Day gone astray

Woke up feeling lovely and warm this morning. All the way through. That'll be the deep fried, battered, cheese filled, jalepeno peppers I ate last night.

Took two attempts to leave the house.

And, when I did? Lovely day - took the Odeon Shag Cee-dan. Two miles up the road, cough and a burp and.... died. Never to restart. Pushed it into a friend's drive, thumbed it home. Damn. Diagnosis? Dead coil. Missed my appointment at the doctors. Rescheduled for this afternoon. So I won't make it back in time to pick up the parts I need tomorrow to fix the Modified for the MOT on Thursday...

Still. Plenty of time for things to start working out better, it's only halfway through the day after all! Nothing, but nothing, is going to stop the overall lovely feeling I'm, err... feeling. Good times. And good times coming.

Feeling fuzzy

I have no idea why. Always kept my head trimmed short. If I had a zip up cardigan, I'd never be troubled by catching any chest hairs.

So why have my nose and ears decided to grow themselves there own little beards?

I blame global warming. And the rather damp summertime.

A Fete worse than?

Ah - but it wasn't. This years annual Shelfanger Fete was devoid of a number of things including the car and bike show from the past few years. No matter. Somehow, for me at least, the whole day turned out lovely.

Gave the kids more than a few coins to go off and spend on the attractions. Alice as always was drawn to the tombola. Whilst I had been elected to run the Bowling for a Pig stall. No pig these days though - it's been replaced by a whole five pound note...

Afternoon full of fun and frolics. Meeting the neighbours. Cajoling people out of fifty pence pieces for the chance to throw seven balls across bumpy grass in the vain hope of getting them through three impossibly small cutouts in a sheet of plywood. Barbeque and bar. Tea and cakes. Silly, feel good stuff.

Would have been enough for the day. Except? Well, friends down the road had tickets for an evening concert. Quarter to six - on the phone, yup, still tickets on the gate. Six o'clock, pork pie trilby on my head and in the van and heading over to Beccles carnival. Into a huge black cloud. Perfect full arch rainbow. To jump and squelch about into the muddy darkness with Bad Manners! Buster Bloodvessel's tongue flickering in the spot lights. Sweat glistening on the big man's bald head.

Saw friends I hadn't seen in years. Still won't again, for the want of exchanging details. But that doesn't matter, just good to see them all. Jump! Squealch! Again!

Misty drive home, with tired, sleepy and achy people. Head ringing. The buzz of life.

Last year, the whole village turned out for a celebration of Kate's life. Really felt like they all did it again.

Lists and spreadsheets

In an attempt to focus - in what felt like the first time ever, I started a list last summer. And inspired by a dear, don't know where she is at the moment, friend it contained both the mundane, easy to do stuff (plus the stuff I'd already sorted so I could start off with a couple of ticks!) and some more involved things like fixing the felt under the tiles and tidying the landing at the top of the stairs...

The landing is still a mess. The birds still fly in and out of the attic unhindered. Breathe in and out were on there though. Managed that all year. Time to start that list again.

More successful was my summer "help me out I have no idea who can look after the kids and where can they go whilst I'm at work" spreadsheet cum calendar.

That and my "what do they actually eat" spreadsheet where I gradually added enough new and interesting things to their suddenly vegetarian diet, to make the whole thing practically redundant.

Well - summer holidays start tomorrow. I can feel the panic rising. As are the carrots, potatoes, beans and tomatoes.

Sweet Memories

Mmmmmm.
Parma Violets. Love 'em or hate 'em, they're a sweet from the dim and distant. Me? I chose to love them.
Great thing is, unlike others things in life, - Wagon Wheels springs to mind - you can find them in Giant size.
They've grown up just like me! (That is open to debate I guess)

And while I'm on the sweet nostalgia trip that'll take me to town later, I'd best stock up a quarter or two of sweet peanuts and licorice torpedoes.

Be still my rotting fillings...

Days

One of the most pointless, tragic, deaths in the whole of the music industry, must be Kirsty MacColl's.
Kate, and me, and no doubt a whole bunch of other people, always admired her for just singing and recording whatever she fancied.

So I've decided that as she was wonderful, she must have sung the song "Days" just for me and Kate. Thanks m'dear. Hey, and that Ray Davies bloke isn't so bad for writing it...

Days - Raymond B. Davies

Thank you for the days
Those endless days, those sacred days you gave me
I’m thinking of the days
I won’t forget a single day believe me

I bless the light
I bless the light that lights on you believe me
And though you’re gone
You’re with me every single day believe me

Days I’ll remember all my life
Days when you can’t see wrong from right
You took my life
But then I knew that very soon you’d leave me
But it’s alright
Now I’m not frightened of this world believe me

I wish today could be tomorrow
The night is long
It just brings sorrow let it wait

Thank you for the days
Those endless days, those sacred days you gave me
I’m thinking of the days
I won’t forget a single day believe me

Days I’ll remember all my life
Days when you can’t see wrong from right
You took my life
But then I knew that very soon you’d leave me
But it’s alright
Now I’m not frightened of this world believe me

Days, thank you for the days
Those endless days, those sacred days you gave me
I’m thinking of the days
I won’t forget a single day believe me

I bless the light
I bless the light that lights on you believe me
And though you’re gone
You’re with me every single day believe me


And James Blunt can just clear off now for a while. Bloody singer songwriters...

So many Somethings from Somewhere

Always liked maps.
And maths.
So - obvious really. Maps, maths and music. Planned a compilation tape back in the midst of time, long drives to and from gigs with part-time Dan.
The So Many Somethings from Somewhere tape. From pop to melancholy country.

24 hours from Tulsa - Gene Pitney
6 more miles to the graveyard - Hank Williams
8 more miles to Louisville - Grandpa Jones
59 yards from your house to my house - Boo Hewerdine
Halfway to Paradise - Billy Fury
50 Ways to leave your Lover - Paul Simon
Last train to Clarkesville - The Monkees
16 Shells From A Thirty-Ought-Six - Tom Waits (not strictly maps that one..!)
30 days (to get back home) - Chuck Berry

More to follow as I remember them. It's been a while and the thought process is kinda rusty.

Stolen poem

I don't know what I need today.
So hold me close and go away.

Messages in the sky

Lazy sunny Saturday, first in a while - went to the school fete. Bought squares on treasure maps. Buns, Cups of teas. Raffle tickets. Normal money raising ventures that fund my children's "free" schooling...

Faded away in dribs and drabs, into town for a supermarket raid. Regroup down our road. Barbeque lit, salads prepared, garlic applied to bread. Water rockets! Friends together, remembering Kate along with me, no need to say a word, on this our wedding anniversary.

Kids - and all - writing messages on a paper hot air balloon. A flying lantern. One to Kate, and another to lost relatives. And favourite pets.

After a walk across the water meadows, we lit the balloons and watched as each faded away into the gathering twilight. Wonderful.

All the waifs and strays of the neighbourhood, added to mine, dragged home in the dark. House full of noisy to bed children. Elephants on the stairs, noisy exchanges of pillows.

And rest. Made it through the day.

Handy Hint No. 2

Half a bottle of cheap almost Gin consumed alone in a hot bath in the morning, is no substitute for sharing a bottle of Champagne in a jacuzzi.

No matter what the mixer. Hi-juice pineapple squash for reference purposes only.

Running on empty

Mind like a fuel tank. When it's full - nothing I can't do, nowhere I can't go. And when it's running low - drive along cautiously, coasting down the hills, trying to get up the other side without expending too much energy.

So here I am - been rushing along, paying no heed, ignoring the needle. I've run dry. Stranded. Miles from anywhere.

First wedding anniversary on Saturday. I know I have so much to be thankful for. But I just have no way of showing my gratitude to the one person I needed to thank.

Tonight's hidden ingredient was...

Came down this morning to children arguing.
Milk on the turn, poured onto stale breakfast cereal.

Rushing around tonight, after school clubs, netball, and shopping for some food less old...

In late. Threw some red onions, courgettes, carrots and peppers into a pan, chucked some rice on. And loads of secret ingredients.

Tonight we've been mostly eating: peanut butter, apple juice, white wine vinegar, and... red n' green jalepenos.

Better than stale rice crispies!

Polishing the dirt for the Wedding Belles

Promises, promises.

Neighbour's son, Sam; our man in Albania. Hush, can't say anymore. Married the delectable doctor, Leonora, over the Christmas holidays and I rashly promised to have the Odeon Shag Sedan presentable enough to run bride and groom to the church for their Blessing when they came over.

Friday night, broke into the missing key garage and set to work with an ancient can of car wax over the cracked, broken, primed and dry brushed paint. Even the mud sheened. Next day, seats covered, ribbons on, Char arranged some flowers in the rear window and...


Lovely day. Happy couple. Guests from world over, reception with a friendly village vibe. Wine and beer and barbeque and off to bed.

Also very happy.