Tuesday, 30 December 2014

Please support Rex Richardson's lovely trumpet CD project

Dear All

I don't use this much nowadays (duh) and I'm sorry to just pop back in trying to raise funds … I promise to try and write something proper one day.

For now, though, please have a look at this fabulous CD project and consider helping it out. It's in its last two days and just a few hundred short - can you please find $10 or $25 to support something extremely worthwhile? More if you like!

Rex Richardson is a brilliant trumpet player and a genuinely nice person. If you help out here I promise you won't regret it.


Finishes very soon - before the end of 2014 - please please have a look now.


Wednesday, 1 May 2013

Back on the Boris Bikes

As the title might suggest, I'm back on the Boris Bikes again. Weather, health, depression etc all played their part in keeping me out of the saddle for a while. Grrrr.

Then in early April I suddenly realized that I really, really wanted to ride one, as I sometimes do, as the very first leg (aha) of my homeward commute. It was sunny but horribly cold and there were some bikes free, which there often are not. I bagsied one, inserted the Magic Boris Key: red light, b*gger off Vogel. Not pleased.

To truncate a long story they had some stupid computer glitch which prevented me from doing anything with it for weeks. I needed to update my payment card, but could get into my account to do so ... resets not working, endless calls to customer services not working either ... all a bit annoying. (Although I should add that the customer service people were lovely, and did try hard to help, eventually getting me in touch with the right people ... now read on ...)

In the end a nice IT person wrote to me directly - he had reset my password, here was a temporary one ... and off I went! Minutes later I was on my first bike of 2013 and loving it, again. 

Since then I have used the system a lot. I've done two 10 km round trips in the last week (which I know is nothing for some, but enough for me, as a start) and a myriad of little runs. I'm a bit peeved that the access charge has doubled, but I suppose on the bright side it makes me want to get value for money once I've taken a bike out. Today I did Clerkenwell to Charlotte St W1 (Phil Parker's since you ask!) to get a friend's birthday present - it was glorious sunny weather, the bike paths were good and the roads not too bad - a lovely little ride.

I could and should write more about the bike scheme but for now just let me say that, despite its faults, I do really love it!

Monday, 4 March 2013

Skyfall weeperoonie: a small but delicious wager

I will give a small but reasonably generous prize of chocolate (or fruit if you would prefer) to the first person who can correctly guess which one scene made me cry in Skyfall

Hints and clues an ting are not available. Multiple tries are allowed, up to some reasonable limit, which is unspecified but probably falls short of trying the entire script line by line. (Let's be realistic - it's not that much chocolate ...)

If you already know, because I already told you, then you are disqualified. Yeah, I might give you chocolate anyway, but please don't post the answer here.

Note: I'm using "scene" here in a broad sense of "something in the film" rather than some formal filmic/technical definition with a scene number in the  script or change of shot or whatever it takes - I really wouldn't know about that stuff. This probably doesn't matter but I didn't want to risk confusion.
Over to you. :)

Monday, 28 January 2013

Back at St Anne's

Hurrah! After a horribly long gap I'm back, to my huge delight, at London's Finest Lunchtime Gig Church™ for a guitar recital by Isabel Maria Martinez.

What with one thing and another it seems for some time to have been very difficult to get along here, which is bad, but I'm here now, which is good.

I love it here so much. It's not just the music, lovely though that is; it's the warmth, the peace, and the sense of community.

That said, Ms Martinez is as I write (tut!) giving us a gorgeous recital of Llobet, Rodrigo, Gerhard and Villa-Lobos. She's a wonderful player, of great subtlety, control and drama, and makes a beautiful, luscious sound.

I'm glad I came.

Monday, 9 July 2012


Bliss - I'm at a St Anne's concert - the very good Lawson trio doing an American programme. Lovely! The cellist is Becky Knight who did the Dvorak, very beautifully, with Haydn Chamber Orchestra recently. It's all good.

Tuesday, 31 January 2012

Turning anger round

... is the title of my next post. Jolly good - now all I have to do is write it.

Saturday, 5 November 2011

Ros Asquith shortlisted for Dahl Prize

This is quite cool! The von Neustadt family's dear friend Ros Asquith has been shortlisted for the Roald Dahl funny prize with her book Letters From An Alien Schoolboy. Please read all about it at the Guardian's rather nice article with sample pics an ting.I'm like yeah baby.

Monday, 31 October 2011

Glenn Bengry: nice man needs our help

Hi there ... please have a look at this:


If you have a couple of quid, bucks, yen, zloty etc to spare please send a few in that direction. Matters arising:
  • I promise you on my honour as a cavalry officer of the old school that it is real. 
  • Glenn is far too nice and good a bloke to be in this bind. 
  • Please help if you can. 
  • Thanks!

Friday, 28 October 2011

Oopsie-Beebs-a-blog™ - absolutely rubbish writing

Not funny. I've tried being polite and nice to Auntie about this and they can't even be bothered to respond, let alone fix their awful, amateurish writing. So I am just going to be rude about it, and hope that that annoys the fool who wrote it and the fool - perhaps the same fool? - who doesn't want to change it. That would at least give me some minor gratification.

Here we go.

There's a really lovely slideshow giving a timeline of the Shuttle here:


- which features, in the first sentence of its first caption, this gem of moronic illiteracy and insensitivity:
  • "The space shuttle was conceived as a concept long before man had even stepped on to the Moon."


I mean come on. What else does the person (= Year 10 Work Experience kid, presumably) who wrote this think happens to concepts? Did they actually manage the rather gifted trick of writing this without actually reading what they had written? Let's try some more excellent writing:
  • "The space shuttle was conceived as a banana"
  • "The space shuttle was bananaed as a concept" 
Both of these are just as good, and as meaningful, as the sentence currently in use. Moreover, they are less ugly. I recommend the BBC use more bananas.

Sheesh. Rubbish writing, Beeb: 2/10 for effort and 0/10 for your lousy manners. I diskard you.

Thursday, 22 September 2011

Oh for goodness' sake ( … or, a Literary Expert writes… )

Now look. It's quite simple. I shall explain.


  • Not all Scottish novelists are the same person, though two of them are. (Or perhaps a single body with two heads, like Zaphod Beeblebrox. Maybe one head is called Iain and the other Iain M. I am perhaps a little unclear on the details.)
  • Not all novelists called Ian or Iain are necessarily Scottish, though they may be.
  • Not all novelists with Scottish-sounding names are necessarily Scottish, though they may be.
  • Not all novelists who wrote quite odd first novels which I initially rather hated are necessarily in any of the above categories, though, again, it is not impossible that they are.
  • Mainstream novelists and science-fiction writers are two entirely separate species, in fact they couldn't even interbreed in the unlikely event that they tried. What? No, be quiet, Tamsin, I am teaching.

I'm hardly confused about any of this.

A History of the World in 9½ Weeks and 10½ Chapters (parrot optional)

This is really the graduate-level stuff now so concentrate hard and try to stay with me.

  • Right. The Wasp Factory and The Cement Garden are two different novels by, get this, two different novelists. Really.

My extensive experience in Thinking About Books And Stuff suggests that once you've got this one cracked, it's game over - you don't have to attend the rest of the course, and may print out your certificate at home.

Summary and conclusions

I trust that this is all now perfectly clear. I hope you have enjoyed having my literary expertise shared with you. Another time I shall explain sculpture to you, or perhaps opera. I have plenty more searing insights like those recorded above.

Tuesday, 12 July 2011

Bizarre-Connect-o-Fact-a-blog (Picard to Richard)

(No. 793 in an Occasional Series of, er, 42,452)

(Deep breath) Now pay attention: I shall only say this once. 

Captain Picard's nemesis Q was played by John de Lancie whose dad John de Lancie inspired Strauss to write his Oboe Concerto

Got it? Good, good. :)

Thursday, 30 June 2011


This makes me very, very happy indeed. If you responded to this or this then that's what you did! Thanks a BIG lot. I am seriously chuffed to bits to see this update. Hats off to Robert and the Sassers and GSM and Know Think Act and Bringing Hope and Home Again and ... the whole thing! Just great. :)

Sunday, 26 June 2011


I am post-surgical, grumpy, and annoyed at a surprisingly wide range of things and people! (This does not, however, include my wife, family or colleagues. Just in case you were wondering.)

But I should, really, try to write something a bit more constructive than this ... tsk. And grrrr.

Sunday, 22 May 2011


Delighted to find that despite age and weight I still have not entirely lost my touch (as it were) with gay waiters. :)

Thursday, 14 April 2011

Hey ho tiddly pom blimey

Yes ladies and gentlemen, and others, that is the sound of me riding up to the Borisbike station by Moorgate tube, only to find it gone.

Yes, gone. In fact not just gone but gorn. Absent. Removed. Away. Weg. Gorn. The place has been scraped clean, like the pavement's been shaved in one of those ludicrous ads where our new seven-blade system gives you the smoothest shave yet, because it stretches as it smoothes as it slices - or whateverthehell. Gorn. Or perhaps it's more as if the Black Helicopters and their sinister operatives came in overnight and whisked away the whole kit and caboodle, leaving only the row of suspiciously-neat patches where the bike docks and console thingy had stood.

Nooooooooooooooo, I went, somewhat filmistically I hope. But then a nice chap stopped and directed me to the next one, just round the corner. So it's fine. Put the kettle on please Colin. Thank you.

Wednesday, 13 April 2011

The sheer bliss of being normal

I got home last night to find that Mrs von Neustadt has bought a lovely new long-arm stapler to enable her - and me, if I'm good - to staple music together for Stringwise and other fine musical type thingies. This is good. I like staplers.

To my horror the stapler, perhaps because it's a cheapo own-brand Ryman job rather than one with a proper maker's name on, does not appear to have printed or stamped on it the type of staples it needs. I thought this was absolutely standard practice, and to not do it seems … foolish … at best.

Naturally Mrs von Neustadt, before I'd got my hands on the new stapler, had thrown away the box, and compounded her sin by filling the device with staples that she thought seemed to fit OK. Seemed to fit OK? Seemed to fit OK?? Reader, do you not now begin to see the searing pain at the very heart of my existence? (No? Oh well, never mind, have a cuppa.)
In all honesty but through gritted teeth I'm forced to pause and admit that, by the purest fluke and not (of course) because 98.3% of all staples in the Cosmos are the same, Mrs von Neustadt did just happen to have filled it with the right staples. Absolute coincidence, mind, and clearly it does not in any way affect the purity of my argument. Ahem no indeed.
Anyway, I did what any red-blooded officer of my regiment (yes, thank you Tamsin, the ladies and gentlemen do, I suspect, know full well exactly which regiment we mean here) would have done, and retrieved the box from the recycling. I then tore off the little corner of cardboard which records the stapler's preferred diet and concealed it about my person before rerecycling its parent-box. Well I mean you would, wouldn't you? (No? Gosh. We should talk.)

Travelling to work this morning I was delighted to find the said insignificant-looking, but information-rich, fragment in my pocket.

Naturally I have now transcribed all of this crucial staple data into a small but strangely effective information system which lives on my portable wireless telephonic device, and which, entirely gorgeously, synchronizes silently and without fuss with its online webitty-web-access version - so if the information is here, it's also there, and, y'know, over there too. This I like, a lot.

So now I have this vital and very interesting data safely stashed away for all eternity or at least until a large systems failure of some kind. Empires may fall and rise, new elements emerge, Earth's orbital wobble may subtly change but I will always be able to tell you which staples you'll need.

I can't tell you how happy and fulfilled this little information handling and storage excursion has made me feel. I'm just glad I'm so normal. It's great.

Wednesday, 6 April 2011

Please don’t let the Year 10 Work Experience Kid write the press releases. Really.

imageA couple of corkers from the press release for the Grand Opening (yay woo) of the St Pancras Renaissance Hotel London.
The infamous sweeping forecourt, unique to a London hotel in its size and presence, provides a fitting entrance for the new hotel that will also showcase restored gold-leaf ceilings, ornate wall murals and the spectacular grand staircase.
The famous staircase, widely revered as the most majestic in England with windows measuring over 50 feet and crowned by an elaborate vaulted ceiling, has been featured in many films and music videos most notably Batman and the Spice Girl’s video for their debut single ‘Wannabe’.
Come on, toughen up, girls! Get out a dictionary and a grammar primer and do some not-very intensive study on one or two very easy topics. Either that, or give the work to – or at least, please please please, have it checked by – someone who actually uses English carefully. Or, y’know – just read it through before you publish it. That would be good too.

It’s been done by a professional PR company and, whilst I don’t want to sound too much like my own grandmother, it’s just plain sloppy.

I have wroted to them with my boring, smallminded, anal-retentive curmudgeonly complaints because hey, that’s the kind of relaxed dude I am. I even sent them, in the spirit of being lovely and nice, a bijou linkette. (Sadly, I was too lazy and/or narked to even try to sort out their Scary Batman And Singular Spice problem. But ho hum.) Will I, do you think, get a lovely, nice and helpful reply and some lovely and nice chocolate bunnies to thank me for my trouble? Dear Reader, watch this space.

Monday, 4 April 2011

Oh dear

I very nearly broke my rule on trying to avoid writing in this blog about my work. Well actually I did, then thought better of it. This replaces the previous attempt.


Maybe I should write about puppies instead. Puppies are nice.


Monday, 28 March 2011

The "Harry" construction and why it's funny (if you're me)

Harry Introducers

KooEhHahThis blogological entity or emuārs is about the "Harry … -ers" construction, which is most familiar to me in its original form of "Harry Sliders" for a collection of slides - or indeed, more likely - a slideshow.

I said some time ago that I'd try to explain my use of this construction and, being possessed of a brain with impressively sieve-like properties (though less useful for draining pasta), immediately forgot. A kind friend reminded me that I said I'd do this, and I am happy to oblige. I only hope that after all this you think it's worth it … the mountains hath travailed and brought forth a mouse, an ting.

Harry Disclaimers

Before I really get going, a quick disclaimer. I know perfectly well that not everything I find funny seems so hysterically sidesplitting to much of the rest of society. Or perhaps all of it. I have lost track of the number of occasions on which the appalled expressions of those around me (frequently my children, yes, now you mention it) have alerted me, far too late, to the fact that whereas I thought I was, like, really flying, I was actually more, ah, in fact, er, crashing and burning. The controls are locked, we're in a deep deep nose-up stall, the escape hatch is jammed and in any case my parachute's on fire. Yikes. Chiz sa Molesworth. We're going in. Mayday mayday mayday. Launch the buoy. (Oops sorry wrong film but you get the picture.) Launch the boy. (Different film altogether, please don't distract me.)

Anyway yes, thank you, I do understand that it's not really that funny. I just like using it, it being in effect a blast from, and a mild reverence to, the past … and I suppose I am mildly addicted to it. It makes me vaguely smile, in a vaguely vague sort of way … however if you're already too irritated by all this you'd probably better go and do something more productive - your pools coupon for example - but do feel free to pop in later when Mr Thompson will serve tea and cakes by the Great Yew Hedge, weather permitting. You will be most welcome.

Harry Definers

You can add "Harry" before and "-ers" after many words. I am not sure of the rules and I seem to have mislaid the user manual, but I think it works better if you're describing an activity rather than a simple object. Thus "Harry Sliders" - the Urtext as far as I'm concerned - seems to me to be more likely to mean presenting or watching a slideshow than merely some slides, though it will extend to both. Similarly if I said, say. Harry Skaters it's probably more likely that I meant the act of going skating rather than a pair of skates. (Or any other fish. [Sorry.]) As I say I'm not really conversant with the full set of operating procedures for this construction, but I think you can apply it to a very wide range of concepts.

Harry Snaggers

Stretching the point a little my Bruvver and his Dear Wife Bless Her have pointed out that you'd run into severe problems with Harry Christophers, director of utterly superduper singing persons The Sixteen. Applying the rules strictly would of course render this talented gentleman as "Harry Harry Christophersers". This is why the rules must be rewritten, or perhaps even written, to exclude such silliness. I diskard it.

Harry Contextualizers

I think that it's meant to sound terribly upper-class, British, public-school, prep school, nannies and governesses, twittish, and so on, in a somewhat old-fashioned way. (Please be aware: if you are not familiar with the British usage, then "public school" may very well not mean, when you hear it, what it meant when I said it. Do please feel free to look it up and marvel at the rich vein of misunderstanding that we've created. In short, a BrE "public school" is very far from being public.) I'll come back to this context, which we may perhaps label "Braying Upper-class Ninnies" or BUNs, later.

Harry Explainers

As some of you know, I went to a slightly strange but interesting semi-posh school in Bristol. It was certainly not a (BrE) public school (my dears, the shame) but it was quite respectably founded under a charter from Queen Elizabeth - no, not the present one - and was a bluecoat school, and so on. I could, nay should, write rather a lot more about this place and how I ended up there, but not, you may be relieved to hear, on this occasion. I am leaving it unnamed not because I'm ashamed of it, but just to thwart lazy Googlers; this isn't a piece about the school. If you want to look it up then combining the name of the old dear who gave it its charter with the fact that such places were often, incongruously to modern ears, described as hospitals, would get you there before you can say Carr, Hartnell, Ramsey or Bird.

At the said three-letter establishment I was taught by David Perkins, one of the most gifted teachers I've ever met. Dave is the reason I speak German. If he'd been a geography teacher I daresay I'd be good at or interested in geography right now; likewise physics or maths. But German was his thing and so it became, in a pale reflection of the master, one of my things too. Don't get me wrong - there were plenty of other very good teachers at that school, as well as a couple of geniuses (and, yes, the occasional dunderhead or two). It's just that JDP stood out head and shoulders (metaphorically if not in actual physical stature, aha) among the teaching staff for me. It's all a bit odd given his massive lifelong passion for the licensed barbarism called "rugby", an activity I put much effort into avoiding, but it somehow didn't matter that I was so much at odds with him over this other hugely important aspect of his life at, er, Koo Eh Hah. He was just an utterly fantastic German teacher.

With Dave there were quite a lot of running jokes, standard procedures and so on - little things that made his lessons a bit special and made you feel like you were part of a particular group, almost a gang, because you were a student of German. It was all part of his mystique, I guess, and hence part of his magic as a teacher.

Dave seemed to spend all or most of his holidays in German-speaking countries … I suppose memory may be making me exaggerate but that's how it looked to me back then. I know it sounds obvious but this is actually very inspiring to students - he's going out there and seeing and doing the stuff you talk about in lessons, and using, as a normal everyday activity, the language that might otherwise seem to you just to be an academic subject. So what, some of you are thinking, isn't that just what language teachers do? Well, maybe, but clearly not all of them. I was taught French for some years by a nice old chap, long since redeployed to that Great Classroom in the Sky, who I swear never once gave me the impression that there was anything to the language - a culture, or some people, perhaps - beyond the O-level exam. So it's fair enough to say that for me this aspect of JDP's involvement in German was terribly important and influential.

One happy outcome of this regular visiting of German-speaking countries was that Dave came back with many, many photographs of the places he'd seen. These were in the form of 35mm slides. (Note to young people: these are oh never mind.) We then had slide shows, usually in JDP's room, so that we could be shown the wonders of where he'd been. These made a deep impression on me and established Germany and its neighbours as places I wanted to visit for myself. (I can still remember very clearly the excitement of finally getting to see, for real, the originals of JDP's slides of Cologne Cathedral or the Goldenes Dachl or the Königsee - it felt like an absolute vindication, that, whatever it had taken to get there, it was all worth it.)

These fabulous slide shows were, of course, Harry Sliders and so, of course, the origin as far as I'm concerned of the phrase.

Harry Speculators

What this explains is where I got it (JDP) and why I like it (JDP) but doesn't really clarify anything else - why did he use it, where did he get it?

My guess is that it is or was a known usage rather than an invention of Dave's. I suppose that a bit of research might help me here, but I haven't done it - so sue me. Jabnaas. If you know anything about this usage that might help, please do drop me a line.

And why, pray, did Dave Perkins like this usage? Again, I can only speculate - I'm certainly not going to bother him with trivia like this! Dave was certainly not, himself, a Braying Upper-class Ninny (or BUN, do try to keep up). Interestingly, though I've characterized the school as semi-posh, quite a few of the staff really weren't posh, or weren't in many other ways quite what you'd expect. I'm thinking for example of David Lewis, a genius of an English teacher, who was clearly and openly sceptical about the whole posh-ed thing and indeed the claims of some of us to be not too posh, or not so posh, or at least not as posh as him over there … or something. (Ah, scholarship boys and their inverted snobbery … but that's another story.) Anyway, the excellent David, with his dangerously bolshie attitudes and tendency to lead us astray, eventually moved on and when last I heard was a priest in Liverpool: education's loss was undoubtedly his flock's massive gain.

But I digress. The point I'm trying to make is merely that, in contrast with what you might perhaps expect, some of the teaching staff had a healthy sort of cynicism about this semi-posh school and its semi-posh kids and were certainly not averse to a bit of gentle p*ss-taking at times.

So, to cut an overlong story - er well, perhaps not short per se but maybe a nanometre or two less long - I think that "Harry Sliders" was JDP gently mocking us and our (and his!) rather comfortable setup there. It was gently amusing and affectionate, and a small but not wholly insignificant part of the JDP German-teaching setup. For some reason it has stuck.

Harry Summarizers

And that's pretty much the whole thing. I know it's turned into really more of a piece about a brilliant German teacher than it is about a silly little jokey usage, but there you go: that's the Harry Backgrounders. I still use it, as you have seen, and at work I still say “Harry Sliders” when we are doing slide shows, and have even done so in group emails announcing them. This meets with looks of mild bafflement but, hey, I am used to that anyway …