My new New York pal Red Squirrel got tagged by one of her blogmates, the sum of which is that the
tagged has to reveal
six weird things about themselves. Having now revealed to the world her love of cutesy t-shirts with pictures of animals, which means she can no longer leave Brooklyn and emerge from the subway in the hipper neck of
Greenwich Village (although we all know that at least 66% of said t-shirts were purchased there), she has now passed the baton to
meself and
Mrs H Brown. Grrr.
I asked the wife to help, and - after an undiplomatic pause - she said there really wasn't anything truly weird about me, wihch really wasn't very helpful (and untrue). However, after a bit of a struggle and threats to call the divorce lawyers, we came up with today's six choice weirdities for your delectation:
1. I collect stuff. Badly. Not just cool things like my
10" vinyl records of Vaughn Williams pastoral classical songs, old jazz EPs and Radiohead CD singles - all of which I develop an enthusiasm for, but then give up after purchasing about half a dozen or so said items. But weird things, like
bottle caps from beer bottles (again, I have dozens, but none that are particularly rare or interesting), silly
plastic superhero toys and those
free postcards they give away in bars.
2. My fingers bend. To the right (on my right hand). It looks odd, although it probably is just early stages of arthritis. I blame it for my inability to replicate the more intricate guitar runs of Jim Hendrix, but to be honest that could just be my musical incompetence.
3. My scars don't heal. I have an appendix scar from when I was about 12, which hasn't much faded. I have a scar on the back of my neck from when I had a cyste removed. It looked really good after the operation with lots of what appeared to be little metal wires sticking out of my neck - but that was ten years ago. The scar's still there. I like to claim I got it in a knife fight with some Mexican drug barons.
Of course, I didn't.4. I have a phobia for DIY. Really, it isn't just laziness (well,
it's probably fifty per cent laziness). It dates back to when we lived in a one bedroom housing association flat in a tenement block built in the late 19th century, and which was knocked down not long after we moved out. It probably had flaky walls. But I managed to decorate the flat, put up some heavy duty shelving for my record collection, and also a little shelf above the sink in the kitchen on which would sit our crockery and pots and pans. You can guess the rest. It wasn't pretty.
5. I cry at happy endings in movies. Sad films, depressing films, they don't move me. I sit there and contemplate howthe on-screen losers could better sort their lives out. But a happy ending gets me every time - be it a love story, or any old warm-hearted nonsense. My favourite films include the likes of "
It's a wonderful life" at the end of which no human being could fail to shed tears. But the same happens at the wimpiest made-for-TV movie. It's embarrassing, but it could be worse. Give me a happy ending, and I'll hate you forever.
6. I buy books but I don't read them. See
previous posting. It's a pointless addiction, and I really ought to get over it - but I have such a strong affection for books that it's hard to do. I grew up with books, they helped make me who I am, they have given me so much pleasure. They give you freedom, visions of the possible future and distant places, other lives. And they smell nice. But really... feeding my family I can afford to do, but I could be buying music and musical instruments and other things I'd love but not use. Why books?
OK. that's all she wrote.
Now my task is to find some other
saps to pass the baton to,
so I'm gonna tag my web-mates
and look forward to
more embarrassing on-screen revelations.
I'm also gonna do a reverse tag on Squirrel, as soon as I get my breath back!
And now the obligatory mp3s,
Ladybug Transistor - Six times (1999)
Meyer and Oberman's 
Easyway book that can help?
compilation tho' can't recall if that was this year and if anyone fancies buying me the 
box set, well, please don't restrain yourself...
