Thursday, 10 April 2008


There are two kids in the street outside comparing the sounds of their bicycle bells. "bring-bring... riiiiing... bring-bring... riiiiing.... bring-bring.......... riiiiiiiiiiing". This has been going for 10 minutes now and is every bit as annoying as you would imagine.

This week I've completed two email interviews with magazines. One was for an article in Clash about DIY indie labels, which I'm quite interested to see. I answered the questions whilst hungover and feeling fairly negative about the world, so I'll probably come across as some sort of fascist. Again.

I haven't made a proper new band recommendation for a while so lets rectify that right now shall we?

Dinosaur Pile-Up

Tubelord have been banging on about this band for a few weeks now and I think I like them. They have the kind of recordings which make it hard to decide, undertaking a one-band mission to the absolute depths of lo-fi but 'My Rock n Roll' has a nice Weezer-like sound to it and 'Love Is A Boat And We're Sinking' sounds like it could be a massive pop hit. You get the feeling that the cool kids of East London would lap this bunch up before you can say "hey, I recognise that building from Nathan Barley". If you're into 4 or 5 Magicians, Copy Haho and the mid-90's American indie bands they're influenced by you'll probably enjoy this lot.

Ever have one of those days where you can't help but make disappointing culinary decisions? Every choice is like another slip on a landslide of poor food, indigestion and sickness. Yesterday started poorly as I endured a packet of stale Jammy Dodgers for breakfast. This was followed up by some badly burnt Turkey Dinosaurs and some half-warmed up (deceptive steam made me think they were hot right through - until it was too late) leftover potatoes from the previous night. Regrettably I don't have a photo of this meal, as at the time I was unaware of what an important role it was to play in a day filled with cooked mishaps.

In the evening as I walked through Central London bypassing every single restaurant, cafe and takeaway you can name, I had an unquenchable hunger for pizza. Unquenchable because when I finally found a place serving it, this is what I received:

My "chicken" pizza which tasted like bread, warmed up in the microwave multiple times, with strange reddy-orange lumps all over. I don't know what it was, but it sure as chick wasn't poultry.

I managed to escape the big city without making my usual mistake of grabbing a burger from McDonalds and spilling it all down myself as I run across Victoria station to catch my bus home, instead I made it back into Oxford before treating myself to this beauty:

A Tesco Value microwave cottage pie. I think the title says it all, really. 4 of them for 50p. You get what you pay for, I learnt that the hard way.

The day ended with a midnight trip to Tesco, the previous 15 hours of food playing on my mind and spinning my stomach out of control, I proceeded to spend the best part of £10 on veg. So much veg, in fact, it filled both trays in the fridge and has taken over half of the bottom shelf. I can honestly say I've never been more excited about the prospect of eating broccoli.

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