Vinfest

Bunker entrance
Originally uploaded by Ginger DJ.

Saturday was a lazy affair watching TV films including Tron which was nice. We had the option to go back to Global Gathering with the weekend tickets but the drive put us off. Instead we drove towards Salisbury to meet our London friends camping at Vinfest, an all weekend party on the grounds of Vinnie's step dad's field.

This was no ordinary country field but an ex-Ministry of Defence site which stored nuclear weapons in bunkers and even had its own railway. Most of the happy campers were in full swing dancing under canvas as the weather had drastically changed. Marc was playing his trademark US Soulful House and a few of the ravers were in costume or face-painted. After Marc, the music/DJ quality went down for some of us so used the time to scout out the area and talk to a few people. A table-tennis tournament had been arranged by Trev which was held in the bunker. He even had his own clip-board titled 'Table Tennis (Ping Pong)' in case he forgot what the game was I suppose. The house was quite bare but had 2 showers, 2 cubicle toilets, 3 sinks and urinal in the same room plus the windows looked bomb-proof. The event even had its own schedule of events like a holiday camp and included regular meals and a cake baking competion. Not sure if there were any dance like your gran competition or best costume but there should have been. A few fireworks, random conversations, some strange dancing and generally, weird/friendly people entertained us until 3am. Glad I wasn't camping.

Robot gods

Harder
Originally uploaded by Ginger DJ.

Just a small entry for Thursday. Went to my normal karate class with my sensei announcing it would be all kumite (sparring). Usually I pick up minimum injuries such as bruises but this time resulted in one bloody nose from the sensei himself and one very winded stomach from a higher grade - its supposed to be non-contact.

Getting up to the Global Gathering site took forever thanks to the traffic north of Oxford and the M40. Luckily Kerry found a back road and we were soon parking at around 5:30pm. Walking towards the entrance was slightly dodgy seeing a younger bloke on the ground being kicked and punched by two larger guys. Even worse when he somehow got up to leg it then chased and shouting for help. Everyone stood amazed as the two other guys laid in more hard punches shouting out to not do it again then he ran off again. Very scary.

Queuing up was no way as bad as last year thank god and the searches were very relaxed until we spotted the sniffer dogs. Lucky for us one had identified a bloke right in front of us so no hassles. The site itself was virtually the same as last year though nearly every other stall or fairground ride had a soundsystem to pollute the air with happy hardcore. A new addition we'd noticed was the Laptastic tent with lap & pole dancers. £10 got you in each day or you could get a 2 day pass at £15 - bargain. Other distractions were the stilt walking and midget demons posing for the camera.

The Electric tent was our main haunt where Daft Punk would eventually play. King Roc was doing an amazing job getting everyone dancing and predict him to be really big soon. Digitalism were next were ok but were conserving energy. The Punk's stage was shrouded with a huge black curtain so we knew we were in for a treat. Erol Alkan was supposed to be the last DJ before the main event and as we were dancing and sussing out our final viewing position, two French guys stood near us looking extremely cool, one quite short the other lanky and a cowboy beard. Was it Daft Punk in non-robot costume? I had to ask, "are you Thomas?" to the lanky one. No (bugger). A confusing message displayed on the screens saying Daft Punk would be playing in the main arena at midnight not 11pm as advertised. This confused a lot of people who left the tent but with the huge curtain we knew they were here. Erol's set came to very uninteresting way lasting about 20 minutes of non-descript bleeps and whistles then Justice came on - the same two French guys we stood right next to. Now I like their Waters of Nazareth but their set was just ear pain with no real substance. Another hour of waiting and the crowd was swelling up.

Finally they came on with the most amazing sight and sound ever. It was jaw dropping even a religious feeling about it. Their pyramid stage looked like they'd landed there with a Dr Who/Matrix style UFO. Near the top were the two robot headed performers who hardly moved or used their light-effect helmets but that didn't mind. Every tune played had a different visual effect using a mash-up effect of their classics with never a dull moment. The crowd were going crazy and cameras everywhere. What got annoying was those right in front of us getting on friend's shoulders blocking the view. There's plenty of photos and video on my other sites. Check it.

Do teenage ducks go cheep or quack?

Here's a thought for you: When do ducklings or chicks lose their 'cheep cheep' noise and gain either their adult quack/bwok noise? Are they like human teenagers and one day their voices just crack?

Not much else to report apart from spotting this new animated film coming soon. Renaissance is a French film using the same technology for video-game graphics and looks the dog's. There's influences of Sin City, Blade Runner, Akira and Ghost in the Machine so its got my vote already. Haven't been able to find an English version of the film site but the visuals give you an idea of the style.

Here's the French website.

McDojo Mafia?

Another skint weekend. Saturday had the worst timing of a down-pour of rain. Sunday I went upto Dorking to see the man behind the karate club I'm a member of. 'Kancho' Robert Sullivan was giving a rare class in the UK. He comes over from Australia about twice a year and created the Go-Kan-Ryu (GKR) club about 20 years ago. I've always been a little cynical about the club thinking its the McDonalds of karate with a pyramid selling business etiquette.

Bit of background for you. More than 2 years ago, my sensei knocked on my door 'selling' the club. His sales pitch was well rehearsed and practised though I always remember questioning him on some points with his responses just repeating parts of his patter which I just put it down to a hammy technique. Still, I wanted to get back into shape and was unimpressed by the other local clubs. It was reasonable too and within a few months I had removed alot of belly bulk. A few months in, I was asked to join the club's 'sempai' training scheme which meant the possibility of assisting and teaching lower belts but gaining better training and in some cases, free lessons. Hey, why not? I was chuffed that I was considered better than others though hesitant at the prospect of teaching a class. I'm still assisting with classes as I have no interest in teaching with its responsibility, just enjoying the cheap exercise and steady progress in my skill.

What I'm starting to object to now is that although I'm getting ok training from my own sensei, I feel the lower grades should receive the same training and not be palmed off by people like me. It just waters down the skill and knowledge.

Robert Sullivan, being the figure head of GKR must be the Ronald McDonald equivalent. The Kancho's background is anything but the mysterious 'master' image you'd expect say in old kung Fu movies. No wispy long moustache, no 'wiseman say' proverbs, just a middle-aged Oz bloke who used to be a policeman and was inspired by household cleaning products selling techniques.

Anyway, here's the juicy bit. I innocently found a chatroom thread ripping into GKR ethics summarised below:-

• Kancho Robert Sullivan only got to blackbelt 2nd dan on two different style of karate then went to create his 'own' style.
• He then graded himself to a higher grade and created his own certificate - that's like saying I've read a book on surgery, operated on a few patients so now I am a surgeon
• Mr Sullivan has a helicopter and Scottish castle - confirmed by himself in his book

The 'mafia' bit of the title comes from a news article printed in a local Surrey newspaper. GKR make you sign a contract which states you're not allowed to teach karate after leaving the club for 12 months. What the article reports is that two representatives intruded a class ran by two ex-members and removed their belts in front of their students. There was also mention of money owed. My own opinion on this is why resort to intimidation when you can use legal channels.

The Kancho thing was a bit of a let-down. Interestingly, he turned up in his UK SouthEast Region manager's new Ferrari, got a round of applause as he entered the hall then had to autograph about a hundred GKR worshippers' books and clothing.

For a man nearing his 60's, he was definitely fit but we were expecting an exclusive lesson or something to inspire us. Instead he came up with combinations off the top of his head (nothing different to what I might teach low ranking belts), performed his own created 'katas' (sequence of moves) which lacked any real technical prowess I was expecting at his level, finishing with about 16 blackbelts having 1-to-1 sparring sessions which didn't show any flair or finesse. The same black-belts performed two high grade katas in front the 500-700 crowd. The first one was ok but the second split them into two distinct groups with different timings and just looked embarrassing. The day finished with a Q and A session with the old master but it was hard to hear what was asked and answered so just bored me rigid. Some of the stories he did mention related more to the rich lifestyle he's leading rather than enrich us with what he's learnt spiritually. The helicopter was also mentioned - apparently he crashed it!

Personal Update: 22 August 2011
I'm amazed at how many visitors I get for this above blog entry. It's been about four years since I gave up. I don't miss the pressure of having to set lessons, collect money and never being able to give up certain evenings but I do miss the training regime despite keeping fit with cycling. When I was a member GKR had been marketed as a family friendly club competing not just with other karate clubs but gyms or any type of exercise. This is great for those who might feel intimidated by other forms of karate but should also recognise that discipline they're learning is a combination of styles which might have been adapted for a commercial business.

Too good to be true

It might be Ibiza-beating weather out there but I'm feeling the chill of The Shining as destiny whispers suggestions to kill everyone.

Just had a phone call from HR. I didn't get the job in Marketing as someone with alot more experience waded in and pi$$ed on my parade. Other things aren't going my way either. Madonna tickets are like trying to sell gas fires in this weather. Too many fools like me on Ebay so will be advertising at a 99p start price with £100 off reserve price.

Plus there's no air-conditioning in the office! Watch the headlines in case I find an axe.

Fuerzabruta fantastic!

With all the excitement last week of the potential for promotion in two possible jobs has been shelfed for the time being. My boss apologised for getting my hopes up as the whole department needs to be re-assessed. It might mean I get it after that or they might think the role is best suited at the same level. The other opportunity has gone quiet so I went into the weekend with a small, grey cloud over head.

Saturday night was a small party at Trevor's summer house. Brought along some summer brazilian house tunes whilst everyone tucked into the BBQ. Left a bit earlier than normal as we had tickets for Fuerzabruta at the Roundhouse the next day.

Just round the corner from Chalk Farm tube station near Camden was the venue. Banksey had left his mark with a hotel maid sweeping dust under the wall (will post photo on Flickr). Our mate Steve didn't give too much away about the show apart from the advise to get in the middle of the standing area and get there a little early. We did just that and waited next to black curtains guessing to what would happen. Everyone shuffled into the smoke-filled room and waited until a suited man was wheeled out on a conveyor belt walking. The music sped up as did the conveyor belt by which time he was running. Flash and bang! Some fake blood and the guy is stumbling as if he's just been shot. He gets up but this time stage hands add plastic furniture as obstacles to his static journey. Some actors join him but get in his way. There's no explanation to all this and later sequences just seem like a dream repeating in places or no connection between the two. Some destruction of other small sets then a little dancing switches to some wire action and tumbling around the side walls in the air. As the audience's attention is drawn elsewhere, a perspex ceiling lowers above our heads like a swimming pool and female dancers dive and swim lit with deep blue and red. The music score was a mix of tribal like drums, herdy-gerdy style instruments and pounding carnival beats stirring the inner raver. I highly recommend this to anyone!

Check out the YouTube website soon as I took some video action to give you a taster.

Opening pandora's box

Been reading GQ lately and came across this clever website:

Pandora.com allows you to enter a song name or artist you like then it comes back with a continuous selection of tracks you might not have heard or considered before. Tried a few searches and was impressed it found Glimmer Twins 'Cassette' but the selection after that got a bit weak. Other tunes I tried kept bringing up Deep Dish. Not quite sophisticated to be a real guru of music.

Cheese dreams

I had one of those dreams last night/this morning. Instead of the trouser-less wandering or rushing around to find something random, I was going to an awards ceremony to be presented a certificate by the Queen. I'd got there with two possible outfits that were totally rubbish. One was a suit made from net curtains, the other a denim affair with canvas white patches. Then it all went rushed with decisions of what queue to stand in. Should I stand in the Nottingham University certificate queue or a Southampton one, then some terrorists scared everyone off and I was being chased on a moving train.

All this has been caused by last few days' events. The University marketing department head-hunted me offering an interview which went quite well. HR cocked up a bit phoning me yesterday of the appointment date & time. What made it even more interesting was one of the panel members was a manager from my department! I had kept this secret for awhile but it goes to show how things work behind the scenes.

With a good feeling about it I returned to the office with word that my own manager was looking for me. I had emailed him about the interview but hadn't heard anything so wondered what mood he was. Last week I had asked for a promotion in my appraisal, now today he's actually offering me a team-leader role (after it's given the all clear through higher managers). Is that the smell of a payrise coming or my over-excited ego pooping itself?

The Zidane headbutting incident has captured the web world's imagination and this one tickled me - Check it!

Anybody want 80's style t-shirts, try here at Truffle-Shuffle!

When women wed & celebrate

Nutty friends
Originally uploaded by Ginger DJ.

No wonder we couldn't find it at first but what looked like a piece of derelict land with a few cars was actually where to park for the reception of Kerry's work friend's wedding.

The social club was something I'd expected to see on a bad housing estate with signage hand painted on a brickwall. Inside matched the low expectations with pool tables, a dart board and West Ham balloons everywhere?! The lucky lady hitched herself up with another lucky lady who was in the Army. Lovely couple and all the best to them. Like us everyone who'd been invited were expecting to see the promised Trannie DJ but instead it was a camp looking guy in an England shirt. He mixed the normal wedding disco and sung himself to a karaoke machine.

Already propping up the bar was Chris, husband of Alex, Kerry's friend from work. He's an ex-Army man himself and has tons of stories to make any type of situation fun. Some scary gangster encounters was told that night as well as the punishment he's been given whilst serving. Drinks were really cheap as well as the hire of the place we'd noticed. Apparently, its £60 for non-members and £12 for members. Membership was £7!

Nothing much to report on Saturday activities. Tried to see Pirates of the Caribbean 2 but realised everyone else had the same idea with the queues stretching around the building. Ended up hiring a DVD and game. We'd seen the trailer of The Weather Man somewhere and liked the running joke of fast food being chucked at the Nic Cage. We should have saw the signs of a bad choice with Nic Cage thinking to himself in the mirror with self obsessed-analysis. Michael Caine popped up for an appearance trying to pull off an American accent and failing (no surprise). Overall, the film turned out to be a yawn fest and didn't even stir a giggle. Avoid!

Psychonauts in comparison was a breath of fresh air with a originality and excellent, funny scripting. By Sunday night though I was getting bored of the average platforming basis and too frequent loading screens.

Sunday was a trip to the posh garden centre to colour our wood-lice, snail infested land. More hanging baskets to brighten the place up. Nearly convinced Kerry to buy a miniture wheel barrow with potted plants for the front yard but there was no sign of a small donkey with side sandle baskets of flowers.

Big Brother interest is waning but still sparking interest. My new hate figure is Jayne. As well as being one half short of a Viz character, she's certainly knows how to wind me up.

I pity the fools!

Frazzled and past-caring. This week has been a mess of picking myself up from management change and (in)decision, getting a good appraisal and requesting a promotion, a head-hunting phonecall for a job elsewhere in the university, to more management indecision and staff meddling in my plans. Just like the laptop I received last week, once I switch on I can't be bothered with all the changes, switch off and think of going home. That was annoying as well and I await a replacement.

Wednesday night was a trip to Clapham and meet up with Kerry's family for a trendy Italian meal. Next door but one was a French bar packing in the fans for the World Cup semi-final. Celebrations spilt onto the road, TV cameras caught blue-shirted fans dancing, bus passengers waved their Tri-colour flags and police tried to coax them off the road. Tonight we're going to a wedding reception for a lesbian couple.

I've been updating the YouTube video site. It now has two Flaming Lips videos - Enjoy.

Also, someone sent me a great Mr. T video with his 'Treat your mother right' rap (and not in the motherf**ker way).

Portuguese upset Dereham

Image by Ginger DJ via Flickr

It was our summer visit to Norfolk. Too many people to see and no time to enjoy the scenery. Not that we really saw any as the majority of Saturday was spent in Dereham, my home-town. They've added another shopping centre nearer the library and there's a lot more houses, otherwise it’s the same type of people: old people (which includes my mum) and chavs. There is a minority which include teenagers waiting to move out either to university or Norwich as well as a growing number of Portuguese (due to cheap labour for Bernard Matthews). My mum was first on the list and although in good spirits, she's starting to repeat things which is a worry including her obssession over some rabbit that's taken residency behind her garden. We walked into town for lunch passing a couple of places including the Portuguese owned bar/restaurant filled with smoke.

Later we caught up with Mark, our best man and one of my oldest mates. He was proud to show us his latest project completed, the pimped-up, more bling than camp, VW van. Over a couple of pints in the Bull pub he shocked us to say he's selling his pride and joy to the atmosphere of the England first half. We watched the penalties back at my dad's whilst trying to sort out his PC (updating AV software updates with dial-up is impossible).

The result had upset the locals which provided some interesting entertainment at an Indian restaurant in...Dereham again (couldn't get away from the place!). Through the bay windows we could see that England flags and shirts had invaded the Portuguese bar/restaurant with police all around the area. No punch ups or furniture wrecking, in fact they were really well behaved. It was the singing and staggering of those outside then a Portuguese bloke in a Renault Espace flying a huge Portugal flag from his window tooting his horn in celebration that wound everyone up including the police.

After a spinach filled Chicken Massala (didn't mix that well), we headed out to Josh and Christie's via classic Norfolk roads. After the normality of traffic lights and pedestrian crossings its nice to return to high banked twisty single tracks, with wildlife using the roads as much as tractors, pensioners and boy racers - we even followed a badger for awhile. Old person quote coming: Their garden was looking fantastic and our envy was obvious.

Sunday was even hotter and a trip to see our friend, Bernard for a catch-up. Mr. B's back-yard was a frog and dragon-fly fantasy with jurassic style fauna. Further up the garden was pen of 4 chickens, all lounging or stretching in the heat. Anyone curious to know that chickens are very cheap to buy at only £1 each, full size.