Road Accident

I saw, or half-saw, a very unpleasant road accident yesterday. I was walking back from the shops when, in front of me, on the other side of the road, a motorbike crashed into the side of a van. Although this was only about 60 yards ahead of me, I didn't see it that clearly, because it was dark, and I was walking along looking mostly at the pavement at the time.

I got a brief glimpse of the van turning into a driveway and the motorbike crashing quite fast into it. I had the sort of impression that the van crossed the road and turned into the driveway when maybe it shouldn't have, and also the bike might have been going too fast. But it was only a brief impression and I could be wrong. Anyway, there was a startlingly loud bang when it happened, much louder that you'd normally hear in a city traffic accident.

Although I was close, there were other people on the pavement in front of me, and by the time I got there, people were already phoning for an ambulance. Other cars had stopped too, and a crowd gathered immediately. The motorcyclist was lying beside his bike. I'm sure he was very badly injured; it had been such a violent smash and he went right into the side of the van. I did see his leg move so at least he wasn't dead.

I stood there uselessly for a little while. You think you should do something but there was nothing to do, really, but hope the ambulance arrived quickly. When I heard the siren in the distance I walked on, thinking that I wasn't helping anyone by standing there staring at it all. It was such an unpleasant incident. I arrived home feeling very sorry for the bike rider, and hoping he would be all right.

Motorbikes seem so dangerous, especially in cities, with cars turning all the time. As I said, I sort of had the impression the accident wasn't the motorbike's fault. But whoever's fault it was, the biker was severely injured, and the van driver wasn't hurt at all.

I had a motorbike accident when I was 18. It wasn't so bad, though I ended up in hospital. I still have scars on my knee, and a crooked finger, which didn't quite set right after it was broken. When I was 18, I thought it was a good idea to ride a motorbike. Nowadays, nothing would get me on one. It wouldn't surprise me if everyone knows someone who's had a motorbike accident, quite possibly a bad one.

Rough Trade

Reading obituaries of the recently departed J D Salinger, I was awestruck by his achievements. After having a big success with Catcher in the Rye he disappeared from view, declining to publish anything else. While doing that, he had various affairs with young women. At the age of 53, he had a long affair with 18-year-old fan, and then he married another woman who was 40 years younger than him.

So basically, Salinger lay around doing nothing very much, living off his royalties, while young women just threw themselves at him. This man is my hero.

I wish I could spend the rest of my life lying on the couch watching SpongeBob SquarePants, meanwhile women are beating a path to my door. It sounds great. It's the ideal life for a writer, never actually having to write anything again. You have to take your hat off to J D Salinger for managing to do this.

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Every time I make a foray into modern music the results are disappointing. I was listening to Joy Division's Transmission, and thinking, as I generally do 'This is a great record' and also thinking 'Oh dear, that came out a really long time ago, and I remember watching them play it live before it was even released, so I must be getting old' - when I became aware that there was a cover version, by Hot Chip. I am informed that Hot Chip are a popular modern band. I head for youtube to listen to their version. I don't like it. It makes no sense to me. I can't imagine why they made a cover version like that. (But hey, everything else they've recorded might be great, I wouldn't know)

So, that was another disappointing exposure to modern music.

Watching Joy Division on stage at the end of the 70s was a mesmerising experience. I remember buying the single Transmission, at Rough Trade Records, in their original shop in Kensington Park Road, Notting Hill. Which would have been in 1979, I suppose.

That original Rough Trade shop was like a small wonderland at the time. The walls were covered with picture sleeves from singles, which, in original punk days, was a new innovation. You could go into the shop and end up buying things just by seeing what looked good on the walls. They sold fanzines, too, which was also a new innovation. Somewhere, packed away, I still have some original copies of Sniffing Glue, original punk fanzine.

Here's a picture of where the first Rough Trade record shop was, in Kensington Park Road. It's now a toy shop, Cheeky Monkeys. This picture is slightly distorted, possibly because I'm not very good at manipulating Google street view.

Lonely Werewolf Girl in Australia and New Zealand

Piatkus's new edition of Lonely Werewolf Girl has now been issued in Australia and New Zealand, by Hachette. This edition will be published in Britain in March. (ISBN 9780749942830)

In the past, I've sometimes had problems with book distribution in Australia, so I'm pleased this book is now there.

The sequel, due out later this year, will be called Curse of the Wolf Girl. (Kalix is on her way to college, to try and improve her reading skills.)

Andi Sex Gang

Here's the trailer for Bastard Art, a documentary about my good friend Andi Sex Gang, which is due out this year, directed by Vince Corkadel.

I was pleased to see the trailer, though slightly alarmed to see myself featuring in it. (In fact I have the last word in the trailer) I can't remember what I said about Andi. Some nonsense, possibly. But the rest of the documentary will be good.

I once did a brief reading at a CD launch for Andi, and from the stage I told an anecdote about him. This anecdote, I may say, brought the house down. Sadly, I can't repeat it here, unless I made this one of these blogs with an adults only warning in front of it.

I first met Andi in 1977. We were both squatting near Clapham Junction. Soon afterwards we both moved to Brixton, and have hung around South London ever since. I'm looking forward to seeing Vince's film, though I'm not certain when it will be released.

More Progress

I finally bought a phone with a camera. I may be the last person in the country to have one. When the phone arrived I charged it up and sat down to read the instruction book. After one page of this hefty work, I became bored and depressed. The instructions were simply too tedious to read. So I abandoned it, and will just work the phone as best as I can without reading any instructions.

I have already taken my first picture! As you can see, I have swiftly mastered the art of digital photography. Possibly a new career is opening up.

Getting back to the subject of great 70s music - weren't we talking about that - no? - I was sure someone mentioned it - here are Roxy Music performing their first single, Virginia Plain, on top of the Pops in 1972. I saw Roxy Music play in Glasgow, at the start of their career, when Eno was still in the band. That was brilliant. Although I would have been too young at the time to appear in the audience with full glam-rock outfit and make-up. But that probably wouldn't have been a good idea in Glasgow at the time anyway.

Black Perfumed Scarf

I wrapped up well and struggled out into the snow. Once outside I realised that my neck was really cold. It struck me that I needed a scarf. I can't remember that happening before. I can't remember when I last wore a scarf. I wasn't even sure I had one.

I retreated indoors and rummaged around in the wardrobe. To my surprise, I came across a nice black scarf. I don't remember ever seeing this garment before. I've no idea where it came from.

Pondering the matter - quite suspiciously - I noticed that the scarf smelled of perfume. Quite nicely, in fact. This was odd. Where has this mysterious perfumed scarf come from? I'm baffled. Did some lover storm out in the huff, leaving the garment behind? Always possible, given my poor track record in relationships. Right this moment she might be thinking 'What a useless boyfriend he was. And he stole my scarf.'

But I can't remember anything like this happening. It's a mystery. How long would perfume last on a scarf anyway? Not long, I wouldn't have thought. Or maybe it would, if it was high quality merchandise. Anyway, I'm now wearing the scarf. And probably smelling slightly more perfumed than usual.

London is thickly covered with snow. This is a big pain. I have purchased Tamanohikari Super Premium Ginjo Pure Rice Sake over the internet, and am warming myself with this fine Japanese product.

Extreme Piggy-Back Terror

My new wi-fi has certainly changed my life. Because of it I've developed two new damaging obsessions. I'm obsessed with how fast it is, and I'm obsessed about anyone piggy-backing on my connection. Previously I never had to worry about these things. Now I'm checking it all the time. So it's a big step forward.

The speeds seems to be OK. But, to my horror, while browsing through the rather complicated logs and settings in my router, it did seem to me that there were other people using my connection. Another computer, and also an iPhone.

I thought I'd set a password, but apparently this wasn't good enough. People had already invaded my network. I was briefly terrified, and felt unable to cope with this cyber terrorism. I had a vision of some Jack Nicholson-type character smashing through my door with an axe, crying 'You'll never stop us using your wi-fi connection!'

When I calmed down, and realised this probably wasn't going to happen, I was annoyed. I mean, these people can't be far away, can they? Is someone in my block using their damned iPhone on my connection?

* Shakes fist at fellow residents *

Considered knocking on everyone's door, demanding to know who the culprits were, possibly coming to blows with suspicious parties. Eventually decided against it.

Subsequently, with much furrowing of the brow, I learned how to make my connection more secure, a complicated process involving mac address filters, Wpa2 and suchlike. So this was all very stressful. But I think it's secure now. The other computer and the iPhone are no longer appearing on my connection, or in the log

Checking the internet, I notice that all these security measures can be broken by other people if they're determined enough. Sigh. So I will no doubt be checking the whole thing obsessively for the foreseeable future. Go wireless. It's a boon to OCD sufferers. Hours of new stuff to worry about.

In-between fighting off these cyber-terrorists I noticed the sink in the bathroom was looking quite dirty. Wondered about cleaning it. I'm not a great house-cleaner. Eventually decided to make an attempt. Sprayed it with cleaner and rubbed it with a cloth. This had little effect. Was frustrated. Why didn't it work? What's the point of selling stuff that claims to clean sinks if it doesn't do it when you need it? May have to scrub harder.

Injured by Slippers

I've always avoiding buying or wearing slippers. Even when the temperature plummeted I've know that if I ever wore slippers, something bad would happen. Mainly, I'd turn immediately into an old man, shuffling around, probably complaining about stuff.

Glamorous movie stars would cease to visit me. I would no longer be welcome at London's most fashionable nightspots.

However. Right now it's really cold in London. Walking round my flat, my feet are cold. I tried wearing shoes but I don't like wearing shoes indoors. At the supermarket, in their small clothes section, I noticed some slippers. I looked at them sort of longingly, thinking it would be nice to have warm feet, but I hesitated. I knew it was a big decision. I almost resisted, thinking 'I will never wear these comfy tartan footwear items' when I noticed that one of the pairs of slippers was sort of moccasin-shaped. Nice and fluffy inside, but not really looking too much like slippers really. If challenged, I could possibly deny they were slippers at all.

So, furtively, checking no one was looking, I slipped them in my basket, then headed for a checkout point. I felt quite guilty about the whole thing. On the other hand, London is knee-deep in snow these days, and my flat does suffer from drafts.

Back home I put on the slippers. They were very warm. And did look quite like moccasins. Not too slipper-like. I thought I might get away with it. Possibly I would not turn into an old person overnight.

However. There was a slight feeling of discomfort in one foot. I'd bought my normal size, but they felt a bit tight round the toe. Maybe because they were so fluffy inside. I ignored this, because my feet were very warm. This turned out to be a terrible mistake. When I took them off at the end of the day I noticed my toe was quite sore, and next morning it was even sorer. For some reason , wearing this slightly-too-tight slipper seemed to have crushed my toe into my foot, causing pain in the joint and tendon, and this pain didn't just go away as I might have expected. Next morning my foot was really painful, all the way up the tendon.

I stared morosely at my feet. Now not only were they cold, they were sore too. I limped around the house the whole day, complaining about stuff. I knew it was my own fault really. I knew bad things would happened if I ever wore slippers. Now I'm practically crippled. How could an overly-snug slipper cause such damage? I may never walk properly again. Damn my lack of self-control.