Toad is on Holiday, But Has a Plan!
Well chaps I am absolutely buggering knackered, but never fear, for the eminently lovely Mrs. Toad and myself are off on holiday tomorrow for two weeks. Thank fucking bollocks for that – the last time we had a proper break was this time last year for our wedding and even that involved a bit too much organising and signing things and so on to be entirely restful.
Will this year’s holiday be restful? Well who knows. My little brother is getting married and I have to give a speech, so by this time next week you could be talking to the man who ruined his little brother’s big day. I say this only because he lives out in Boston and is marrying n American girl. She is brilliant, so no worries there, but about a hundred and fifty of her friends and family members will be at this bloody thing, none of whom I have met before, and the chances of my giving an even vaguely coherent speech without mortally offending half of them seem slim.
Ultimately, I get the impression Americans take weddings terribly seriously, and as you know I don’t really take much of much seriously at all. Also, as my regular readers will know, I swear, rage, rail and slander. This is pretty much my entire sense of humour, apart from baiting people who take anything at all too seriously. What are my chances of giving a speech to ahundred and fifty American Christians without causing mortal offence? I would say Nil.
So fingers crossed, chaps. Wish me luck. If all goes well, Ben will still be speaking to me at this time next week, but I wouldn’t exactly put more than a fiver on it.
In terms of the blog, I have uploaded a song for each day I’m away and have written a few mini-posts in advance, timed to be posted once a day for the two weeks I’m off. I’ll pop in from time to time to say hi and play nicely with people in the comments section, and I have pre-recorded a new podcast to go up next weekend. So you won’t be entirely neglected, but I won’t be matching JC’s awe-inspiring dedication over at the Vinyl Villain and blogging away all through my holiday. Partly because I want to stay married and partly because, obsessive though I am, I am sorry to have to confess that I just don’t love you all that much. It’s my fucking holidays, cut me some slack.
Giant Sand – Wayfaring Stranger/Fly Me to the Moon
James Yorkston – Someplace Simple
Yo La Tengo – I Feel Like Going Home
The Postal Service – We Will Become Silhouettes
James – Runaground
So you’re coming to the States, are you. If you’re traveling near DC, let me know.
Terry
Join us for a beer if you fancy it mate. Maximo Park at the Paradise in Boston on Weds. We’ll be in T’s next door till about half 9. Plenty of tickets left. drop an e-mail or look for the ugly lot with Yorkshire accents;-)
That would be rather cool, Mike. I’ll see what my little brother’s up to – after the wedding when he’s off on his honeymoon might be a little less politically suicidal than before it while everyone’s still frantic of course!
Have a good one. Ah yes, speech…with four days to my own wedding I had better get on and write my own one!
i have it on good authority that americans will pretty much love whatever it is you say as long as you say it in your proper bbc accent. just substitute “bloody” for “fucking” and you’ll be ok, as i think most folks don’t understand that to be a swear word.
enjoy, relax, have fun–and don’t forget to look left when you’re crossng the street!
I agree with mjrc, unless of course they’re Irish Catholics (not at all unlikely in Boston), in which case . . . well, perhaps the less said the better.
At any rate, it sounds from your last toadcast like you’ve had your liver in training for the happy event, and so I shouldn’t worry too much. By the time the speech rolls around most of the guests will probably also be rolling around (in puddles of their own sick as like as not). As for Americans taking weddings seriously, I’ll simply mention that one of my drunken groomsmen graced the throng with a stirring rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner and very nearly got into a fistfight with the equally drunken father of the bride, who tried to strip the microphone from my groomsman’s sweaty hands so that he and his buddies could sing “Salve a ti, Nicaragua” just a little bit louder. That’s a true story, as Michael Corleone put it under similar circumstances.
In other words, Americans take weddings seriously in much the same way Canadians take hockey seriously. Enjoy.
Christ!