* 200 articles. Two years. Whelk. The best of Upsideclown. Might be reprinted.

High Speed

19 August
Jamie's running late...

It's 11:51. I know because the clock says so, in harsh orange letters. Or numbers, I should say. More importantly, we've got a meeting in den Bosch, a 2 hour drive away by all accounts, and we're both pretty stressed. Add to that the fact that it's one of the hottest days of the year, the car's a greenhouse because it's been sat in the sun for the last 3 days, I've got to write a clown on the way down as I'm driving on the way back, and there's a taxi doing 100 km/h in the fast lane, and you've got a situation. Sorry if this comes out illegible.

While I've been writing this, Mike's managed to get on to the A4 instead of the A2, and we've hit serious trouble. I do a bit of emergency map reading with the smallest and worst map in the world, and make a split-second decision to double back across two lines of traffic and cut cross-country till we're back on track. I hope...

12:04. The A9's in sight, which is supposedly a good thing. Robbie's popped a pill and fallen asleep, the bastard. We, on the other hand, are stuck behind a SEAT. No contest.

12:06. SEAT didn't last too long. Steve Harley and his cockney rebels are doing their best to calm down & come up and see them; one of the all-time classics, Mike says, and I'm inclined to agree. Looks like we're sitting pretty for a bit. Not Cameron Diaz pretty, but Meg Ryan pretty at least, and that's not a bad thing in my book. Certainly settle for it.

So, a little breather for me. Time to appreciate the plus points of our current situation: I'm out of the office, I've got great tunes (courtesy of MC Cargow and Fat Reggie), and apart from the twat in a van who's just pulled out in front of us (probably a Belgian), the road looks pretty clear. Touch pseudo-wood dash. And yes, we've made it back onto the A2 without too much time lost. Cool runnings.

12:23. 371 km to Luxembourg, says the sign. Like we care. As Go West comes on, I'm flooded with memories of holidays and Uni, sunsets and sunrises, thoughts of friends I haven't seen in eight months and others I only saw last weekend. Moments that are important to me, friends that matter. It's funny how memory works sometimes; you can forget the most important things like birthdays, or important things to do at work, and they'll jump out at you at the most inopportune moments, normally when I'm dozing off and my mind decides to do the housekeeping. Then sometimes, a sight, a sensation, a smell takes you right back to a particular place or emotion, and it's almost real. Like the other day at work, when I was playing the NPower cricket game and I could taste the M&S lunch I used to have when I played it in London. Or Mike told me about a time in London, where he had a flashback to his time travelling in India and his emotions then. He came to his senses grinning like an idiot at an alley full of piss by the side of Angel tube. Oh, the pitfalls of synaesthetic memory recall (as I like to call it, and who's to say I'm wrong?).

12:45. Looking like we might make it. Man, it's hot though. I'm not sure Mike appreciates the fact (he's wearing his Oakleys), but I'm squinting into the distance (blinded by the sun, if you will), while the Seahorses are playing on the stereo. I'd ask if he's noticed, but it's enough of a job dodging Dutchies as it is. Don't want to throw a music trivia quiz into the mix at this stage, And anyway, Viva Forever's come on instead, and the moment's passed. Reminds me of when I used to fancy Mel C - what the fuck was going on there? But can't get too involved - we're getting quite close, and it's time for me to switch into navigator mode again. See ya...

Hey, Flight of the Navigator. Now that was a fucking film...


This is the fucking archive

Current clown:

18 December 2003. George writes: This List

Most recent ten:

15 December 2003. Jamie writes: Seven Songs
11 December 2003. Dan writes: Spinning Jenny
8 December 2003. Victor writes: Rock Opera
4 December 2003. Matt writes: The Mirrored Spheres of Patagonia
1 December 2003. George writes: Charm
27 November 2003. James writes: On Boxing
24 November 2003. Jamie writes: El Matador del Amor; Or, the Man who Killed Love
20 November 2003. Dan writes: Rights Management
17 November 2003. Victor writes: Walking on Yellow
13 November 2003. Matt writes: Disintermediation
(And alas we lost Neil, who last wrote Cockfosters)

Also by this clown:

15 December 2003. Jamie writes: Seven Songs
24 November 2003. Jamie writes: El Matador del Amor; Or, the Man who Killed Love
13 October 2003. Jamie writes: The Persistence of Memory
22 September 2003. Jamie writes: The Email Eunuch
1 September 2003. Jamie writes: Credo
11 August 2003. Jamie writes: Brad and Jennifer and Me
21 July 2003. Jamie writes: Interruption
30 June 2003. Jamie writes: Do you remember the first time?
12 June 2003. Jamie writes: Forthcoming Attractions
19 May 2003. Jamie writes: Stupid Mistake
28 April 2003. Jamie writes: Hoping and Praying
7 April 2003. Jamie writes: Strangers on a Plane
17 March 2003. Jamie writes: Q&A
24 February 2003. Jamie writes: Altered States
3 February 2003. Jamie writes: How to say goodbye
13 January 2003. Jamie writes: In A League Of Their Own
23 December 2002. Jamie writes: What's in a name?
2 December 2002. Jamie writes: Lies, Damned Lies and Spastics
11 November 2002. Jamie writes: Memoirs of a Gaysian: A Preface
21 October 2002. Jamie writes: Love is blindness
30 September 2002. Jamie writes: Time for bed
9 September 2002. Jamie writes: Angry Exchanges Can Be Puzzling [10]
19 August 2002. Jamie writes: High Speed
29 July 2002. Jamie writes: Firkin Hell
8 July 2002. Jamie writes: Do you, er... haiku?
13 June 2002. Jamie writes: Unnatural Porn Thrillers
20 May 2002. Jamie writes: The Triumphant Return of the Septic Fiveskins
25 April 2002. Jamie writes: Meeting People is Easy
4 April 2002. Jamie writes: I Want I Want I Want
7 March 2002. Jamie writes: The Player of Games
11 February 2002. Jamie writes: Fat Man Walking
17 January 2002. Jamie writes: Passive/Aggressive
3 January 2002. Jamie writes: Love (classified)
29 November 2001. Jamie writes: A Lil' Nite Muzak
5 November 2001. Jamie writes: Natural born liar
11 October 2001. Jamie writes: All I need
17 September 2001. Jamie writes: Postcards From The Edge (of the pool)
23 August 2001. Jamie writes: Class act
30 July 2001. Jamie writes: Ritchie Neville is dead
5 July 2001. Jamie writes: A Letter from God
11 June 2001. Jamie writes: "If it's in French, it must be deep"
17 May 2001. Jamie writes: Reportage
23 April 2001. Jamie writes: Show me the Logos
29 March 2001. Jamie writes: Sobering Thoughts
8 March 2001. Jamie writes: Stupid, Stupid, Stupid
8 February 2001. Jamie writes: Spent
15 January 2001. Jamie writes: Full to the brim
21 December 2000. Jamie writes: fuck xmas
27 November 2000. Jamie writes: Eye Candy
2 November 2000. Jamie writes: World-wide-web?
9 October 2000. Jamie writes: Kids' stuff
14 September 2000. Jamie writes: Scatological Warfare
21 August 2000. Jamie writes: I can't stand up (for falling clowns)
10 July 2000. Jamie writes: The Etymology of Greatness

Let meeeeeee entertain you

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