Swans, Sherbet and Coathangers

...Of The Year.
You can read a lot of this type of thing in the newspapers at the moment, a parade of writers queueing up to try and tell us what our favourite band/tv show/film/book/biscuit of the year ought to be. There is also the flipside of this, with columnists being equally keen to tell us what sucked in 2007.

Personally speaking, I have been enjoying listening to Scouting For Girls, the new Editors album, the new Go! Team album, and just about anything coming out of Colin Murray's 'black hole' on radio 1 (not as disturbing as it sounds).

On the television, Top Gear continues to make me cry with laughter, and I've loved every second of Dragon's Den. I've even enjoyed some of Strictly Come Dancing, although of course I would never publicly admit that.

Films - that's a tough one, I haven't felt that it's been a particularly wonderful year, but I had great fun watching The Bourne Ultimatum, and my tip for 'hidden gem of the year' would be Kenny, an australian film about a portaloo company, done in a mockumentary style.

I haven't read much this year. Shame on me! I have just finished reading Derren Brown's 'Trick Of The Mind', which features some excellent writing on improving memory, and also completely demystifies hypnotism and so-called 'powers' of clairvoyancy, stripping them both down to their very ordinary roots in magical trickery and suggestion techniques. I shall have to persue some further reading, I think.

On the blogging front, I am a daily reader of Richard Herring's sublime Warming Up, a very frank (you have been warned) daily diary about his life and any other subject that floats across his pedantic brain. Amongst people I actually know, the legendary Jon M has kept me amused for hours.

So on the flipside, then, Shrek The Turd did not amuse at all, the latest Terry Pratchett book (Making Money) was a let down after some his other recent efforts, and who the hell thought it would be a good idea to give Jordan and Peter Andre their own chat show?!

In other news, I've been with Fiona a whole year today! It's been amazing, we've had highs and lows as you might expect, but definitely come out of the last twelve months knowing it's very right, and looking foward to the marriage.

Money versus job satisfaction.
It's a tough one. How much time, dignity and hair would you be willing to sacrifice for a big fat pay cheque? And for that matter, what would you class as 'a big fat pay cheque'?

There are plenty of people out there who are quite willing to be at their desks by 8.00am, and don't plan to leave before 7.30pm. Why?? You may argue that your job requires it; it's expected of you, or you simply won't be able to get all your work done otherwise. But frankly, what's the point? You're not going to have a social life that way, are you.

Some offices even provide showers and beds! 'Your home life is screwed, so why even bother attempting to have one?' says the imaginary slogan above the front door.

Anyway, for what it's worth, to experience the kind of work life described above I would not expect to be paid less than £40k.
For £45k, I would also be prepared to work while dressed as a smurf.
For £50k, I'd be quite happy to work while dressed as smurfette.
For £75k, you can have me in work for sixteen hours a day and I'll spend the whole time simultaneously working and eating my own snot.
For £100k, I will work for twenty hours a day, shoot myself in the leg every three hours, and drink nothing but water contaminated with legionaires disease. That's fair, I think.
For £150k, I'll be prime minister.

Well, what a trip. I was working on events down in Southampton and Exeter, having lots of fun although it was, as ever, extremely hard graft. There's nothing quite like falling into bed at 1.30am, all sweaty and knackered, to make you yearn for your desk. I do love being on the road, but I could never do it full time.

On the second night we were in a leisure centre in Exeter (rock n' roll, I know! Cornish comedian Jethro was playing the same venue later in the week! Actually, in Southampton we were using dressing rooms that had been used by Biffy Clyro the previous night, so that was fun. We contemplated throwing the television out of the window, but decided against it.) Rob, our main speaker, was in full flow with his amusing anecdotes on the subject of Teenagers when suddenely WUMPH! Everything faded to black.

'Bing bong': "Would the house technician please report to reception immediately", said the tannoy. Something had gone majorly wrong with the electrics, but Rob ploughed bravely on, in near darkness, with no amplification. "I might take a little break, then come back on", he bellowed at the audience.

There was bellowing after the Southampton event, as we went in search of food but could find nothing more sophisticated than a KFC that was still open. Within those hallowed walls we found a very drunk man trying to order a kebab.

"Duck you!" he slurred, "I want a ducking kebab!"
"Zinger Tower?" proffered the youth behind the counter.

They came to a compromise in the end. The drunk man didn't get his kebab, but instead left with the last 10 pieces of chicken they had. I bet he felt wonderful in the morning.

Last week I was drummed into submission at the Cardiff Millennium Centre. I went with Fi to see Stomp, and it was absolutely fantastic. I was a bit worried at whether an extended bout of banging and scraping could really hold my attention for any longer than about twenty minutes, but the answer was a resounding yes.

They throw so much humour into the show, for a start. They aren't just percussionsists, they all have their own distint personalities, from the leader of the 'clan', to the outsider of the group who tries (and usually fails) to get his drumming prowess noticed by everyone else. There's a nice running joke about the size of his drum compared to everyone elses, but he gets the last laugh as he comes on at the end for his own special encore.

The other way this show holds your attention is through the sheer variety of skillful routines they have put together. Everything, literally including the kitchen sink, is used as a percussion instrument. The showstopping routines, though, involve them using the whole set (constructed from big heaps of junk) as their drum kit. The finale is deafeningly spectacular.

What's the most unusual place I have ever woken up? Well, that would have to be Switzerland. Geneva, to be exact, not to far away from the big lake they have there, under an archway.

It was my worst nightmare come true. I was doing the tremendously exciting but equally cliched thing of travelling round Europe on a train. My A Levels were behind me, as was the washkit I hadn't packed for reasons of space, and with two mates in tow we set off abroad - without a plan, without accommodation booked, but with vast amounts of sandwiches (aren't mums great!).

On reflection, trying to get round Europe without reserving any accommodation before you set off is a silly idea. Particualrly as this was the height of Summer. We managed to fluke our way through Amsterdam, Cologne, Prague, Budapest, Vienna, Venice and Rome, but eventually we had to come unstuck, didn't we.

We pulled into Geneva station quite late at night, which didn't help, and were greeted with the news that a major international firework festival was taking place and if we wanted a room anywhere then we should have made a booking about, oh, four years ago. The fireworks were fantastic, mind you. Afterwards, the crowds dispersed and we were left alone in a small park, sat on a bench, feeling sorry for ourselves. To complete the picture of dispair, it started to pour with rain. The wind howled, thunder boomed, and lightning streaked across the sky.

At this point we sensibly decided to run off (in completely seperate directions, naturally) to seek shelter. I ended up huddling in the doorway of a hotel with my sleeping bag uselessly draped around me. How classy! Several hours later, after the rain had stopped at around 4.30am, we met back up. My mate had found the best place to shelter, a secluded spot under an archway. "Don't worry!" he said, there's food for you. He proffered a small, soggy bread roll. I think I may have wanted to punch him at that point.