Goodbye to the Ghetto for 2005!

I sit here in the Ghetto, on the edge of London's Regent Park Estate, with bags packed, room hoovered, wardrobe emptied.

A train ticket lies on my desk which states that at 12.30, I'll be departing for Beeston, Nottingham from St Pancras station, 20 minutes walk away... (Might get the bus, got a lot of stuff...)














It's been an amazing year. Since moving down to London in January, my entire life has changed... for the better!

Not that I haven't missed my family in Nottingham, but this year feels like it's been the start of my adult life (!) Whatever that means!

It always takes time to settle into a new place, and over the past three months I've met new friends and felt like I know my way around London like never before. Hell, I've even started saying hello to the people who work at the gym, I've been frequenting for 5 months! Amazing.

Then there's been work (that dreaded thing) which is looking positive (got work at VEE-TV until May, touch wood!)

Other things which were great in 2005...

Those 6 days in Sweden with Stevie D, Steve Brown, and Laura

The scripwriting course (Sept-Dec) and all that talk of 'chinamen' (random events in films)

Eating at great restaurants in the area... Navarro's (Spanish Tapas) African Kitchen Gallery (Jerk Chicken) Mestizo's (traditional Mexican)...

My 24th Birthday party at 4th Street bar in August (thanks to all who came!)

The end of year review (only last Friday, this will be blogged imminently!) with George, Zhao, Tom and Phil.

Starting THE SCRIBBLER! Of course! Back in July, it's been 6 months of blogged madness, but looking back over the year, it's been a pretty good one, methinks!

And there's plenty more... that day in the Tate (and the Darren Almond, ahem!), Ghetto cricket, Ghetto boules... it goes on!

So these next few weeks will be dedicated not only to Christmas, but also to a retrospective of some of the year's 'funniest' snippets and snaps. And Scribbles.

Put short, I'm going to take the Mickey Rourke out of myself. Not that I haven't been for oh, the last 24 years of my humble life.

Christmas party at Betty! My old workplace...

Respect to all the old Betty faces... probably feeling very ill today after a black tie bash last night with a host of cocktails! I am!














(Me with) Alasdair McKay !














Xander, JK, Neil














Tom, Hedieh, Guy














Window Scribble!














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Office faces... Scribbles!

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Lifesnaps # 12

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Lifesnaps # 11 - VEE-drinks!

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Trippin' the Tate

This is a still (not one of my own i should add) from If I had You, Darren Almond's entry for this year's Tuner Prize, a video installation of his grandmother watching a couple dancing, remembering her husband who had died 20 years before.

Last Saturday, on a rare day of strolling through art galleries, I had the pleasure of sitting in this installation for the best part of an hour, snuggled against the wall in the dark, watching it through probably a dozen times. The piece comprised 4 video screens, and a pensive piano soundtrack. Almost unbearably sad, it's probably looking even sadder now that we know (as of Monday) that it didn't win the prize.

A shed that was assembled into a boat then back into a shed again won, by Simon Starling. As if that makes any sense...














We started out at the Tate Modern, where we had the pleasure of seeing Rachel Whiteread's Embankment, which left me slightly bemused. It fills the turbine hall, and consists of glued-together plastic boxes which compell you to touch them - and consider climbing them, too!














The Tate Modern's one of my favourite places in London. Firstly, there's such a variety of work in there, all different types of art, while secondly, it's free! So everyone goes. Whenever they like. And there's something cool about that.

We saw a great photography exhibition by Jeff Wall, intense photos which look like they might be caught by chance but are immaculately composed - as if they were paintings. Some were slightly disturbing, but I'd recommend the exhibition in an instant - loved it.

And what made the day even better, was that the Scribbler was in good, intelligent company. And the Scribbler rarely asks for any more than that. Even if said company did keep yawning from time to time. Some things are forgivable, though, not least when they're accompanied by pretty shiny painted nails.














An ironic snap... thought we were being clever. Maybe it worked, maybe not...

In between the Tate Modern and the Turner Prize at Tate Britain, we hid from the rain by having a Gormet Pizza, before tripping the river on the Tate Modern. Before relaxing in the Darren Almond. Which should have won, by the way (should I say that again?) But the shed wasn't so bad, I guess.

And ultimately, after finishing the day by getting really confused in Earls Court train station after a solitary glass of wine, then watching a film at home, I sank into bed dreaming of nothing less than being snuggled up against that wall, watching twinkle-toed dancers on a grainy screen in the dark, thinking just how nice a day out wandering through art could be.














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Ady's Graduation

Ady’s been back about 5 minutes and already he’s dragging us up and down the country at a moments notice! I tell ya, that lad…

Only jesting. This is a rather important blog. It’s a celebration, in fact. Cos ADY GOT A FIRST!














I must admit, I’m jealous! But I put it down to all the guidance and advice I gave him as he was growing up. He wasn’t responsible at all!

Nah! No chance. It was all down to him. Every last bit of it. In fact, if anyone deserved to get a first, he did...

Every time I rang him last in his final year, he’d be talking in hushed tones because he was in the library. Mum, Dad and I really wondered for a while whether he was overdoing it. And the reason he was working so hard? To make sure he got a 2:1!! The beauty of it was that he didn’t expect it. At all. But he sure was good enough. Aced his dissertation and a few exams to crash over the finish line. First!





























So these pictures are of the Swinbourne family (minus Edwin, still in recovery from appendicitis) munching our way through Bristol this time last week. To celebrate we had a fish meal, an organic breakfast, noodles, you name it! As ever, I had problems escaping the paparazzi...















As did my Dad.















Ady was somewhere between Canada and America when he heard about his uni grade. He didn’t believe it – needed it confirmed by Dad. Later, he called me while I was walking through Regents Park one summer’s evening to tell me the news. I was made up for him. I wanted to buy him a beer. But it'd take five months before I was able to!














It must have been weird for Ady, after all those months of romancing exotic and beautiful women in tropical climes to be back in rainy Bristol, searching for a pretty face. But as ever, even during the ceremony, he seemed to find a few, not least the demure blonde on the back row - we saw ya Ady, whispering sweet nothings in her ear...

And then again after the ceremony, his dissertation tutor (apparently 37 but looking nothing of the sort) came up for an elongated chat. She wanted him to do an MA! (or so he said!) No wonder she marked him so well..!














I left Ady to his partying in the evening to begin another train journey back to the big smoke (my third in a busy week). Finished a great book - The Midnight Bell - by Patrick Hamilton, which is set around the Euston Road in London - where I live. Fitting, because it was the midnight hour by the time I got home, let me tell you that now...














By that time, Ady was tripping the light fantastic in a Bristol club - presumably chatting up some more eligible blondes. Truth is, with a first in his back pocket, there's probably few more eligible than he. Don't tell him that, though - don't want it to go to his head..!

And he's coming up to London today - so there'll be a chance for another beer!

Have a great weekend.

Lifesnaps # 10

Life. Oh how it shines.

Zhao - finding his true calling immortalised in a corporate (make that train-spotters) brochure... in black and white no less!

Apparently Zhao posed for around 100 photos. This was the chosen one.

When I saw this photo in the brochure, I didn't recognise Zhao at first. He looked so corporate, so uniform, so darned authoritative. Women swooned. Men looked up with a look of respect, of recognition, of jealousy.

He's a hero to the train-spotters, a god to all women, a leader of all men. And he's my mate. Even in black and white.

Charlbury Paradise

A couple of weekends ago, we tripped back to the Cotswolds for the day, a beautiful Sunday in Charlbury, five miles from Chipping Norton where I grew up. The air tasted fresh and clear, while the sprawling fields reminded me of the paradise I took for granted as a kid!

On the way, the train floated through the countryside fog. It was a cold, cold day, but George met me at the train station and before I knew it, I was back at the Hadley residence to eat some boiling hot curry (I think I had 3 portions in the end..!) and to see off George’s brother, who is going traveling in the next few weeks!














To try and use up the energy consumed around the dinner table (where some excellent conversation topics had been digested too!) we went and played an impromptu game of basketball – George reminding us all that he didn’t have posters of Shaquille O’Neil on his wall as a kid for nothing! After that, it was cricket, until the light was offered, and taken. We then trooped back through the frosty winter air.














There’s something pure about the countryside, something you don’t recognize properly until you’ve gone. It’s still, calm, and exceptionally beautiful. I miss it, I do, although I love the city and all it’s joys too. It’s great to go back once in a while, with friends, to shoot some hoops. It’s better than that. It’s a real joy. Maybe someday I'll return, who knows!

Before we knew it, it was time to trip out back to the train station, for another Sunday evening train back to London. The nightime sky was black, not orange, and the stars were like glitterdust in the sky. A tear comes to my eye even now to think of it..!














All that's left is to say have a great weekend, thanks for reading! If you can, get out into the rugged land, the pure land where it's all real, where time began.