So my PC has been giving me real gip. It no longer recognised my USB devices and my digital audio interface was acting up, so no recording was successful. I’ve reinstalled WinXP a number of times to no success, but I think I got it right last night. I can now reinstall the operating system and have all my applications back in place in under two hours. Whoopsie fricking do!
Because I’ve been reinstalling WinXP, Microsoft think I am a pirate and instead of reactivating the software, I had to call them up and speak to some Eastern European lady with a thick accent I couldn’t understand who gave me a 20-digit code to enter into the software to unlock it properly. Isn’t modern technology wonderful? The upshot is that I think (fingers crossed) that my PC is back to normal and that I might actually be able to record again soon without pops and crackles appearing on my audio like a milk float crashing into a Rice Krispie Convention.
Last night, a neighbour knocked to tell us that our car had been broken into. Luckily, it wasn’t our car but someone else’s who had parked close to our car. Confused? Anyway, The Missus did the neighbourly thing and knocked at the next neighbours to see if the car had belonged to them or their friends. It didn’t. Later, when we going out for late night walkies, the victim was there with a group inspecting the damage. We told them that Alex the Wonderdog barked up a storm at about 9pm. It looked as if nothing had been stolen and that the window had just been smashed. Perhaps, Alex the Wonderdog’s barking had disturbed the thieving scumbag. The older gentlemen who I took to be the father of the girl who owned the car explained that he lived down the road and mentioned something about “coons”. All my feelings of sympathy soon dissipated. Saying that, we actually got a Anti-BNP newspaper delivered on Saturday. I thanked the old gentlemen who was delivering them and told him to keep up the good work. The old chap looked kind of scared…I’m not surprised.
Meanwhile, my loyal reader will be heartened to know that Alex the Wonderdog has made an amazing recovery. His bruises have almost gone, his wounds healed and he is barking at every noise. Still doesn’t enjoy walking, but I’m not going to let him play the sympathy vote against. My thumb is still sore though. 🙁
All say “aaahhhh” at Darren’s sore thumb…
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Setlist
I don’t have you
We
Factory Girl
Who Cares
One Season
Anyway
Quittin’ Time
Another World
Mr Sellack
Train
Hallelujah Chorus
The Sound of a Tree Falling
Clothes Line Saga
The long lonely road to nowhere
My Sick Mind
Hammond Song
On the road to Fairfax County (with Paul!)
A prayer
Jesus Shaves
Yakkety Yak
Like a lot of my musical development, my first exposure to the sound of The Roches came via Robert Fripp’s “Exposure” album, but this was largely overshadowed by the band’s guest appearance on the cartoon show “Tiny Toon Adventures” circa 1989 when they appeared as “The Roaches”. Clever, eh? It had been a long time since the Roches had played together, let alone playing in England, so I wasn’t going to miss this concert.
As it was a Sunday and there was no Congestion Charge or parking restrictions, we decided to drive to the venue and I was mightily pleased with myself when I managed to navigate us to the road adjoining Gordon Street where the theatre is located and we were just a hop and a skip away.
We took our seats and the three ladies came on stage promptly and started with “I Don’t Have You”, a song I wasn’t familiar with as it came from Maggie & Suzzy’s new album “Why the Long Face”. After this came the almost obligatory “We” as this song serves as the band’s introduction to the audience. It was funny because all the references to how long the band had been together and performing were changed to “forever” and faces were pulled to illustrate the passage of time.
Material was played throughout the career span of the band, though there was a lot of emphasis placed on the newest album at the “Zero Church” project, which featured people’s prayers set to music. A good healthy selection of songs were performed from their debut album and these were greeted with healthy applause and recognition. I was happy because they played two of my absolute favourites “Quitting Time” and “The Hammond Song”. OK – on the latter we didn’t have Fripp’s heart-melting solo, but it was still powerful anyway and my old eyes became moist.
What I really like about this concert was the atmosphere of good humour and support from the audience. I had never experience such a feeling during my concert-going history. It was a really pleasant feeling and you felt that the audience was 100% behind the audience – though I expect this might be due to the fact that the band hadn’t played in the UK for over 15 years.
After “The Hammond Song”, some wag shouted out for “The Road to Fairfax County” and said that he’d die a happy man if he heard it. The ladies offered him up on stage to help with the lyrics has they weren’t quite prepared for this act of spontaneity. After much cajoling and insistence from the audience, Paul (the guy who asked for the song) sheepishly took to the stage and they played his song with him helping out with the words. Mind you, he needn’t have worried as the audience were doing a great job of singing along. It was a nice human touch to the evening.
They ended with the old song “Yakkity Yak” which was performed as an audience participation moment, but I felt I was the only one shouting out “Don’t come back!”. It was a really great concert and one I’ll remember for a long time and we even got to see Terre Roche’s daughter perform. She came on after the interval to perform a song she had written and it was the first time she had performed publicly. Again, despite a false start, there was much support from the evening.
My only criticism is that some of the latter material, their more “poppy” songs, were forgotten and it would have been nice to hear some of those. But if you like the Roches, you must catch them. They are playing a couple more dates in April, I believe. If you don’t like them, but like a good tune, great voices and good humour – go along anyway. It was a worthwhile 2 hours to spend in London.
Every so often a new headline comes along and makes you go: “Eh?” Here’s another entrant in our non-too-serious competition “Headline of the Year”
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/norfolk/4845210.stm
Mind boggled.
I am not sure if you are thinking: “How comes Darren isn’t recording anymore?” Probably not. My solitary reader is probably wondering when I am going to post some revealing pictures of myself in a desperate attempt to increase traffic. It’s never gonna happen, baby. But back to my initial preamble, my PC hasn’t been well. I reinstalled WinXP yet again only to discover that the same self issue presented itself with SONAR adding all manner of clicks, pops and burps to anything I tried to record. I have tweaked, prodded, pulled, smacked, whacked, thrakked and bashed the damn thing, but still the problem persists. G’ah! I feel like breaking something. I seem to be going through a phase where everything seems to be a problem. I just want to turn on, plug in and record and not have all this hassle. I’ve been thinking about dumping the PC and getting a hardware multitrack recorder, but alas, the cost is prohibitive and the computer has more going for it in terms of what you can do with your audio. Oh well, bite your lip and stop whimpering, you big girl.
Alex the Wonderdog is improving. The foul flatulence caused by the anaesthetic from his visit to the Vet has almost gone. I awoke on Friday morning thinking that I had accidentally set my bed in a Victorian sewer. The Missus was convinced that the White Trumper had made a whoopsie on the bedroom floor. Luckily, the wind is now blowing in the other direction, as it were.
More stories of woe are filtering back to me via the Lock Information Network Dispersal Agent (or L.I.N.D.A. – only The Missus will get that joke) and it seems that at least three other dogs have been attacked by the Mastiff that lives in Colebrook Lane. One Staffordshire Bull Terrier managed to get the upper hand on the larger dog and took a bite out of it, but there does seem to be a pattern emerging of dog attacks and from what I’ve heard it might be deliberate. It seems that Mr M G of Colebrook Lane isn’t a particularly well-liked chap in the area. I made another report of the incident to the RSCPA, but I doubt anything will come of it. All the authorities will say is “don’t do it again, Mr G” and the rest of us dog owners will just have to take care not to be in the wrong place at the wrong time again. Why is life like that? Answers on a postcard, please.
Tomorrow night is my first music gig of 2006. I was a bit worried about leaving Alex at home but my mum’s friend is going to dog sit with him. They get on well with each other so that’s just fine. Whodathunkit…a babysitter for a dog, eh? What’s that all about? Anyways, I’ve been looking forward to this for a while. I’ll cobble together a review for all you internet googlers looking for a quick gig fix.
A partly disturbed sleep. From about 4am, Alex the Wonderdog began crying and whimpering. Obviously the painkillers had worn off. It was a pitiful noise and not very conducive to a restful sleep. At one point, he wanted to get up on the bed with us, but I told him it would have been too painful for him to be lifted on the bed. He spent the rest of the morning groaning, sighing and crying. At the moment, he is more settled as he has had his first lot of tablets for the day.
My sources reveal that the dog that did this has attacked a number of other animals in the district. So we are not alone. I spoke to the council dog warden yesterday and he said as this was a civil matter all that they could do was send them a letter telling them to control their animal. Gee, that’s going to make a lot of difference, isn’t it? If the damn dog had bitten me, I could get it destroyed, but because Alex is regarded as “property” and not a living, breathing entity, there are no rights for him. My mother suggested contacting the RSPCA, but I doubt they’ll give me the solution I am looking for. It’s only a matter of time before that dog kills another dog or attacks a person – and the owner doesn’t give a shit. If he had got Alex by the throat he’d have been a goner. I keep running through the event in my head and I wish I could have done more damage to the other dog. I feel that I have let Alex down by my complete incapacity to get justice for him. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the other guy had shown some sympathy or actually tried to intervene, but he didn’t. As we walked Cappy the Yorkshire Terrier last night, we went to the point where it happened and the mind’s eye has a habit of re-running the footage. The Missus spoke how she saw the other owner standing on the corner just watching for a moment, not even moving forward. The more I think about it, the more I think it was deliberate and the angrier I am becoming.
But what to do? What can I do for Alex? At the moment, I can only make him comfortable and help him recover. I thought of making some posters to stick around by the poop-bins to warn other dog owners because this is the responsible thing to do, but I doubt I’ll stick it because I reckon I am going to get the crap kicked out of me again. I now have the name, address and telephone number of the owner, but what use is this when the law doesn’t protect dogs?
Thank you M G, the mastiff owner of Colebrook Lane for the unnecessary pain and suffering you have inflicted on me and my family.
We got him back from the vet. Thankfully, the injuries weren’t as bad as they first thought, but he is still badly bruised and has several puncture wounds. Luckily, no stitches were required. He’s very groggy at the moment and far, far away. Here are some snaps of his wounds for the record:
I think that’s more than enough excitement for one day, don’t you?
Alex the Wonderdog is at the vet. His screams of pain as I tried to lift him down the stairs and into the car ripped at my heart. I know he’s only an animal in some people’s eyes, but to me I guess he’s a surrogate child for the moment. The vet said the attack was ferocious and that the wounds were nasty. They were going to sedate him, clip the fur, clean the wounds properly (because there’s a high chance of infection) and give stitches where necessary. He’ll be on painkillers and antibiotics for a while. Even as he was lifted onto the examination couch, his screams upset me greatly. Pull yourself together, man.
The vet told us we had to report the animal to the council dog warden just in case it did it again and injured a child or something. The Missus duly did this and we are waiting for a call back.
My injuries are minor in comparison to Alex. My thumb smarts and I am told that I should go for a tetanus jab just in case the guy is as rabid as his dog. I refuse because I am a man and it is very manly to refuse treatment until you keel over. But seriously, I just cannot be bothered waiting at the doctors and I am more worried that Alex might have some internal injuries. He was certainly a shadow of himself this morning and again that was upsetting, especially the uncontrollable trembling as he sat under the kitchen table.
In the fracas, I lost my watch. My good old trusty Citizen Navihawk, bought in King Street in Jersey in 1995. My trusty old watch that I bought out of retirement recently was lost in the battle. Again, this is nothing compared to the thought of my dog on the operating table thanks to the complete ingnorance and ineptitude of this idiot of a man and his beast of an animal.
Why o why do these people insist of having dog’s that are:
1) Several sizes too big for them
2) They have no control over
3) They refuse to keep on a lead
4) The animal’s were bred to be anti-social
I could go on. The weird thing is that I should be feeling more angry, but I don’t. I feel kind of cold and calm inside. What is wrong with me?