Monday, March 26, 2012


Just now the tulips are in bloom all around our little room and the weekend charabancs have started to wind there way around the local country lanes in search of a field in which they can lay out there flotsum and jetsum. Spring is here and the peculiar practice know as Bootfair prevails once more. "Do you Bootfair, Sir ?" "Not in the biblical sense, more of a passive induldger rather than full-on purveyer of crappy, household tosh."

Now I have recently 'shared' that Tracey Beaker (love that girl) can make me weep for no obvious reason other than being a complete wuss. But there is more (no, no stop sharing). Further moments involving unsurpressable tears have surfaced in the past few weeks much to the bemusement (and concern I would have to say) of the kids .. and me. Chuck Berry's "You Never Can Tell", Cecil Day-Lewis's "Walking Away" (don't get me thinking about that playing field again !), and, of course, the kids at the bootfairs offering me their entire collections of pokeman cards (for poke' read also, legions of three inch plastic Jedhi Knights, TY cuddly toys, Fur Real puppies etc etc etc). I honestly want to hand over the contents of my wallet on a promise that they pack thier stuff back away into their neat boxes and put them back under their beds. Kids ! Listen up ! That stuff you're flogging for 50p will cost you 100 times that much in 30 years will not be your stuff ! It will be a pale imitation of that scratched Hot Wheel car that meant so much to you 5 minutes ago.

Now I am completely colour blind but Custom Baracuda (see above) purchased in 1969 was (is) a very peculiar shade of blue (I think). When I see that unusual hue, or hear the Dunanananana Batman theme tune or hear that distant, jangly complicated opening chords to Sexy Sadie (there, got it in) I am errr.....'moved'

Thursday, March 8, 2012

The Merry Harriers - Round and Round we go

Epstein drank here - just a short drive south of his auld pile at Warbleton. Satnav crap so ended up driving in circles for an hour and made myself car sick. The half pint of Harvey's and packetnof plain cheered un up.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Chiswick House

The M25, not so much a road..more a way of life. And so it was on Friday mid-afternoon as I reflected on the proportion of the week spent eeking my way around its miserable, endless greyness. Excitement exactly null points and now well into middle age - It just ain't happenning for me Daddy-O. But rather than have a fully fledged breakdown, I weep uncontrollably at Tracey Beaker, buy Captain Beefheart CDs just coz John Lennon had a poster on his wall of 'Milk-is-Good' and career OFF the Superhighway at junction 12 as I suddenly remember I want to visit Chiswick House.

Parking up in Chiswick Mall next to the river at £2 per hour was a bit of a shocker as was walking down Pumping House Lane last visited in ~1986 when it was a wasteland; now nothing but exclusive riverside flats and houses. Was this the spot where Ringo moped about during Hard Day's Night ?

Of course the Beatles' London Book is not to hand - it never, ever is. And so I end up looking like the suspicious shoe-bomber walking up and down every path several times in the rain with a pained expression on visog as I desparetly try to recall the images in said favourite book; but every time I try to recall the pictures by the tree I can only see the images on Fabs at play near St. Pancras on MDO...

But wait..those statues look promising...

And then on to the Conservatory..but wait ! £8 quid a throw for a quick walk around ? Damnation ! There appears to be some sort of flower show going on celebrating the Camillia which probably explains why the average age of the park life was about 98. And so the rest will have to wait. Probably time to go anyway in case some of that clever software that identifies suspicious movements picks me out and I appear on some spook's screen as 'Nutter'

Journey back home - 30 miles and two hours. Ho-bloody-hum

... and I don't like Milk-Is-Good