Monday Jan 30th- day 47

Hello. Or should I say 'I, sya'ya'? That's what the Suquamish Native Americans say here in Washington, apparently. They speak the Lushootseed dialect. Sometimes instead of 'I, sya'ya' they say Kwedachi. I can now say that in over 800 different languages. Honestly. Just test me.

I did some thunking today. I thunk real hard. I wrote some stuff down too. Then as it was a really nice day, I went to the Mall for a bit. I bought some storage stuff for all the paper I am producing. I went to the drugstore, and bought some drugs (I have got a stiff back/neck, presumably from boarding) and 9 postcards and some air mail envelopes. Then I went to the ginormous Barnes and Noble and browsed for ages. There are loads of bargain books, the reason being that most of them are, I suspect, unreadable. Still, I seem to be spending many a happy minute in book shops lately. I did buy a snowboarding magazine because it comes with 2 free DVDs. I watch them at home. One is really good, featuring young blokes whizzing through the air on their planks, and occasionally falling on their heads. I guess I am made out of different stuff to them, because I just couldn't do what they are doing. Being 19 is probably also an advantage. There is footage of blokes boarding down near perpendicular slopes off the top of mountains. They are barely even touching the snow, carving occasional swathes into the vast sheets of powder which, more often than not, proceed to follow the young hero down the slope in a billowing dream of white noise.

I am reading "The People's Act of Love" by James Meek. It's on Canongate, which is, a good, sign. And it's great- mysterious revolutionary Russians wandering around jumping off bridges and stuff like that. I might miss some of the undoubted references to the classic Russian literary canon, but they guy sure knows how to write a sentence. Every word is vital, and seems to either point backwards or forwards in time. Stay tuned, comrades.

Robbie Fowler has signed for Liverpool. It makes for a great story. Centralians won 1-0 at the weekend. I'm sure it would have been more if they'd had a certain veteran striker (known to fans as "God") on the pitch...

Sunday Jan 29th- day 22

Wake up and sem to have got my cold back. I guess it was getting wet and exhausted yesterday, with only a cheeseburger and blue gatorade (which was I think better suited to a car radiator than to my stomach!) I come down for breakfast and Krishna is round, so Ann invites me to share brekkie, which I am very grateful for. We have scrambled egg and choclate brownie, a somewhat unusual combination, but beggars, choosers and all that!

Krishna is hoping to be offered a job in drywalling which, I discover is a bit like plastering. It will mean starting work at 4 am, working long hours, and getting shouted at for being the new boy. But it seems like a smart move- he is pretty handy at doing stuff to his Mum's house, and he will always have work if he has experience in construction.

It also transpires that Deanne is moving away to become a trolley dolley for a US airline. Ann is having trouble hiding the fact that she is relieved about this. I go to the other room and try not to listen to them discussing Deanne. Seems like Krishna is not that struck with her either, but breaking up is hard to do.

As he is leaving, some of Ann's friends come by unannounced, so I meet Carol, Ron and their 14 year old son Brian. He's a mad keen soccer player, so we talk about English footy for a while. Both Carol and Ron have recently been diagnosed with very rare forms of cancer; hers, a skin cancer, has been operated on, but his is in his sternum, and he is facing a tough battle with chemotherapy and surgery. You wouldn't know it to look at him. They seem like lovely people and it brings home the unfairness of things. I am very aware of it when talking to them both. I know that Ann has been shaken by this happening, especially them both falling sick at the same time, and one just wonders how it is for the lad, knowing (as I presume he does) that both of his parents are unwell.

I while away a happy hour or so on MSN messenger to Rosy back in Sheffield. Then it's off for a food shop to a posh "Whole Foods" store. The fruit and veg are amazing- they must either be pumped full of steroids, or raised on hours of bright Mexican sunlight. They even have what, to you or me would be yellow courgettes, but to them are "zucchini squash". See below for evidence! When you pay for stuff, there is someone there to pack it in the bag of your choice (paper or plastic). They will even put your shopping in a dumb waiter which goes down to the underground car park, so you can drive by and load on up! That's living alright. Or, as I keep hearing, "HOW D'YOU LIKE THEM APPLES?!?!" I think this is something to say when your team has just scored a touchdown or something. It's a bit like saying, "What do you think of that?" But from now on, I will try and use "HOW D'YOU LIKE THEM APPLES?!?!" whenever I can. I look forward to hearing George Bush using this phrase when asked about, for example, his opinion on the selection of Judge Alito, or somesuch issue of national importance and gravitas.

At the ranch, we unpack our stuff and try and fit it into her kitchen, which is no easy feat. At least here I am encouraged to unpack straight away rather than leaving my shopping in bags for months on end.

Ann claims that she doesn't even really like chickens, but that people keep sending her chickens regardless. One of them seems to have a death wish. I have half a mind to put it out of its misery.














I finish my book. It's been a great read. Lots of pages, but that's how we like it. I suppose I am biased, because I like comics, and the book is about the birth of comics in the America of the late 1930s. The author weaves in some stuff about the holocaust, which can be a bit gratuitous sometimes (as if it automaticaly lends a book some moral authority) but in this case it works really well. It reminds me a bit of "Everything is Illuminated" in that respect. I expect "Kavalier and Clay" will be turned in to a film, sooner rather than later. I can see Adrien Brody and, erm, Philip Seymour Hoffman in the title roles.

Saturday Jan 28th- day 22

Snowboarding today. On the bus in to Uni at 8:30, the driver reckoned that the main road up there was shut due to "a biiiig avalanche"! But we head off on a coach anyway from the University. We go via Microsoft in Redmond to pick up a couple more people. The Microsoft HQ are pretty massive, although it's hard to tell exactly how big. It makes me wonder how it is that a geky guy called Bill can have become the richest man in the world. I mean, I'm sure he's a smart cookie and all. And he does a lot of good work for charidee. But I get the feeling that Microsoft are actually pretty ruthless- they seem to squash the competition fairly systematically, and find ways of forcing people into using their stuff. I have been trying all week to get hold of Microsoft Office, and finally yesterday managed to order it (I get a 50% discount as a member of staff here). But it's hard not to use their software. I mean, who doesn't use Word and Excel as word processors of choice? You have to use them to play along with everyone else.

We approach Snoqualmie Pass, and have to stop to put tyre chains on. But the road has been reopened and we make it up to the Snoqualmie summit where there is snow, snow, snow everywhere. A good two feet or more as far as the eye can see. Which, as it is snowing hard, is not very far. I potter about on some reasonable slopes, but in trying to go from one trail to another, get stuck waist deep in powder. This, with a board on your feet, is something of a problem. It takes a good 5-10 minutes of struggling to get my feet high enough to unstrap the board and wade out of the powder! I wasn't ever going to get stuck, I just would have been a bit thin by the time they found me in July. Just my little joke there to make it all seem gnarly and hardcore, which it wasn't really, dudes. Here's a picture of me in the snowdrift.











And here's a picture of me speeding through the powder.











As you can see, it was really snowing hard! ;-)

In the afternoon, I had a lesson off a nice American guy called David. There was only one other student, an English guy called Benedict. He works for Microsoft and was a good boarder, although he did have the habit of doing spectacular faceplants at regular intervals. He has braces on all his teeth. I expect he got tired of people staring at his teeth (Americans have good teeth and think, often rightly, that Brits have mouths full of crooked, rotting blackened stumps). Anyhow, teeth not withstanding, we have a good afternoon, and go through some brilliant areas of deep, light powder. It' a pretty amazing feeling, which I guess you will only understand if you ski or surf, to be gliding along, making tracks through feet of perfect snow.

In the evening, they turn on the lights on the slopes, which is a bit surreal, but good fun also. I took this photo at the top of possibly the biggest half pipe I have ever seen. Believe me, it's bigger than it looks...

I watch a fair few guys go down it, and no-one was getting much air above the sides, even the hotshots. I would like to tell you how I caned it down, doing 360s and board grabs all the way. But I think you might see through my web of deceit. It was a monster, and I don't think in my next lesson that David will succeed in getting me some big air off that baby. Dude.

On the coach back, we watch a DVD- "40 year old virgin". Not so sure about it, but it got a lot of laughs on the coach. Perhaps due to hysterical tiredness. I get home at 10:30 and leave my keys in the front door in my haste to lay my head on the pillow.

Friday Jan 27th- day 21

Day 21! This must feel like torture for you, like being in the Big Brother house. I understand that this latest "celebrity" BB has been grim viewing. I am glad to be away from it all, because much as I like to think myself above it all, I often end up getting sucked into it. I was glued to the screen last year and was delighted when Bez of Happy Mondays fame bagged the cash. His promise to spend the winnings on "pimpin up me ride" are a lesson to us all in sensible financial management. Talking of which, I hear there has been a multi-mega-super-duper-with-knobs-on ROLLOVER in the National Lootery (that was an honest typo!) and everyone is snapping up tickets for the one handred meellion jackpot. All I will say is, remember who your friends are. And I am writing this blog specifically for you, my best and dearest friend. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, you luck jackpot winner you!

I meet another member of staff today called Crispin. Disappointingly, there are no offers of gum this time (he is an English guy). I like him, although I am disappointed that he has grown a Noel Edmonds-esque beard. My Dad once had a pee next to Noel Edmonds at a motorway service station- FACT! Anyway, Crispin is an interesting chap,and he was very generous with his time and knowledge. Actually, he's one of those guys who is a bit frightening in the amount he knows about his subject. As we were talking, he kept leaping up and grabbing down a book to show me a study, or digging out papers from box files. I wonder if I will ever know that much stuff? Probably not.

Thursday Jan 25th- day 20

I decide to go to an art gallery and a gig today. Before that, I work from home, and I happen to momentarily turn on the TV (ahem) and catch a bit of "The Biggest Loser", a show where two fat families have to compete to lose the most weight in I think it's two weeks. It's great! One family lives in an American diner from Peoria, Illinois, the other in an Italian restaurant in the Bronx, NYC. The first thing they make them do is wear gym-wear and be weighed in front of the cameras. It's not a pretty sight, if I am honest. My money is on the Diners to lose the most flab, as the Italian family are already bawling each other out. It seems pretty humiliating all round, but fair do's for trying to get healthy I suppose.

In another short break from work (ahem), I monitor the internet rumours about Robbie Fowler and his mooted (great word, that) surprise return to Liverpool FC. It couldn't happen could it? You gotta love Robbie, if only for being extremely thick and still managing to become one of the UK's richest men (courtesy of sll the houses he owns- the Man City fans used to sing "We all live in a Robbie Fowler house" to the tune of "Yellow Submarine". Then there's the drugs, the dockers, and most of all, the goals. I still remember seeing his debut and it being abundantly clear from his first touch that he was something special. So will he resign? Will he cut the mustard? We could do with a lift after losing to an undeserved late goal against the Man U scum last Sunday (sorry Mike and Timmy...) In other football-related news, Sheffield Centralians continue to lose without their stalwart centre-half turned makeshift striker (yours truly). Although to be fair, they tend to lose whether I am playing or whether I have been cruelly left out of the team. The ex-manager, who is still "looking for a way back into football management" (ever thought of Subbuteo, Mick?) thinks it's a crime against football that I am left out. He didn't exactly say it like that, but I know that's what he thinks! To be serious, Mick is one of the finest managers outside the Premiership, and he may even be an outside bet for the soon-to-be vacant England hotseat. Just remember, you heard it here first!

Evening, I go to the gallery at the University, the Henry Art Gallery. The best thing is a room with 150 works from the permanent collection. They are arranged on wooden plinths, a bit like music stands, with the details written on the back. It's a really novel way of showing the art, and some of it is really good. Also you get this weird feeling of wandering through time, as they are arranged in chronological order across the room. There's another cool thing, a James Turrell skyspace. It would sound naff if I described it ("Noooo", I hear you shout) so here's a link about it. I need to go back and have a look at it during the day (or at twilight for best effect). He's done one at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park I believe. Check it out if you get the chance.

After that, I go to a gig at a venue near the Uni. It's a jazz gig, but the previews sounded good. I saw it in "Seattle Weekly", a free listings newspaper over here. Two of the bands are so-so, but the first lot are absolutely blinding. "Industrial Revelation"- bad name but wow, these cats can play! I am not a connoisseur, so can't place them in the overall litany of jazz music. All I know is that all 4 of them are fantastic musicians (trumpet, double bass, piano and drums), and at times, the whole thing literally goes "Whoosh!" I am talking about those moments when they all seem to be doodling around, maybe doing the odd solo (cue audience applause and whooping), and then they kind of lock into something all together, and the music takes off. I don't know quite how it happens. I think it revolves not around the piano, who seems to be the leader, but the drummer. This hip brother is in total control. He's not flashy, he doesn't wave his arms around, but when he wants to, he just explodes and pulls out some mad syncopated rhthyms like he is, erm, peeling potatoes or something. b-BANG! He pounds those skins. There's not many things better than watching a great drummer.

Wednesday Jan 24th- day 19

I have been trying to sort out iTunes on my laptop and get my ipod hooked up. Apple have cleverly tried to stop people from shifting their musc from one computer to another, but a few searhces on google offers op the solution, and I manage to copy over my music. I have 20 GB of music- that's about 4,305 songs and it would take me about, oooh, 12.7 days to listen to it all non-stop. All in something not much bigger than my wallet. The future is smaller and faster memory, simple as that. Anyhow, I have been listening to the "Arctic Monkeys" album (the fastest selling debut of all time, fact fans!) And whilst it's not quite up to the hype (what is?), I am enjoying the tales of getting thrown out of the Leadmill queue. There are some great lines-
"He talks of San Francisco,
he's from Hunter's Bar
I don't quite know the distance
But I'm sure that's far
I'm sure that's pretty far"

I used to live in Hunters' Bar. Yeah, rock 'n' roll!
And this line-

"Dint ya see she were gorgeous,
she was beyond belief
But this lad at the side drinking a Smirnoff ice
came and paid for her tropical Reef
And I'm sitting going backwards,
and I didn't want to leave
Its high green mate, via hillsborough please".

I used to play footy against a couple of teams from Burn Cross. It were rayt rough, as they say. This one goes out to Dick-Dock and Rudi of Burn Cross FC fame. Yeah, rock 'n' roll.

And this line-
"Look here comes a Ford Mondeo
Isn't he Mister Inconspicuous?
And he don't have to say 'owt
She’s in the stance ready to get picked up."

I don't know owt about kerb-crawling, but I like the way he rhymes "Mondeo" with "'owt"! Yeah, rock 'n' roll!

I suppose time will tell if there is more to them than the initial buzz. I guess they'll stop writing about lads and lager after a year or two, and it'll be interesting to se if they sink or swim.

At Uni today I called by to see if this guy was in- I had approached him to be my supervisor initially before barbara, but he wasn't sure he was going to be around. David offered me a stick of gum as we sat down. I liked that- a quintessentially American way of saying hello. He was an interesting guy to talk to- he is into ideas of "emergence"- for example, creating websites and seeing what people do with them. He's done some stuff on September 11th- getting people to simply use their local libraries on September 11th. He's also into wiki's, which is something we are thinking about for our course based in Sheffield. A wiki, as you may know, is a website that anyone can contribute to. You may have seen me linking to wikipedia, which is an online encyclopedia written by people who feel strongly enough to contribute. There are isues about honesty, freedom of speech and censorship with wikis, but wikipedia is surprisingly good. If I was famous, there might be an entry under my name (feel free to start one somebody!) If some bounder maliciously wrote, "Chris Blackmore thinks he can cook, but his chocolate brownies are inedible," I would expect those lucky enough to have tasted aforementioned delicacy to leap to my aid, correct the entry and defend my honour.

After that, I met with Barbara and we moved things on a bit. Contrary to appearances, I am fairly busy reading and thinking about my research. It is takinga bit longer than I anticipated to come together, and that is not helped by the temptation to fall into tourist mode at every opportunity. But I am in much more of a routine now, and trying to keep my head down. So going to art galleries and gigs is definitely not on the agenda.

Tuesday Jan 24th- day 18

Just wanted to share a cool book with you. I bought it a while ago. It's called INSTRUCTOART by Matthew Vescuvo. He has a website here. It contains instructive and tongue-in-cheek illustrations to help you through the day. I saw this one in a magazine a while back. I think it's the best one. So this one goes out to me. It's called "GAY. STRAIGHT."
















This one goes out to my Mum, Helen C, Lou B, Sarah B, Caz, Chrissy S, Vicky DLF, Rachel C and any other Mums out there. It's called "ALL PURPOSE MATERNAL SALIVA"
















This one goes out to lovely ladies who know how to lunch (like Lou S, Phil, Clare M, Jess, Amy, Rachel M). It's called "THE AIR KISS" (it recommends a distance of 55 mm in case you can't read it).




















This one goes out to Rosy, James, Rosie, Tim and Kate. It's called "PROCLAMATION OF ONE'S OWN ATTRACTIVENESS"















This one goes out to Cath and Steve, Keri and Shaun. It's called "CATS AREN'T DOGS"
















This one goes out to Mark Roughley and Aki. It's called "CHECK PLEASE"

Monday Jan 23- day 17

I am mincing around the living room in my pyjamas, getting my new laptop connected. It takes a little while to figure out how to connect to the wireless network in Ann's house, but once I get it cracked, wow is that badboy fast?! Yeah, I am speeding around the world wide web at breakneck speed. I download my "favourites" from my work pc- funny how much your list of favourite websites says about you! I then have a phone call from Rosy and we have a catch up- she is coming for a well-earned break for two weeks in mid Feb, so we get excited talking about sightseeing ideas. Then we do some MSN messenging (kind of like a chatroom where you can type messages to one another for you technophobes) which is all good.

I do encounter one hitch, which is that Microsoft Office is not activating when I enter the code on the box. I can't use Word, or Excel, which are kind of important. After a wild goose chase trying to get help from the Geek Squad, I eventually learn that Office does not come as standard and I should have bought it at the time. So another trip over to Northgate is called for! Shucks... Still, maybe this time I will see if they have got a suit of armour in my size.

I go in to Uni and wait in line at the post office. You learn a lot about a place by standing in line at the post office, I reckon. There is a rather dishevelled looking lady, of indeterminate age, who is writing on an envelope whilst the queue shuffles forward (btw Americans don't know what a "queue" is, you have to say "line" or they look at you like you just walked out of a pool hall). She writes something on the back, then joins the line, then has another thought, and scribbles something else on the back, etc etc until her envelope is crammed with writing. I can't help but try and get a look at what she is writing. I can make out words like ROYALTY & PRINCESSES & WORLD & CHEAT. As I get nearer to her, the smell of alcohol reaches me. She reeks of booze. She doesn't look too drunk, but she has undoubtedly got more alcohol in her than I've drunk on American soil. I hang back and let her go before me, and she clutches her scruffy, deranged envelope close to her chest. I buy some stamps for postcards, and I am on my way. At the Uni bookstore, I find out that Faculty and students at "U Dub" (UW=University of Washington) get a reduction on microsoft software, so maye I won't go over to Northgate Mall after all. The armour will have to wait.

It's a bright evening- the days are lengthening a bit, and it is still light at 5 o'clock. At a point on campus, I am confronted by a mountain looming over the city which I didn't even know was there. Here's a picture, but I don't suppose it is really visible. It stopped me in my tracks, as I suppose the city has been so cloudy so far that the mountains have been hidden. But in actual fact, Seattle lies between two sets of mountains, the Cascades to the North and the Olympics to the East (I think- need to check the map!)


On the bus back home, I sit next to another crazy- seems it is my day for meeting eccentric people. This is an older chap with 6 massive plastic bags stuffed with something- can't tell what exactly, but there is newspaper on the top, and they look heavy. Somehow it doesn't seem like shopping or washing, it seems like he is shifting his life's possessions around with him wherever he goes. He hauls the bags off the bus at his stop (it takes him two trips) and I wonder what his life has been like. It's easy to be patronising I suppose, to assume that odd people have had sad lives. Maybe the people on the bus have been thinking the same about me! I reach a great bit in my book. The two young guys (Kavalier and Clay) have been invited to a flash party where Salvador Dali has come dressed in a diver's suit (one of those old-fashioned ones with a mahoosive helmet). Suddenly he starts to suffocate, and Joe Kavalier has to use his lock-picking expertise to save the day and get the famous surrealist's helmet off in front of a stunned audience of socialites. I don't suppose it happened, but it should have!

When I get home at about 10 pm, all is quiet. I think Ann had a book group around (a different one which isn't actually a member of) but she must have finished feeding them and gone to bed. My Mum sent over a list of books from her own book group which Ann was delighted to read. Perhaps a word about my host is in order here. She is in her sixties, although pretty young with it- she goes rowing several times a week at frighteningly early hours. She is an Elementary school teacher, having worked for many years as a family therapist, and then retired from that. She spent quite a few years over in Alaska, which I think is where she and her husband lived together. I guess sometime after her divorce, she adopted Krishna from India. He has an amazing story. He lived in Calcutta with a family, and seemingly got lost- one day he tried to follow his Dad on a train somewhere, and was found wandering around the market aged 6. His parents either couldn't or wouldn't come to find him- it is probable that his family lived out of the city, but Krishna didn't know where he was from, they didn't know where he ende up and I guess the police system wasn't efficient enough to reunite them. And so he ended up in an orphanage until Ann came and, through all the legitimate channels, legally adopted him and brought him to America. She says that he coped pretty well with this traumatic upheaval, and I don't think he could have found a kinder or more sensitive person to look after him. They did go back a few years ago to try and trace his family, but without success.

Ann now has a busy life with friends always calling. She's a devoted Mum to the 26-year-old Krishna, although she worries like all Mums, I mean Moms, do that he hasn't really found hs way in life yet. She has to stop herself from suggesting jobs for him to do (he is about to finish managing a Calendar store when that closes down). And we've already discussed the girlfriend issue, so I won't go there! Ann is very fond of the family cat, Evie, and misses their recently departed dog a lot. She is the kind of person who will fight against injustice when she comes across it, and she tells me about the letters she occasionally writes about things that bother her. One of the big issues round here is the expansion of oil drilling which is threatening the environment.

You may have picked up some sarcasm and ambivalence from me towards Americans and the American way of life. Certainly it is a culture of extremes, of amazing oportunities and huge contrasts. And the culture is remarkably free of the kind of cynicism which is rife in England. We can seem like a jaded and sarcastic bunch compared to this lot, I tell you. Just 10 minutes watching their TV adverts, which would NEVER cut the mustard in the UK, or 5 minutes in a shop where you'd be lucky to get a grunt out of the assistant in Sheffield, and it tells you a lot about how sincere they are most of the time. Or you could say cheesy. Take your pick. At their best, Americans are warm-hearted and open. I would say that Ann embodies a lot of what is good about the States, and she is extremely generous and good company, so that's good enough for me.

This has turned in to a long posting.If you are still reading, you must surely have some more important things to do. I suggest you go and do them now. Maybe you should write a letter about something to someone. My Mum once wrote to Ronnie Reagan about the gun laws in the US, although she pretends not to remember this! Off you go, get scribbling...

Sunday Jan 22nd- day 16

I'm up at 5 am (that's pretty painful) and out of the house by 6, dragging my board in its bag on wheels behind me. Half an hour to the University, for a meet at 6.30, and a 7 am departure. On the bus, I talk to an English guy called Joe who is over here from Bristol for a year. He really reminds me of someone- a friend called Jonathan who lives in New York now. It is quite strange when someone strongly reminds you of someone else- I keep noticing it, and it probably affects how I relate to him. On the jounrey (1.5 hours) up to the Cascade Mountains, they show some snowboarding videos on the coach- young dudes sliding off the top of mountains, you know the score- and I start to get into "radical" mode.

Up at Stevens Pass, and after a bit of faffing, I seem to have palled up with Joe (boarder) and two skiers- Shannon from Alaska and Paul from Romania. So we're up a chairlift and off for the first run of the day. Can I remember how to do this? How do you turn? How do you stop? Visbility is quite poor- it's not snowing, but the light is flat (for those who haven't skiied, when the sun isn't out, it can be hard to see the contours in the snow properly, and you can find yourself going over a bump you didn't know was there). But gradually the feeling starts to return. And the new board is good- I can tell it's faster than my old set-up which, as soon as I remember how to stop, is probably a good thing! Good job there is an alleged 10 inches of snow around.


It soon becomes apparent that Paul is incredibly annoying. It's hard to decide quite how or why, and it may be because he's only a young kid (16?). It's not because he's an inexperienced skier but after one descent where he basically slides down on his face most of the way, we realise that the kindest thing is to say that we are going off to do some tough runs, and part company. We go back to base with him, and head back up. We try a couple a double diamond runs ("for experts only").


This is pretty much as steep as it gets, and the scary bit is that if you happen to fall down the hill, you will slide for a loooong way. The only saving grace is that there is a lot of snow about. It's not powder, but nor is it icy, so landings shouldn't hurt TOO much! I even manage a smile, sort of...


The rest of the day goes well. Joe and Shannon are good comany, and we cover most of the slopes in the resort (they are nowhere near as big as the French Alp resorts, and there is not a cafe round every corner selling you a coke for 4 quid!) It's not as busy as the Alps either (where to be honest it can be like playing dodgems) so despite the weather being a bit cold and windy (and we get some snow late on), we enjoy it. Looking down can be a bit scary though.


We leave at 3.30, the time that the big game (Seattle Seahwaks v Carolina Panthers) kicks off back in Seattle. This is basically the game before the Superbowl, and Seattle have never made it to the SB. To do so would be the biggest thing in most fans' lives, so the pressure is on for the game and there has been hype all wekk. We hear via someone's phone that they are winning 10-0 after the first qurter- a good start! Towards Seattle, the coach stereo picks up the comentary, and the team are doing well. Back at Uni, we say our goodbyes and I go to a nearby Sports Bar for the second half. The place is absolutely mobbed, and the atmosphere is great, especially as the Seahawks are doing well. The game prorgresses and the lead increases. I get talking to a guy called Jim who is extremely friendly and talkative and doesn't mind me asking stupid questions. Gradually, time ticks away, the noise gets louder, and as it becomes clear that the Seahawks are going to win, there is much, and I mean MUCH, rejoicing. Maybe it's the fact that people aren't as drunk as they would be in England, but there is no hint of aggression or agro, and apart from the occasional punch-up between loudmouths in a bar, hooliganism is unheard-of over here.

Jim is already plotting how to get a ticket off a "scalper" (i.e. tout) or via eBay, and considering how much it will set him back ($500?) But this is such a big deal for them, it really could be a once in a lifetime event. I buy him a celebratory beer and wish him well, then trundle home with my bag. En route, someone on the street asks me if there's a body in my bag. Cars are drivng round tooting their horns. I see some guys in a sidestreet throwing a football around in the dark. There are gonna be some parties tonight!

Back at the ranch, Ann has cooked and Krishna has come round. I am grateful for some grade A tucker and a bit of conversation before I fall asleep to dream of 360s, wipeouts, touchdowns and fumbles...

Saturday Jan 21st- day 15

Saturday morning I go for a run along a trail near the house. As I stagger along through the drizzle, with the Stone Roses playing on me pod, I am overtaken by sppeding phalanxes of lady cyclists, all wearing team shirts. I am also overtaken by zimmer-wielding grannies and asthmatic dog-walking gents, but not to worry. I am too busy thinking about the Stone Roses, and that period where they were totally untouchable as a band. Most great bands seem to have that period, usually early on when their take on the world is unique and they seem unstoppable. The Roses had it- the looks, the tunes, the attitude, everything. Maybe it's different now, and a band like the Arctic Monkeys can become huge almost overnight, with internet downloads and all the rest. Word of The Roses seemed to seep out of Manchester, and Marc England would listen to radio shows to catch their records. We hopped on just in time, as their album hit in the summer of 1989 and quickly changed the face of music. And I still remember the way that even hearing a B-side was a magical experience- with the first listen, the tune was totally understandable and immediately unforgettable. After just one play, it was as if it had always existed.

In the afternoon, I girded me loins and went off to buy a laptop. Spending large amounts of money tends to bring me out in a rash, but back at the Mall, I find a friendly assistant who helps me plump for a smart Toshiba. It's not as sexy as the Sony Vaio, but is a better spec. I have to buy some extras, like a cordless mouse (sweet!) and then there's warranty and virus software and all that gubbins. But it should be a great bit of gear- light enough to carry round and able to pick up wireless connections at the tap of a button.

I have to wait a couple of hours for the "Geek Squad" to install the virus software and spyware, so I go off to the Mall again for fish and chips. The Americans seem to be coming round to our way of thinking- at least where there is fish involved, a chip is a chip, not a crisp. If you get me. On the way back, I am tempted by the suit of armour which is on sale in the gun/knife shop. I imagine clanking back to 29th Avenue- "Yeah, I got my laptop... oh, and I bought a new outfit!"

I get back pretty late to 6041, and I need to get my stuff together for tomorrow- a proposed trip up a mountain for some snowboarding action! So I spend a happy half hour tinkering with my new bindings- I got new gear at the end of last season as my previous ironing board and shackles had pretty much given up the ghost.

Friday Jan 20th- day 14

I got my "Husky card" today which means free bus travel. Well, unlimited travel for $45, which ain't bad. In the evening, I went off to a gig. Four local bands I had never heard of- DAYLIGHT BASEMENT, THE PALE PACIFIC, STARS OF TRACK AND FIELD & THE ELEPHANTS. It was a bus and a walk through a ropey part of town on East Pine Street (a long street which turns all posh downtown). I found the venue, and paid my $8. On going in, the bouncer was asking for ID, and when I produced my driving licence, he kind of scoffed.
"Need yer pass port."
"Eh?"
"If you don't have State ID, I need your passport."
My bottom lip begain to quiver.
"How far away is it?"
"Oh, too far..."
So I left, with half a mind to go back and get it. And of course, as I walk away, I think of all the persuasive things I could have said.
"Look, I'm 33!"
"I've got grey hairs and everything."
"If you chop my foot off, you can count the rings- all 33 of em!"
"If I beat you at arm wrestling, can I come in?"
But none of these were going to cut much ice, and I realised that if he let me in he was risking losing his job, or getting thrown into jail to rot for ever... (CLANG!)

I trudge back to downtown and realise that going home and coming back is not really an option. Instead, I go to the Alibi Room- the gloomy little bar I went to on my first Sunday in Seattle. It seems to be "ladies' night". I get a beer, sit by the bar, adopt a classic barfly pose and drink to forget. Only I actually write some postcards, which isn't really what they do in the movies, but never mind, it cheers me up to think of some folks back home- Hi to Simon and Sarah, Liz and Brian, Lee and Lou, Jason and Elaine, Helen and Nori!

Thursday Jan 19th- day 13

My mobile phone seems to have died. I tried to recharge it, but it just whimperd "not charging" and carried on sitting there. I ask in a store, and they tell me that maybe as well as an adaptor, I need a transformer- perhaps the difference in voltage is a problem. I guess I will just live without the phone, as I am not really using it here anyway. I realise that this weill disappoint those of you who campaigned long and hard for me to get one, and I will use it back in the UK, I promise.

I heard about the fortunes of Centralians (the football team I play for in Sheffield) today. Ross (current player), Adam (past player, now with another team) and Nick (manager) have been keeping me abreast of developments. We have lost the two games of 2006 so far, but were 1-0 up against the league leaders with 10 minutes to go, only to lose 3-1. A familiar story. I would like to say that if I were playing, the result would have been sooooo different, but I have been on the wrong end of enough late goals to know that it's probably not something I would have prevented. It's been a frustrating season so far- I have been substitute more often than not, and usully get 20 minutes at the end (when a game is already lost). I have been used in a Peter Crouch type role so far, i.e "stand up front and let it bounce off yer head". It's good fun playing up front, but I can't pretend that I am a natural. However, it seems like the manager doesn't think I am any use anywhere else, so I have to make do. It does feel a bit like the end of an era though, as I don't suppose I will play regularly next season. There are yonger (well, almost everyone is younger!) and fitter (ditto) lads than me, so maybe it's time to look elsewhere or to change direction. Maybe with my new flashy trainers I will become a champion fell runner. Hmm. On the other hand, I could try my hand at darts...

Bit worried about Roger. He is not shrinking back to his original size. I wonder if he will ever be as small as he once was. I feel cheated. But I will stand by him, and perhaps I will just put him back into some water and see how he copes with that.

Wed Jan 18th- day 12

Meet with Barbara today. She takes me for a convivial lunch, then asks me some questions. It is slightly unnerving being asked questions by an expert in argumentation and rhetoric. It's clear that I need to do some more thinking about the research, and that she quite rightly isn't going to make the decisions herself about how I should approach the research.

I reflect on what it's like to not know anyone over here, to only connect through letters, cards, emails and blogs. I guess it's not so bad because I know it's only a temporary state of affairs. But it takes some getting used to, the fact that some days I will barely actually speak to anyone, beyond niceties at the mall. I get bored of my own company after a while- how often can I surprise myself with my own thoughts- not often. Ireoncally, as I type this, someone in the computer room asks me if I want to go out for a drink tonight (it's Friday night) but I am going to a gig tonight (on my own!) so I have to decline. I think that being on my own is good for a part of me, and not so good for another part of me. It's when you are on your own that you take photos of interestingly coloured bark.

Still, to look forward, I ask Ann about what is good to do for when Rosy comes over, and we look at guide books and swap ideas. There's a lot to do and see here, both in the city and outside, so I am looking forward to the chance to do some vacationing in mid February.

Tueday Jan 17th- day 11

Frustrating day at the office- the CD-ROMS I brought over don't want to work in these PCs, and the netstore of files I made back in Sheffield (which should be accessible from here) gives me documents which open as 800- pages of little boxes. I have to go and ask the "Techs". Thrillingly, the guy who helps me is like a carbon copy of one of the techs in Sheffield. It is possible that someone is cloning these people- Bill Gates perhaps- to keep thge computers of the world going. Although in this case, US Geek is not much help! He passes me on to lady US Geek who is a bit more helpful but can't solve the problme cos it's down to software, blah blah blah zip blah blah unzip blah covert blah blah unreadable...

I am getting into my book, "The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay". It's about two young men in 1930s New York who are riding the wave of the interest in comic books. They design their own super hero, the Escapist. It's a good read so far. I also bought some books at the Uni bookostore- the People's Act of Love" by James Meek, which has beenr aved about by both Irvine Welsh and Alan Warner (so it's well worth a punt) and a book on Heidegger, which may be too clever for me, but I'll give it a crack. "Sorry lads, can't come out for a beer to watch the footy, gotta stay in and bone up on Dasein".

I feel properly settled in now, although of course there is much that is still new. I am getting used to not being allowed to walk across an empty street (they call it "jaywalking" and it can get you thrown into jail... well, a ticket at least). You also have to wait a long time at PED X-INGs as the pick-ups and SUVs rumble by. But by and large, it is easy being here. The service culture means that people are inordinately polite and helpful- several times, I have ignored a shout of "HOW ARE YOU TODAY?!?!?" in a shop as I thought the assistant must have been greeting a long lost relative. But no, when you walk in to a "store", you will be asked up front whether you need any help. Once you are used to it, it is quite nice, and I guess England will seem surly by comparison when I return.



Something else which is becoming clearer is that America really is a land of plenty. There is so much to do and see, and any way you want to do that will be catered for. What this means, however, is that without money, you are completely lost. I guess it accounts for some of the crime- the gap between the haves and the have nots is wide, and whilst the American dream promises opportunity for all, there are only so many slices of the apple pie to go round. America has never really gone for the kind of socialism which Europe has supported- it's all about asserting your own rights here, even if they are at the cost of your neighbour's. The right to bear arms is more important than the right not to have loads of guns inthe community.

Back at home, I make a dish with my new recipe book involving fennel (a much underrated vegetable, I think) and "great Northern beans"! Ann comes in late from a kind of parents' evening at her school, so I give her the other half of what I have made. She lists all the nationalities at her school- I don't think she has a single white kid in her class. She currently teaches maths to 5th grade pupils (aged 9-10?) and I am sure she's really good with them. She seems very kind. After my food, I confess that I watch "American Idol", the US version of "Pop Idol". Simon Cowell is on it and he seems to be particularly unkind to some of the hopefuls, although of course they show us a selection of the very worst, those people fresh out of the trailer park who have managed to convince themselves that they can sing, and deserve a crack at the big time. I guess shows like this make us feel better about ourselves somehow- as well as seeing some really talented people getting a chance to become stars, you get reminders of the other extreme.

Monday Jan 16- day 10

Today is a national holiday for Martin Luther King. I go into Uni and the place is largely empty. I don't achieve much, apart from some bloggin', and I head back home for 5-ish as Ann is having Krishna and his girlfriend Deanne over for food and I am invited!

I meet Deanne and Krishna (again). Krishna seems a bit more relaxed this time. Deanne seems nice enough. I try not to be put off by her very long hair (I have a phobia about very long hair), and the way she has a permanent fixed grin on her face. And the way she talks without opening her mouth. And the way she keeps talking. And the way she talks about herself a lot. And the way she changes subject to randomly talk about herself. Ann has cooked some nice pasta with Alaskan salmon, and opened a bottle of red, so we tuck in. Conversation turns to MLK day, and I ask a potentially risky question for a dinner party about the state of race relations in present day America. It seems that whilst Seattle is in many ways a progressive city, with a mixed population, the racism is, as Krishna says, "still there, just hidden". We talk about the UK too, and I mention the Anthony Walker and Stephen Lawrence cases (not by name). Deanne says, "I umm like don't really think that umm there's much of a like problem in Seattle umm I mean I've never umm experienced like racism myself." I stare into my pasta. Is she for real? Young, white, well-heeled, and able to state that the city has no racism?! Krishna just says, "That's because you are not... of colour."

The rest of the evening passes off uneventfully. When they are gone, Ann confides that she really finds Deanne hard work, and doesn't think her and Krishna have much in common. I am as diplomatic as I can be, suggesting that Krishna will work out whether they are good together. It must be hard to be a parent who is dubious about your child's choice of partner! Who'd be a mother-in-law, I wonder...

Sunday Jan 15th- day 9

Today is the day for my Straight Liner. Call me pretentious ("pretentious!"), but I am going on a walk through the city, in a dead straight line (or as near to it as I can get), inspired by the Situationist International. You may have heard of them in connection with the Sex Pistols or Factory Records- the Hacienda took its name from an SI text, and many of Malcolm MacCLaren and Tony Wilson's hair-brained schemes and starry-eyed ideals come from Guy Debord and co.

Last night, I drew a straight line on my map, from where I live to the Space Needle. It seems like an appropriate destination as it is Seattle's major landmark, and it will be visible from a long way off, so I can head straight for it. It also represents a kind of pilgrimage to the future, I guess, at least the 1960s vision of how the future would look. For me, this is a way of experiencing the city in a new way, of being open to chance, of not taking the usual route straight through. It's an experiment- it might go wrong, it might go right, but it will hopefully be interesting along the way.

So in honour of Johnny Cash, I prepare to "walk the line". Today is also Martin Luther King's birthday. He would have been 76. I wonder what path his life would have taken. I doubt it would have been a straight one- there were certainly many obstacles in his way.

I pack a bag with a map (of course) and my book of experimental travel, which Rosy gave me for Christmas. I hadn't got round to boring her with my idea of walking in a straight line, so it was an amazing coincidence that she gave me this book. I also pack a flask of tea (I am English, remember) and some biscuits, I mean cookies. I take my camera to document what I see. And of course, I pop Roger into my pocket, so that I have got someone to talk to. If I talked to myself as I walked in my straight line, people might mistake me for some kind of mentalist.

So off I go, walking, taking photos, thinking, looking at the map, eating bisc- cookies, walking some more... I won't tell you the whole story here, you will be relieved to know. I might be able to write it up into a paper for academic journals, we'll see. And I might put all the photos onto a file-sharing site. But for now, I will give just the barest bones.

I saunter towards the University, going through studenty areas. I could tell it was a student area by the bittersweet juxtaposition of a thrown-out mattress and a broken ruler. Ahh, student days...


I skirt across the corner of the University campus. There is a museum of anthrolopogy, with some totem poles outside- I take this picture in honour of the big shiny totem pole I am heading towards. It also reminds me whose land it might be that I am marching across, now and in the past. Although the native Americans never contemplated that land could be owned- that's partly why they got so sytstematically swindled during the treaties.

Shortly I approach a rubicon of sorts, the University bridge, which runs alongside the Interstate freeway. On the other side, I see that someone is living under the bridge. I feel like I should pay my due to the city somehow, and so I make up a story about wanting directions. The person is a woman, old beyond her years. She has a cat, eating out a tin, and some booze in her hand. She can't help me with the directions. I give her $5. Her hands are purplish colour. Her name is Jamie.

Beyond this point, the journey is dominated by the water (Lake Union). My path should lead straight across the Lake, but I haven't yet perfected the walking on water trick. So I take the East shoreline. It's a rich person's playground. There are houseboats here. Apparently it is where "Sleepless in Seattle" was filmed, but I haven't seen the film. There are some coloured mailboxes (real cute), and I catch a first proper glimpse of the Needle, looming over the water.



So now I don't really need the map, but I keep it in hand so I can rejoin the line at the other side of the lake. The Needle is kind of mesmerising though, and as I pass lines and lines of yachts and trawlers, it looms ever larger.

At the end of the lake, I pause for a well deserved cup of tea. Some geese come over to check me out and make sure that I am not a big French stick on legs.

After the lake, I am soon back in the thick of the city, and the concrete surrounds me. At times like this, I wish I was fit and strong enough to do some parkour- it would be an appropriate response to the urban elements around me. But nevertheless, I am drawn inwards by the Space Needle, a great eye surveying the city. It's design is at once futuristic anc retro, classic and defunct, beautiful and odd.



I feel momentarily wobbly when I am still a few minutes off, as the Needle fills the sky above me. I stop and watch the young dudes in the skate park. But as soon as I am past a certain point, the Needle becomes banal, just another carbuncle. I take a well deserved rest in the rest room, browse through all the myriad ways in which you can get an image of the space needle (sadly, no tattoos available), and stand in line for my ticket. $13 and 41 seconds later, I am on top of the world, and taking in a fabulous 360 degrees view. The view across Puget Sound is great, as is the view across downtown, and back along my straight line towards the University District.




I meet the requisite "eccentric" and his dog called "Ozzy" (he has another dog at home called "Osbourne"). His owner engages in conversation with anyone and everyone, and says that he is hoping to come up the Space Needle 500 times this year. His long-suffering dog rolls its eys and seems to be whispering to passers-by "kill me! kill me!".

So this is where the straight line ends, and I share a lift back down with Ozzy and his man. I'm now free to walk in any direction I choose, and I head down to the waterfront for some Alaskan salmon and chips (with clam chowder to start). Mmmm. On from there to Pike Place market to buy some veggies for tea, then back on the 71 to 6041. When I get home, I realise that Roger is in my pocket, and that I forgot to show him the view, or even talk to him all day. When I get him out, he looks to have shrunk quite a bit during the day. He is evidently not amused at being overlooked, and asks to be left alone for the evening. I respect his wishes.

Saturday Jan 14th- day 8

Went over to Fremont today to go to the "Geoge & Dragon" English pub. Fremont is not that far from Uni but needed a bus journey. I got off too early and walking under the huge bridge, I came across this massive Troll!



Then it was onto the pub, which I expected to be poky and empty- WRONG! Nice big pub, lots of English beers, and a crowd of mainly American people in footy scarves. There were a lot of Arsenal fans- "Gee, that Arn-ree dude is something else..." and a selection of others too. I watched Liverpool play Spurs at Anfield. It was quite a close match, with not many chances, but Liverpool scored the only goal, and it was the kind you dream about- a long cross from the right and Harry Kewell blasts the ball into the net on the volley. Here he is about to pull the trigger- BAMMM!



Kewell, the injury prone, highly paid enigma with a bun on his head. Doesn't matter if you score like that, Harry! I have scored several goals like that one, although usually I have been wearing my pyjamas and snoring at the time.

After that, the TV switches to the Seahawks' big game. It's raining at Qwest Field (downtown Seattle) and it's a hard fought game. American football is a funny game really. It's stop start advert stop start advert, and for the most part it is just big beefy guys wearing body armour crashing into one another. The star Seattle player gets a concussion, and wobbles off the pitch. Then something happens, and everyone in the bar stands up and does that horrible "Wooooooooh" noise. TOUCH DOWN!High fives all round. This isn't a sport, it's an endurance test. But still, I get drawn into the game, and the Hawks eventually prevail. Only 2 games away from the Superbowl now- that would be quite a day if Seattle made it to the final, as they haven't had a good team for a loooong time.



On my way to Fremont centre, I go past a big statue of Lenin- this is a kind of alternative, slightly beatnik area, and they go in for public art and subversive statements.

I find a shop called "Essenza" which is recommended in eatshopseattle. It is chock full of perfume and girly stuff (I suspect that both Rosy and Rosie might hyperventilate if they were to come here!), and I ask the assistant if there is anything for men. He is archly camp and disadainfully drags me round the shop, spraying stuff onto bits of paper.
"This one's made by Italian monks..."
"Right, err, nice..."
I end up with both hands full of fragrances, and have no idea which is which. In the end, I plump for a not very camp, in fact extremely macho and undoubtedly packed with testosterone "Geisha" roll-on fragrance which is, I am assured, "very metrosexual". Phew! They send me next door for a posh Mexican meal, and then I am rolling back to 6041 where I watch a Schwarzenegger movie ("Total Recall") where he has to save a bunch of mutants on Mars. As opposed to California- Arnold now has more pressing concerns, like making sure that 76 year old prisoners are not let off their execution sentences, and remembering to buy his motorcycle licence.

Friday Jan 13th- day 7

Went for a run this morning. There's a park nearby and I trudged through the morning drizzle listening to David Bowie on my ipod, looking camp in a grungey-type way. In fact, I looked a lot like this-



Many thanks to Brian for finding this photo! In the park, there seemed to be a lot of squirrels- grey, with a bit of a gingerish tone (yes, yes, I know, that sounds like me...). In fact, they were eyeballing me a bit too much- they were probably disturbed by my Bowie impressions and, having seen the new "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory", I was not inclined to stop and be friendly. Sadly, my new trainees did not propel me at high speed up the hills as I had hoped, and I wheezed home for a shower.

In the evening, I had food at Ruby's on the Ave. I am perfecting the art of dining alone, and wrote several postcards before during and after a fantastic vegetarian dhal. I am sure all the other punters were wondering
"Who is that guy over there? Do you think he's, like, a famous writer?"
"Looks to me like an English loser with no mates, dude."
I have been trying to keep eating healthy, although it's easy to see why there are so many porkers over here. There is food everywhere, and portions are giiii-normous.

Then I went to see "Walk the line", the film of Johnny Cash's life story. I have a soft spot for the Man In Black dating back to the early years in the States when we used to sing along to Cash songs in the car- "dyin', dyin', dyin'... for water!" I was worried the film wouldn't do the great man justice, but it just about pulled it off. And Joaqin Phoenix did, at times, look and sound eerily like JC. I was welling up during some of the songs, and the scene at Folsom Prison was real good.

Thursday Jan 12th- day 6

Another not very productive day. Although I did attend a talk given by Jared Diamond, author of a boook called "Collapse" looking at how and why certain civilisations have disappeared over history. It was at the Seattle Town Hall, quite a grand building, and as with most book readings, the corwd seemed more mature, shall we say, and also pretty keen- pretty much a sell-out with maybe 500 people present. Diamond spoke for about an hour outlining his ideas and it was interesting stuff. He's an older guy with a Bostonian accent (bit like Lloyd "Through the keyhowl" Grossman) and he wears one of those beards without a moustache, and a Frank Bough combover.

His main point is that civilisations collapse when they don't manage their resources. He cits the example of Easter Island, miles out in the Pacific, where the huge statues are. When the island was discovered it was uninhabited and treeless. Archaeology suggests that the people chopped down all their trees (which they must have need to move the statues around, for firewood and to make canoes for fishing). And the tribes on the island began attacking one another and pulling down each others' statues. As soon as the trees had gone, the people soon died out.

He contrasted this with 16th Century Japan where under the Tokogawa shoguns, Japan realised that deforestation was becoming a problem and started plantations. Now Japan is 75% covered with forest, as well as being densely populated.

His most profound point, I thought, was to do with the elite. He said that civilisations only collapse when the ruling elite are sufficiently cosseted and protected from the everyday realities that they can turn a blind eye until it is too late. This is happening in the present day where rich people can ignore climate change because it is not their houses which get flooded (see New Orleans). And they can ignore the state of the education and health systems by going to private schools and taking out health insurance. He also cites Americs' isolationism as something which will have to change as globalisation continues- America can no longer avoid being involved with other countries until it is too late (and then send in the troops to clear up the mess).

I rode the bendy bus home from downtownnext to a young black guy who was listening to some futuristic r 'n' b on his "personal" stereo. He was nodding away to the clattering beat, totally lost in the groove. It made me think that it has been a long time since a record came close to being that important to me. I thought the Gorillaz from this year had its moments, but other than that, I am waiting to be inspired. The Arctic Monkeys (hailing from Sheffield) will make a good story for 2006, but we'll have to wait and see how much they really matter.

Back at the ranch, and I think Roger is just about ready. He really has come on a treat.



"Hello, my name is Roger. What was it you wanted to talk about today?"

Wednesday Jan 11th- day 5

I get up late today and watch some quality TV. Judge Mathis, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways...

I don't know the standing of his court exactly, but he settles disputes between neighbours, lovers, families, friends. He listens to the arguing, then uses his common sense to decide before banging his hammer and sending the pond life scuttling back under their stones. It's best when he gets all uppity-
"You sleeping with this man, and his Uncle too?"
"You saying that she gave you $3,000 just two weeks after you two started dating?"
"You lied to the police about who was driving that car when it ran into the pick-up?"

Justice, when it comes, is swift and uncompromisin'!
"Request denied, the plaintiff will pay $1,300. Good day!" It's a weird one though- the people don't usually seem to be upset as they list the ways in which they hate their lvoed ones, or have been wronged by their friends. It really is "all about the money", and being on TV. I try and pretend that my interest is in the type of argumentation occurring, and that this is vital for my research; but really it is just me being nosy and watching other people's squabbles.

On the other side is continued coverage of the weather. They go mad for the weather round here. Fair enough I suppose, they are closing in on a record for consecutive days' rain (which stands at 33 I believe). The outside broadcasts are great- some young reporter under an umbrella, souping up a story about a wall that looks like it MIGHT be about to collapse.
"This is Daniel Gehre, KONG 13 News, reporting live from Everet, at the scene of a potential mudslide."
"Daniel Gehre reporting from Everet there on that mudslide. We'll keep you rrrright up to speed on any developments over there in Everet. You are watching KONG 13 news!"
Talk about stating the bleedin' obvious! I would have made a good reporter I think...
"Look people, in a nutshell, it is chucking it down, yet again. You might get wet feet on your way home if you walk, or it might take a bit longer than usual in the car. If you live near a river, you might get flooded. If you live out in the sticks, there might be a mudslide nearby, and at the very worst a tree might fall down and take a power cable with it. And it's probably going to rain again tomorrow. Good evening."

The other main news item is that the Seattle Seahawks have a big game against the Washington Redskins. That's American Football, which is a bit like Rugby but where everyone wears armour plating, and they stop the game overy 30 seconds for an ad, a timeout, or just for the hell of it. Hup, hup, yawwwwn! Still, it IS a big game, a Superbowl play-off. Nearest equivalent is probably Newcastle (Seattle) against Arsenal (W'ton) in the FA cup semi-final. The hype is starting and I will have to locate a decent bar to watch the game in on Saturday lunchtime.

I don't do a whole lot else today apart from browsing for about 3 hours in the University bookstore. I really want to buy a book to get my teeth into, something which will be a real page-turner. I would normally buy Haruki Murakami's lates, but I have that waiting for me in Sheffield. In the end, I buy Michael Chabon's "Kavalier and Clay" because my friend Jo said it was brill, and she knows about these things. I also buy some postcards for peeps, and a little book for Rosy. I can't say what it is just yet as she might read this and it would spoil the surprise (post takes about 5 days to a week to arrive in the UK).

When I get back, I eagerly check on the progress of Roger. He is coming along nicely. You will again have to cock your head on one side until I work out how to rotate photos on the blog! (disclaimer- C.Blackmore hereby accepts no liability for neck injuries concomitant with reading of this weblog). I think you'll agree, Roger is coming along nicely, nay "swimmingly" (boom tish!)





"And tell me, how does that make you feel?"

Tuesday Jan 10th- day 4

I have a confession to make- I smuggled a little friend in to the States in my bag. Yes, for Christmas, mybrother James gave me a "grow your own" therapist. As you can see, (if you turn your head, or the computer, on the side!), you just pop him in to water and he grows in size by up to 6 times over 72 hours! Here are some photos. I feel sure that my therapist (I will call him Roger) is going to help me to find meaning over here.


Here is how I began my therapy with Roger.


Unwrapping Roger...














Introducing him to water...




























Roger is ready to go!
"So, tell me about your childhood..."






I walk in to the University for a meeting at the International Office. I have to bring my documents and passport with me, so that the US Departments of State and of Homeland Security know that I have arrived.

On the way, I see this cool car. Old cars like this are pretty rare, but their spirit lives on in the massive SUVs which steam up and down the highways and byways here. There is no earthly reason why these people need 4-wheel vehicles- do they ALL live in remote areas surrounded by rocky terrain? No sir, no ma'am, the worst these gas guzzlers have to contend with is speed bumps at the mall. I saw one particular "Hummer" on the Ave which, in all honesty, would have been more at home rumbling through the streets of Baghdad. They sure like their big cars here, and "Nee-sarns" (aka Nissans) seem to be popular.

At Uni, as I wait for the International Students' event, I observe the other stuents, mainly South East Asian gents, interacting. There is a symphony of bowing, and the flourishing of business cards, as the Japanese and Koreans make contact. Things get even more polite with the introdcution of a couple of Chinese guys. It takes me back to happy visits to Japan, and the etiquette required of everyday interactions.

I go to the department to find out about getting a Husky card- this will allow me free bus transport, and save me from more faux pas on public transport. I will have to wait for someone to return to work.

On the way home, I call in at the University mall again, and stock up with groceries. QFC is one of the big US chains, and is owned by Kroger (the world's biggest grocer's, supermarket fact fans!) There is a whole aisle devoted to loose coffee beans. There is a massive long display case of vegetables and, when they are least expecting it, a fine water mist is deposited over the unsuspecting radishes and tomatoes.

At the checkout, you don't need to put your own shopping onto the belt, the guy does it all for you. As I pay, he asks me where I am from.
"England".
"Uh huh. Whereabouts?"
"The North."
"Uh huh."
"Sheffield."
"Yeah, I know Sheffield... Do you know about Northern Soul?"
"Err, yeah, I do. Wigan's the place for that, really."
And he starts rhapsodising about this little known genre of music popular in part of the North of England in the 1970s and 80s! That cheers me up for the long trudge home laden down with whopping red peppers and bionic onions. At home, I make a not very successful cauliflower dish. Then Ann's son Krishna pops over brioefly after work. He seems tired, and not in much of a mood to talk. He's q bit short with his Mum too. She seems a bit embarrassed. I guess it's not easy being a Mum, or even Mom, sometimes. I hereby apologise to my own dear mother for being surly back in 1988, and for not helping with the hoovering back in 1987. I could go on...

Uncle Chris and Uncle Sam