B-U-S-T-E-D
Posted on | December 12, 2008 | 3 Comments
Last night, my daughter, now four, asked me, “why do you and mum sometimes talk with letters and not words?”
The jig’s up. She might not be able to spell, but she knows that something’s going on and gets all watchful and sneaky.
A new system is required. I’m for Pig-Latin.
Afty-cray ittle-lay rat-bay. Ix-nay the elling-spay. Oh, and op-pay the ettle-kay on.
Handy, bite-sized chunks
Posted on | December 4, 2008 | 4 Comments
I haven’t posted in a week. This is, in large part, due to the fact that I quite like having my good news post on the top of the list for any visitors to see (as I strongly suspect that many of you are far to lazy to actually scroll down to see if there are any other new, sparkly things – I suggest subscribing if that’s the case).
Also, I’ve been busy, ok. Oh, if I told you about all of the calls from agents and producers and studio-bigwigs and actors we’d be here all day. What’s that you say? Coppola? Frank or Sofia? I’ll call back. What? Spielberg? Wants someone to script Schindler: The Revenge? Yeah, yeah, I’ll call him tomorrow.
So then, slow posting? There is an answer.
No need to struggle with large, unwieldy and irregular posts like the constipated lady on the ad (the one carrying the big handbag full of food-scraps). Just follow me on Twitter and delight in frequent, easily-digestible bits of my brain.
Are you a ‘youth’ or someone desperately struggling to keep up the pretence? Then visit me on Facebook and, if you know how to work it, let me know.
Incidentally, through some Internet sorcery, the Twitter stuff shows up over in the sidebar too.
Disclaimer: Most of it will be shite. So, you know, sorry. I mean, as I post this, there’s a tweet (I understand that’s the word) about soup. Jesus, soup? What am I doing? I could have waited until there was something better but that may never happen.
Tags: constipation > Coppola > Facebook > Spielberg > Twitter
In which I receive good news
Posted on | November 26, 2008 | 14 Comments
It seems that I am to be a finalist in this years Red Planet Prize (it’s quite prestigious, you know).
A month or two back, I submitted a ten-page extract and outline for a one-hour TV drama and a subsequent series. Today I received an email stating:
Congratulations Gerry Hayes!
Your submission “Over Sophie” has been chosen as one of the finalists for this year’s Red Planet Prize. Can you now email your completed script – as soon as possible – to this address, along with your synopsis and details. The script will then be considered by our panel of judges and the winner will be announced in the New Year.
All the best and well done.
Red Planet Pictures Limited
Hurrah for me. Hurrah, hurrah and thrice hurrah. I’m a finalist, selected from a thousand others. Even if I don’t win, that’s pretty cool. Still though, fingers crossed for the win.
Ramble on
Posted on | November 25, 2008 | Comments Off on Ramble on
So, a ramble up Sorrel Hill, with the brother, the other day. A little less gruelling than our last outing. Cold and a fog blew in for a few minutes but otherwise quite pleasant. A friend of mine told me recently that two years of rain seems to have kept people off the mountains and I believe he’s right. Many of the smaller trails were overgrown and difficult to follow. Larger trails were muddy and boggy – although that’s not really anything unusual in these parts.
I figured out how to mark a route on Google Maps so here’s our Sorrel walk. Beautiful views over the reservoir and into the Wicklow mountains proper. Rather typically, we had both forgotten our cameras so I was stuck with the crappy one on my phone. I won’t bore you with landscapes. Instead, have a skull (they’re oddly common in the mountains). I believe it’s a sheep but my ovine physiology isn’t what it once was.
And, the highlight of any outdoor activity: a brew. Boiling up some water on a little alcohol-stove burner (with improvised windguard to save carrying the whole thing around) for a cuppa. Scalding tea and lovely sarnies with a nice view – who could ask for more.
If you look carefully, you can see my reflection in the teapot. Steady, ladies. Steady.
Tags: hiking > sheep skull > Sorrell Hill
The stuff of nightmares
Posted on | November 25, 2008 | Comments Off on The stuff of nightmares
My daughter owns a weird, decapitated head. Its purpose is to provide a blank canvas for all sorts of girlie make-up application practices. It has played this part for the last year or so and has worn many a combination of maquillage although, as a manly man, I am unsure of the exact classification of these cosmetics.
The head, eerie and frightening enough on a normal day, recently received an application of face paints (the ones used to make kids look like tigers at fairs). Daughter sat happily and carefully applied paints as I rustled up a nice Guinness and beef pie. When she’d finished, she called me over for a look.
Gaah! I mean, that’s beautiful. Wow, she looks great. Well done. I, erm, have to check the dinner.
I backed away slowly, muttering prayers to the god I don’t believe exists.
Brilliant, honey. Now, you clean dolly’s face and call me when it’s done. Not before, ok. When it’s all clean.
With closed eyes, I took a picture on my phone to prove it was real.
I see this in my nightmares.
Tags: doll's head > make-up > nightmares
Efficiency
Posted on | November 18, 2008 | 2 Comments
Two loads of washing wedged tightly into the machine. Who says men can’t do housework?
In your face, naysayers. I’ve just doubled my productivity. Ha!
I’m off to hoover the dishes.
A shade under six feet
Posted on | November 15, 2008 | 5 Comments
Is how my brother (who is among his biggest fans) refers to Peter Cushing. Partly because he read it somewhere, but mainly because, at six feet, he can lay claim to the, relatively dubious, distinction of being taller than him.
I can’t affirm the same fandomism (it’s probably a word) as he, but I do like a bit of Cush. Who doesn’t? I was, therefore, much heartened to find him, unexpectedly, on TV tonight. In an episode of The New Avengers called The Eagle’s Nest, there was Pedro, playing a mad German teacher, banging on about reanimating dead frogs and accidentally getting caught up in Nazi, world-domination plots. Brilliant.
Never really been a big New Avengers man. As much as I like Gareth Hunt and his coffee bean shaking, I’m afraid to say that Purdy is no Mrs. Peel.
The Cush certainly helps but I’m Mrs. Peel all the way.
Tags: Mrs. Peel > New Avengers > Peter Cushing > Purdy
Up the Fancy Mountain
Posted on | November 6, 2008 | 1 Comment
And down the tangled, boggy glen.
So Monday should have been a reasonable stroll of a couple of kilometers and an easy climb to get back into hiking shape. Park on the Military Road in the middle of the Wicklow Mountains, an easy walk to the top of Fancy Mountain (really, that’s what it’s called – also known as Luggala). Spot of view-looking from the top of the cliffs over Lough Tay and back down. That was the plan.
Couple of issues though.
Firstly, it was foggy. Really, really foggy. Proper pea-souper stuff. As there’s a trail of sorts to the top, I wasn’t too worried. It made for pretty poor viewing once we (the brother and I) got there though. Then, the greenhorn decides that he’d like to take a stroll down to the brook – in the valley to the southwest – and follow that back to the car. Reluctantly, I agreed. This was a mistake.
Now the fog made things difficult, but we were armed with compass and map so that was ok. The map was pretty much redundant as there were no landmarks to be seen but navigation back to the road was the easy part (any bearing roughly northwest would do it). The hard part was clambering over and through the heather and gorse and marsh and bog. Holes abounded – real ankle-breaking terrain. At one point, one of the brother’s legs disappeared down a hole and didn’t stop until his arse hit the ground. Wet boot – nasty. Glad it wasn’t me.
We made very slow progress. Stopped at a giant rock for a brew and a sambo. Then kicked off again. Eventually, we made it back to the road and the car. Tiring day, but at least the brother is unlikely to ever want to leave tarmac again. Looking over our route on the map, I’d estimate we spent three hours covering about five kilometers. Slow going. Good though. I enjoyed it immensely, although the fog didn’t clear in all the time we were there.
Here’s the area on Google Maps. Rough route: Car parked at A. Walked southeast to that lump overlooking the lake. Then a descent southwest before a scramble back northwest again. Not far – just difficult.
How B can you be?
Posted on | October 25, 2008 | Comments Off on How B can you be?
Wow. Last night, I saw one of the best films I think I ever have. As part of the IFI’s Horrorthon festival, the inimitable Night Of The Lepus was shown. Astonishing, simply astonishing.
The plot? Simple. Giant killer rabbits terrorise a small town.
Rory Calhoun, Janet Leigh and, a very snappily-dressed DeForest Kelley star (and I do mean star). Great plot and great dialogue. Some of my favourite lines:
As Janet Leigh shoots at a giant rabbit that’s attacking a bloke, it scarpers, leaving him all bloody and with shredded clothes. She rushes to him saying, “It’s ok John, the rabbit’s gone”.
As a white-coated lab guy examined some debris before the rabbits were discovered, he mentioned that it had been gnawed and had traces of saliva. “Like a vampire?” someone asked him. “Possibly”, he said.
As a military policeman addressed people at a drive-in movie, “There is a herd of giant, killer rabbits heading this way”.
Overall, it was amongst the funniest films I’ve ever seen and I urge you to see it if you can. Night of the Lepus, people. Make it so.
Incidentally though, it was made in 1972 on a very small budget and has a distinct lack of ‘no rabbits were hurt in the making of this film’ disclaimers. I’m pretty sure there was a rabbit on fire at one point.
Behold, the terror that is Night of the Lepus:
Tags: film > ifi > killer rabbits > lepus
Get lost, grandad
Posted on | October 22, 2008 | 2 Comments
Today is my birthday.
There are many cons. Another year, another hole further on my belt. Another few empty follicles closer to glabreity. Another step away from understanding ‘the youth of today’ and what possible rationale they might have for listening to music through the tiny speakers of their mobile phones (last time on the bus: three different twats, simultaneously sharing three different shrill, tinny, phone-noise songs with the rest of the passengers). Each day I grow closer and closer to waving a stout walking stick and shouting, “damn kids”.
My hangover recovery time has increased considerably, despite the amount of practice I undertake. I make a funny grunt/groan when I bend to pick something up. I no longer have the same disdain for people who ‘garden’. I find myself evaluating flat caps in shops and wondering if it’s too soon.
The pros list is shorter. I can hang around a shop all day with little regard for the Mosquito device they have installed.
Still though, it is my birthday. I wonder if I can persuade my wife to do that thing I like.
« NEWER Entries — OLDER Entries »Gerry Hayes
I mostly sit around all day and drink tea. Occasionally, I write stuff and send it to strangers so they can humiliate me and deride my efforts. Other than the self-harm to dull the shame of failure, it's not a bad life. Like I say, there's tea.
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