“spare the air”? what air?

smoggy davis

smoggy davis

The first summer I spent in Davis was like no other I had ever experienced. Growing up in England meant bright sunny June days with cut grass in the park, orange ice lollies and bumblebees, followed by grey rainy June days with damp mud in the park, heinz tomato soup and wasps. It did not ever mean endless desert like weather coupled with the feeling that it may never be cool ever again anywhere in the world. That is what summer in the Central Valley is like, and that’s what it’s like now – only much worse.

We haven’t had rain here since, I don’t know, early February. Now I know I’ll have little sympathy from you rain-sodden English folk, but it’s pretty serious – it’s dryer than ever, which means a perfect recipe for fire – and boy are we on fire. There have been over a thousand fires raging across the state for the past couple of weeks now, most caused by dry lightning strikes, and since then the huge baking Central Valley has been blanketed with thick, nasty hazy smoke, that is going nowhere fast. You can feel it in your lungs, you can see it everywhere, the sunlight has a dull orange tint to it, the sunsets are spectacularly frightening. And now the temperatures are reaching those nasty July heights again, hitting 110 degrees Fahrenheit today (that’s about a million degrees Centigrade, or it feels like it anyway). It’s really quite unfriendly outside.

And pretty unhealthy, which is why we’ve been having Spare the Air days here. On those days, people are encouraged not to use their cars and add to the pollution, but use public transport or simply stay at home. Buses are free, though it means waiting in the thick smoggy heat for one to come. When will it end, I wonder? Well, it won’t rain until, I don’t know, November, and we currently have a drought which means water is scarce for fighting wildfires (though it doesn’t seem to affect those three-times-a-day lawn sprinklers in our apartment complex, the ones that spray even when it does rain), and the state budget is already shot to pieces. Thank goodness for air-conditioning; though if the rolling black-outs start up again, we might not even have that. California, here we come.

*

Ok, time for the now-expected pun-based gag. Britain have something similar to Spare the Air days: they’re called Spare the Heir, and on those days tabloids and glossy mags are encouraged not to write anything about Prince William. Especially not Heat.

Poor, I know. But it’s 110 degrees, so I have an excuse.

(By the way, this is my 50th post on this new blog!)

shuttup old man!

Well, euro 2008 turned out rather well, and I’m just now sitting waiting for the Final to kick off, I have my Pepsi Max, I have my Pringles (the crisps, not the cardigans), and I’m impressed that after all his unpredictable prognostics, Mystic Pete got one thing right: Germany in the final. And who said Mystic Pete couldn’t really see the future? (with apologies to France and Portugal, etc)

But there’s now a contender: Mystic Mister T. When  asked for a prediction for the final, he scowled at the camera and gave a simple response: “Spaiiin“.

Can’t argue with Clubber.

mystic pete strikes again

turkey 3, czech republic 2I have at last gotten to see some of this thing you call football, in this thing you earth people call euro 2008. And wow, is Mystic Pete on good form! Predicting Germany and France to reach the final – before they both decided losing was their preferred tactic – stating categroically that Portugal would get knocked out in round 1 while the Swiss would go through – yes, probably not the best thing to bet on – the Czechs would qualify (got knocked out by the Turks today), the Dutch would be rolled over (completely the opposite), and the Austrians would be out before you can say Viennese whirl (nearly, but not there yet). Still, Mystic Pete is legendary for such predictions, but at least this year he is not alone – any look though a footy magazine pre-tournament will say the same (except for Portugal bit – but to be fair Mystic Pete did think they’d be rattled with all the talk of Ronaldo and the fact thier manager will be a big target for rich managerless clubs, like chelsea, or so MP tells me now, after the fact).

Turning into quite a good tournament, this Euro 2008.

euro 2008

Euro 2008 is about to start, but I won’t be seeing it; I live in the US, and don’t have the particular channel that it’s showing on. I don’t even have the sticker album this time. However I have asked my prognostic friend Mystic Pete to watch the games for me in the future, and he has told me to relay the following predictions to the earthly realm: France to win beating Germany in the final, the Swiss to get through their group but the Austrians to go out bravely, Portugal to suffer a shock setback and go out in round one (and more big clubs to sack their managers hoping Big Phil Scolari will come to them), Holland and Romania to fall in the group of death (for not wearing enough blue), Wayne Rooney to get a suntan watching it from his holidays.  

For those of you who are of the american persuasion, euro 2008 is, well, look here for an explanation.

Yes, I’m disappointed no home nations or Ireland are taking part. In the UK the BBC are running the tag “who will you support?”. Well I think the criterion should be the design of the kit. I like Germany’s home kit a lot, and Sweden’s new dark away shirt, whereas all of the Puma kits are like, totally lame. I have a soft spot for the Czechs but their current kit is rubbish. Maybe I’ll ask the baby, though I suspect his answer will be “poo”. As good an answer as anyone’s, I guess.

kits out for the lads

Football, football, football. The end of the season is upon us, and what an end in England, with Man U and Chelsea going to the wire for the Premier League and the Champions League, an FA Cup which could go Welsh, and a poor nothing for poor Arsenal. My team, Spurs, we already finished our season with a League Cup, while in France, Paris St Germain could get relegated, at which I will laugh because I also support Marseille. The really exciting thing about this time of the footy calendar though is not all the trophies, relegations, sackings and transfers, but the release of all the new kits for the next year. It’s becoming standard now that clubs release a new home shirt every season, but even I am getting tired of the football kit merry-go-round, and the laughable marketing that surrounds it.

When I was a kid, I used to want to be a kit designer. The late eighties and ealy nineties saw some incredibly daring designs, some instant classics, some instant stomach-churners (Arsenal’s away kit of 1992 springs to mind). Umbro and Adidas were the two leaders of design, and it was an exciting time for innovation and experimentation with new away colours (Liverpool’s green, Arsenal’s blue, Manchester United’s grey/green/yellow/you-name-it). Then, somewhere along the way, it all tapered off, it all just got a bit boring. There are only so many different collar designs. Only so many ways you can do stripes. Only so many old kits from the 50s/60s/70s you can rehash and pretend to be faithful. And so the marketing has to be inventive. For a few years now they’ve been pretending that the material is far more technologically advanced than anything from the previous year, or anything modern humans can even produce without advanced alien technology. Last year it seemed as though every new kit was a ‘commemorative kit’ for something or other: Spurs had their special ‘125 years’ kit, Celtic did the ’40 years since they won the European Cup’ kit (I bought it, incidentally), Barcelona remembered 50 years at Camp Nou, Northern Ireland ‘s kit commemorated, and this is stretching it a bit, 25 years since they were at the Spain World Cup in 1982. To name but a few examples. This year they can’t even be bothered to do that.

Spurs just released their new shirts for 08-09. Since signing with Puma in 2006, Spurs have now had TEN new shirts, not including goalkeeper kits. Last year the only significant change to the kit was the collar became a v-neck. Well this year the only significant change to the home kit is that that v-neck now has a blue trim. That’s another forty quid please, thank you, and don’t forget to put your favourite player’s name on the back, quickly, because he’ll be leaving for a new club in the summer. It’s such an underwhelming design, and yet they release it (in the shops today) with such fanfare, as if this new blue v-neck collar will somehow usher in a new era of prosperity and silverware. We’re not even the worst ones. Borussia Dortmund, for example, brought out three home shirts this season: a regular one, a cup-final one (hier bitte), and a special christmas one (noch wieder?). Oh, and they just release a new one for next year (immer mehr? Scheiss!). To market all these design-a-minute shirts the clubs will try anything, but an interesting trend these days (employed largely by South American teams and lower-league English clubs) is to use female models, rather than players; typical examples here, here and here. You see, terribly exploitative, I cannot approve. There’s another few here. But we the fans still buy them, these unimaginatively designed expensive mobile adverts for bad football and whichever dodgy online chinese casino gives us a few bob to keep lazy want-away Bulgarians in hair bands. I think if football shirts are going to be little more than advertising boards then the fans should get them for free, or at least for very cheap. I’m going to write to Sepp Blatter. I will.

london please! don’t vote for johnson

A famous Johnson once compared being tired of London to being tired of life.

For those Americans who may not have heard, it’s the London Mayoral Election, May 1st – though April 1st might have been more appropriate, because there is a good chance a complete bloody fool will get elected. Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson, aka ‘Boris’, aka that posh bloke with the mad blond hair who’s always on the telly making more gaffes than Beazer Homes, wants to leave his cosy safe Henley seat for City Hall, where he promises to improve public transport, and get rid of bendy buses (which despite making all those headlines in the anti-Ken Evening Standard, actually make London buses far more accessible than the old routemasters, and carry more people than regular double-deckers; they’ve also worked fine for years in many other big European cities). Boris Eton/Henley/Oxford Johnson, who I doubt has ever taken a bus except for a publicity shoot, in charge of public transport?

My fellow Londoners (though I am now absent), I implore you, do not give the mayoral job to Boris Upper Class Twit of the Year Johnson. If you want a cartoon buffoon with few social skills and a history of slagging off other cities for not being as upper class and Henley as him, if you want a right-wing mayor who has no interest in London, if you want Zippy out of Rainbow with Worzel Gummidge’s hair whose campaign rests on bloody bendy buses, vote for him by all means, but I think London deserves better. Whether you like Ken or not he has done a great job as our first mayor, from increasing the number of buses to the improvement of public spaces (Trafalgar Square is actually a place worth visiting now); having a clown like Johnson in office will make a mockery of what is still a very new post. Even if you don’t vote for Ken, please, for London’s sake, don’t vote for Johnson.

After all, when Johnson tires of London, he can just swan off back to Henley. 

don't vote for johnson

every day is just like starting over

Welcome to the new petescully blog!

Well, petescully volume II. This is in all senses a continuation of the old blog at 20six, so expect the same again. I spent three years blogging at 20six, and now I’m here.

As way of introduction to this blog, my name is pete, I constantly sketch things around me, I write about some things, I am from north london but i live in california. I just became a father. Life is pretty bloody good; but being British, I can still find some things to complain about. I’m not a blogger who writes about all the petty things at work, or announces “I’ve just eaten mayonnaise” (46 comments), or reveals secrets learnt the night before in the pub. My personal remains so. I hope you enjoy what you find here.

For all 600 past entries, please visit :

http://www.20six.co.uk/petescully 

from the pencil of young pete

mccartney (1989)

I drew this 19 years ago, when I was just thirteen. 19 years ago!! The Berlin Wall was still up! Nelson Mandela was still in prison! George Bush was the new President of the USA!

I was digging through my old drawings from when I was a kid recently and thought I should share them with you. I remember drawing this (I still use the ‘mechanical’ eraser I used in this very drawing, there’s continuity for you!); I was a huge Beatles fan, and trawled the record stores and junk shops of London for old original LPs (plus a load of old albums my uncle gave me). Note how I’ve given Macca his real first name too.

I did another version of it at 16 (below left), in 1992, with stronger values and less chin, but I prefer the first one for its innocence. I was doing my GCSE art in ’92 and several of the other pictures below are from that time; below right is a watercolour copy of Cezanne that I did at 15 or 16, from a postcard picked up at the National Gallery – I used to go down to London most weekends to go to the galleries (and the record stores).

mccartney (1992)cezanne (1992)

Ten years later I ended up living in Cezanne’s town of Aix-en-Provence, which is where I met my wife (and therefore how I ended up living in the US). Funny old world.

Below is another from 16-year old Pete in 1992, an unfinished one of Jesus from some other painting I can’t remember. An interesting choice for such an atheistic lad as I, but even though I’m A NonBeliever I know aestheticism sometimes trumps atheisim; years later I did a one-person art performance piece at university about being drunk on the underground, which ended up with me on a crucifix (supposed to be King’s Cross).

jesus (1992)

The pencil one below left is a pastorly Peter Cushing (looking more like the Crow Man), also from 1992. I seemed to have an easier time with light and dark values back then than I do now. It’s from one of my horror-movie books; I was really into old Hammer Horror films (I have another sketch of Christopher Lee too), and in 1992 I wrote and performed an eight-song musical called “Dracula AD 1992” (an homage to the 1972 Hammer movie), which included such classic songs as “This Motel’s Giving Me The Willies” and “Freshly Impaled Village Maidens”. Below right: a later picture, 1995, 19 years old and obsessed with oil pastels. Doesn’t look massively like me, but you get the idea. I didn’t wear glasses very often back then.

cushing (1992)pete (1995)

Originally posted at 20six.co.uk/petescully

don’t mention the torch

Let’s make it clear : the Olympic Torch is not actually important. It doesn’t matter if it goes out; mankind is sufficiently advanced to find a way to light it again. You don’t need heavy-handed sky-blue thugs (Seb Coe’s own words) to protect it from people venting their anger at the one-party-dictatorship in China and their brutal crackdown on Tibetan ‘separatists’. If you have to put it out and jump on a bus, it’s okay, you can admit it. The whole torch relay was started by the Nazis anyway. You can’t pretend that it was never political.

I’ll tell you what I think of when I see the Olympic torch (apart from the Aryan-supremacist iconography and the former symbol of the Tories) (and yes, apart from a Mr.Whippy). That bloody Chariots of Fire theme by Vangelis. And I’ll tell you what I think of when I think of that. An exchange trip to France I took at college, when I shared a room with a guy who listened to it on his headphones, after dark, when he thought I was asleep (I so wish I had been), and I could hear him busy doing the 15-centimetre sprint, tossing the caber, giving the bronze medal a good polish, slapping duncan goodhew on the head. And yelping, “putain! putain!”, as if I couldn’t hear him or something. I don’t know what he was thinking of, but I bet it wasn’t Nigel Havers.

originally posted at 20six.co.uk/petescully