How nice are the people at Forbidden Planet here in Cambridge? I went in a couple of weeks ago looking for Amazing Spiderman #42 a couple of weeks after it had come out and not surprisingly they had sold all their copies.
Once I asked the lovely manager if they had any, he offered to call around all the FP outlets in the UK to see if anyone had a spare copy. Eventually they had one on Coventry because aparantly no-one buys comics there, so I wandered into town yesterday on the free bus that work provides once a fortnight and picked it up. They still only charged the cover price despite the fact that it probably cost them that much to get it sent down and to phone around. Fantastic!
Last night I managed to head off see The Flaming Lips in the Junction. Having never heard the band before I was ready for anything, but I’ve had good luck and not a little help in getting to see good bands since I’ve been here so why not.
All I can say is, “Bloody hell! Was that just the most orgasmic musical experience I’ve ever had or what?” The Lips had us eating out of the palms of their hands. Consummate showmen without a hint of arrogance or bravado, they played over an hour of the best rawk music I’ve heard. Of course they’re well known for She Don’t Use Jelly (a song I was delighted to recognise), their new album is absolutely fantastic. I’d recommend you all run, don’t walk to the web site for a listen and then go out and buy the bloody thing.
As if that wasn’t a perfect night, the support bands were excellent too. The young Silverfish with an interesting Travis-like sound and Bob Mould who is indescribable. Picture it: a bald thirtyish man plaing heavy indie rock accompanied by a drum machine and various electronic sounds. No it’s not Beck, it’s much less depressing than that.
So there you go. Two nice records to go find and rock to.
Beer, beer, beer, beer. Beer, beer, beer, beer. Yes, I spent last night at the Cambridge Beer festival over on Jesus Green. An enormous tent filled with a bizarre mixture of students, professionals, Iron Maiden wannabes, normal folks, and strange facial haired CAMRA members. There must have been a hundred or so types of beer for sale and the weather so so good we say in the sun drinking away.
One hint though, if you ask for Stout, don’t expect to be handed a Guinness or Murphy’s. It tastes more like porter that’s been left sitting in the slops tray for a couple of years, heated up, and then served in a filthy glass which was last use for storing sewage.
Getting back into the work thing now. We moved out the a shiny new office in the Science Park over the weekend, and surprisingly everything more or less worked when I get in. I’ve gone from a very cramped, open-plan office to a lovely view of the UUnet building out a window, half-sized partitions, and more then a foot’s distance from my boss. The only thing is, it’s supposed to be closer, but it seems like it takes me longer to cycle in the morning.