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I seemed to spend half of 1996 trapped in an underground train at Liverpool's Lime Street Station, while the police checked out some suspicious object or other. The IRA had decided to start blowing stuff up again, which was nice of them, and this seemed to lead to just about everything being labelled a possible bomb. Not that I blame the authorities for being overly cautious, but it does begin to get boring after a while! Especially when it's an underground station, and there's sod all to look at while you wait.
The rest of that year was spent online (I say "the rest", presumably I did some work at some point). By now the Net was growing and changing so fast that you'd practically notice the difference over a weekend. Probably inevitably, although most of us didn't have anything much faster than a 28.8K dial-up modem, already the video sharing had started. This meant tiny little videos, barely bigger than an LJ icon, and rarely more than a minute long. Mostly, from what I saw, they were Methos soundbites from Highlander, or clips from Late Night With Conan O'Brien; usually Max Weinberg doing something brilliantly ridiculous, or reading one of his fake public service announcements. Happy days. :)
Otherwise it was a year of highs and lows. Take That split, which was a high. The Spice Girls appeared, which was a low. Doctor Who returned for a one off special, with a truly terrific Doctor, and a truly dreadful script. Well, that's being a bit unfair I suppose. Only half dreadful; the bit with the shoes is genius. A sad time for Who fans otherwise though, as Jon Pertwee died shortly before the film aired. Also bowing out this year was TW3 and I'm Sorry, I Haven't A Clue star Willie Rushton. There's been a Rushton-shaped hole in that show ever since. In American Tellyland, it was also the year that Greg Morris died. He played the great Barney Collier, easily the best thing about Mission: Impossible.
Elsewhere of course, this was the year of Dunblane. Not the best thing to remember a year by. On a distinctly happier note, it was also the year when Jarvis Cocker, slightly the worst for alcohol, gatecrashed Michael Jackson's performance at the BRITs, on the grounds that Jacko was being a tit. In all fairness, he was. I was listening on the radio, and it got a lovely running commentary! Annoyingly though, it was another good year for music, and I have a "short" list of about a hundred songs that I obviously can't fit all of under the cut. It doesn't matter how many times I stare at the list - it refuses to get any shorter!
( Some time later... )
The rest of that year was spent online (I say "the rest", presumably I did some work at some point). By now the Net was growing and changing so fast that you'd practically notice the difference over a weekend. Probably inevitably, although most of us didn't have anything much faster than a 28.8K dial-up modem, already the video sharing had started. This meant tiny little videos, barely bigger than an LJ icon, and rarely more than a minute long. Mostly, from what I saw, they were Methos soundbites from Highlander, or clips from Late Night With Conan O'Brien; usually Max Weinberg doing something brilliantly ridiculous, or reading one of his fake public service announcements. Happy days. :)
Otherwise it was a year of highs and lows. Take That split, which was a high. The Spice Girls appeared, which was a low. Doctor Who returned for a one off special, with a truly terrific Doctor, and a truly dreadful script. Well, that's being a bit unfair I suppose. Only half dreadful; the bit with the shoes is genius. A sad time for Who fans otherwise though, as Jon Pertwee died shortly before the film aired. Also bowing out this year was TW3 and I'm Sorry, I Haven't A Clue star Willie Rushton. There's been a Rushton-shaped hole in that show ever since. In American Tellyland, it was also the year that Greg Morris died. He played the great Barney Collier, easily the best thing about Mission: Impossible.
Elsewhere of course, this was the year of Dunblane. Not the best thing to remember a year by. On a distinctly happier note, it was also the year when Jarvis Cocker, slightly the worst for alcohol, gatecrashed Michael Jackson's performance at the BRITs, on the grounds that Jacko was being a tit. In all fairness, he was. I was listening on the radio, and it got a lovely running commentary! Annoyingly though, it was another good year for music, and I have a "short" list of about a hundred songs that I obviously can't fit all of under the cut. It doesn't matter how many times I stare at the list - it refuses to get any shorter!
( Some time later... )
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