As part of my Masters course in Journalism I'm having to learn shorthand.
Shorthand is fucking hard. It is a lot like learning a language. It is based on reinforcement and repetition. It requires patience and practice. It is very, very tedious. It takes up about 20 hours of your time a week minimum.
Well, sort of like learning a language, but without any of the benefits that spur you on to learn a language. Learning French for example, there are certain factors that can spur on your learning. You imagine to yourself what knowing the language will result in In your mind you imagine strolling round Paris with a beautiful French woman on your arm. She is intoxicated by your English charm. You stop by a cafe. You watch the tourists.
There can be no such aspirations with shorthand. The point is simply that you can write down somebody saying something.
On the riviera? in the Louvre? No, most likely simply to document the misdemeanors of a local shoplifter, or joy of joys the opinions of a smalltime local councillor.
Sample Phrase for dictation.
'Where was the girl in the office today?'- I don't know, and I don't fucking care.
I've said too much.
Thursday 15 October 2009
Saving as perverse game
Sunderland is a pretty weird place. There's nowhere quite like it that I've ever lived.
On the surface things are on the up. Since moving back here after a few years in the wilderness, the landscape is largely unchanged with the exception of a number of upmarket looking bars and restaurants. Said restaurants remain resolutely dead most of the time. Often all that can be seen inside is a bored and absent-minded waiter staring out of the window while half-heartedly polishing a glass.
Now, my question is why are the bars, restaurants and bistro's struggling to keep afloat? And why the chronic under attendance?
So, lets investigate! One of the favourite pastimes of Sunderland folk is moaning. About all sorts. The weather. The council. The bairns. Whatever. It is pastime number one. However, the most popular cause of derision is, way beyond anything else, "There’s Nothing to do in Sunderland".
Ok, this riles me big time. That there are business folk out there, taking huge risks, to open these fine establishments, and no fucker patronises them.
It seems obvious surely; Town is rubbish. Nowhere decent to go. Nice bars/cafes open. Problem solved right? Wrong.
The reason? Well, the people of Sunderland are a rare and admirable breed in the simple ethos, 'Don't spend what you don’t have'. While the rest of the nation max's out it's credit cards on crack cocaine and hookers, Sunderland says 'no ta! I'm stopping in'.
Sensible one might say, in these economically turbulent times every penny counts. This is a time for belt tightening, for frugality, not for mindless squandering. All fine and well you might think. ‘We can learn from their attitude’ you may chirp guiltily between stuffing mouthfuls of hire-purchase caviar into your gob.
What’s really weird about the whole thing is that saving and being thrifty, is treated like a game. One person I know, mentioning no names, is on what would be considered a mint of a wage for anyone outside London. On a Friday night, while I am no doubt spilling overdraft funded drinks over casino gaming tables, he will get out £10 and challenge himself to survive 'til Monday on it.
This baffles me, the fucking nutcase. Taking some perverse pleasure from denying yourself things is just plain creepy.
He even boasts about how much he doesn’t spend. Don't get me wrong; it's preferable to the sickly over-indulgence you see in so many cities. It makes my piss boil to see some wanker making a show of buying some pissy bottle of champagne in a gaudy city centre bar, but it kind of the same thing no? Why not find a balance. Have a little fun. It's a cliché, but hey! You only live once buddy!
To these sensible folk who 'put a bit to one side', I am a financial leper. Scorn is openly poured on me.
Hey, can anyone lend me £20 to go to the pub?
On the surface things are on the up. Since moving back here after a few years in the wilderness, the landscape is largely unchanged with the exception of a number of upmarket looking bars and restaurants. Said restaurants remain resolutely dead most of the time. Often all that can be seen inside is a bored and absent-minded waiter staring out of the window while half-heartedly polishing a glass.
Now, my question is why are the bars, restaurants and bistro's struggling to keep afloat? And why the chronic under attendance?
So, lets investigate! One of the favourite pastimes of Sunderland folk is moaning. About all sorts. The weather. The council. The bairns. Whatever. It is pastime number one. However, the most popular cause of derision is, way beyond anything else, "There’s Nothing to do in Sunderland".
Ok, this riles me big time. That there are business folk out there, taking huge risks, to open these fine establishments, and no fucker patronises them.
It seems obvious surely; Town is rubbish. Nowhere decent to go. Nice bars/cafes open. Problem solved right? Wrong.
The reason? Well, the people of Sunderland are a rare and admirable breed in the simple ethos, 'Don't spend what you don’t have'. While the rest of the nation max's out it's credit cards on crack cocaine and hookers, Sunderland says 'no ta! I'm stopping in'.
Sensible one might say, in these economically turbulent times every penny counts. This is a time for belt tightening, for frugality, not for mindless squandering. All fine and well you might think. ‘We can learn from their attitude’ you may chirp guiltily between stuffing mouthfuls of hire-purchase caviar into your gob.
What’s really weird about the whole thing is that saving and being thrifty, is treated like a game. One person I know, mentioning no names, is on what would be considered a mint of a wage for anyone outside London. On a Friday night, while I am no doubt spilling overdraft funded drinks over casino gaming tables, he will get out £10 and challenge himself to survive 'til Monday on it.
This baffles me, the fucking nutcase. Taking some perverse pleasure from denying yourself things is just plain creepy.
He even boasts about how much he doesn’t spend. Don't get me wrong; it's preferable to the sickly over-indulgence you see in so many cities. It makes my piss boil to see some wanker making a show of buying some pissy bottle of champagne in a gaudy city centre bar, but it kind of the same thing no? Why not find a balance. Have a little fun. It's a cliché, but hey! You only live once buddy!
To these sensible folk who 'put a bit to one side', I am a financial leper. Scorn is openly poured on me.
Hey, can anyone lend me £20 to go to the pub?
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