The second scan revealed that there was definately a baby growing inside The Missus. This child is a Mini-Me for sure. How do I know? Well the sonographer squealed in delight when he made the first scan revealing that the child-to-be had done and amazing act of acrobatics and had its foot almost in its own mouth.
“Yup, that’s mine,” I thought remembering all the times I’d put my foot in my mouth, both figuratively and physically. Indeed, such is my suppleness that I can still bite my own toenails and perform the lotus position with ease.
Anyway, the baby is healthy and complete. The sight of its tiny heart beating, going like the clappers, was a marvellous sight to behold and made me realise that we all came from the same place once. It’s so amazing I’d love to buy one of those sonar units for myself to keep an eye on the little ‘un!
Here’s the pic:
Category: Diary
After a very, very long time of searching and looking and debating and finding reasons not to, the process begins. Papers have been signed, phonecalls have been made and the wheels have been put into motion. A change is as good as a rest, a wise man once said. We’ll wait and see. I wish I didn’t have to be so cryptic, but one can’t tell what’s really going on until we get to the end. This is just the first of many little pigeon-steps to get there.
Oh look, another soundscape… How fun…
Direct download: CLICK HERE
The road to hell is paved with good intentions…
This picture just made me laugh. I think it is that dark vein of politically-incorrect humour that runs through me marrow. So some wag thought it would be a laugh to send poor old Stephen Hawking up into the stratosphere in order that we could see what the world’s smartest disabled man looks like while weightless. Well now you know…
Yesterday, while opening the shed door, I noticed that I was adopted father to what seemed to be hundreds of little yellow baby spiders. Each was unique and each had a solitary black spot on its thorax. Look, here’s a picture:
Not got much to report. Just been slopping the white gloss paint around Chez Lock in an attempt pull the place out of general shabbiness. The other night I was approached to play some guitar on a track for a fellow called Matt Love. I contributed some guitar to a track of his a long time ago. He writes the most peculiar music under many different pseudonyms. I basically spurted electric guitar all over his track. Not sure if he’ll use it but he said we should to it again, so it looks like I have a collaborator of sorts. Of course, if anyone else out there in InterWebLand wants me to ruin your songs with my guitar playing, please get in touch.
Back to YouTube and here’s Kevin Ayers performing “May I?” – probably his signature song. Ayers is one of those people who fell through the cracks in the music biz. Not as iconic as Syd Barrett, nor as prevalent as his peer Robert Wyatt, Ayers remains one of the great unknowns whose style has been ripped off by others. The interesting thing about this track is the bass player, who turns out to be a very young Mike Oldfield:
In the mid 1980s, Oldfield returned the favour and used Ayers on his “Islands” album. He sings the track “Flying Start” which seems like a nice jolly tune, but the lyrics deal with losing your career to the bottle. I always thought this was a bit close to the knuckle as I am sure Ayers himself may have had some trouble with the sauce.
I was lucky to see Ayers perform as one of the opening acts for the “21st Century Schizoid Band” back in 2002 at the Queen Elizabeth Hall. It was a great thrill for me. He is still performing and you can download a free live gig from his website:
http://www.kevin-ayers.com/tibet.html
I’m not one for faux sentimentality or for making birthday wishes to strangers as I am a cold-hearted beast, but I read the following news story and thought “Good for you!”. Alec Holden has reached his 100th birthday today and I am really glad for him. Why so? Well Mr Holden put a £100 bet on his 90th birthday that he’d reach his centenary at odd of 250/1. This means he pockets £25,000 as a nice birthday present.
His secret of longevity is that he eats porridge for breakfast and “you have to remember to keep breathing”. Mr Holden said that he’s been very careful lately and on the lookout for any hooded men from William Hill (the bookmakesr who made the bet) who might be out there wishing to do him a mischief. I like his sense of humour.
Read the story here.