I've been saying for some time now that I'm bored with Royalty. That is the novelty of saying that you've served members of the British aristocracy has sort of worn off, I'm bored of it now. It's actually surprising how many people have Lord, Lady, or Baron on the placecards we put on the tables at AYS events; it rather dilutes the effect over time.
That is why I'm pleased to say I was just twenty-five feet away from the table of Sir Michael Caine and Kevin Spacey the other night at the Pride of Britain awards! Two of my favourite actors, sitting side by side at an awards night honouring the common Briton, from the young child who called 999 (the British 911) to the soldier who thew himself on a grenade to save his fellows and survived.
Sadly I was not in a position to get any closer to Caine and Spacey, as my job for the night was heading up the Dinner Bar . . . meaning providing all the wine and water to the table waiters from a station at the back of the kitchen (!)
This plum role is a hallmark of a curse which afflicts both me and Brianne -- the curse of RESPONSIBILITY. We've both made such a good impression on the managers we work for that they know they can give us the important tasks and we'll handle it with ease. It's a load off their minds, but it does irk us every now and again, knowing that other perfectly-nice-yet-less-keen servers are getting to brush elbows with the greats! Phooey.
A little story about Michael Caine. His real name is Maurice Micklewhite, and in fact that's what his official knighthood states and he does use it legally to this day. As a young actor he had been using the stage name "Michael Scott" - which is kind of weird-sounding to anyone out there who is a fan of the The Office - but his agent told him that there was another actor named "Michael Scott" and that Micklewhite had to choose a different pseudonym immediately. Micklewhite was on a payphone at the time, so he looked up the street he was on and saw a cinema marquee advertising the film The Caine Mutiny. That's how "Michael Caine" came to be. Caine would later joke that if he'd looked down the street the other way and saw another cinema, his name might have been "Michael 101 Dalmations."
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Damn the torpedoes!
Ventured south of the Thames for an interesting little AYS job at the Imperial War Museum the other day. The main feature of the front of the building property were a pair of massive 30-foot long gun barrells that fired from a boat on D-Day. Just behind that was an actual section of the Berlin Wall, painted with revolutionary graffiti. I set up the bar for the drinks reception directly between a WWII tank and a mobile cannon, with a Sopwith Camel and a Nazi lutwaffe plane of the type that dive-bombed Harrison Ford and Sean Connery in The Last Crusade just above my head. The fifth floor the building was actually titled Crimes Against Humanity. To say the job was a bit surreal understates things.
There was one exhibit that I had heard about and had wanted to visit there, which was a tribute to Ian Flemming and his historical experiences which inspired James Bond. I got a chance to sneak in and look around before we set up the bar. It was interesting, with interactive displays and a selection of Bond memorabilia, but I'm glad I saw it on the sly rather than paying eight quid for it.
There was one exhibit that I had heard about and had wanted to visit there, which was a tribute to Ian Flemming and his historical experiences which inspired James Bond. I got a chance to sneak in and look around before we set up the bar. It was interesting, with interactive displays and a selection of Bond memorabilia, but I'm glad I saw it on the sly rather than paying eight quid for it.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Ratatouille & O'Toole
Try saying my title five times fast.
Brianne and I watched Pixar's Ratatouille last night. A lovely little film, as all Pixar creations are. It's a sweet story with great comedy and heart. One thing that stood out for us was the character of the cynical food critic voiced by Peter O'Toole. A legend in his own time and a wonderful actor to watch and listen to. Here's a YouTube link to a commercial he recently did for The Sunday Times. Just wonderful.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4y4np6H-b8s
Brianne and I watched Pixar's Ratatouille last night. A lovely little film, as all Pixar creations are. It's a sweet story with great comedy and heart. One thing that stood out for us was the character of the cynical food critic voiced by Peter O'Toole. A legend in his own time and a wonderful actor to watch and listen to. Here's a YouTube link to a commercial he recently did for The Sunday Times. Just wonderful.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4y4np6H-b8s
Monday, September 22, 2008
Couple's Night / Heaven's Light
Brianne and I went out with our pal Ed from AYS and his girlfriend Sarah last night. We met Ed during our first month with AYS and bonded immediately over Blackadder, with Brianne excitedly acquiring the nickname "Bob" in the process. Ask her to explain the significance of this some time, it's a hoot to hear.
Ed and Sarah met us at Covent Garden, along with some other friends of theirs. It was a just an evening of drinks and chatting, but there's something about being out in Covent Garden which makes a simple night out seem special; the old architecture, the streetlights on cobblestone, it's just very cool. Also, it was the first chance we've had while here to hang out with another couple (the presence of other friends didn't really hinder this.) Usually, B and I are the token couple wherever we go, and people marvel at this strange species (Spousis Ballandchainus) in their midst, alternately cracking wise, playfully bickering, or smooching it up. It was nice to be able to chat with other in a relationship frame of mind.
The other half of my title refers to my musings on a short story by Neil Gaiman, prolific author of fantasy, sci-fi, and comic books. His story, entitled The Price, is included in the collection of his short works that I purchased before our trip to Ireland. I encourage you to click the link I have put below to listen to Gaiman read this story, it's a touching tale:
www.neilgaiman.co.uk/smokeandmirrors/audio
This story caused me to ponder the difference between the powers afforded by good and evil, Heaven and Hell, however you choose to picture that. It seems most often that the dark forces are singular, autonomous, and seemingly invincible. The forces of light are perhaps more muted in an individual, but their prevailing strength lies in their communal whole. God may not always give irresistable strength to one person, and that one person may face trials and injuries, but what God does provide is the care of others to heal and support. Listen to the story, perhaps you'll see why these thoughts came to my mind.
One last note about Gaiman, as he is one of my favourite authors (plus I find his speaking voice very pleasant to listen to - click the link!). Here are some bullet points about him and his work.
- Englishman, residing in Minnesota
- co-wrote one of my all-time fave books Good Omens with Terry Pratchett
- wrote The Sandman, one of the most acclaimed, well-written, intellectual comic books ever
- novels include American Gods, Neverwhere, Anansi Boys
- novel Stardust recently filmed with Robert De Niro and Michelle Pfeiffer
- dark children's book Coraline soon to be a CGI film with Dakota Fanning and Teri Hatcher
- friends with Tori Amos; she referenced him by name in one of her songs
QUOTES
"You can try to create a utopia, try to create a perfect world, but then you fill it with people! It doesn't work. It's like creating the perfect office block. People arrive and start leaving their coffee cups out, and putting up pictures of their neices, and graffiti-ing the toilets; and then you don't have utopia anymore."
"What happens if Lucifer quits? Okay, you were God's favourite angel, you have the fall from grace . . . followed the Miltonian line "It's better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven." What if he says one day "Hold on a minute, why is it better to reign in Hell? I have to watch people punishing themselves, make sure there's enough sulphur? What am I doing here? I'm going to go lie on the beach somewhere, I'm closing the place down." (this was the plot for a story arc of Sandman)
"Stories that matter have ends. Anything that matters ends. It's the end that gives it a meaning."
Ed and Sarah met us at Covent Garden, along with some other friends of theirs. It was a just an evening of drinks and chatting, but there's something about being out in Covent Garden which makes a simple night out seem special; the old architecture, the streetlights on cobblestone, it's just very cool. Also, it was the first chance we've had while here to hang out with another couple (the presence of other friends didn't really hinder this.) Usually, B and I are the token couple wherever we go, and people marvel at this strange species (Spousis Ballandchainus) in their midst, alternately cracking wise, playfully bickering, or smooching it up. It was nice to be able to chat with other in a relationship frame of mind.
The other half of my title refers to my musings on a short story by Neil Gaiman, prolific author of fantasy, sci-fi, and comic books. His story, entitled The Price, is included in the collection of his short works that I purchased before our trip to Ireland. I encourage you to click the link I have put below to listen to Gaiman read this story, it's a touching tale:
www.neilgaiman.co.uk/smokeandmirrors/audio
This story caused me to ponder the difference between the powers afforded by good and evil, Heaven and Hell, however you choose to picture that. It seems most often that the dark forces are singular, autonomous, and seemingly invincible. The forces of light are perhaps more muted in an individual, but their prevailing strength lies in their communal whole. God may not always give irresistable strength to one person, and that one person may face trials and injuries, but what God does provide is the care of others to heal and support. Listen to the story, perhaps you'll see why these thoughts came to my mind.
One last note about Gaiman, as he is one of my favourite authors (plus I find his speaking voice very pleasant to listen to - click the link!). Here are some bullet points about him and his work.
- Englishman, residing in Minnesota
- co-wrote one of my all-time fave books Good Omens with Terry Pratchett
- wrote The Sandman, one of the most acclaimed, well-written, intellectual comic books ever
- novels include American Gods, Neverwhere, Anansi Boys
- novel Stardust recently filmed with Robert De Niro and Michelle Pfeiffer
- dark children's book Coraline soon to be a CGI film with Dakota Fanning and Teri Hatcher
- friends with Tori Amos; she referenced him by name in one of her songs
QUOTES
"You can try to create a utopia, try to create a perfect world, but then you fill it with people! It doesn't work. It's like creating the perfect office block. People arrive and start leaving their coffee cups out, and putting up pictures of their neices, and graffiti-ing the toilets; and then you don't have utopia anymore."
"What happens if Lucifer quits? Okay, you were God's favourite angel, you have the fall from grace . . . followed the Miltonian line "It's better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven." What if he says one day "Hold on a minute, why is it better to reign in Hell? I have to watch people punishing themselves, make sure there's enough sulphur? What am I doing here? I'm going to go lie on the beach somewhere, I'm closing the place down." (this was the plot for a story arc of Sandman)
"Stories that matter have ends. Anything that matters ends. It's the end that gives it a meaning."
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Thoughts which haven't a leg to stand on
I can make puns too, though my limping wifey's are better.
We've been icing and elevating as best we can, but my B is a trooper. In a line of strong women, she's one of the strongest I know. Perhaps we'll move on to frozen brussel sprouts next. It's better than eating them.
We recently did a very small catering job at a fashion show for London's Fashion Week. And before you get on my case about "Hey hey! Checking out the models, huh?" let me assure you that the skewed unattainable "ideal" of the catwalk high-fashion model is actually quite repugnant to me. These girls looked so thin as to be sickly; "a famine relief poster with style," as a favourite book of mine says. The job was just me, Brianne, and another AYS girl handing out about 45 glasses of champagne to entourage of the event. They literally disappeared in seconds. The designer Julien MacDonald (see below) downed about five straight before the show even started; he was very nervous.
We've been icing and elevating as best we can, but my B is a trooper. In a line of strong women, she's one of the strongest I know. Perhaps we'll move on to frozen brussel sprouts next. It's better than eating them.
We recently did a very small catering job at a fashion show for London's Fashion Week. And before you get on my case about "Hey hey! Checking out the models, huh?" let me assure you that the skewed unattainable "ideal" of the catwalk high-fashion model is actually quite repugnant to me. These girls looked so thin as to be sickly; "a famine relief poster with style," as a favourite book of mine says. The job was just me, Brianne, and another AYS girl handing out about 45 glasses of champagne to entourage of the event. They literally disappeared in seconds. The designer Julien MacDonald (see below) downed about five straight before the show even started; he was very nervous.
I did another job last night with a bit of celebrity flair. It was the Alliance Ball to benefit UNICEF. One of the auction items was a motorcycle driven by Ewan MacGregor in his bike trip around the world. I thought of my dad as the bids peaked at £32,000. The opening act for the entertainment of the night was Escala, a string quartet that competed on Britain's Got Talent, which I've mentioned in the past. Good musicians that happen to look like cover girls. If this sounds familiar, there was a another quartet a few years ago called Bond, with the same "formula." The headliner for the night was the guy who sang the song Tainted Love! He brought down the house.
Brianne and I ventured forth from the house today (gingerly) to explore a park just north of us called Alexandra Park. Lovely views from it's rolling hills, plus a farmer's market today where we got some sausage buns and cupcakes for lunch. At the peak of the hills in Alexandra Palace, an odd but stately building we've yet to find much info for yet, save the fact that it houses a year-round ice rink and is nicknamed "Ally Pally." How drole.
Friday, September 19, 2008
My Blue Foot
I can't say that it has been a very graceful week - as I hobble around the city. It all started last Saturday night when I fell down a flight of (3 - count 'em - 3) steps. I was carrying a very light tray of cookies and apparently decided I wanted to toss them. (come on people, I thought that was a great pun!) So I have tried to stay off of it as much as possible as the colours change.
Andrew has been icing it with a series of vegetables - peas, carrots - pretty much anything we can find in the freezer.
When I first arrived home after the accident I thought the foot was just a little swollen and would heal within a day or two.
Unfortuately when we unwrapped it the next day the colour had changed dramatically.
You can also see my surprise at the colour that my foot was - at least it was close to purple!
so for now I rest and the adventure will continue once things look a bit more natural.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Work Hard, Dance Harder
Wow. There can be no doubt that my wife is an amazing writer. That last entry was sheer poetry. I don't have anthing to match that - just an account of my recent activities. Informative, surely. Uplifting . . . not so much.
Last Saturday I served at an AYS job in Essex, about half an hour outside of central London. It was a surprise birthday party at a private home, with drinks and canapes sereved in a tent in the backyard. I've done several tent jobs, but this one was unique, and the interior was decked out to resemble a tale from Arabian Nights - deep-coloured fabric hangings, silks, curtains, plush pillows for sitting and low wooden end-tables, all in a very Middle-Eastern flavour. I did not have a camera on me, but I hope to get some pics from a fellow server who had a camera in their phone. I was dressed in an eggplant-purple nehru jacket and served plenty of Pimms. If you haven't encountered Pimms (I never had before I came here), it's a light summery cordial that's mixed with lemonade (the British "lemonade", which is like a slightly bitter Sprite) and a selection of chopped fruit - in this case strawberry, lemon, cucumber and mint. It's delicious and refreshing, but it's also a bit insidious, because it's so light-tasting you don't realize how drunk it makes you until you're falling over!
Greenwich is just southeast of the centre of London, and is home to the observatory that measures the precise time on Earth from the Prime Meridian. I've never taken the time to really look around the area, but I have served at jobs in Greenwich several times and sailed past it on the Thames on three separate occasions. Sunday night was a dinner job at the Queen's House, an historic house/museum just down the hill from the observatory, and it served to remind me that I need to take some personal time in this lovley little district.
Back in Toronto, our circle of singer/dancer/actor/waiter friends knew all the scuttlebutt about different studios which offered open classes in various styles of dance, so as to keep the instrument tuned, as it were. Here in London the biggest and best studio is called Pineapple, and it offers a multitude of styles of dance classes - from the standard jazz/ballet/tap, to hip-hop, Egyptian, ballroom, and . . . Michael Jackson style, which is the class I tried out last night. I found it advertised on the studio website, as well as an article in a local paper praising it as a fun time on the dance floor, so I slipped on my rhinestone glove and moonwalked down to Covent Garden to see what it was all about. The teacher was a move-for-move carbon copy of Jacko's style, and he did his best to impart the subtleties of the steps to the class, with Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough blaring in the background. The secret of Jackson's style really is in the isolation, so that you move exactly one body part (as specific as left pectoral muscle) while the rest of you stays still. All in all it was a fun time, but my emulation of the King of Pop left a great deal to be desired in my eyes. I thought to myself as I looked at my reflection in the studio mirror, "I didn't think it was possible to find anyone "whiter" than Michael, but I'm looking at him right now!"
Last Saturday I served at an AYS job in Essex, about half an hour outside of central London. It was a surprise birthday party at a private home, with drinks and canapes sereved in a tent in the backyard. I've done several tent jobs, but this one was unique, and the interior was decked out to resemble a tale from Arabian Nights - deep-coloured fabric hangings, silks, curtains, plush pillows for sitting and low wooden end-tables, all in a very Middle-Eastern flavour. I did not have a camera on me, but I hope to get some pics from a fellow server who had a camera in their phone. I was dressed in an eggplant-purple nehru jacket and served plenty of Pimms. If you haven't encountered Pimms (I never had before I came here), it's a light summery cordial that's mixed with lemonade (the British "lemonade", which is like a slightly bitter Sprite) and a selection of chopped fruit - in this case strawberry, lemon, cucumber and mint. It's delicious and refreshing, but it's also a bit insidious, because it's so light-tasting you don't realize how drunk it makes you until you're falling over!
Greenwich is just southeast of the centre of London, and is home to the observatory that measures the precise time on Earth from the Prime Meridian. I've never taken the time to really look around the area, but I have served at jobs in Greenwich several times and sailed past it on the Thames on three separate occasions. Sunday night was a dinner job at the Queen's House, an historic house/museum just down the hill from the observatory, and it served to remind me that I need to take some personal time in this lovley little district.
Back in Toronto, our circle of singer/dancer/actor/waiter friends knew all the scuttlebutt about different studios which offered open classes in various styles of dance, so as to keep the instrument tuned, as it were. Here in London the biggest and best studio is called Pineapple, and it offers a multitude of styles of dance classes - from the standard jazz/ballet/tap, to hip-hop, Egyptian, ballroom, and . . . Michael Jackson style, which is the class I tried out last night. I found it advertised on the studio website, as well as an article in a local paper praising it as a fun time on the dance floor, so I slipped on my rhinestone glove and moonwalked down to Covent Garden to see what it was all about. The teacher was a move-for-move carbon copy of Jacko's style, and he did his best to impart the subtleties of the steps to the class, with Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough blaring in the background. The secret of Jackson's style really is in the isolation, so that you move exactly one body part (as specific as left pectoral muscle) while the rest of you stays still. All in all it was a fun time, but my emulation of the King of Pop left a great deal to be desired in my eyes. I thought to myself as I looked at my reflection in the studio mirror, "I didn't think it was possible to find anyone "whiter" than Michael, but I'm looking at him right now!"
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