Sinister: Gates Of Woodford

[Hester, Mark (ELS)]

When I was a kid, my parents didn't have a car and we had to make long and
complicated bus journeys, involving several transfers, to visit relatives in
Essex and Hertfordshire.  On one occasion, a trip to Brentwood involved
changing buses at a place called Gates of Woodford.  In my childish
imagination, I conjured up a grand structure of wrought iron, occupying an
imposing archway, with perhaps an attendant armed guard to either side,
barring the passage of undesirables.  But when we actually got there I
discovered that Gates of Woodford was actually a car showroom run by a Mr.
Gates.  I could barely conceal my disappointment.

So it was exciting and a great relief to discover that the new single was
not a Gates of Woodford experience.  It made me think about something Neil
Tennant said about pop music (and I don't really want to get into a
discussions of genres etc but probably have anyway), about it being not just
the music, not just the image, but the whole package.  And the packaging is
superb.  I just had to mention it.  I used to have one of those globe
calendar thingies.  Wow!  Occasionally the switch on top would get stuck and
the individual plates making up the dates would fan out like the tail
feathers of a dove.  And incorporating the lyrics into a letter, how cool is
that?  The cover design lettering reminds me a bit of St Etienne's Foxbase
Alpha.  It was good to see that many sinisterines are also into St Etienne.


My love of "JIADS" is growing exponentially.  I can't think of another
instrumental that lifts my spirits as much.  The sweeping part of St
Etienne's "Urban Clearway" comes close but doesn't quite make it.  How do
they do it?  I almost had an explanation about this sort of thing from my
friend Ian, whose orchestra had just performed a Grainger piece which
conjured up images of the countryside.  "How does he do that?"  "It's
complicated..." said Ian, spotting someone on the other side of the room he
really HAD to see.  Maybe I was fortunate to be spared an explanation.
Trying to explain how music moves people detracts from its mystique.

My only criticism would be that 'Winter Wooksie' could do with being a
little bit longer, but I fell quite churlish saying so.

The more I listen to And the line in "Legal man" about getting out of the
office could almost be a personal invitation.  "I'm going home now because
B&S say so" I'd announce triumphantly!  And I've got every reason to, as
you'll see presently.....

There's a girl in my office, we're call her R., who got a job I really
wanted, as Technical Manager.  She's not officially supposed to start until
1st June, but they're teaching her stuff already and I can only watch as she
is given tons of new exciting things to do, including trips to Amsterdam.  I
seem to be being gradually eased out of the decision-making process.  Not
invited to meetings, that kind of thing.  As if to say "we're getting rid of
you soon, you don't need to know about this."  It's harrowing and unfair.
I'm sure when I come back from my holidays for the grand total of two days I
find I won't have a desk.  I'll be an Itinerant Assistant Local Applications
Manager, as if my job title wasn't long enough already.  R. and R. are
watching over it like vultures, waiting for me to disappear.  It's by a
window and they need natural light to look at artwork.  Or so they say.

There's so little to do.  Especially now.  It doesn't matter how many time
management courses one goes on, there will always be peaks and troughs and
right now it seems that I am in the middle of a particularly deep and
cavernous trough.  It's capacious and echoey and I find it difficult to even
discern the other side.  I asked my boss whether there would be any big
projects to work on before I leave for Canada on the 8th June.  He admitted
that there was nothing he could think of.  I don't know how he's going to
cope when I'm made redundant at the end of next month.  He's so forgetful.
"I need to ring, you know, Lenny the Lion" he'll say to me, referring to an
IT guy called Paul who once had a huge mane of blond hair.  Now he has a
very sensible, short, military-style haircut.  "You mean Paul," I'll say,
and supply the 'phone number.  No-one else knows who Lenny the Lion is.  The
poor chap's going to be floundering, I can tell.

The lack of satisfaction in the workplace is to some extent counterbalanced
by the morning's journey.  The first part of it takes me along the Thames
(or Isis as it's perversely called in Oxford).  Like Ms Daplyn, I have the
opportunity to watch the behaviour of the ducks.  Three males after one
female, but which will score?  Sadly I never get the chance to find out, as
I need to hurry past Folly Bridge and on to the bus stop.  And yes, there
actually is a folly, a fairytale castle, where my friend Lizzie used to
live.  The fairytale aspect was somewhat countered by the flooded basement
every time the water level rose.  

I played the new album before leaving the house today and was humming "The
Wrong Girl" as I walked along by the river.  It's an odd thing, singing or
indeed humming to oneself.  If done in an office where everyone's
concentrating hard and staring at their screens, it can elicit one of two
responses.  Either someone will say "You sound happy" and at the present
time they will possibly wonder why as well, or else they will scowl and make
some comment along the lines of "They shoot dying animals, you know".  I
think the personal stereo has gone some way to kill off the tendency of
singing or humming to oneself, as people will opt to have the original in
all its finery rather than commit an act of sacrilege by giving a poor
rendition from the depths of their own lungs.  Let's hope it isn't killing
off composition as well.  I used to do a lot of that years ago, when I
should have revising for A-levels.  The lyrics are all in a big white
cardboard box in my parents' spare bedroom, along with Lego, old copies of
the NME from when it was good and other paraphenalia.  One day I'll excavate
them and probably gasp in horror at how introspective they all are.


Liisa, what does Soittoäänet ja ikonit matkapuhelimeen! mean...?  I'd love
to know..... 


Mark x.
--------------------------------------------------

Mark Hester
Assistant Local Applications Manager
Elsevier Science Limited
The Boulevard
Langford Lane
Oxford
OX5 1GB

Tel. +44 (0)1865 843455
Fax  +44 (0)1865 853319
Web: http://www.elsevier.nl/

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