from idiots. Thanks for at least thanking me for pointing out the deadlinks but, well, it's not as if there are that many pages on your site...
Last night I bought a rover ticket to go and see David O'Doherty. I think I bought the wrong one. I bought a Megarider when I should have bought a Unirider. My four trips to Britain's European campus will break even, and I don't have to scrabble for change. Just not lose the ticket.

Sneakily it last for seven calendar days, not a week, so I can't use it next Saturday morning.

To make a profit I shall have to go to ASDA. Maybe more than once. And maybe go to the campus of the hill twice on the days I'm seeing something in the evening. Maybe go on Tuesday morning, come back for therapy, return early evening. Have I time to go up to ASDA and back between 10.30 and 2.00 on Monday? In theory, yes, but is it worth it? I could go to KFC for lunch...
faustus: (Angry)
( Jan. 29th, 2010 03:45 pm)
... there was that moment of bowel unclenching and reaching into my pocket to discover that there is a lighter, but no memory stick - indeed said memory stick is in the side of the laptop at home. Fortunately I did have earlier versions of the lecture and had printed it out, so in tne minutes I was able to reconstruct what it looked like, minus a few graphics.

Things had been going well - I'd discovered on trying to pay a credit card bill that, um, the money had run out before days in the month and thus I had to raid a savings account to pay it. I took an extra fifty out, because I knew there would be outgoings, and fought off the attempt to have me switch mortgages (Salamander being the only people willing to lend in 2005, I don't suppose there is going to be too much more offered now, and I can't face the paperwork and charges to save a few pounds a month). Later in the day I celebrated being solvent again by spanking fourteen quid on six C.J. Cherryhs and a Williamson in Oxfam. I left a Yabro for now. Someone who lived fifty yards from me has clearly had their sf collection dumped (is this why there was a Dan Simmons on their wall the other day?), mostly bought from Dark They Were an Golden Eyed.

What they did not have was a copy of Malevil, which I take to have been in a dream rather than something I really saw, because none of the pictures I've seen of it match that copy and it doesn't have a 1980 copyright. Real world copies look expensive.

I got home to see publicity addressed to Mr/Ms Secretcampus, from a south coast arts venue. I see that Richard Herring is performing there tomorrow night. Sigh. Don't have the energy to do it. Laura Solon in April - must investigate. Some arthouse films, an sf parody, must keep out an eye.

Next week: David O'Doherty, China Mieville, Pappy's and Dave Gorman warming up his tour. Busy busy busy.

faustus: (Angry)
( Sep. 13th, 2009 02:36 pm)
The King's Mile is a stretch of the city that begins at the High Street - although it might not be called the High Street at that point - moves on past two parts of Debenhams and the site of the first film screening in the city, crosses and incorporates Sun Street and then shoots down to the King's School. I suspect about a third of it is cathedral owned, and aside from Debenhams and a Costa, little of it is chain - there's a couple of pubs, variable numbers of charity shops, a couple of hairdressers, jewellers and beads, coffee shops, a variety of cafes and restaurants, a leather shop, a miltary surplus place, a train ticket seller, short-lived boutiques, a sweet shop, and a couple of card shops.

Given the gravitational pull that is the ambiguous utopia of Whitefriars, there is a low footfall for the streets, and it's niche and cult. I rarely venture down there in daylight hours, save from the university end if I want to take in the Shelter charity shop.

A couple of years ago, then, the council branded the area as The King's Mile, and experimented with making it into a temporary pedestrianised zone. Actually all of the city is a temporary pedestrianised zone. On my first visit I found myself walking down the middle of roads on which there could be traffic. Frankly, there wasn't much traffic on this road; notionally it's within the walls, and it's a maze of streets you really don't want to navigate. Temporary pedestrianisation increased this - and I often watched drivers moved the pedestrian zone signs out the way so that they could drive on by. It was more dangerous. Then the council buggered around with the kerbs, the gas pipes were relaid and there was a year of chaos. Now it's a road, with some street furniture, but branded.

The cathedral still charge heavy rates, I'm told. The millions have not flocked in.

One development was a monthly crafts market - a huge amount of, I believe the the term is, hippy shit, which encourages shoppers, who would then also use the shops. This increased to twice monthly and then was reduced back to one, as the shopkeepers claim it loses them trade. Aha.

Meanwhile, at the far end of the High Street - St George's ... Street - a market is held on Wednesday and Fridays. There's meat, and often bread, and frankly a lot of tat, but it is always busy so someone's buying.

The chain shops felt it was not in keeping with the area, and want it moved, apparently onto the car park known as Wednesday Market, which is nicely out the way of any shoppers. To some degree it is out of keeping with the area - but then selling cattle there is probably no longer appropriate, and the precise spot is now covered with five lanes of traffic.

It has been proposed to move the market from the King's Mile to the [eta: George St, which is the far end of] High Street. Where presumably it will be equally in the way of Marks and Spensers and WH Smug, and will fail attract tourists to the King's Mile.

 P> P> P> Meanwhile locals are beginning to feel about tourists what they feel about students. How dare they spend money in our shops and cafes?
P> P> P> 

An update on the former gay-friendly pub - Bar 11 - which has rebranded itself as Scottish - the Jaggy Thistle - presumably in an attempt to woo the Argyllshire squaddies into its premises (presumably to some delight and intriguing cultural mixing): there is now a rainbow flag next to the pub's name board. Maybe it's still friendly after all - or they've found this colourful flag which it seems a waste not to use.

Yesterday I wanted to go out - although I should have stayed in to a) mark, b) tidy, c) research the conference paper. But sometimes getting out is what's needed.

And curious it was that Planet Thanet was the answer.

First on the Explorer to Margate, which is closing down brick by brick. Like Ramsgate it has a KFC and so, as I can't usually have one, I indulge. Ten minutes after arriving I'm served, and as always it's not as good as I imagine. I pop next door to a charity shop, do the Turner ("The Sound of Music" - rather dull in the end), and raid the charity shops and Julian Graves.

On to Broadstairs, and I discover that Time and Space has closed down - ah, no, in fact it has moved down the hill. That's lucky! (I have photographic evidence.) Past Ballard's the Florists and to the Broadstairs Bookshop, which smells of dust and cat pee. Or is that me? Some cheap hits. Albion is still open - but closed for lunch. Eventually they reopen. Again the smell of cat pee. Maybe it is me. This is a piled bookshop, so it's not so much browsing as archaeology. I skip out on too close a look.

Thence Ramsgate - charity shops and a second hand shop. A little pricey, but no smell of cat pee. Locate tapioca starch - but the recipient has some already and disbelieves it's the same as tapioca flour. We'll see. I have no time for Cafe Nerd and pop into Waitrose. No tapioca flour there; poor choice of safe flours in fact. Buy batteries once I've worked out which stickers apply to which.

The final stop is Westgate Shopping centre and I check my timings - 17.07 or 18.20. No time for coffee - I browse a couple of shops, and decide a sub for the bus is appropriate. I make the second (or third) discovery of the day, in Subway:

a BLT need not include lettuce nor tomato.

Or, rather, includes bacon but you have to specify lettuce and tomato when you are asked about salad.

That's not a BLT; that's a B.

The 17.07 is only going to Margate, it appears; the 18.20 is Mon-Fri only. This is not a shopping centre that welcomes the carless. I catch the loop back to Margate, and I've time to buy some butter and a packet of crisps from Somerfield. The shop is closing. Another slice of Margate going.

A long journey home - and the cats can hang, I'll go to the pub now, feed them later.

Damn - no ice cream as well as no coffee.
faustus: (heaven)
( Apr. 14th, 2009 03:18 pm)
I clearly blew the mind of the woman at Oxfam books:

  • Alison Assiter, Pornography, Feminism and the Individual
  • Susan Cooper, The Dark is Rising
  • Sally Ledger and Roger Luckhurst (eds), The Fin de Siècle: A Reader in Cultural History c.1880-1900

It's not that odd a mix is it?

Is it?

Meanwhile drunk enough coffee at Cafe Nerd to get a free one next time, managed to get a ticket for Paul Merton for tomorrow despite clearly trying to avoid doing so, and even remembered (at the last moment) to go into Curry's to look at DVD recorders. Then bought onion seeds, fuses and tea strainer in Wilkos (but not precision screwdrivers for now).

Finally, I am sorely tempted by these:


But £35 tempted?
faustus: (lights)
( Apr. 4th, 2009 05:59 pm)
In my last job a student gave me a Jay and Silent Bob poster as a thank you - in fact a Bluntman and Chronic one. For many years it has been on my office wall, although it now needs remounting, and I'd misfiled the student's name. That's a disjunct there - I will have taught five hundred, maybe a thousand or more students since them, and they can't all be remembered. But still.

And thus on Thursday I returned for a flying visit - I avoided the college itself, but I met up with G, who I taught and who (as far as I can tell) replaced the person who replaced the person who replaced me. It's weird, because he's crossed the professional divide, and whilst we were perhaps more social with selected students there than I am now, the relationship is bound to be different. And it's more evidence for the shift from young turk to old fart.

At first the town centre looked much the same - I didn't get that thrill of recognition I get with returning to Nottingham and Hull, or the sense of disjunction from Birmingham or Leicester - and it remains a market town that's lost its market and not found a role. That is until you get into the former Octagon Centre, which has been renamed and expanded, with an Identikit mall splice on its western end where the bus station used to be. It spills out over a lost pub, and a couple of car parks, and has the usual run of shops that would be expected. No trees, no water, no art, no life, few places to sit, and an ambivalent attitude to be public or private space. but there was a Cafe Nerd, which is where I met G, before we adjourned to a pub that I'd not visited when there. (I didn't get to my usual haunts bar one - meant to get back to the Bell but didn't, have boycotted the Antelope since Jon was sacked/resigned, and the Falcon and O'Neils were about the company, not the pub. I did have a quick time kill in the Hobgoblin.)

G caught me up with the college, and basically it sounds like management has destroyed everything that we'd set up and made work through incompetence, reorganisation and I suspect bloodymindedness. I am so glad I got out when I did, because now I know I would have been dead by now. Dead and unemployed. G shot off to get ready for his gog; I checked into the guest house and scratched tea together from Tescos.

I walked back to the Nag's Head, and realised it had been the Pride when I lived here, and that this was the venue where the Sex Pistols played an earlier gig. (And if everyone saw that who claimed to have done, it must have been much bigger then.) G's band was on third, but I had missed the first act, and the second group were fine if a little noisy. Xenon Codex featured G in white suit and loud shirt, a guitarist, a five string bass, a drummer, and a two octave keyboard wired through twenty pedals. They played two songs and an encore, over forty five minutes. Ah, he's learnt the seventies prog rocks rules well.

Afterwards I sat outside for a while before I went to refind G. He introduced me to B, who apparently was scared of meeting me and didn't believe I was there. God rot my memory. It was B, of course, of the Jay and Silent Bob poster. She told me how much she looked up to Mark and myself, and of course that was very flattering and touching. But still. It's such a mismatch. I can't remember them all. But it did come back.

And the next day, a day as grey as Thursday was Sunday, I caught the bus out to a secret location, and, arriving earlier than planned or necessary, I sat at the pond and communed with the ducks. [livejournal.com profile] lamentables arrived at about the time I thought I was going to, and we wander across to the shop. There followed two hours of scouring, and taking out and putting back, and frowning at British reprints editions, and dark looks at the Irish guy who was whistling the first verse of some hymn or other, before we got to the closing for lunch point. We paid for our purchases - well I dealt with the paper money and [livejournal.com profile] lamentables with the shrapnell, one of us having taken the precaution of a cash point raid - and made for the Red Lion.

In the past we might have gone back to the shop for a further hour, but we had run out of energy, and I had run out of cash. We chatted, instead; it's been a while, and it was nice to soak up the sun which had burned through. Then back to the station.

My ticket failed to work in any turnstile, and I managed to catch the slow train down to home. Memo to self - it is possible to be overtaken on that route.

And now I have another legacy of the trip - two foot of books to catalogue.
faustus: (Default)
( Jan. 29th, 2009 04:32 pm)
At some point I must have been sent a pin number* for my Not Quite Government Owned Bank - but it was back in the day when that was just for withdrawals and I've tended to use it for balance transfers. However, my everyday card is maxed so... need a PIN. Go into the branch and try to order on - and no, they can't do it, I have to phone. Chiz. My mistake for thinking it was a Not Quite Government Owned Bank card. It's amazing what bits won't talk.

Grumpily I went for some retail therapy - still regretting not picking up a couple of things in Ramsgate yesterday which were objects of desire rather than useful - and found a copy of the Arden Hamlet for a pound. I've never quite bought this before despite meaning to, and a quid seemed about right. Except the person on the till - a till marked ALL FICTION £1** - wondered whether the price wasn't £11. I suggested that as all fiction was £1, then...

I had noted his tattoos on his arms - which turns out to be the name of his son.*** In Elvish. I'm not sure whether it was in Quenya or whatever, and whether his son was called Legolas, but... Somewhere, somehow, Tolkien must be turning in his grave.

I see Hamlet has pencil and pen annotations. But is still readable.

Oh, but I've managed to book the hotel for the conference I hadn't thought I was going to, and booked the conference itself online. I was intrigued to see the choice of stand-up performer was one I'd liked, only I saw his show last year, saw his Edinburgh warm-up gig and the actual show in Edinburgh. Seeing it post-Edinburgh would be fine - save that, I've goign to see him in a couple of day's time. Paying for a show four times is too much like stalking. It turns out I can pay less and opt out.

* Yes, I know: Personal Identity Number Number, or thereabouts 

** Hamlet is fiction, right? Possibly with a historical precedent.

*** On the other hand, a friend of a friend - and various other men - have names of sons tattooed as well. I wonder how often having, say, GEORGE, and maybe a heart, on your arm, gives out an unintended message?
faustus: (coffee)
( Jan. 18th, 2009 10:34 pm)
Much of today has been spent tidying up - I've cleared two boxes of "filed" papers-and-stuff down to less than one, and cleared a large swathe off my desk, vacuumed, corralled the 1970s books into something approaching alphabetical order by author, moved some CDs and DVDs, slotted some journals back and -

It's still a mess, but I have most of my desk back. I wandered down to Morrisons today to a) buy some butter, b) get rid of some glass and c) explore the bedroom-kitchen shop. I left with no camera, so I wasn't able to take a picture of the Darwin car badge - which I suspect is something to be found at http://www.darwinuk.com/?gclid=CP6vz76XmZgCFUse3godDBEZmg - and I only remembered butter on my way out.

And now I've been looking for secondary materials on The Man who Fell to Earth, which is decidedly thin (I know of two books on Roeg) and And Chaos Died (oooh look, I have the manuscript of On Joanna Russ, maybe there's something in that). I need access to a 1978 issue of Literature/Film Quarterly - and the campus on the hill starts at 2003. Grrr. The one piece I do have is Fredric Jameson reviewing Gregg Press editions of filmed-books. Ah, but that issue has a piece on special effects which which will useful for Thursday's lecture.
originally uploaded by Andrew M Butler.

A soggy day - after an unusual Saturday morning therapy session I headed forth to a) do the British TV animation exhibition, b) buy a plunger, c) price rucksacks and d) look out for The Naming of the Dead.

I didn't know I'd be exposed to odd sexual practices.

I also ran into a boxset:

Du Maurier

About a year ago - or was it two? - I bought another boxset of Du Maurier which had some classics but not, alas, "The Birds". This one does - and eight other volumes which I suspect don't overlap with those I have (damn my tagging). Now I've only read one of the original box, but for under 15 quid... I should buy this as well.

Oh, and I heard yesterday that I may soon be hearing the pitter patter of tiny feet. I will have to seriously think about this, as it will be a bit of a life style change, but I'm sure if I say yes locals will rally round as necessary. We'll see.

Edit: Never did buy the potatoes or the Beethoven set, but I did buy the Lyttleton (in Deal). And am listening to that now.
faustus: (coffee)
( Nov. 27th, 2008 01:29 am)
Let it be recorded: Today has been a good day.

I've been feeling a bit trapped, and the endless coypu-editing, camp or otherwise, is getting to me (do experts not know the titles of the books they are discussing? can no one follow Routledge NuStyle?). A jolly, an expotition was in order.

BookshopThere are various exhibitions in London I am failing to see. My therapist recommended an exhibition at the De La Warr Pavilion, and there's a bookshop in Bexhill-on-Sea which requires more exploration. Various days turned out to be free, and Saturday was a wash out, and the shop would be shut on a Sunday, and I was working on Monday. So Wednesday was the day I finally was free - and note this is the day the dvd shop shuts. I renewed the railcard, caught the train and was in a bookshop was 11.30. I found a pile of seventies books which in some cases stretched the two pound rule, and a Leigh Brackett crime novel, and the shop keeper said he'd call it two quid a book plus a quid for the cheap one. Eight books for £15. Result.

Thousand's of Book's All Genre'sThen a trudge around the various charity shops - with nothing leaping off the shelves that I could justify buying - I think the quality of the books is improving, but that means fewer battered paperback sf books. No waistcoats (vests), no jackets, no interesting bric-a-brac - although I paused on a purse disguised as a glitterball (or a glitterball disguised as a purse) with the notion of it being a birthday present. I found something that will do, but not, yet, what I wanted. I proofraed the dvd shop and went to find some Fried Chicken for lunch, which I ate near the Pavilion, kicking the gulls out the way (gulls like chicken. Who knew?)

Don't Let Them Eat CakeI sort of resented having to pay for the exhibition - but I will say more about mid-period Ben Nicholson later, as it was rather interesting to see landscape and geometric abstraction mesh so closely together. There were some nice photos in the overflow of the Brighton Photo Biennial (it's over now, and it wasn't in Brighton). A wander around the building, a coffee, a reader of the Grauniad and then to Sainsbury's* via a rather worrying cakeshop.

I popped into Sainsbury's, to picked up some pitta bread (had it been a bit later then I would have bought sustenance for the journey home), but as it was I bought a blue cherry yoghurt and two six packs of pittas for the price of one at 70p. Naturally, they come up at 75p each. I query it. Someone is despatched to the shelf - and the sign was in the wrong place (it does not cover organic ones, which these were, and neither of the two signs were that close to any pittas. But - get this - i could have them for 70p. That's better than Tescos would behave.

I lost the card from the bookshop on the way to the pub - but found it on my way back.

* I remember it as a Waitrose. I remember green signage. Has it become Ramsgate in my head?
Why have Brown and Cameron yet to comment on John Sargeant's shock resignation?

In response to the crunch, I partook in M&S's 24 hour 20% off sale which the BBC advertised covered on yesterday's bulletins (although not Debenham's 25% sale - other department stores are available). I didn't buy a jacket I've been admiring - I can't justify it even at 80% cost - but I did buy a dressing gown (which I suspect really needs a hood). I figured that the one I use was bought in 1988.

What if we live to be fifty
And help all the weak and oppressed
We'll cancel their debts & no-one will expect us
To work any harder for less
We'll spend our way out of recession
The West will invest in the East
So hordes of the poor never swarm at our door
Demanding a share of the feast
faustus: (Default)
( Oct. 28th, 2008 10:25 am)
Note that Zavvi have boxsets of Friends and West Wing complete for just under £50 - and a Pixar box set which is less good value but presumably not bad.
Or Why I am on Meds:

Dear Ms Smith )

Dear Ms Boot )

Dear Ms Tesco )
faustus: (culture)
( Dec. 20th, 2007 03:45 pm)
Albatross HouseWalking down T Road and a woman in her forties said to me, "I had no idea any of this existed" and laughed manically.

Tested camera on wall - picture of the site of Albatross House.

Dropped cards into work - took an hour.

Went to farmers' market and spent £45 on cheese (this is the real shit) with and £8 on chorizo with Patrick. 

Bought bacon bap from van - delayed by (homeless?) woman who was failing to pay, then failing to find her purse (she'd got it out already).

Charity shopping. Nada.

Boots for prescription. Tesco for remains of food shop. Need crackers, though. And something else. I forget. I couple more cards.

Listening in to discussion on Pratchett book: Mr Discworld Monthly remains unconvinced. C'est le vie. http://www.discworldstamps.co.uk/forum/viewtopic.php?t=10560&postdays=0&postorder=asc&start=0&sid=6edbaefd7475f22bf5239f1dc6ef9a8f


faustus: (Default)


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