The cool kids just walked past my window and went off down Fieldhouse Road. They were carrying their guitars today so I think they're in a band together, I call them the cool kids because they consciously dress like members of The Strokes and, increasingly, they seem to be taking their guitars everywhere they go - there are three of them and one must be the drummer because he doesn't ever carry a guitar, I assume it must be his house they rehearse at. I don't know them at all, and I can only distinguish them because they dress a bit differently from most of the people round here (currently en vogue in Yardley, Birmingham is the 'kev' style of dress, which various different regions also call townies, chavs, neds etc... you know what I mean). Anyway they're probably rehearsing right now, the cool kids that is, no doubt crafting some mean rock 'n' roll in a bedroom in one of the grotty cul de sacs off Fieldhouse Road. As I said, I don't know them at all, but I'm actually on nodding terms with the one I assume to be the drummer - or at least he nodded at me the other day when I was out on one of my wanders, I nodded back of course, a bit puzzled. I suppose he thought I might be a kindred spirit, since I dress a bit like he does, perhaps he wanted empathy or something, there isn't a lot of empathy round here. I think they're probably too cool for me though to be honest, I wonder what they'd think of my record collection - I mean, I've got some Velvet Underground and Pavement records and stuff which they'd probably like, but what they'd make of Plone and Boards of Canada I'm not sure. To be fair to them though, the first time I saw the three of them together I admittedly dismissed them as bandwagon-jumpers, but people who live up Fieldhouse Road can't just afford guitars and crazy hairdos unless they're serious. It looks as though either number 161 or 163 is being put up for sale (i can't tell from just craning my neck and looking up the road - the sign isn't in a very good place, a bloke in a white van parked up there a while ago and put up a Dixons sign - 0121 784 7744 is the number you have to ring for details, or you can go to www.rightmove.co.uk and look up 161 or 163 Blakesley Road Yardley Birmingham. There might even be a picture, but I warn you, it isn't a very nice house. Anyway, the man who came to put up the sign had his kid (I assume) in the van with him, which I thought was quite interesting - the milkman also had his son (again an assumption) in his milk float with him, does anyone get milk from milkmen anymore? It seems to be a dying trade. It's a nice thought though, the son, gives up a precious day of half term frolics to go out with his dad and see what the working world is like, a chance for bonding and learning perhaps. However, when this white van parked up the kid stayed inside while the man went about putting up the sign (I couldn't quite see properly, but it appeared as if he didn't announce his arrival to the occupants of number 161 or 163, whichever it is, he just silently went about his work. What economy of emotions kept the boy inside the van, was it his decision or his dad's? Perhaps the boy had started the day keenly helping, as eager kids do, but he got in the way a bit too much and was banished to the van. Or perhaps the boy, helping eagerly at first soon lost interest and became bored - realising that his dad's job wasn't all he had thought it to be. The way you sort of idolise your dad, especially if your mum doesn't work, just for the way he goes off to work every day, theres something noble and mysterious about it. Then when you get a bit older, and you learn about job hierarchies and salaries and things, and you realise he's as boring and fallible as everyone else. I sometimes feel really sorry for my dad, he dropped out of school when he was 15 and theres something that chips away at the ego when you work all week but still have to have family credit - it's something my rich friends dad's at school don't really have to think about, I think that bothers him a bit too, on parents evenings and things when he chats to the engineers and doctors and things. We're not struggling or anything, I wouldn't be typing to you on this computer if we were but I think it does bother him sometimes. I remember one evening, about two years ago - it was a strange evening to say the least, because my mum was out, and she's never out at that time of day. The rest of us were sitting in the living room watching TV - me, my two brothers, my little sister and my dad. He had told us mum was out shopping "Aren't all the shops shut though now?" "Well... She'll be on her way home now wont she?" "It's getting a bit late though isn't it?" "You know what the buses are like from town at this time of night." His story wasn't exactly watertight, but it didn't really bother us much. Anyway, we were watching this stupid show about surfing, on quality channel eurosport (they were taking a break from ski jumping for an hour or so I presume), and the show was focussing on the senior division of this surfing tournament being held somewhere in Australia. And the surfers participating in it were about my dads age, almost 40, some a bit older and they were being interviewed and typically going on about how good it is to still be able to participate and how much they were enjoying the tournament because nobody was taking it too seriously and all, everything you'd expect them to say. While this was going on, my dad said, to no one in particular: "Imagine doing that, travelling all over the world and doing what you love - a completely different life..." and he broke off. I remember feeling a bit uncomfortable at the time and casting my mind back to the time he used that same phrase "a completely diferent life." on our holiday in Weston Super Mare that year as we were standing on the seafront looking up at the big houses on a foresty hill a bit further up the coast, they all looked out onto the sea. "Imagine living there," he had said "A completely different life.." "Yeah, but it'd be freezing in the winter." my mum had cut in, "yeah" he had agreed. Afer he said that I think I went upstairs to do some homework or something, and a bit later my mum came back and we found out the real reason she had been out - she was pregnant again, we were having another baby. She had been to the doctors to be properly tested and everything. At the time I was naturally a bit flustered by the news, if you've been keeping count you'll realise this would be my parents fifth child, and so it wasn't until later that I made the connection between that and what my dad had said. He obviously knew when he was watching that programme about surfing - the doctor's test was just a formality. I'm not trying to say that he didn't want to have another child (incidentally said child is now born and fine and everything), but just that he sometimes gets tired of it all, and you can hardly blame him for that. I've digressed massively there, but as I watched the boy in the white van, waiting for his dad to put up the for sale sign I could tell that was the last place he wanted to be, he visibly winced as some giggling kids ran past the van. I suppose I felt a bit sorry for him, stuck in that van for whatever reason. But they drove off and whichever house it is is now for sale. In other news, my mum says that she saw the man across the road putting down grass seed the other day (is this the right time of year for grass seed, I don't know), but she thinks she saw him. This isn't that unusual you may be thinking, but the house in question is a bit odd as regards plant life in the front garden, in that there isn't any - not one single thing is growing there. Last summer the man who lives there, and the rest of his family took it upon themselves to remove every trace of the living from the garden, they uprooted a whole long line of hedge, two connifer trees and some scraggly flowers as well as digging up the entire lawn. It was hillarious and completely surreal to watch. One evening in particular they had a barbeque in the garden, and took turns to cut down bits of hedge, this was at about 11pm. The front garden has been bare ever since (as for the back garden, we can only speculate), but I suppose if he's now planting grass seed then there is at least some method to his madness. I'll keep you posted on this, since it's probably the most interesting thing I can see from my bedroom window. If I look over to the right and down the hill I can see ASDA and its neighbour the Tysely Incinerator spewing smoke into the air. It's been downhill for that ASDA ever since Morrison's opened up by the Blues ground - ASDA cola is pretty much the only thing thats worth going there for now. Last summer I tried to draw the view from my bedroom window - my plan was to do a whole series of drawings, but in the same scale so I could make a big panoramic vista. But I couldn't do it justice, there was too much to cram in and even when I was trying my best to be technically accurate with perspective and everything (my drawings are usually not very techinically accurate I have to admit), it still felt as though there were something missing. So I abandoned the idea, though I have recycled a couple of the drawings for my A-level art project this year so the time spent wasn't completely wasted. I've told a fair few people, on the net and in real life about this already so I might as well tell all of you as well, since I think it's an interesting story. A few months ago a few of the people from my school, I wouldn't exactly call them friends of mine - two of them I speak to quite a bit, but the others and I don't really see eye to eye, decided to go on holiday together next summer. This sounded like an excellent idea in principle since it would be between exams finishing and university starting, so it would be a chance for them to perhaps spend the last few weeks they have together bonding and getting to know eachother a bit better. They've been friends for almost seven years. They chose to go to Ibiza which, to put it mildly, sounded like an awful choice, but it's easy to sneer at Ibiza as a vacant and debauched hole, but they might enjoy themselves. Thats what I thought when one of them told me their plans. Fair enough, so they went off and booked the holiday and everything was fine with that until one of them, Paul, decided he didn't want to go anymore... Now, the type of holiday they booked was the sort where if somebody backs out they lose their deposit and the cost of the holiday stays the same, there are no reductions whatsoever if somebody drops out. This left the group with a problem, either Paul had to pay for the holiday even though he didn't want to go anymore, essentially money for nothing, and he had already lost a £110 deposit (also he's under no legal obligation to pay anything - if he did it would be out of the kindness of his heart only) or the other five could split the cost between them, amounting to something like £40 each - or they could work something out in between those two (but again, anything Paul payed would be purely a gesture of friendship). The problem is that Paul, naturally, doesn't want to pay all this money for something he's not going to use, and the others think he should pay because they think he's landed them all with an extra charge to pay, and they don't seem at all prepared to compromise. Remember that they've all been friends for almost seven years, in fact they're quite a self-contained group at school - as a yeargroup the whole year mixes quite a lot inside school and there are few isolated groups or individuals, but these six are one such group. Paul's argument is that the others are planning to spend £50 a day while they're in Ibiza (remember earlier on when I was talking about rich kids, these are such people), and so another £40 wont be that much for them. The others' argument is that Paul agreed to go on the holiday, and even though legally he doesn't have to, he should pay the whole charge. What's interesting is that Paul hasn't really given a reason for not going, he's just said he doesn't think he'll enjoy it, which seems fair enough to me, but the others think that isn't good enough when theres quite a lot of money at stake here. They had quite a big row about this one lunchtime at school, where nothing was resolved, and so the five still going on the holiday have decided that if Paul wont pay then they are going to completely exclude him from the group, sit apart from him in class and at lunchtimes and not talk to him, and they're doing a pretty good job of it so far. It's fascinating to watch really, not only because it's so unusual to see them sitting separately but because essentially the group of five that still want to go on the holiday are putting a price on the friendship, either you pay or you don't get to be friends with us. Poor Paul doesn't know what to do with himself really, though of course you could argue the whole thing is his fault in the first place, but I think they're all acting rather childishly over this and it's sad to see a friendship quantified into so many pounds, when friendship is really meant to go above all that. I'm not sure how it'll all be resolved, and whatever happens neither side will be able to claim victory, because now that a price has been put on the friendship I don't think they'll ever be able to be friends in the same way ever again, not after this - because you have to think, if you were on either side, were they ever really my friend at all? It's odd that quite petty actions in the present can change your perception of people in the past isn't it? But thats what's happening, and in a quite voyeuristic way it's very engaging to watch and try to guess the outcome, but also quite depressing in a way, watching such strong friendships collapse. I could ramble on indefinitely about other things which interest me, but I really must get back to writing about Andy Warhol, he's a fascinating guy, but I need to be careful not to repeat myself too much. Sorry if none of this struck a chord with you, especially if you read it anyway. Keep watching the skies (for birds) - Kieran p.s. apologies to Jesse and Erin who will have heard the holiday story in various versions before. p.p.s. happy pancake day - my brother and I have been doing crap Vic Reeves "I'll squirt tart lemon in your eye!" impersonations all day. It truly is a king among days. _________________________________________________________________ Join the world’s largest e-mail service with MSN Hotmail. http://www.hotmail.com +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@missprint.org. 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