keresaspa: (Nana Mouskouri)
For the last five years or so Hallowe'en night in Belfast has been an absolute racket of exploding whizz-bangs and Bengal matches, running constantly from about five o'clock to the other five o'clock with little or not respite in between. So what happened last night then? The Tory tabloids have told us that Britain has "roared back" because of a tiny bit of economic growth that has seen things rise about one foot above the Mariana trench but so far that has not extended to Northern Ireland so as a result I can only assume festivities were cancelled here in order to pay for the new Irish language street signs in the Markets area. Either that I've gone deaf and not noticed but either way last night was the quietest I can remember this most hateful of holidays ever being. People were warned to prepare their dogs for götterdämmerung but in the end Rover, Shep, Fido and Satan got off about as light as they ever had. Of course a handful of spides in masks did wrap the door demanding sweets under threat of a trick (although "puttin' yer windies in" is not really a trick per se) but even then we got let off light given the bad rep our house has locally as a trouble spot. All in all a damp squib to say the last and one I'm glad to see the frigging back off for another year.

Meanwhile livejournal is barracking me for using the old version of my friends page, whatever that means. I have heard through the grapevine that the new version is a pile of pish and, like a losing streak, the Moonies or a Nectar card, sounds like the sort of thing that it's very easy to get into but a nightmare to get out of if I don't like. So any thoughts from my invisible readership on this one? I'm loathe to embrace change without having some foreknowledge so if any you who have tried it do let me know what you think.
keresaspa: (Percy Sugden)
The bloody squibs have started now! My distaste for all things Hallowe'en is well documented but the thing that I detest the most, and always have, is bloody fireworks. The appeal of loud bangs might be obvious to the Top Gear and Bruce Willis loving alpha males but to a Wednesday's child like myself they are just a flaming nuisance.Making All Hallows Eve a noisy bore is bad enough but when it is the middle of blasted day and suddenly you hear a loud bang ring out across the Andersonstown Road the joke is well and truly over. Plus given the history of Andytown it was no surprise that I wasn't the only one to start and then suddenly stop a drop to the floor, suddenly remembering that the days when the Queen's Own Brave Boys drove up that way to take pot shots at civilians are over. If they must have their fireworks let them have them on the night itself as I'm sure "civilised" people like myself (if not dogs) can endure it for one evening but all this nonsense weeks before and afterwards? Frankly if this is freedom I would sooner be in Soviet Russia. Humbug.
keresaspa: (Obelix)
I've waxed lyrical on here before about the overall crapulence of the dollar and the possibilities it opens up for buying stuff from the septics. Part of it has meant, for me anyroad, that I can investigate music that I've been curious about but have been loath to spend good money on. Something along those lines happened to me recently as a copy of the Shaggs's 'Philosophy of the World' came in to my possession. I had always been fascinated to hear this album, partly because I had seen descriptions that varied in equal measure between a lost classic and the worst album ever committed to vinyl. The cover, of course, helped seal things as it screams 'bad album covers'. Having finally got round to hearing it I must say I now put myself firmly in the 'lost classic' camp. True, on the face of things it is actually abysmal, featuring three young ladies with absolutely no musical ability who appear to have either recorded the whole thing in three separate countries or else whilst suffering from temporary deafness. Its badness made me laugh at first but eventually I got right into it and found that the whole mess was rather delightful and surprisingly a little disturbing. Indeed it sounded so naive that it would not have been out of place in some shockingly violent trippy biker movie. Quite a difficult listen all things considered but I’m glad I finally got round to checking it out, really. Good old rubbish American economy.

Meanwhile the rest of you tell me that tonight is Bonfire Night. It may surprise my English readers to learn that November 5th passes without incident in Northern Ireland. No bonfires, no burning plies of rags attached to a football, no children begging, nothing. This fact has often left me nonplussed - the deep anti-Catholic bigotry that drives people who self describe as 'C of E' despite setting foot in an Anglican church only for weddings to savage anti-'popery' every November 5th would surely sit nicely in loyalist areas of this little dump. God knows the spides here love fireworks and demanding money with menace and if they could combine these two pastimes with sectarianism so much the better for them. Delightful anti-taig fun for the whole family as a matter of fact. I think the Ulster Scots Society are missing a trick here when it comes to finding another way to get government handouts.

Anyway, enough for me from one day. Raise a glass to the visionaries who tried to destroy Parliament and try not to get too much inner ear damage from another round of bloody fireworks. Bye for now.
keresaspa: (Karl Marx laughing)
I must admit I've never liked this time of year. Halloween has always struck me as pointless throwback in which already spoilt children get the opportunity to demand money from complete strangers with the added menace of attacking your house if you don't give it to them. Fireworks are another pain in the arse and even as a nipper I was never impressed by them. If I wanted lights and noise I would spark up a feg and start shouting rather than waiting for bangs that are deliberately contrived to be as random as possible in order to scare the crap out of unsuspecting citizens such as myself. Not to mention the drone at the door of that blasted rhyme about the goose getting fat. I've yet to see the "old man's hat" that they went a penny in and were I to give the penny they demand I'm sure a selection of Bengal matches or a St Catherine wheel would be deposited through my letter box tout de suite. Lot of old rubbish if you ask me (not that anybody did, of course). Plus All Souls Night is coming up and I still brick it from time to time when I think of the stories I was told in my youth of the spirits of the dead rising for one night. The joys of an Irish Catholic upbringing, I suppose. A pity Walter Matthau's dead really as he could have protrayed me with some success.


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