Ria Bacon: editor & writer
Linguist with wanderlust,
From the hills of New Guinea to the halls of the Sorbonne,
From the beaches of Bassam to the fields of Friesland,
From the catacombs of Rome to the Blue Mountains of Jamaica.
From the heather of the Veluwe to the dust of Dakar ...
Currently resident in the Land of Sea with a small tribe of kids and Mr B.
FYI
Stet means "Let it stand" and is used by editors to indicate that the original text should be left untouched.
...in Arcadia ego is a pun on a painting by Poussin.
Contact Ria[dot]Bacon[at]gmail.com
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In between the creche and the day job is Balans, a cobbled street that splits at a hilltop, curves behind the Abbey walls and rejoins in front of St Joris, built in 1582. And within Balans is a small fountain with four jets shooting straight up. Best appreciated by students who love throwing in a pack of washing powder and watching the foam, the Mayor’s office has decided to include the fountain in the city’s royal festivities next week by colouring the water orange, the symbol of the Netherlands, still nominally ruled by the House of Orange.
In between the creche and the day job, I pulled the car over and dusted off my camera for a couple of shots:
 With the royal visit drawing near, the fountain by the Abbey walls has taken on a patriotic colour.  Imagine it was Fanta! The previous night being Students’ Night (Thursday), the fountain was foaming with suds whiter than white, but with the water turned orange for the Queen’s visit, my son licked his lips and grinned: “Imagine it was Fanta!”
With the return of the good weather, notwithstanding volcanic ash clouds from Iceland, we are once again confronted with the annoyance of having to share our transport network with slow-moving boats. Our island is bisected by a canal, which itself is broken into a series of locks and low bridges.
The result is that every so often — every 30 minutes in high season — road traffic comes to a halt when the bridges lift up or swing open to allow yachts and other pleasure craft to pass through. It’s intensely frustrating as the whole process takes around 20 minutes, and drivers in a hurry to get to class, pick up kids or any other pressing business (that’s me, me & me) have to switch off the motor and watch some elderly twats chugging Liebfraumilch on motor cruisers.
It’s not as if the canal goes anywhere or gives access to essential facilities, and in terms of time, with all the locks and bridges, they’d be much faster sailing round the island than going through it. But I guess the value is the journey travelled rather than the destination … twats.
While I was waiting early one morning, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel in frustration and anxiously checking if I would have enough time to buy three tubes of Rolos before class, as part of my Ph.D research into student motivation (Tip: Rolos work), I was drawn to the slogan on the van in front of me:
Your partner in meat
My collaborator, of course, supplier of saucisse … and yet the longer I stared …
Your partner in meat …
It sounded like a ransom note threatening extreme consequences for non-cooperation.
Your partner … encased in mince
or
transformed into meatloaf
Either way it’s gross.
As far as bad slogans go, it’s on a par with one from my school years in the north of England, that of a removal company:
Moving a thing? Give us a ring!
I loved its vague assertiveness, its catch-all service — Well, I’m moving this glass to the dishwasher, so maybe I should call …
On the occasion of her eleventh birthday, my daughter announced that I was 50,000 days old. It had taken her a little quiet time to come up with this figure, and despite my immediate rebuttal, she insisted her calculation was correct.
So … turns out I’m about to celebrate my 137th birthday.
Makes sense.
I feel old …
Translating agricultural development articles doesn’t often make me break out into a smile, so I was particularly pleased to discover this evening that the Chief Executive of the Seychelles Agricultural Agency goes by the wonderful name of Antoine Marie Moustache. It’s the mother lode of tease.
And then there’s his job: with a land mass of only 455 square miles spread over 115 tiny islands and coral outcrops, the title seems to rival that of Swiss Admiral*.
Determined to find more about Mr Moustache, I tracked down his M.Phil thesis at another of my old stomping grounds, the University of the West Indies: Fertilizer use in Cabbage with Special Reference to Urea-N.
– Irie! U-Ria! Why y’hafta pee on de cabbage dem?
– Yeah man, me drink me root juice
an’ forget de damn waterin’ can an’ ting.
(Read previous work-related highlights and other barely plausible names.)
* What’s the difference between a Dyson vacuum cleaner and a Swiss Admiral?
A Dyson vacuum cleaner sucks and sucks and never fails, while a Swiss Admiral …
Yesterday I read that British dance duo Groove Armada were bringing out their last album (interview in Dutch). They clarified that they would continue to publish new music but only in single or EP formats.
“The album has no future. [...]
People mostly only buy singles online [...]
Writing 12 songs shouldn’t be such a big deal, but it cost us years off our lives.”
- Tom Findlay
All quite true. I hardly even listen to albums anymore; with a digital library, I set play to random or occasionally make a short playlist of a favourite artist.
And yet only a few years ago, the album was still the predominate music format. One of the reasons, IMHO, why downloading took off, was not simply getting something for free, but having the freedom to choose what you want without getting one hit and 11 dross. For writing 12 songs that hang together is an extremely difficult thing, but once done, and if it’s well done, it can become a timeless treasure.
Thinking about favourite albums, first albums seem to stand out; maybe because they capture the original spirit and energy of the group before they get too self-conscious and rehearsed, or sculpted into a corporate package deal.
Is this it? – The Strokes
Hatful of Hollow – The Smiths (not actually their first album, but still …)
“Banana” – Velvet Underground with Nico
The Doors – The Doors
Astral Weeks – Van Morrison (the first album Van knew about)
Unknown Pleasures – Joy Division
I – Led Zeppelin
Grace – Jeff Buckley
Dummy – Portishead
77 – Talking Heads
Endtroducing – DJ Shadow
Mmmm … something of a pattern here. All white boys (apart from Nico, who sings lower than most men, and Beth Gibbons in Portishead).
Let’s try
 Marley & the Wailers' debut album (for a major)
Catch a Fire – Bob Marley and the Wailers
 Curtis Mayfield's debut solo album
Curtis – Curtis Mayfield
 Massive's debut album
Blue Lines – Massive Attack
 Too cool for a stool
Samba Esquema Novo – Jorge Ben
 A treasured vinyl
Maria Bethania – Maria Bethania
Googling around other “best debut albums”, I see that the lists are remarkably similar. I think that’s a reflection of the voters’ similar backgrounds and ages rather than a comment on the quality of the music; many musicians I love, such as Salif Keita, Soulwax, Garnett Mimms or Machito, I just don’t associate with particular albums.
Nevertheless, it’s interesting to see how the number of entries tails off very rapidly after the punk/New Wave period. There seems to have been a golden period for top-class albums around 1965-1985.
Any more original or unusual suggestions?
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that’s kind of wrong looking, although if it WAS fanta, I’d be in there, swimming, with my thermos.