p.s.

do you eat the orange bit on port salut?

jONty ON

Now Jonty is on, finally - and makes for a certainly affable stage presence. SO, I'll stop live blogging.

GTR On

Now Nickly's on, playing his guitar which is beautiful and soothing like the great green cricket, bringing back to it's ok to blog levels. Play on MSTRO.

bbbbblllap

Fuck off you old cunt

This old man wants to have a chat with some other nobody, so he asked me to turn the music down. What a fucking cock. Perhaps you can go to your own house and turn your own music down, piss-bag.

Hlaf-time

Half-time. I'm playing some anarcho free jazz to general indifference. And a brief kerfuffle of dialoguers as people make their way to smoke. In some ways this live-blogging and DJing task is a great privilege - I don't have to pay to get it, I get to be in touch of stuff - but in many ways it is a burden: I have to carry my computer down here, I can't booze, I worry about breaking my computer or all the other technical stuff, I worry whether people like me or what I do; sometimes it gets a bit boring; and on occasion writers' block is a concern.

On the up side, it's an anchor in my life as Chlorine comes around month after month - something in my diary, you know?

PHONE RINGS

Jessica's phone rang?! But it looks like she turned it off super quick, quick enough.

Critch On

E.C. has gone onto the stage. Some crazy confusing stuff ensues.

and grand poems

Stanley TAKES stage

Now Josh has gone! On! I think he may have said 'willy'. He's full of youthful vigour.

early days

So it's still early, there aren't that many people here yet - I hope more people come because it'd be a shame if the performers went away empty handed. Gareth thinks: 'what should I think? And that it's terrible, frankly.' Poetry is all about the fans.

Claw e'en

Right, so it's Chlorine again and I'm live blogging the hell all over it - it's mental so far. There was a soundcheck, then I put the first record on, a soupçon (?) of Rhys Chatham. The chair is more comfortable this time, which bodes well, though it's hot like a pig thinks again / thinking again.

On and on.

How about 'length of hair'? Getting your hair cut (mens and womens) can be expensive, could be considered a 'luxury' and so may have been cut back on (ahem!), yielding, on average, longer hair. Might need to be 'seasonally adjusted' and might be influenced by people, like me in fact, swapping a trip to the barber for a set of clippers and trust in your wife to do it!

"English cricketers like being friendly and matey because it makes them feel comfortable," says Langer. "In essence this is maybe the key to the whole English psyche - they love being comfortable." Yes, that's right Justin, comfortableness is key to the whole English psyche. Those lazy, English swines, sitting about on their fat backsides and travelling to all corners of the globe, discovering exotic lands, setting up the biggest empire in human history, getting involved in comfortable wars for the last thousand years. What's that mother? Australia is the 21st fattest country in the world? Fatter than England? "There's only been one miracle in the last 2,000 years, and that was Jesus Christ," roars Sir Boycott as the players take to the field.

The schedule for re-arranging rooms will begin over August and we are working to a plan to have the rooms equipped for their new roles by the start of term in October. Thus, I would ask those of you who have personal possessions in these rooms to move them out over the next week. Much of the furniture is due to be moved in mid-August and I would not like to see people’s own books and effects confused in this re-arrangement.

I realise that a number of you may feel that you are losing your own office space, though there will be equipped working-space for you when you are at the University. We feel that we gain considerably by having space that we can share and mount a wide-range of activities in and I know my colleagues are already planning a range of activities for next year which I hope to see you at.

And in Arcadia, eggs.

My Dad used to work in a nuclear power station, and he told me they used to play 'reactor room cricket' during night shifts, using a ball made of yellow gaffer tape. The room was covered with green rubber tiles that showed up ball impacts quite nicely. He noticed with amusement one day during an inspection that some of the more lusty strikes were still visible, out of reach of the cleaning sprays.