I always wanted to visit Boston...

I was sitting in a restaurant in Boston, looking out through the windows, at the square beyond, staring past the reflections of the patrons.

My companion had suggested this place was good. She'd read about it in some guide. I'd read about it in some detective novel. So there we were.

Colonial. I was never quite sure what that meant, being a few hundred years late (and happily uninvited) to that party, but it seemed to fit the place.

At the table just across from us there was an older guy, big across the shoulders, a stern, but expressive face, with a nose that looked like it had been broken. Some scar tissue around the eyes. A boxer, or at least, one who was once a boxer, but maybe also one who was still a boxer when the situation demanded it. Age hadn't made him any weaker; he still looked like he could bench press 250. More than twice.

His companion was animated in her study of him. Deep, expressive eyes in a face that still held a numinous beauty that age had not diminished.

They'd often pause, and when they did, the room seemed to pause with them. Palpable. I'd heard that about them.

My companion distracted me from my covert study by passing me the menu. We perused. Debated. Ordered. Enjoyed.

Towards the end of our meal, the couple at the next table finished their meal and left, she on his arm, but neither led nor leading. Together.

I looked at my friend, and said, "You know what, I think that was..."

The waiter, passing by, said, in that wonderful, drawn out Bostonian accent.

"Robert B. Parker"

Robert B Parker, September 17, 1932 – January 18, 2010

Christmas Eve and Other Stories

Unexpectedly excellent - really enjoyed this. The instrumental Christmas Eve/Sarajevo 12/24 is fantastic.

The Meaning of Christmas

What does Christmas mean? The celebration of the birth of Jesus, versus the commercialisation of today? Father Christmas? Christmas Fact and the accepted fiction?

Explaining Christmas to a baby is simple; you don't have to. However, as a child grows up, there is a lot about the world that needs to be explained; Christmas is a good example of this, as it's a fusion of tradition, religion, commerce, status, location and more. A proper mix.

Read Dawkins and you'll be wary of indoctrination; but, in a way, that's missing the point; Christmas only exists in a widely accepted fashion due to it's religious roots.

And then there's Father Christmas; how do you explain him? If you accept his existence as a necessity for children, then how do you explain his inevitable unveiling?

It was easier when you were a kid.

10 Million Years Behind The Times...

...is how I feel, sometimes. I don't tweet, I barely use facebook, I don't have a friend feed, and I don't use spotify, or grooveshark.
I have a flickr account, which I don't have the time to fill with all the photos I would like to.

I do listen to internet radio, though. My personal favourite is accuradio, as it has a wide range of genres, is pretty simple and direct, and just works. I'm listening to the Christmas channel, at the moment, as I'm really looking forward to it this year as it will be my first as a parent.

Hopefully not as extreme as this.

"I think they're excited!"

No kidding.

Moving... Not

So. You find a house. You agree to rent it. You put the holding deposit down and sign a piece of paper about the holding deposit. The landlord accepts your offer and you agree the rent. You've put down your holding deposit, and the landlord asks you some questions about moving in. You give notice to your current landlord.

Then the agent passes on a sale offer to the new landlord, who accepts.

Leaving you stuck.

Great, isn't it?

Space

Well, I need to move, at the moment, and although I can't move back to where we'd like to be, yet, I need somewhere more appropriate for a family to live.

Now, moving is all very well and good, but the accumulation of stuff is a real problem. Over the last few months, I've said goodbye to many a possession on eBay. Swapping stuff for cash is a good thing (except when you factor in how much the stuff cost you in the first place), but then you reach a point where you get to the stuff that has value but can't be sold (especially when you factor in eBay's idiotic postal charging policy).

Getting rid of things is a good example of catharsis. It certainly makes things easier; the number of boxes you have to carry is decreased, the burden, both physically and spiritually is reduced. You lose something, too, but I'm not sure that that's a bad thing.

I'm currently wondering what to do with the 300-400 books I'd like to give away. Ideally, I'd like them to go to people who'll read and look after them, but my local library doesn't seem to want donations. The charity shop already has more than it seems to need, and I'm not sure I'd like to see them relegated to a back room as people buy more Dan Brown and Jeffrey Archer books.

Any suggestions there would be appreciated.

Liverpool Turnering Heads

Weak puns aside, Liverpool is hosting the Turner Prize Exhibition this year; this is the first time the prize has been hosted outside of London and is meant as a prelude for Liverpool's year as Capital of Culture. I visited it today with Peter and Lisa.

It was interesting; I don't claim to be an expert of modern or installation art, but there was a lot there that was thought provoking. I agree with Peter's summation - and in particular, I did not get Mark Wallinger's work at all.

I'd like to be non-committal and sit on the fence by saying, that although it's not something I can appreciate, I'm sure it has some worth as art, but then I'd be lying through my teeth, so I'll label it as pretentious rubbish masquerading as art instead of hiding behind some polite half platitudes. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that if I wanted to watch some bear prance around in a room, I'd watch old episodes of Rainbow.

That being said, I'm sure it has a good chance of winning; after all, it has started the is it art? debate again.

Peter also pointed me in the direction of this little gem.