But everybody wants to be the one just climbing out...

I defy you to listen to this and not love it...

I've been working on a cocktail called Grounds for...Demolition?

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I've mentioned before how much I love listening to Danny Baker on the radio. Imagine my delight when, a few months back, I discovered he was back on Radio 5 Live of a Saturday morning with a typical blend of quizzes, phone-ins, random guests and the occasional mention of football.

One of the current features (all of which are eligible for comment by listeners, regardless of how long they've been running or indeed any other new features which may have been introduced that day) is the saving of football grounds from Danny's Totalitarian State Wrecking Ball. Mr. Baker's theory is that we have too many football grounds in the UK and that 20 would, as the road safety folk say, be plenty.

The upshot of this is that listeners can call in and try to save the ground of their choice - when 20 are saved, the rest cease to exist! Many grounds have fallen already, some big names like Anfield and Goodison are no more whilst some of the "wee teams" from North of the Border (Brechin's Glebe Park, Alloa's Recreation Ground) have staved off extinction through the cleverness of their supporters. Intriguingly, any purely football related suggestions (cup finals being played there, Pele or George Best once graced the turf, etc, etc) are liable to immediate anhilation due to lack of colour! Eccentricity triumphs in Danny's Brave New World.

So it was that after many weeks of searching the web to ensure that my memory hadn't failed me, I was able to call in to save Partick Thistle's Firhill Stadium. Eccentric? You bet.

Why should we save it then? asked Danny. Let me tell you...

Some years ago, we had a brilliant management team of the great John Lambie and his assistant Gerry Collins. Many, many colourful tales emerged from the John and Gerry era - a concussed striker led Gerry to tell the boss "Gaffer, he doesnae know who he is!" "Well tell him he's Pele and get him back on the park!" - some possibly (!) apocryphal but the one I thought I remembered definitely happened. Here's the Sunday Herald's version of events:

Banned from the touchline, Collins appeared at a subsequent match standing, complete with hard hat, in the building site that was to become the Jackie Husband stand. His voluble contributions and throwing the hard hat into the air when Thistle scored attracted the attention of the referee. Collins produced his letter from the SFA and argued that the ban did not extend to the terracing. He had eventually to succumb to the rule of law but had shown his mettle.

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Not only did Gerry attract the attention of the ref, he was also spotted by the crowd. I don't think we helped his bid for anonymity by chanting his name!

This seemed to please Danny and his team and I was fairly certain it was job done but I was thrown a bit of a curveball. Mein Host asked me for a "generic" reason to save Firhill, what feature does it have that would make other supporters say "at least that still survives at Partick Thistle"?

Who'd have thought that dangerous, condemnable wooden seating in a 100year old main stand would ever come in so handy? Phew. Call off them wreckers!

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...but the fire is so delightful...

Wow and indeed wee. Nevis Range looking fairly spectacular in an Alpine stylee from the Farm Shop at Torlundy.

Road chaos appears to have hit the country though meaning that although there's any amounts of snow over the other side of the country at Glenshee the road is, as ever, closed rendering it impossible to reach the slopes. Don't you just love this country?

You said "Be there or be square"

The marvellous Idlewild play a cheeky wee acoustic version of City Hall from their excellent new album, Post Electric Blues. Just thought I'd share...

The Fly - Idlewild 'City Hall' FlyTV In The Courtyard on MUZU.

Quick edit: I left the video playing and a brilliant version of Little Discourage came on afterwards. Well worth watching...

I swear I saw this...

Sidewalk Instructions

Spotted on a lower East Side (I think) sidewalk on a recent visit to NYC. A sense of humour is always a good thing, no matter where one finds oneself. I'm not sure how funny I'd find it, however, if I was a sufferer of the following complaint, bearing in mind this is merely the subway station version of the ad - on the way into Manhattan from JFK we saw this ad blown up to building size! Them's some big ol' piles...

...or are you just pleased to see me?

A recent trip to NYC showed just how all those travel writers come across their seemingly implausible tales of encounters with 'colourful' locals which add that oft needed human interest element to the traveller's tale...

A shopping excursion - a must in the Big Apple - took me to the Empire State Building in search of a modelling kit of the eponymous Manhattan landmark. In these security conscious times, no chances were being taken and entry to the skyscraper's gift shop could only be gained after passing through an airport-style security check, complete with walk-through scanner and baggage x-ray.

With nothing to hide I removed my coat and put it in the tray for scanning. Cue 'colourful encounter'

Security Lady: excuse me sir but do you have like a package in your jacket?
Me: There's a guidebook in one pocket...
SL: (not bothering to check the vefacity of my claim)Oh, okay. What about the other pocket? A brick or something?
Me: Er, my glasses case is there, it's quite bulky.
SL: (still not checking) Oh, okay, no problem. On you go.
Security Man: (classic 'Noo Yoik' accent) A brick? A f###in' brick? You kiddin' me?
SL: Well you never know what people are collecting these days...

Ach just stick it through as two slices of toast...

Okay okay. Our own fault I know for going to Asda in Clydebank but come on..."we never usually sell any cereal" hence they didn't know where to find milk for it. Or how to put it through the till.

The pack is still well within date too, which mean that they obviously have thrown out all the other packs they've had in the cafe which has been open for over a decade now.

Full-on fry up instead, anyone?

More of life's good, free things

Apples from the in laws tree in deepest Lincolnshire.

This is just a few minutes haul. Loads of windfall in too bad a state to eat and yet more still on the tree.

I'm thinking crumble, tarte tatin, chutneys...or maybe we'll just eat the lovely things.

The best things in life are free...

Ahh. A trip to the library - surely the greatest of the free public services alongside the NHS? - and a walk back along the riverside where myself and the youngest one collected an array of conkers, acorns, beech-nuts and red-berry type things (rowan and A.N. Other).

A perfect autumnal Saturday.

Signs o' the times...

I Twittered (Tweeted? Twatted?) about this earlier but I just had to put it here too. Signs, with their often poor spelling and grocer's apostrophes are a source of endless fascination for me (as indeed they clearly are to this Flickr group) and it was with no small sense of joy that I spotted these chaps in Raigmore Hospital in Inverness.

The first begged the question: are we not all, in our own way, "International People"? The second, and here it may just be my warped sense of humour, struck me as just a tad sick...

Puff-in, and out again

Breathe. Rare moment of peace and tranquility here. Glorious summer afternoon at Gallanach, south of Oban as we sit sipping vending machine coffee outside the dive centre whilst partaking of their wi fi. Should we be partaking? I know not. My phone auto connected and I've just gone with the flow.

The munchkins seem content to scoot up and down and old ship's gangway chasing each other with spades and dandelions.

Not too sure I'd fancy the diving myself. A bit too tight on the attire front methinks. Much better to sit in the sun with a hot beverage, even if it is of the sub standard variety.

Oh dear, I fear it may be too late...

The First Aid advertised may be too little too late to save the latest victim of the dreaded bends at the Puffin Dive Centre near Oban.

Why has it not been designed with FUN in mind?

Mr White (suit)

Just purchased these fill-ums (that's how you're allowed to pronounce it when you're from Glasgow) from Borders for a bargain basement 4.99. In actual fact I've just got to the till and there's another quid off Reservoir Dogs.

Now, I'm not suggesting there's any link between these films. I bought the Alec Guinness 'classic' (I put the punctuation in because it says classic on the box but I've not seen it yet so I feel underqualified to comment) purely on a whim.

I've heard of The Man In The White Suit of course and, as much as he always protested that hehated the film and being associated with it, I've always had great affection for Mr. Guinness since he played Obi Wan Kenobi in the original - and best - Star Wars fill-um, but (I was talking about a link) what struck me as I sat looking at the cases over a rubbish, lukewarm, overpriced latte in the in-store Starbucks was that the covers are almost photo negatives of each other.

I didn't say it was an interesting thought. What might be interesting though would be to see gangsters carrying out heists and honour killings whilst wearing white suits. That would just seem all wrong wouldn't it? Less Martin Scorcese, more Marty Hopkirk.

Bella Bella

Could any other newspaper do a graphic so well? Would they even try? I think that's just lovely, and very clever...

Looking forward immensely to collecting the Guardian and Observer's learn Italian series this weekend.

I've been gathering up the Spanish set this week but haven't made a start yet. I'm sure it's subconsciously due to the fact that I identify more with the Italians, in so much as I love coffee, pizza and Vespas...

Like John Gordon Sinclair in Gregory's Girl, "I've always wanted to learn..."

Ciao.

Get in there!

Success on the Guardian's Quick Crossword today. Six minutes too. 'Imperil' is my favourite of today's words.

Coffee chain capu-tulates...

Ouch. That was bad. So, it seems that in spite of yesterday's news on the benefits of an espresso or two, coffee can't make businesses forget the global economic downturn.

In the self-same newspaper which announced the "arabica annhilates Alzheimer's" story, we have the news that Coffee Republic has hit the skids.

The Independent's David Prosser likens the reluctance of consumers to wean themselves away from the daily mocha to being similar to the way in which, no matter the economic conditions, lipstick always keeps up its sales. Hardly a great analogy methinks, lipstick not generally being bought by more than 50% of the population. Though I appreciate the point he was making.

Particularly interesting for me was the fact that, having obviously mssed this story in yesterday's Guardian, I was alerted to it by the biting satire of The Daily Mash,

'Julian Cook, a 32 yea old ba***rd from Camden said

"I'll soon be forced to sit on a park bench with a flask of Maxwell House

and angle my laptop in just the right way so that people can see

what I'm doing."

Are they seriously suggesting people could get precious about coffee? Who would do such a thing...

"This area is protected by Cig-Arret"

Clever. Very clever. But wrong. There's no 'anti smoke' alarm here or if there is it doesn't work.

Smoking? Outside a hospital? As the Americans might say if they were in a teen movie or Beverly Hills 90210,'ee-yew' It's really not on.

I once worked at hospital radio in Edinburgh and we'd go on ward visits where we'd find groups of puffing patients in their dressing gowns huddled in smoke-wreathed clusters at the entrance to the building housing the - and I'm sure you're ahead of me here - cancer wards. I shall say no more.

I'd forgotten how good it tastes...

Good news for latte lovers, cappuccino cravers and mocha maniacs in today's Guardian.

Apparently a shot of arabica and a daily dash of robusta can do wonders in halting the symptoms of Alzheimer's. There was more to it than that but I've only had tea so far today and I can't quite recall the details...*

*Yes, I know that's a bit sick but one can't allow such obvious gags to be passed up. I take comfort in what was one of the late great Rikki Fulton's finest routines on the self same subject. The great man later passed away suffering with that terrible illness and many of those who knew him said at the time that he'd have appreciated the irony.

Call it synchronicity, call it deja vu*

This, I think, is lovely. The joys of Freecycle. Posters number 1 and 3 really need to get together...

*'Incommunicado' - Marillion

Why last.fm could replace your friends...

As something of a musical purist, nay occassional ranter I've been something of a latecomer to the digital music revolution. I still love the crackle of vinyl and the look and feel of a proper bit of packaging...

My current phone was purchased with the express intention of being used for in car entertainment to save lugging dozens of CDs around - though in practice this hasn't quite worked as all of the Megane's many nooks and crannies are crammed with everything from Phil Campbell to The Very Best of Northern Soul via Kate Nash and The Who. I digress. The point is that I've kind of accepted that music's available digitally and I'm trying to use that to my advantage by compressing it on the phone's software and using it to carry thousands of tracks about with me so that if I feel, as I did recently, like listening to Wreckless Eric's ode to funerals then I can, literally at the press of a button. Or touch screen.


My own personal digital revolution has even seen me embracing Spotify. About which Roddy Woomble has written in typical articulate and erudite fashion, here. As yet I've not embraced Spotify's radio function, though I may well do so. What I have done as a result of Tuesday's post about Sam Cooke is to sign up for last.fm. This may well prove to be a huge mistake.


My friend Kevin - I've had to interrupt myself, as if to prove the point I'm coming to The River Detectives have just popped up with a brilliant song I'd never heard before - tried, unsuccessfully, to point me in the direction of last.fm a good while back now but I must confess that I couldn't really see the point. I mean, what kind of word is "scrobbling" anyway? However, when I searched for the aforementioned Mr. Cooke's "Another Saturday Night" and played it three or four times in a row, I could't help but enter a few details - isn't it incredible how easy it can be to sign your life away online? - and get myself an account. Before I knew it I'd entered the names of a few artists I rather like just off the top of my head and in no particular order at the prompting of the last.fm registration software.

For no reason other than I'd either been listening to them lately or that they popped into my mind, I typed: The Rolling Stones, Kevin McDermott, Otis Redding, Paolo Nutini, Idlewild, King Creosote, Sam Cooke, Kings of Leon and The Black Keys. I don't know that it's particularly eclectic - it's certainly very male focused and leans heavily towards a folk/blues songwriting ethic, but there you have it.

What, you may well ask, has all this to do with last.fm replacing one's friends? Well I'll tell you...word of mouth, for so many things, is always a winner. Restaurant recommendations, plumbers, holiday destinations, films and, of course, music. When I switched secondary schools I brought with me some under-developed musical appreciation genes: Johnny Cash, Alice Cooper and Guns N Roses being about the limit of it. Though it could be argued that you don't really need much more that The Man In Black to keep you right.

Anyway, mention of Alice and GNR (somehow even back then I knew that the world wasn't ready for me to unleash my penchant for Mr Cash on them, though given his posthumous resurgence it's clear I was ahead of the game...) led classmates to point me in the direction of The Almighty and Love/Hate - excellent hard rock acts in a similar vein to my own already trumpeted choices but who, it's arguable, I might never have come across. One particularly left-field classmate (thanks Scott) insisted I should be listening to The Charlatans, The Stone Roses, Primal Scream and The Happy Mondays. So I did. And he was right. To this day I'd be far more likely to stick on I Am The Resurrection than Welcome To The Jungle.

This system of recommendation based (very much as Amazon does now) on "well you liked that so I reckon you'll like this..." continued in the car on the way to five a side football on a Saturday morning with my next door neighbour. Gerry (for it was he) would always have a new mix-tape ready for the trip from Kelvindale to Whitehill. Allowing for the inevitable backlog of traffic on Great Western Road on the return journey, this would give us around 80-90 minutes of listening time. Ideal for a TDK-extravaganza!

Image by Erica_Marshall via Flickr

I never asked Gerry if he made a conscious effort to include the four passengers' tastes in the compiling of his tapes (I'm sure he didn't, there was always a Prince track on there - I can't be doing with him, Gerry was a huge fan of the diminutive purple one) but perhaps there was just some kind of meeting of musical minds. Around this time I was listening to The Kevin McDermott Orchestra and Del Amitri on heavy rotation - very parochial of me I know - and as well as the odd KMO and Dels track on the Saturday Fives Tapes (as I have just christened them) there would inevitably be at least a dozen people I'd either never heard of or never bothered with: The Four of Us, The Pale, House of Pain, The Trash Can Sinatras, Aztec Camera, The Jesus and Mary Chain; or people that I'd forgotten I liked or had dismissed after a brief listen: The Pixies and Superchunk (forgotten), Teenage Fanclub (criminally dismissed after dubious recording of a Peel Session given to me by John Wood - sorry Fannies, I love you now if that helps...)

Image by Phil Gyford via Flickr

As well as putting a strain on the finances (I needed a lot of C-90s to bootleg Gerry's albums and EPs..."rip" what kind of a word is that for copying, sorry, "sharing" music?) the tapes stimulated discussion and provided a topic of conversation amongst the rest of the players when we got there - music fanatics to a man. I can still recall Karl's tirade against Blur's Parklife single as a poor man's Lazy Sunday as he danced around the dressing room chanting "rooty-dooty-doo-rooty-dooty-dido." And do you know what, he was right.

I'm not saying that without friends' recommendations I'd never have come across certain acts but it's easy to dismiss something after one radio hearing, it's a different matter entirely when someone you know and whose opinion you respect thrusts a cassette into your hands and entreats you to listen to it with the phrase, "honestly, you'll love it..." it's hard to resist. I can think, from tapes given to me by my good friend Stef alone, of bands from Compulsion to The Bluetones and Therapy? that, as someone who'd stopped buying the NME and didn't listen to Radio1, I might never have encountered. Now I'd quite gladly cite the Bluetones as one of my favourite bands. Yes I know I didn't include them on my last.fm list.

It's not, of course, guaranteed that you'll like something a friend has recommended but this in itself presents an excuse to either (a) chat a bit more about music to explain your reasons, (b) get a pint in as you sit down to hear them explain why you really will like it if you give it another listen or (c) make a tape for them with something you think is even better (honestly, the Vaselines beat Nirvana every time, no question); three excellent things to do at any rate.

Perhaps that's why last.fm could but ultimately won't replace your friends. Sure, you can argue your point and champion your favourites virtually via emails and, as last.fm rather naffly calls them "shouts", you can debate and engage in badinage and all manner of repartee, you could even make up virtual playlists and suggest things people in the last.fm community might like. But you can't mix them up a Maxell, thrust it into their grubby mitts, order a Guinness and sit them down and say, "this lot, really, I know I've said it before, but this lot really are amazing..."

Image by Sara in Montréal via Flickr

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Inappropriate use of a 'cell'phone?

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There are times when stupidity raises itself to whole new levels. This man is clearly going to be a candidate for this year's Darwin Awards.

Prisoner updates Facebook from jail. Yes. You read that correctly.

The fastest hackers in all Mexico!

An amusing and simultaneously bewildering text from my sister this morning, "your blog has weird pictures of Mexican people on it instead of helicopters...just so you know."

She was right you know. I've edited it now, but this post from the other day had had its Rockyou slideshow "hijacked" (dare I say it by bandidos?) and had morphed into a set of Mexican teenagers on a night out. Now there's nothing wrong with Mexico, teenagers or indeed nights out. I've always quite fancied a trip to Mexico in fact but rest assured that if and when I do manage a vist, I'm perfectly capable of taking my own photos thank you very much!

Here's one of the offending mugshots...Holy moley!

Is it a bird?

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We have lift off...see if you can spot the slightly 'worried' brown horse in the background. liftoff video uploaded from my mobile phone
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The Wedgwood Helipad

The Twitter-app has been red-hot this afternoon since the lady of the house took a phone call from a prospective diner. "Is there anywhere I can land?" Yes, of course, plenty of good moorings out by... "No, you don't understand. I'm coming in a helicopter" Oh. "Tell you what - if you put a dinner plate down somewhere convenient I'll land there...without breaking it of course." Of course. This sort of thing always happens.

I've got soul but I'm not a soldier...

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I Twittered this morning about accidentally tuning in to Terry Wogan on Radio 2 at breakfast time, the dial having stayed where it was since last night's Radcliffe and Maconie show.

Wogan's show and its listeners are all over the web so there's little point in me commenting here, other than to say that the music was fairly awful. The Lighthouse Family for goodness sakes. El Tel did, however, redeem himself - or rather the Radio 2 playlist team did, with a blast of Sam Cooke and "Another Saturday Night". Awesome - what a voice.

This brilliance, however, presented me with a bit of a problem. I was overcome with the sudden urge to strangle both Mark Lamarr and Stuart Maconie. Don't get me wrong - I think they're both great and they'd certainly both be on the list of people you'd want to be making you a compilation tape but, and here's the thing, they've both stolen my job!

How wonderful must it be to be able to write, talk about and play such fantastic music on national radio? The public-glare equivalent of showing off your record collection to your pals. As a former hospital radio presenter, working in radio is still my dream job and to have the chance to play classic soul, R&B, Northern and Southern soul like Stuart and Mark (Lamarr) would just be incredible.

Writing about it, though, I can do. So I will. A thought or two occurred listening to Sam today. He'd been sneaking about in my subconscious anyway since he came up in Rod Stewart's "Did I Say That?" column in the Observer at the weekend. Cooke is Rod's hero and indeed the tartan clad one (that'll be Rod then) does a fantastic version of "Twistin' the night away" on his "Never a dull moment" album.

Cooke, for me, is a genius - his voice is so pure and 'clean' if that makes any sense. A very un-Stax sound, no rough edges in the way that say Otis Redding or Chris Farlowe have. This no doubt endears him to some and puts others off, in the same way that Farlowe and Redding and Sam n' Dave's "rougher" sound might affect others. I can happily listen to either style, and often do.

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I mentioned Sam not being very Stax because, even with my limited knowledge, I reckoned that he just sounds, vocally, a bit clean cut for the legendary Memphis label. I thought I'd better check whether he'd ever laid down any tracks at the home of Booker T and co. He didn't. I was going to say more's the pity but it matters not - he's left behind a staggering body of work which will outlast virtually anything "gracing" the charts today.

Billy Connolly once said, "Never trust a man who, when left alone in a room with a tea cosy doesn't try it on." Something similar could be applied, I reckon, to those whose toes don't at the very least tap along to "Wonderful World."

(This post was made with the help of Zemanta.com)

The great train robbery?

A recent spate of stories in the various news outlets around the issue of people unable to buy train tickets online being disadvantaged was brought rudely home to me the other day.

In a few weeks time (see, it always pays to be able to make arrangements in advance) I need to travel from Glasgow to Inverness. Being incapacitated following knee surgery, driving's out of the question. The bus, too, is out - they're a wee bit cramped for my liking and you can't get up and have a wander about to stretch your legs. The train seemed the sensible option so I visited the First Scotrail website to see what was on offer.

Just as well I did. Booking a little over four weeks in advance, a single ticket could be had for just £10. Turning up on the day to buy a ticket for the same journey at the same time would cost me £47.50! That seems pretty disgraceful. Why should those without internet access be at such a disadvantage? Perhaps more worrying was the fact that £47.50 wasn't even the dearest ticket available in "standard class". Needless to say I quickly selected the tenner trip before someone at Rail HQ spotted it and decided to withdraw the very generous offer.

It reminds me a little of the old road safety seatbelt campaign: Mouse Click every trip!

A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men...

I've just found this photo on my phone which I took at the Glasgow Science Centre...

I don't really need to add anything, do I?

The pub is the hub...

A really nice piece by the always thought-provoking Stuart Maconie in The Guardian's Rural Pub Guide about the demise of the village pub got me thinking, as I suppose any good thought provoker should.

A good pub, like a comfortable armchair, is something to be savoured and enjoyed. Like an armchair one should be able to feel comfortable there and enjoy a drink, perhaps a quiet read and certainly some convivial conversation.

Looking back at some of my postings from various blogs, pubs crop up quite a bit. Not that I've got a problem or anything.

Mr. Maconie has some, if you like, quality indicators for a good public house and his list got me wondering what I reckon the key elements of a good pub are.

For sure Guinness on tap is up there. Not extra cold of course. That would just be silly. A real fire? You bet - a must, even in the summer. A good jukebox? Hmm. Not sure but certainly live music would be a winner - even if it's not always one's first choice of genre being played, any live music is always welcome.

Pub grub? A tricky one this. Gastropubs are becoming more and more common but do people visit them for the food alone and does that impact on the general "pubbiness" of the place? For me, reasonably priced "staples" - fish and chips (ahh, the mighty pub chip!), steak pie, a home made burger - done well are worth any number of butterflied medallions of veal with celeriac compote.

A pool table? Provided it's out of the way and the cues don't knock over the drinkers' pints then I'm all for it. Issues tend only to arise when there's some dispute over local rules - do two shots carry ? (no, they shouldn't...anyone with any idea of how to hold a cue can't really fail to clear up when awarded two shots) Does the winner stay on? Not ideal if you've turned up with some family or friends and some folks are already on...

Friendliness of staff? A must. Absolutely. There's no pleasure to be had in supping a pint of Thelwell's Festering Bunion under the withering glower of a mardy landlord. Jeezo. Make an effort folks.

Having said all this, where I live right now there's no pub so I guess there are evenings when, heaven forfend, I'd even settle for a Blue WKD and a Bacardi Breezer in a chrome and pine Witherspoon's. Or maybe not. As Stuart said, "...the pub, the sound of distant laughter and the smell of charcoal from a beer garden is balm for mind and body, and a reminder that one cannot survive on smoothies and paninis alone."

Some of my pub related postings...

McCarthy's Bar - December 2008

Tigh TP's Pub - Dingle 2007

Balconie Inn & Tartan Heart - 2005

Well I never...

I've just finished reading some of a Tintin story, Cigars Of The Pharaoh, to my wee boy.

I've never read any of the stories before and I'm not sure why. The wee man can't rightly say why he chose it in the bookshop either, but I'm glad he did.

First published in 1955 some of it seems hopelessly outdated now, such as the terribly un-PC illustration here but a good story's a good story and it fairly zips along in the best traditions of the comic strip.

The bowler hatted Thomson Twins are iconic as is little Snowy the dog and there's almost a Marx Brothers quality to the setting and some of the slapstick setpieces. I can't wait to read on and what a joy to discover there are another 23 stories waiting for us...

Four brown bottles

The first bottling of the elderflower cordial.

Next up, and eagerly anticipated I might add, elderflower 'champagne'!

Singletrackbusroadscamperirelandtypething

When your domain name provider (in my case 1&1) sends you an email asking if you want another .co.uk domain name for £2.99 for two years then what would you do?

If, like me, you were recovering from major knee surgery and had little else to occupy your time other than some light physiotherapy exercises, reading books and fiddling around on the internet you’d probably do what I did and sign up for www.singletrackroads.co.uk

What you’d then do, if you were me, would be to head over to blogger.com and register singletrackbus.blogspot.com and link it to your three blogs (Journeys in The Banana Bus, Single Track Roads and Round Ireland In A Wedge) so that they could all be accessed from the one “web portal” (seamlessly slipped into techy-jargon there…)

You might, then, if you were me, go back to 1&1 and point your domain names at this new portal. But only if you were me.

Cordial relations

A fine, splendid and very Enid Blyton-esque thing to be doing. The lady of the house has been out with the two munchkins gathering elder flowers with which to make the eponymous cordial.

Twenty flower heads, best picked on a warm sunny day apparently, three pounds of sugar and two pints of cold water plus two unwaxed lemons.

Heat through in a large pan and leave overnight for the sweet nectar to work its bucolic magic.

I await tomorrow's unveiling and straining through a dishcloth with almost uncontained excitement.

They're only words, and words are all I have...

I'm currently reading The Northern Clemency by Philip Hensher, which is shaping up to be very good indeed. Hey, don't take my word for it, it was shortlisted for the 2008 Man Booker Prize'.

In the interests of not being an ignorant git I thought I'd better look up the word clemency to see why it might have been used in the title as I'd only previously heard it used in connection with 'appeals for clemency' which I'd always taken to mean people were looking for some sort of 'leniency.'

As I flicked through my dictionary I came across two superb words en route.

'Dandy brush,' which is a stiff brush used for horses was the first and I'm not entirely sure how I might crowbar that into polite conversation. The second was the magnificently archaic sounding 'clerihew' - a short witty verse in 4 lines of unequal length, rhyming in couplets and referring to a famous person.

How fantastic. What a great word. How could one not be inspired? In the spirit of the big news story of the day (Cristiano Ronaldo's 80million Euro move to Real Madrid, criticised by two men who seldom appear in the same news story, Michel Platini of FIFA and ex Smiths guitarist Johnny Marr).

Here goes, 'Filthy Lucre-ative'

Cristiano's moved for eighty million,
Last seen carrying Red Devil passengers riding pillion;
It's "excessive" says Mister Platin[sic]
Et Monsieur Marr dit simplement "obscene".

Oh, it meant 'mildness' by the way.

Post-man electric blues...

Ah. Patience is indeed a virtue.

After some months of waiting my internet only pre-order copy of the new Idlewild album, Post Electric Blues, arrived today.

Unlike many online retailers, the band have been very good about keeping in touch to let fans know of order progress. It seems that, from Idlewild's perspective, the whole process has been beset by difficulties, indeed there's a wee note to that effect in the envelope.

I have to admit to not paying a great deal of attention at the point of sign up. I was just excited to see a new album which came with fifteen free live downloads for those ordering (15 from a selection from their King Tut's residency in December last year), a bonus cd track AND my name in the list of credits on the album artwork! However, I have managed to gather that it is the internet pre-ordering which has effectively paid for the recording and the band have politely requested that owners of the album respect the ideals behind the project and don't pass it on for free.

Fine by me. Really looking forward to hearing which (apologies in advance for this) 'direction' the band have taken in light of Roddy Woomble's folky forays of the last few years.

As they say, watch this space.

Crafts on Crutches...

Hobbling about in the sunshine in the garden. Picture one plus picture two plus super glue equals picture three.