Sinister: The View from my Window
Kieran Devaney
antipopconsortium at xxx.com
Tue Feb 12 15:34:43 GMT 2002
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.
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