So I was fleeced. Voluntarily of course. But still fleeced.
EDGE Magazine may be one of the best publications available, but along with GAMEStm and RetroGamer, is one of the more...expensive takes on videogame journalism. I like it though, and every now anad again I feel the need to buy some class in. This month has a large report on Batman: Arkham City, so obviously I need to know all about it. It also has a nice article on 50 games that defeated by their own genepool (or something), high cult titles. There's also a page column about videogames and storytelling, with the recent L.A Noire as the example.
The cut and thrust of this column is that games cannot be a great storytelling medium. Anyone who has ever played a recent Metal Gear Solid title, especially with an hour and a half cutscene in MGS4 will have an opposite opinion. I too have a different opinion, especially after recent games. Well, except for the MGS schtick. I mean, seriously.
A lot of classic games have no story. Not really. The 'story' only exists in order to make the macguffin mean anything at all to the player; the best know formula goes like this: You, the protagonist (main character) must collect [item] and/in order to stop [bad guy] and rescue [whoever]. Let's roll out some well known action/adventure games and see how it compares.
In the Sonic the Hedgehog series you have to collect the Chaos Emeralds and stop Dr. Robotnik (or more recently Dr. Eggman) and save the world.
In any Super Mario game, you collect Stars/Shine Sprites/whatever (it is always stars) in order to stop Bowser and save the world/universe and rescue the Princess.
In the Legend of Zelda...You know what, I give up on this one, we all know how this works. Collect whatever mystical items needed to stop Ganon and save Hyrule and the Princess!
Metroid games see you repowering your suit in order to stop the Space pirates and sate your appetite for revenge/save the galaxy. That time you are the Princess. Ooops, SPOILERS!
Even HALO follows this simple and effective model...except I guess you don't collect anything that time. Right?
The story exists so you can keep doing what you're doing with an added difficulty curve. This is really what's missing from life, with no over arching plot to guide you (once you leave education anyway), and a difficulty curve that resembles a sheer cliff face, I often feel like a few scripted events might be helpful. But anyway, the true focus of the videogame is the player. It's why the protagonist is often silent, so the player can simply insert themselves into the action. Link has never had a voice actor beyond his grunting, and I for one hope he never will. As technology marches on, the ability to present a videogame in the style of a movie that you participate in every now and then has come to the point where people are even beginning to think of it as a viable option. Yes Metal Gear Solid, I AM LOOKING AT YOU.
Of course, at the beginning of the summer vac I purchased a copy of Metal Gear Solid: The Twin Snakes form Fleabay for a buy it now! brand new price. I haven't played The Twin Snakes for years, having only borrowed a copy from a friend when it came out new, and haven played the original Metal Gear Solid for even more years since the end of my PlayStation years. This is the remix made for the Nintendo's GameCube, a system which sails on into its tenth year of operation. This MGS is nothing short of God damn freaking hilarious, with more slo-mo blurry cutscenes than a co-directed effort from Zack Snyder and the Wachoski brothers. I mean, talk about the cutscene that follows the Hind-D battle. Jumping on top of a missile and returning fire with the Stinger? And the Snow Field? Where our hero backflips and lands exactly on the butt of the PGS-1 in order to flip it back into his hands and land the kill shot. And the opening of the fight with Vulcan Raven? WHERE DOES HE EVEN KEEP THAT STINGER?! Phew. The dialogue at times sounds like a bad B-movie (hello MST3K), and of course, there's a Ninja. WHO CAN DEFLECT BULLETS. The amount of time spent developing the ridiculous story through text only codec conversations and massively long cutscenes is absolutely unbelievable! The pay off, of course, is listening to David Hayter as Solid Snake. His voice is brilliant, especially listening to the "I am a world-weary soldier who's just a pawn" delivery. Colonel becomes Kernel (say it in the voice). Wonderful.
The true story of Metal Gear Solid reaches far into the past of its own continuity, which is where MGS3 and its ilk comes from, with the 'Legendary Soldier' Big Boss, Snake's 'father', who Snake kills (but doesn't kill?) back in the 70's. And in the Jungle. But there are still the titular walking robots, just to reassure us that it is a Japanese game saga after all. Sadly the same problem afflicts all of the MGS titles, and it is the overblown cutscenes. The use of the player directing an already developed charcter is not problematic; you as the player (like I do) will probably identify better with this hero of cynicism as he is rather than if he were a Link style blank face. Snake's character becomes more moralistic as the game (and the sage) progresses, as he understands that he is nothing more than a pawn in a cataclysmic nuclear wargame. He's just this guy, you know? A great plus for this first 3D title is its sheer believability. The Shadow Moses Incident (as the common parlance has it) takes place in 2005. Everything except for the titular Mech is existing technology. And the Stealth Unit. This is the thing, it could be true.
No, the problem is that the player can, and often does become disconnected from the game by being forced to sit back and watch rather than play so much of it. Even Hayter himself described MGS4 as an "18 hour immersive movie" rather than a game. Who the hell wants to sit through an 18 hour movie? I can hear something about Wagner's Ring Cycle, but this is no place to debate videogames as high art. The issues of genetic engineering and nuclear danger are well handled by MGS though. Presented in this believable context of a theatre of a modern, cold war, could one successful Black-Ops insertion end the threat like this? We'll never know. That's the point of Black-Ops.
But games cast in this fashion will never succeed in telling a story like this. Too much is out of the players' hands. Theres so much political waffle behind it, not to mention real film cut into the rendered scenes. I like it. It's a good story! It's very importantly plausible. Who the hell knows what happens up in Alaska if the US Government are behind it and don't want you to know about it? But sometimes it's almost as if the sneaking sections are unecessary. Or just breaks between the next marathon cutscene.
Tune in next time for my poster child of games as a valid storytelling medium. There's a lot of politics behind that one as well, but I think it's expressed better.
And anyway, it's all a matter of opinion, right?
TL;DR oh shit.
Tuesday 23 August 2011
Sunday 21 August 2011
Cdom7
I'm never one to do things in an orthodox manner.
Now, I've been playing the Tenor Banjo, off and on for some 7 or so years. I own an Ozark 2102T, the 2102 range being a range of beginner instruments, the Tenor model costing a mere £150 on average. I first took up the instrument after hearing the Banjo solo from the title track of the soundtrack to the Anime film Metropolis. Loosely based on the manga of the same name by Osamu Tezuka, widely regarded as the father of modern manga, can be found translated by Dark Horse Comics. Tezuka is also responsible for Astro Boy, Kimba the White Lion (the source for The Lion King) and Buddha, a 14 volume account of the life of Siddharta Gautama, of course the Buddha. Anyway, the film version, directed by Rintaro, has a shit-hot soundrtrack, which opens with a Dixieland number, on the opening credits. Once the dialouge starts, the soundtrack fades out, and it is at this point that a Banjo solo starts. I wanted to play this solo more than anything at the time. I immediately petitioned my parents for a banjo. I didn't let up, which especially pleased my father (SARCASM)
So for Christmas, I recieved a Tenor Banjo, in a CGI Banjo bag. Wow. Actually, the lining of the bag soon ripped, which caused the bass side tuning pegs to become stuck. The thing about the art and science of tuning a banjo is that the change in position of the bridge and the pressure on the skin head means that all the strings must be fine tuned at once, making a restring a long-winded excercise. The Tenor model is tuned in fifths, namely CGda, the same pitch and tuning as the modern orchestral viola. The first string should therefore be A440. As a 9 gauge string, this is pretty high. Guitarists may recognise the 9 gauge as their first string as well. I like to string mine with Martin Vega strings, where the d and a are silver. Lovely jubbly. It can be a real life-shortener to tune the a up though, so I only replace my strings should one go, or once a year for the whole set. I put aside the 14th of February for this arduous task. See, I can have a sense of humour. This wide tuning, however, after some experimentation, I soon discovered was wrong for my chosen goal. After a year of following the excercises in the Mel Bay Banjo Method I had bought for me, I tried to play along with the solo...to discover the inevitable. The type of instrument used in the recording is presumably the Plectrum Banjo, tuned CGBd, with a long, 22-fret neck. The Tenor only has 19 frets. Hmmm.
My Banjo has somewhat of a unique feature, that of a perilously high action. Grim. Approaching and excceding the 12th fret becomes a nightmare proposition, even 7th fret on the lower strings can get a bit hairy. It's a shame, because it's actually got quite a nice tone for saying it's just a small open back. Even seasoned guitarist Mr. G. Smith of Oakwood was terrified and dismayed by the action. Its a matter of tuning though. The bridge is far away down the head to keep the tuning right all the way up. And Jesus Harry Christ have my fingers gotten soft! It's very painful , and the blisters are forming under my fingertips already. Why have I dusted off my Baby?
I want to play the Cello Suites. I can hear Herr Bach rising from his angry grave now, but turns out it's quite popular for Banjo players to take on the first suite prelude, particularly the iconic prelude (you know how it goes). I'm sure Cellists, not to mention classical music buffs and pretentious jackasses around the globe are grinding their teeth at the thought of their master, Joh Seb Bach's wonderful suites for the solo Violoncello are being rendered on such an instrument. Well who cares. I mean, seriously. Some idiot is always banging on about the inexorable nature of Bach, that he and his music will live on pretty much forever (helped by the great availablity of it on the internet, natch) due to some ineffable and architectural quality that carries on for all time...blaaaaaah. Whatever.
The Cello suites, are, unsurprisingly, very hard. Of course, they're idiosyncratically composed for the Violoncello...or are they? Various conjecture (or, my friend and yours Wikipedia) leads us to the hitherto lost instruments Viola da Spalla (literally Viol on the Shoulder, a smaller violoncello held by a strap to the player's shoulder) and the Viola Pomposa, a large viola/violoncello with a fifth string tuned a perfect fifth above the top a. This is specifically for the last suite, the D major, that according to three of the sources is "a cinqe cordes", with only one giving the exact tunings. There's a wonderful free edition on the WIMA that has everything which I'm using.
The G major suite is the most covered because it's technically the easiest. The prelude is very well known, and its a nice bit of Bach to roll out as a party piece. However, you'll notice that the action height on a 'Cello is really very low, as it your average internet Banjo players'. Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear. Keep telling yourself it's good for your technique, and get on with it. The extra height gives extra punch, which allowed me to cut through the whole band in a UEA Grad Bar Jazz night. Tremolo solos as standard, and then block chords in the finest Dixieland style.
It's hard, and it hurts, but ultimately, the Cello suites are great. Fiendish, yes. I might have to purchase a new Banjo specifically for playing them. And what a shame that would be.
And the title? My tuning chord. it goes 0-3-2-3. Just think about it.
Now, I've been playing the Tenor Banjo, off and on for some 7 or so years. I own an Ozark 2102T, the 2102 range being a range of beginner instruments, the Tenor model costing a mere £150 on average. I first took up the instrument after hearing the Banjo solo from the title track of the soundtrack to the Anime film Metropolis. Loosely based on the manga of the same name by Osamu Tezuka, widely regarded as the father of modern manga, can be found translated by Dark Horse Comics. Tezuka is also responsible for Astro Boy, Kimba the White Lion (the source for The Lion King) and Buddha, a 14 volume account of the life of Siddharta Gautama, of course the Buddha. Anyway, the film version, directed by Rintaro, has a shit-hot soundrtrack, which opens with a Dixieland number, on the opening credits. Once the dialouge starts, the soundtrack fades out, and it is at this point that a Banjo solo starts. I wanted to play this solo more than anything at the time. I immediately petitioned my parents for a banjo. I didn't let up, which especially pleased my father (SARCASM)
So for Christmas, I recieved a Tenor Banjo, in a CGI Banjo bag. Wow. Actually, the lining of the bag soon ripped, which caused the bass side tuning pegs to become stuck. The thing about the art and science of tuning a banjo is that the change in position of the bridge and the pressure on the skin head means that all the strings must be fine tuned at once, making a restring a long-winded excercise. The Tenor model is tuned in fifths, namely CGda, the same pitch and tuning as the modern orchestral viola. The first string should therefore be A440. As a 9 gauge string, this is pretty high. Guitarists may recognise the 9 gauge as their first string as well. I like to string mine with Martin Vega strings, where the d and a are silver. Lovely jubbly. It can be a real life-shortener to tune the a up though, so I only replace my strings should one go, or once a year for the whole set. I put aside the 14th of February for this arduous task. See, I can have a sense of humour. This wide tuning, however, after some experimentation, I soon discovered was wrong for my chosen goal. After a year of following the excercises in the Mel Bay Banjo Method I had bought for me, I tried to play along with the solo...to discover the inevitable. The type of instrument used in the recording is presumably the Plectrum Banjo, tuned CGBd, with a long, 22-fret neck. The Tenor only has 19 frets. Hmmm.
My Banjo has somewhat of a unique feature, that of a perilously high action. Grim. Approaching and excceding the 12th fret becomes a nightmare proposition, even 7th fret on the lower strings can get a bit hairy. It's a shame, because it's actually got quite a nice tone for saying it's just a small open back. Even seasoned guitarist Mr. G. Smith of Oakwood was terrified and dismayed by the action. Its a matter of tuning though. The bridge is far away down the head to keep the tuning right all the way up. And Jesus Harry Christ have my fingers gotten soft! It's very painful , and the blisters are forming under my fingertips already. Why have I dusted off my Baby?
I want to play the Cello Suites. I can hear Herr Bach rising from his angry grave now, but turns out it's quite popular for Banjo players to take on the first suite prelude, particularly the iconic prelude (you know how it goes). I'm sure Cellists, not to mention classical music buffs and pretentious jackasses around the globe are grinding their teeth at the thought of their master, Joh Seb Bach's wonderful suites for the solo Violoncello are being rendered on such an instrument. Well who cares. I mean, seriously. Some idiot is always banging on about the inexorable nature of Bach, that he and his music will live on pretty much forever (helped by the great availablity of it on the internet, natch) due to some ineffable and architectural quality that carries on for all time...blaaaaaah. Whatever.
The Cello suites, are, unsurprisingly, very hard. Of course, they're idiosyncratically composed for the Violoncello...or are they? Various conjecture (or, my friend and yours Wikipedia) leads us to the hitherto lost instruments Viola da Spalla (literally Viol on the Shoulder, a smaller violoncello held by a strap to the player's shoulder) and the Viola Pomposa, a large viola/violoncello with a fifth string tuned a perfect fifth above the top a. This is specifically for the last suite, the D major, that according to three of the sources is "a cinqe cordes", with only one giving the exact tunings. There's a wonderful free edition on the WIMA that has everything which I'm using.
The G major suite is the most covered because it's technically the easiest. The prelude is very well known, and its a nice bit of Bach to roll out as a party piece. However, you'll notice that the action height on a 'Cello is really very low, as it your average internet Banjo players'. Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear. Keep telling yourself it's good for your technique, and get on with it. The extra height gives extra punch, which allowed me to cut through the whole band in a UEA Grad Bar Jazz night. Tremolo solos as standard, and then block chords in the finest Dixieland style.
It's hard, and it hurts, but ultimately, the Cello suites are great. Fiendish, yes. I might have to purchase a new Banjo specifically for playing them. And what a shame that would be.
And the title? My tuning chord. it goes 0-3-2-3. Just think about it.
Thursday 18 August 2011
Vignette XXIV
I will miss you. I will miss you more than you can ever know.
I'll miss you, even though you made me feel like I didnt know a thing. You still treated me like a whole person,even though I never feel like one.
I miss you, even though it is you who has much left to learn. Think about your nickname.
I will miss you, even though I never had the courage to tell you. I never thought you'd want to listen anyway.
I miss you, even though you well and truly broke what I have for a heart.
I miss you, even though we never went a-waltzing like I always wanted.
I will miss you, even though I never really knew what was going off.
I will miss you, even though you said I was too good for you.
I will miss you, too. If I had met you at the start rather than the end, everything would have been different.
I miss you. You always called me 'bubby' and it always felt like everything was going to be alright when you held me.
That's just off the top of my head. I'm going to miss everyone, absolutely. Who are you?
I'll miss you, even though you made me feel like I didnt know a thing. You still treated me like a whole person,even though I never feel like one.
I miss you, even though it is you who has much left to learn. Think about your nickname.
I will miss you, even though I never had the courage to tell you. I never thought you'd want to listen anyway.
I miss you, even though you well and truly broke what I have for a heart.
I miss you, even though we never went a-waltzing like I always wanted.
I will miss you, even though I never really knew what was going off.
I will miss you, even though you said I was too good for you.
I will miss you, too. If I had met you at the start rather than the end, everything would have been different.
I miss you. You always called me 'bubby' and it always felt like everything was going to be alright when you held me.
That's just off the top of my head. I'm going to miss everyone, absolutely. Who are you?
Saturday 13 August 2011
Industrial Action
So, in a week of rioting and economic uncertainty, I instead choose to write about my failing technology. Mainly.
I managed to keep out of the riots, neither participating nor being attacked. Looks like I missed out on a new pair of trainers, or a new telly, or anything else that has been lifted by the pillaging hordes. The closest I got was a phonecall off my brother on Tuesday saying there was "a massive police presence in Derby", and that "there are a load of idiots coming from Nottingham on the buses, on the trains, the police are getting ready for trouble"... And then there wasn't. The copycat riots in derby consisted of two lads running into Argos, committing theft, and then running back out again. This caused the staff of Argos to panic, and close the shop early, which had a knock-on effect of the surrounding shops. And...that was it. Then in the early hours of Wednesday morning, there was a gang roaming around Alvaston smashing cars up, which is pretty usual for Alvaston anyway. And then that was really it. Thankfully there was no wholescale looting, no firebombing of police stations, no mugging...Well, no more than usual. Town's been quiet for the whole week, which isn't especially bad for Derby. A few peaceful nights have probably helped the general atmosphere. Now, I'm not getting involved with the politics of this situation. Not here, anyway. Having friends who have memberships to both the Labour and the Conservative parties, I have heard quite enough from both sides to convince me that we're all doomed, doomed I say, to die screaming as the future ceaselessly arrives constantly in our faces.
Anyway. I finally bit the bullet and backed up my personal files and had my computer hard drive formatted. That's right. I've finally got rid of that awful plague that is Windows Vista Business edition. Turns out that there was a little bit more than just Vista wrong with my system, as well. Something about viruses or some such, I don't know. Instead of just reinstalling Vista again, my dear and most helpful mother has instead introduced Windows XP to The Boiler, and I can say that it's been like this for not eve 24 hours and I'm very pleased with how it ticks now. I was initially worried that the new (old ?) OS wouldn't recognise the touchscreen, but actually there is an edition of XP for tablets and that's what I've got. Nice. I can flip the screen around without the machine screaming "NO NO PLEASE I CAN'T COPE" and instead just rearranging the icons nice and quickly. The keyboard dock is activated from the task bar, and switches on and off without shouting at me, and the handwriting recognition is pretty good for saying mine is barely legible. It is running rather a little hot at the moment though. I wonder.
What I would really like to get installed in this though, is of course Windows 7. I can't afford a new computer with it pre-installed, but hopefully it can cope. If not, I should think that XP can perform all the vital functions that I employ, such as surfing the internet (already using Opera 11.50, a little sluggish but a billion updates are streaming in as I type), word processing, keeping up my library of ripped CDs/downloads etc. Hopefully with some stable processing, I might be able to do some more, such as musical composition, editing tracks, and keep my blood pressure lower than the steam pressure requirements. HAR HAR.
Actually, if I can sort out this computer, I might be able to sort out my phone. Ah yes, my next essay in my love of clapped out technology. I have the poor luck to be in possession of a defective handset, a Sony W995 to be exact. Poor show old chap. Other than that, I'm pretty happy with what I have, because I like having an old Sony Ericsson phone, thanks, and I don't care how much you may or may not like that. Anyway, I wanted to sort out a new theme with a lovely flash menu...but couldn't, due to one or another thing. It's a bit boring, I won't go into it. However, to correctly implement the theme, I would need to get into the phone firmware. When I'm in the firmware, I can do almost anything I like. Update the software version, change the camera and speaker drivers...and if I mis-step, I could ruin the phone. If I sink about three days into the forums, I can learn how to do it properly, so I will. I might wait a while before doing so, because if I can get the Windows 7 upgrade, I'll do it after I reinstate my data, but at this rate, I'll be filling my HDD on the XP Tablet OS.
Saturday 6 August 2011
Vignette XXIII
Times are hard and times are poor and time is ever so slowly carrying on and one day the time will come where I'll run out of time but knowing me I won't have time for it and have a quick time out before realising that time's up!
You can have the time of your life without realising the time before time catches up with you and then you have no time at all and its time to go back but you want to spend more time but there isn't any time left so its time to go home really now even though you want more time but there isn't any time left but you promise there'll be another time even though you won't have much time but you'll be able to make the time and time and again you can spend your time there.
Or maybe you can spend your time waiting to know when's the best time because you agree to have some time but because you've waited so long there is no time left because it's almost time for the times to change so you have to tell them the time because the time's been and gone and then the time has gone away. If I had timed the amount of times this time had happened I'd have time to take the time.
Tick.
You can have the time of your life without realising the time before time catches up with you and then you have no time at all and its time to go back but you want to spend more time but there isn't any time left so its time to go home really now even though you want more time but there isn't any time left but you promise there'll be another time even though you won't have much time but you'll be able to make the time and time and again you can spend your time there.
Or maybe you can spend your time waiting to know when's the best time because you agree to have some time but because you've waited so long there is no time left because it's almost time for the times to change so you have to tell them the time because the time's been and gone and then the time has gone away. If I had timed the amount of times this time had happened I'd have time to take the time.
Tick.
Tock.
Clock watching?
What a waste of time. It's time to say that it's not time well spent time instead to step back and think whether it's the right time?
Time to think again. Time to turn back the clock? There's never any time for that. Time to go. Time to call time.
Time to think again. Time to turn back the clock? There's never any time for that. Time to go. Time to call time.
Thursday 4 August 2011
GOGLEDD
Just call me...Mister Hawk.
So, the weekend before last was Grad, and all the grand adventures that were contained therein. Next weekend will be the Doctor's return to our sceptered isle's shores, along with Tommy from Bristol town. This weekend, however, is what can only be described as the most successful family holiday ever. Absolutely splendid...
Now, the last time I went to Wales, it was South Pembrokeshire to Tyddewi, or St. David's. I was meant to go again recently for an audition for a Choral Scholarship at the Cathedral, but I accepted the job at Truro a week before anyway, so that one got knocked on the head. In fact, had we had gone to St. David's we were scheduled to go up and see the rellies, but because I took the Truro job blah blah...
Anyway. Mother decided that it was time to go to Wales, and more specifically, Porthmadog. No, don't pronounce it as a 'g' at the end. Cue my useless protestation. I mean, seriously, I've never met anyone who's there before, I don't know them, I don't know the kids, I don't know if they'll like me, let alone whether I'll like them...
You know what, I had some bloody stupid worries before, but this one takes the biscuit. I've had probably the best weekend of my whole life. Seriously. Aside from the nigh-on five hour journey there, through the windy mountain roads to get there (where surprisingly the only radio station available is BBC Radio 2...?), it was absolutely bloody brilliant! It feels like I actually have a big family, and more importantly, a family who wants to know me. They're all mad (Anty Lou is certifiably insane for starters (but like that's a bad thing)), but they are ours, as much as they're like us, we're like them (more on that at the end). I spent the entire journey back thanking my dearest mother for taking me, and asking her if she was sure we couldn't stay for longer. If we hadn't have run out of clean clothes we wouldn't have come back, and I'm not even joking. Pub be damned, I'd have stayed there for ages.
Anyway. I've managed to be dragged away from Port (and indeed Penryhndeudreath, where I was staying with my COUSIN Lisa), but have managed to import a smattering of the accent. Just a little. Not to mention the speed! You see, I've been at University for three years in Norfolk, (and indeed, surrounded by southeners) and haven't come home with an accent...ever. However, two days in Wales, and I sound like a right Gog! I actually relaxed for a bout the first time ever, basically. THERE WE GO. For saying I met a bunch of people I've never even seen before, and their children (oh, the children...), in a strange place, I actually relaxed, that I could stop being so bloody uptight for a while! Hah! Although mother dear did make an interesting point about cadencing, and me being one of those musician types, that the melodious nature of the Welsh accent and inflections appeals to my nature as a musician (and more properly as a singer, I suppose). I can't stand southern accents, really. I don't care if you have one, in the nicest fashion, but it's not for me.
As ever, I have taken few pictures. It's quite a ball ache trying to get my phone and its associated software to work, especially when I'm very busy having a wonderful time. I can't actually stress how much I enjoyed myself, alright?! There's sufficient record of me being there though, and there is another place that I have promised to return to. I am in some danger of being spread far too thinly, what with my swanky scholarship and promising to be back in Norwich and now Port and Penryhn and I've got to come back home at some point and auditioning for the next place... But a promise made is a promise kept. This is a promise I can make that only relies on myself rather than anything else. Now, here's a little real-time development, for those of you who do not believe that I do these things without drafting, I've just looked up trains from TRU to PTM and PRH (look them up). The quickest is 9 hours, and the rest are about 12. I'll probably try PRH though, as there's only one change, and that's at BHM, so that won't be much of a problem. But seriously, NINE HOURS. Jesus Harry Bicycling Christ. Looks like I need to get in training for that one then!
Anyway, time to wrap this up. I'm still recovering from the last weeked, in fact the one before that was never recovered from properly either, and this one coming will be just as busy, so I'm very tired. Before I go though, allow me to explain to you uninitiates about the title. Welsh is a funny language. It's not like English at all, in fact I rather think it's a surprise that they even share the same alphabet. It is a modern type of celtic language, distantly related to the original language spoken by the inhabitants of the British isles before the dominance of the English language with its Saxon and Roman influences. It is very odd. There are many vowels which English speakers do not recognise and the most stereotypically 'Welsh' sounds, the ll (comparable to the hebraisch "ch" sound) and the dd (compare to the old english letter that looks like a d, the 'eth' (look it up)). I mean...You there! Englishman! Pronounce 'Dolgellau'! W stands for U as much as U stands for I.
As a parting conversation took place, the term 'gog' was introduced. It's a contraction of 'Gogledd', which means 'North' in thw Welsh language, as both a geographical term and a self-recognition of denizens of North Wales and the speakers of the North Welsh dialect and accent. I was told "We are gogs." by one of my cousins. Not "The people round here are gogs." Not "Us lot who live here are gogs." But "We are gogs." Not just those of us who live there, but them who returned to the Midlands on Monday. I am not a Welshman. This much is true. But to have been accepted and welcomed by not only my blood relatives, but their significant others and children as one of them makes me proud and happy and glad and all other sorts of wonderful emotion. I have a family there who want me, and may they also know that I want them as well. I find it massively amusing that I, a northern-sounding speaker of English (even though I come from the midlands yes whatever) have also picked up a northern Welsh accent and inflection.
Anyway, there's an old Chapel going in Penryhndeudreath, and only for 60 Grand. It's there now, so it's bloody tempting, buy a chapel, do it up, install an east end gallery and get a fine Organ on it (III/P, English classical style with chair case but full compass swell with a balanced pedal, great chorus sat on fine open and stopt diapasons with seperate mutations available alongside tierce-mixture and a mounted cornet BUT with a German-inspired separate chorus pedal but voiced together in an Old English style), and stay there. That's nice. I think I might retire in this fashion. It'll give me long enough to have a massively successful career, of course (har har keep trying Peb and you'll be king of the world at this rate) and complete all my studies and earn oodles of monies...so, yes! Not a bad master plan as things go I think.
Splendid.
So, the weekend before last was Grad, and all the grand adventures that were contained therein. Next weekend will be the Doctor's return to our sceptered isle's shores, along with Tommy from Bristol town. This weekend, however, is what can only be described as the most successful family holiday ever. Absolutely splendid...
Now, the last time I went to Wales, it was South Pembrokeshire to Tyddewi, or St. David's. I was meant to go again recently for an audition for a Choral Scholarship at the Cathedral, but I accepted the job at Truro a week before anyway, so that one got knocked on the head. In fact, had we had gone to St. David's we were scheduled to go up and see the rellies, but because I took the Truro job blah blah...
Anyway. Mother decided that it was time to go to Wales, and more specifically, Porthmadog. No, don't pronounce it as a 'g' at the end. Cue my useless protestation. I mean, seriously, I've never met anyone who's there before, I don't know them, I don't know the kids, I don't know if they'll like me, let alone whether I'll like them...
You know what, I had some bloody stupid worries before, but this one takes the biscuit. I've had probably the best weekend of my whole life. Seriously. Aside from the nigh-on five hour journey there, through the windy mountain roads to get there (where surprisingly the only radio station available is BBC Radio 2...?), it was absolutely bloody brilliant! It feels like I actually have a big family, and more importantly, a family who wants to know me. They're all mad (Anty Lou is certifiably insane for starters (but like that's a bad thing)), but they are ours, as much as they're like us, we're like them (more on that at the end). I spent the entire journey back thanking my dearest mother for taking me, and asking her if she was sure we couldn't stay for longer. If we hadn't have run out of clean clothes we wouldn't have come back, and I'm not even joking. Pub be damned, I'd have stayed there for ages.
Anyway. I've managed to be dragged away from Port (and indeed Penryhndeudreath, where I was staying with my COUSIN Lisa), but have managed to import a smattering of the accent. Just a little. Not to mention the speed! You see, I've been at University for three years in Norfolk, (and indeed, surrounded by southeners) and haven't come home with an accent...ever. However, two days in Wales, and I sound like a right Gog! I actually relaxed for a bout the first time ever, basically. THERE WE GO. For saying I met a bunch of people I've never even seen before, and their children (oh, the children...), in a strange place, I actually relaxed, that I could stop being so bloody uptight for a while! Hah! Although mother dear did make an interesting point about cadencing, and me being one of those musician types, that the melodious nature of the Welsh accent and inflections appeals to my nature as a musician (and more properly as a singer, I suppose). I can't stand southern accents, really. I don't care if you have one, in the nicest fashion, but it's not for me.
As ever, I have taken few pictures. It's quite a ball ache trying to get my phone and its associated software to work, especially when I'm very busy having a wonderful time. I can't actually stress how much I enjoyed myself, alright?! There's sufficient record of me being there though, and there is another place that I have promised to return to. I am in some danger of being spread far too thinly, what with my swanky scholarship and promising to be back in Norwich and now Port and Penryhn and I've got to come back home at some point and auditioning for the next place... But a promise made is a promise kept. This is a promise I can make that only relies on myself rather than anything else. Now, here's a little real-time development, for those of you who do not believe that I do these things without drafting, I've just looked up trains from TRU to PTM and PRH (look them up). The quickest is 9 hours, and the rest are about 12. I'll probably try PRH though, as there's only one change, and that's at BHM, so that won't be much of a problem. But seriously, NINE HOURS. Jesus Harry Bicycling Christ. Looks like I need to get in training for that one then!
Anyway, time to wrap this up. I'm still recovering from the last weeked, in fact the one before that was never recovered from properly either, and this one coming will be just as busy, so I'm very tired. Before I go though, allow me to explain to you uninitiates about the title. Welsh is a funny language. It's not like English at all, in fact I rather think it's a surprise that they even share the same alphabet. It is a modern type of celtic language, distantly related to the original language spoken by the inhabitants of the British isles before the dominance of the English language with its Saxon and Roman influences. It is very odd. There are many vowels which English speakers do not recognise and the most stereotypically 'Welsh' sounds, the ll (comparable to the hebraisch "ch" sound) and the dd (compare to the old english letter that looks like a d, the 'eth' (look it up)). I mean...You there! Englishman! Pronounce 'Dolgellau'! W stands for U as much as U stands for I.
As a parting conversation took place, the term 'gog' was introduced. It's a contraction of 'Gogledd', which means 'North' in thw Welsh language, as both a geographical term and a self-recognition of denizens of North Wales and the speakers of the North Welsh dialect and accent. I was told "We are gogs." by one of my cousins. Not "The people round here are gogs." Not "Us lot who live here are gogs." But "We are gogs." Not just those of us who live there, but them who returned to the Midlands on Monday. I am not a Welshman. This much is true. But to have been accepted and welcomed by not only my blood relatives, but their significant others and children as one of them makes me proud and happy and glad and all other sorts of wonderful emotion. I have a family there who want me, and may they also know that I want them as well. I find it massively amusing that I, a northern-sounding speaker of English (even though I come from the midlands yes whatever) have also picked up a northern Welsh accent and inflection.
Anyway, there's an old Chapel going in Penryhndeudreath, and only for 60 Grand. It's there now, so it's bloody tempting, buy a chapel, do it up, install an east end gallery and get a fine Organ on it (III/P, English classical style with chair case but full compass swell with a balanced pedal, great chorus sat on fine open and stopt diapasons with seperate mutations available alongside tierce-mixture and a mounted cornet BUT with a German-inspired separate chorus pedal but voiced together in an Old English style), and stay there. That's nice. I think I might retire in this fashion. It'll give me long enough to have a massively successful career, of course (har har keep trying Peb and you'll be king of the world at this rate) and complete all my studies and earn oodles of monies...so, yes! Not a bad master plan as things go I think.
Splendid.
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