Friday, 17 August 2007

Tagged....Or should that be Tigged?

Thanks to trousers, I've got to do one of these "5 things" things. But seeing as I'm in a good mood today, I'll have a go.

The good mood? (uncharacteristic as it is): Well I broke into a nice shed in Cheadle last night and left a particularly beautiful (if you'll indulge me) sculpture welded from all their garden implements. Then next door to make a working hand-winch out of two childrens' bikes, before heading home. If the parents are creative, they could use it to automate their washing-line installation. Or summat.

On to the Tag then:

What were you doing ten years ago?

I find these kind of questions particularly difficult. Anyone who knows me will attest to the fact that I have virtually no natural recall of past events. Even to the point where I will be sat in a pub with friends, hooting with laughter at the narrated shenanigans of some individual, and when I ask to whom they were referring, they shout "it was you, you twat!"

So ten years ago, I was probably sat in a pub with get the idea.

5 snacks you enjoy?

Walkers Crisps
pickled eggs (seriously)
Sesame Snaps

5 songs you know all the lyrics to?

Scary Monsters by David Bowie (though I tend to replace the bark-like background noises with Scooby-Doo impressions)

The Lone Ranger By Quantum Jump including this bit:

Friggin' in the Riggin' (Sex Pistols version of the trad "good ship venus")

Nightclubbing by Iggy Pop

Rapper's Delight by The Sugarhill gang

5 things you would do if you were a millionaire?

World peace, dog sanctuary...oh shit sorry....that's if I won Miss World.

Take Girlfriend on a huge round-the-world holiday extravaganza.

Big house in the country, small apartment in the city.

Bigger Art studio

Recording studio (the welder? in an industrial band?...surely not!)

Pay off mortgages of Family and Friends

You did mean Multi-Millionaire didn't yer?

5 Bad Habits

Spouting opinions like they're written in stone. (apparently)

Forgetting ...


Being opinionated.

Breaking into people's sheds in the night and making sculptures out of their metallic things.

5 things you like doing?

See above.

5 things you would never wear again?

My hair short, blonde and spiky Cos I looked like a comedy German APPARENTLY!


Cuban Heels



5 favourite toys?





R-TECH 40HF Plasma Cutter

There we are then.

I trust you all feel you know me a little better now...and know that you want to know me less....probably.

Wednesday, 15 August 2007

Spot Welds In The Cotswolds

Last year The Welder was invited to deliver a summer residential arts weekend near Broadway (not Manhattan) and on the first weekend of August it finally arrived. So with a fresh pair of trousers and some trepidation, he headed down to the "Northern Gateway to the Cotswolds" to meet the hosts and 15 keen delegates.

Any concerns were soon put to rest as the weather was extraordinary, the delegates were armed and ready for action and the food and lodgings were fine.

Nude models posed, Sinister Welder barked instructions, sparks flew, smoke belched and the students duly turned shit into gold. An Alchemists wet dream.

Tired but tingling with artistic procreation, his creative catechumen collectively headed for refreshment in the bar, while the Welder himself took the more dark and dramatic pathway down hill into the beautiful village of Willersey to sup at the Bell Inn. On the way he imagined that this might indeed be a route trodden over a century earlier by none other than William Morris, musing no doubt on the finer points of the Art & Craft Movement.

All the Welder had to show for this journey however was a muddy foot, a sheen of sweat and crumpled Jeans. Imagine his surprise and delight therefore when he discovered, at the bottom of the hill, not only a pint of fine ale greeting his labours, but also a trouser press.


Tuesday, 24 July 2007

Puddles of Consciousness

Well here I am then: belatedly pushing myself out of the binary womb i've grown all too comfortable in. No longer sat in my bubble, listening to the Bloggery of you clever people, consuming, eavesdropping, lurking but never proffering a response.

Here I am. Naked, vulnerable, pink and moist. Too shocked to cough yet, let alone scream.

So come on then: Come and snip the umbilical; Come and turn me in your arms; Smile at my overwhelmed face; Smooth away my uncertainty.


I decided to come out (as it were) in response to a moving post by my friend Trousers. And also because the humour in my faux-petulant pronouncements of "oooh I suppose you're going to spend time with your Virtual friends again" each time we were together and veered into the vicinity of a computer was wearing thin. Like an over-chewed stick of Wrigleys.

I had intended to establish the theme of my Blog-presence as "Stream of Consciousness", but this sounds far too grandiose. So on reflection, puddles of consciousness seems more fitting. As I lack both the intellectual rigour and dedication of you serious Blogites (or whatever the vernacular is) I promise to spew out my unrefined musings periodically and encourage you to respond to them as you seem fit.

In the meantime, be gentle with me. I'm not yet on solids.