A narrow escape

I’ve been worrying about this for literally years.

Some time ago – I don’t know, let’s say in 2011 or 2012 – I was in my flat and I was multitasking. I thought myself pretty cool at the time. Task 1 was sharpening some kitchen knives by swiping the blades through my little knife sharpener thing. Task 2 was watching something on TV – chances are it was QI XL on Dave. I could literally do both those things at once. I was amazing.

To achieve this state of advanced productivity, I positioned myself in the kitchen of my flat, facing the TV, using the backrest of the sofa as my workbench.

Some time later – weeks, or months maybe – someone came over to my flat and asked me “what are these?” I followed their gesturing hand and found that the “these” in question were a number of incisions – knife wounds, no less – in several places on the top of the cushions at the back of my sofa.

Trouble is, it’s not my sofa, is it? No. It’s my landlord’s sofa.

I have been silently wondering how the seemingly inevitable conversation would go, and whether leaving it until I moved out, years later, would make things better or worse. Do I plead ignorance? Or do I admit everything and hope that honesty is the best policy?

Last week, fortune smiled upon me. The people moving into my flat after me will bring all their own furniture. They don’t want a sofa. Our new flat is unfurnished and we need a sofa. My landlord has a sofa that they no longer want.

And so I now find myself in legal possession of the cosmetically-damaged sofa, without having to explain its slightly damaged cushions to anyone, and having got away with my careless crime scot-free.

A narrow escape.

Four Word Reviews: Mr Lover Lover, The Best of Shaggy Part 1

Time for another review of an album nobody wanted but which I somehow found in my postbox anyway. This month, we’re giving “Mr Lover Lover: The Best of Shaggy…Part 1” a more in-depth listen than it was ever supposed to receive.

New flat

If you’ve been tapping my phone calls or you have psychic powers, you’ll already be aware that Elena and I have now concluded our search for a new home, a process that scoured the whole of south-east England and involved evicting a large number of people whose homes we thought we liked but then – tragically for those involved – decided weren’t quite right.

The Beans must, naturally, get the exclusive scoop on our new lodgings, so this post is here to present all the key details. Unfortunately no photographs of the dwelling are available at this time, but I am able to present the floor plan, as drawn up by the estate agent.

Floorplan

The main things we were looking for were space, lots of natural light, easy access to a station, and sufficient bathroom facilities. On the last point we had already ruled out apartments with just one bathroom on the grounds that, if we both needed a wee at the same time, it might start an argument. We then wondered what would happen if we had a dinner party and everyone wanted a wee at the same time – clearly some sort of ugly fracas or kerfuffle would ensue.

We were, therefore, delighted to find a home that anticipated this requirement – and, thanks to extremely innovative placement of its toilet facilities, it also has the advantage that during a dinner party everyone could simultaneously micturate without leaving the room and therefore without needing to interrupt the flow of the conversation. And of course, when there’s only the two of us, we can more or less go to the toilet wherever we are without having to move.

We look forward to welcoming you to our new home once we’ve moved in. Please bring your own toilet roll.

New Job Celebration

About a month ago Elena got a new job and, as you may remember, we decided we should celebrate it here on the Beans. Unfortunately, due to the hectic posting schedule we work with, and the huge backlog of important information that must be posted to the site, we have only just found time to fit it in.

So here we are with our celebration of Elena’s new job. Let’s get some facts from The Fact Penguin.

Behold The Fact Penguin

We asked The Fact Penguin these questions and it offered the following entirely factual answers.

What is the new job?
The new job is unstupiding children. Children are idiots.
Where is the new job?
The new job is near Orpington, which is a place that evidently has a problem with stupid children that needs to be addressed.
How much money will Elena earn?
Elena has signed a contract that guarantees her a weekly income of at least eight (8) London pounds, which at current exchange rates is equivalent to approximately ninety seven thousand Newcastle pounds.

After answering these questions The Fact Penguin indicated that we had reached the limit of questions for today, as specified in his contract, and decided to go for a swim. Please do not ask The Fact Penguin any further questions.

Champagne and low-cost nibbles will be served in the Banqueting Hall from 6 this evening. (The Banqueting Hall can be found at the far end of the lower ground floor picture gallery from the “Things” page of the website.) Please wear black tie so that The Fact Penguin does not feel overdressed.

Mid Thirties

A week or so ago, I turned 32.

This is an important moment. I’ve left behind the first couple and I am now officially in my thirties. I am in my thirties. When I was a teenager that phrase would have been more or less on a par with old age pensioner or incontinent geriatric.

Consequently, in my twenties, I made a serious mistake. I held on to my “early twenties” for far too long. 20, 21, 22 – nobody would argue that they are your early twenties. But I carried on thinking of myself as being in my early twenties at 23 and 24 too. That was fine at the time. I clung to my youth.

Then my 25th birthday arrived and with it came a terrible realisation. 25 had to be my mid twenties, there was no denying it. But if 20-24 had all been early twenties, then I had squeezed my mid twenties down to a year, and at 26 I was unwillingly hurled forwards into my late twenties. My late twenties. They were almost over with four years to go. Nightmare.

So with this decade of my life I am determined to get it right. Having turned 32, I am now officially declaring myself to have entered my mid thirties. By taking a hit now, and entering my mid thirties early, I can continue them much longer, and I don’t have to think of myself as reaching my late thirties until I’m 38, at which point I should be able to come to terms with the idea.

So here we are: 32, the beginning of my mid thirties, and an early sign that I might be learning from past mistakes. Sometimes.

Four Word Reviews: The Lone Ranger

1995 was an important year. It saw the release of Windows 95, which was the first occasion the Rolling Stones had ever endorsed a 32-bit operating system in a marketing stunt that wasn’t contrived at all. Goldeneye was released, which was the first movie in the James Bond franchise where the game was better than the actual film. And, of course, it was the year Suggs ran out of money and returned to the music business with the release of his debut solo album, The Lone Ranger.
Suggs: The Lone Ranger

The problem with peas

Here’s a tragic story. Have a handkerchief handy to soak up your tears.

On Friday I got out my notepad and settled in to pay my fullest attention to Suggs’ 1995 masterpiece, The Lone Ranger. It will be the latest in my increasingly popular series of album reviews for the Beans.

Having made notes on each track, I packed up and set off towards North London to wait for Elena to finish work and so we could set off for the north. I’d be able to make tea and relax. I’d be able to write my album review. Everything would be great.

Unfortunately London had other plans for me. I can only assume that London actively wanted to prevent the world finding out my thoughts on the synth-reggae and two-tone cover versions offered by the former Madness frontman’s mid-nineties cash-in comeback, because it did everything it could to stop me writing that important and informative blog post. My fourteen mile journey took me three hours in the end, leaving me no time for tea, no time for careful musical contemplation and no time to share my thoughts with the world. I also had no time for lunch.

There are several tragic results from this appalling debacle.

You will have to wait until later this month to read my review, which should have been posted in April.
My next two album reviews will have to be delayed by an extra month, which means no Sade until June and no Shaggy until July.
I only made three posts in April which means I broke my long run of consistent four-posts-a-monthing which had run since December 2014 and scored a nasty horrible dried pea on the bean counter which makes me VERY VERY ANGRY INDEED GAAAAAAAHHHHH.

In short: bad traffic makes for very bad apples.

Next time I’ll take the tube.

Things! Ep. 4 – Petrol Pockets

Around the world, every single day, remarkable people are creating remarkable new things, making their ideas and innovations a reality. And since the start of 2016, Pouring Beans Productions has been sending its reporters out to meet some of those people and catch a glimpse of the exciting inventions that are in development.

In this episode of Things!, Dougie McLaughten meets a man from Banbury who hopes to revolutionise the way we buy petrol and other inflammable spirits.