Jazzman goes talkabout

Twice I was asked today if I knew what you call a date like 080808, I didn't even realise there was a special name for days like these but twice I lied and said I knew but had forgotten. Why I did this I know not and care not but I am nonetheless curious as why this increased obsession with dates and number arrangements. For many years through my life as a pupil/student, every day I wrote the date at the top of my exercise book/note pad and in those days dates did fascinate me. But this is an acceptable school by pastime but for adults t quite frankly worrying.

I have not blogged for a while for a variety of reasons. The main culprit being Facebook the other being the haphazardness of my life at the moment but I do remark to myself every so often that I ought to blog more often if only jut to practice and sharpen my writing skills. I am somewhat becoming bored of Facebook having acquired over 240 friends many of whom I never seen or spoken to. On the other hand it has been good in the sense that I know communicated with a lot of my salsa friends whom ordinarily I jut say Hi to and dance with. I have long being convinced that Salsa is fully of the socially challenged with negligible social skills. Thankfully every week I am proven wrong and as a result of getting to know more about my salsa companions other than their ability to keep time I am constantly pleasantly surprised.

And so it happened that two weeks ago to the day, I found myself unemployed for the first time in 20 years. With all this time on my hands I decided to do a few things I have always been meaning to do but somehow never quite got around to. Top on my priority is learning how to swim. Oh, and the fact the my GP, well the locum doctor because my GP was away, suggested that at my 'age' I ought to slow down and go easy on my joints. Try swimming he said. I'd have to earn first I thought.

It is rather interesting for me to learn though that on informing people of my lack of ability to swim the assumption is made that this is due to some fear of water. Never quite under stood that one. Well I can say with some joy that I have been practicing my 'kicking' all afternoon in the tranquil swimming pool at the Royal Club Mohamed-Aly on the shore of the Nile in Cairo. Hence the title! Incidentally, visiting the Pyramids o Egypt somehow crept up to second on my list of things to do whilst I have the time so to do. I think the 'kicking' is coming along fine but not quite kicking - so to speak. But the Royal Club Mohamed-Aly sure is a nice place to practice. It is away from the hustle and bustle of downtown Cairo and is a 20 minute taxi ride through the ever present Cairo rush hour. A cacophony of blaring horns, near misses screeching and random phrase in Arabic tossed in the air with hand gestures for good measures. For some inexplicable reason that I really can't be bothered to delve into I thrive in this kind of urban mayhem. I fell at home surrounds by ritualised chaos. Nonetheless the tranquility of the Royal Club Mohamed-Aly was very welcomed.

Today is my first full day in Cairo since I arrived on a very late flight this morning. As we came in to land over the night sky of Cairo, I peered out of the window as my plane glided serenely through the clear skies. Where is all this much talked about Cairo smog I wondered. Cairo looked absolutely resplendent at night. With isolate settlement twinkling in the dark like a great constellation in space. I liked Cairo already!

Okay, for one who proclaims to be very rational it seems odd that I have avoided an airline just because of one bad flight. So it was with this thought that I booked a last minute flight on Easy Jet to Sofia last weekend to attend the Bulgarian Salsa Festival. It was interesting to see that Easy Jet have gone easy on the orange and their flight attendants are no longer doomed to be covered head to toe in orange. Needless to say, the 3 hour flight from London to Sofia was not only faultless it was also pleasant.

I arrived in Sofia quite late and it was already dark so I could not see much but my first impression was that it reminded me of Havana or Rostov with its wide streets and ample greenery. I was staying in a friend of a friends apartment which was located in a typically communist era type tenement tower block with a huge metal door at the entrance. The apartment it self was large and cosy and it immediately felt like a home from home. However I only had enough time for a quick glass of Bulgarian Beer and a chicken drumstick and it was straight out to the serious business of dancing.

All the parties for the Salsa Festival were held in a club called 4KM, on account of it being located i an area that is 4km from Sofia city centre -So I was told. I kid you not.

For the Salsaheads; The floor was fast and the room was airconditioned. Predominantely On 1 Dancers with a generoud helping of Bachata. All in all a thoroughly good atmosphere. The only negative being smokers on the dance floor.

Discuss.....

I was leisurely driving back from work today in the evening sun, furtively glancing at my petrol gauge and negotiating omnipresent roadworks that dot the roadscape of London like deserted beaver settlements waiting to be demolish. The 'low fuel' warning light has been blinking all day and being a creature of habit I was determined to limp to my usual garage on the Old Street. I had a replacement car for the week as my regular drive was having a nose job as a consequence of my brief tango with the No 143 outside Westminster Abbey some weeks back. Earlier today, a motorcylist gave my the finger! This was in reply to me flashing him - with my headlamps. He was after all driving the wrong way down the road and coming straight at me.

So I wasmildly amused to see, as I drove down Old St, and well dressed young lady effing and blinding at another well dressed young lady on the pavement. Pavement Rage, was a phrase that instantly popped into my head. What could have possibly being the cause off all this rage. I mean how do two people walking in the opposite direction on the pavement sudden get into a state where they are shouting at each other at half past five on a warm wednesday evening. It is simply not the sort of thing I couln't imagine myself getting into. I don't even do road rage.

A few weeks back when I had my bumper riped of by an impatient bus drive who insisted on sharing my lane, barely a word passed between us. I muttered to myself 'If you really must' as I sat in the car and watched a big red double deck bus try to make my car more aerodynamic. We both parked up, took each others details down, I gave him my business card and the only words uttered were;

Me; What is your name?
He: Tony Blair (well not really but you get my drift)

I checked his ID and that was it. No theartrics, no 'what the fuck were you trying to do'....nothing. Admittedly, I did suspect that his grasp of the English Language being somewhat limited may have had something to do with the abscence of any angry words. That, and also the fact that very few people would really want to get into that sort of thing with a six foot four black guy in the middle of London. Even one wearing a suit.

I hooked up for my Bro for the Washington DC Salsa Congress except it was actually in Virginnia which is very confusing for an out-of-towner. A bit like saying the Wuppertal Salsa Congress is in Maastricht. So it cost me a 60 buck taxi ride from IAD airport to get there. Reagan Aiport is right next door to the hotel and they have free shuttles!!! Damn! The congress was held at the Sheraton National Hotel, Arlinton Vitginnia. Okay-ish...looks like it could do with a major refurb but our room was huge! As congress goes this is probably one of the friendliest US Congresses i have been to. As good as Falva Invasion earlier in the year in Atlanta. Well worth the 7 hour flight. It was good to hang out with my Bro for a few days and get a chance to dance all night for 3 nights. The only disappointing thing was the fact that the party finish at 3am every night and there was no after party!!!

I have just returned from yet another visit to China and at this rate I will have all the provinces covered by 2010. The Highlight of this visit was my trip to the Huang Mountains - Haungshan - to give it it's proper name. Haungshan is in th Anhui Pronvince

Bank Holidays? I am sure they serve some purposes, apart from providing me with yet another opportunity not to rise from my slumber til noon. I remember the days when they actually screen 'TV Premieres' and we all looked forward to watching some lame Hollywood blockbuster on TV four years after we forks out loads to see it at the cinema. No such luck these days. We've all seen todays blockbusters 2 weeks before it premiered in Leicester Square. Thank to the Chinaman on the Holloway Road whose has an ample supply of latest DVDs. Top quality too.

Thankfully I have my iPod.

You know February has a funny way of creeping up on you. Every year it is the same, you finish the Christmas orgy, your brain slow gets use to the idea that it is back to work again, you stay in for a couple of weekends becuse you are skint and then BAM! Its February! And you still haven't got round to any of you New Year's resolution. Forgive me if you were born during the month of February but nothing ever happens in February. No elections, no royal weddings, no terrorist attacks or alerts, nothing. Nada. It is a month that is always in a hurry to get it over and done with. Most people get a cold in February (trust me, they do).

"February was named after the Latin term februum, which means purification, via the purification ritual Februa held on February 15 in the old Roman calendar. January and February were the last two months to be added to the Roman calendar, since the Romans originally considered winter a monthless period"

This from Wikipedia

Frankly I wished it remained that way. Bears have the right idea, If I could I would hibernate until the clocks go back. But then I would miss Easter. Shame, another one of those religious holiday that most people in this have fogotten what it is all about. Then again, is it a pagan celebration?

Now, question? If Christ can quite easily be born on the same day every year why is it that he can not resurrect on the same day every year? If only for the Easter egg industry