You are allowed to enjoy this…

OK – they weren’t diamond hard, nor blue or from the vacinity of the Moon. It was just a song title I nabbed to make the heading sound interesting. Ahhhh, but where did the song title come from? I’ll let you guys figure that out. Anyways, the apple in tree in our garden has been a permanent feature of the house during our several years here. Like duh, Darren. Like the apple tree was going to uproot itself and wander off in night.
But you get what I mean, no? For me, that tree is a remarkable calendar for the year. When the branches are bare, it must be January and time for me to cut them back while I still can. If the leaves are budding, it must be March. When the blossom arrives it’s April and May. When the first fruits start to fall it is July and by the time August and September has arrived the garden is littered with windfall. The leaves disappear by October and the whole process starts again.
I know it sounds mawkish and sentimental but I am going to miss that apple tree. When we arrived, the apples were bitter and almost inedible. You could make a pie from them if you used lots of sugar, but that’s about it. The fruit was small and unappealing. A couple of years ago, I said that the fruit was reaching maturity and had started to sweeten. Last year, the apples were a lot better and this year you can pick them off the tree and eat them fresh. It’s taken us several years for us to benefit from the fruit and now we are leaving. I wish I could take the tree with me, but obviously I can’t. So I am collecting seeds with the intention of growning my own apple tree and planting it at the new house to possibly mark the birth of our baby.
Today, despite the rain and general misery brought on by the black and overcast skies, we agreed that a nice apple pie would raise the spirits and so we ventured into the garden and the heavily pregnant Missus gathered some fruit, while I captured the event on videotape. Inside, I peeled and cored the apples and prepared my pastry, filling the dish with pastry then fruit, sprinkling sugar and cinnamon before trapping the contents inside with a pastry hood. I decorated the top with a little pastry apple symbol, which looked more like a fat man mooning at me. All the while, the Missus was acting all Steven Speilberg and videoing me in action.
The subsequent pie was delicious and one day I might just get around to editing that video and showing you exactly how you turn apples from the tree into a tasty pie…

Don’t worry about the title, it was just another feeble attempt at driving those desperate Google wankers wild. You know the same ones that come here searching for Abbie Titmuss videos just because I mentioned her once…Awww, crap I did it again. But yeah, more people come here searching for Abbie Titmuss than searching for me, which is a bit disconcerting.
Oh well, it’s that time of year when the newspapers write a lot about A-level results and how the nation is either full of potential genuises or the system is dumbed down. Now looking around this fair isle is it obvious to me that we aren’t getting any smarter as a nation. In fact, we positively celebrate the moron – though I think that tide might be turning somewhat. Anyway, more kids get A-level grades than ever before, blah, blah, blah. In my day, back in the late 1980s, fewer kids took A-levels and went to university and I think the statistic was something like on 5% of A-level takers would score an A grade. This figure has now been turned on its head.
Well maybe these kids are smart, but back in the day we had to do 100% exam with no coursework and some of those exams were tough going. I never really tried that hard with my exams – never did. I was only ever interested in writing and so naturally English was my subject. It was the subject I wanted to own. Out of my three A-levels, I only passed my English Literature with an average “C” grade, but then I only ever put in an average performance. I was too busy shtumping The Missus and being a teenager in love to put any value on these academic acheivements. I’m still the same. When I chose my A-levels back in 1987, for some reason I wanted to do two English A-levels. I think it was because I knew that I could pass these without minimum of effort, but the heads of the college wouldn’t let me do that. It was too much English, they said.
But my crowning achievement came in 1990 when I returned back after my original disastrous exams to get another A-level just so I could get enough points to get on my degree course. I went back and took English Literature and managed to pass it in six months with a “C” grade. That was it. I got my points, my two A-levels in English and entry into Ealing College of Higher Education (you know, that’s the one where all the rock stars went). The rest, they say, is history.
With hindsight, I should have tried harder. The Missus begged me to put more work into my Biology exams and I could have passed it easily. My Geography exams were a total abortion. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t work hard. I did. In fact, I concentrated on my Geography because I loved the subject and wanted to pass it and put it before my Biology exams. Somehow there was a mistake along the way because when all six of the class sat down and read the paper, you could hear each one of us exhale in panic almost in unison. What they taught us on that course didn’t appear in any of the questions. I know it is easy to blame other people, but I really do believe we were taught the wrong syllabus or something. Afterwards and outside the exam hall, I spoke to my equally blustered and confused colleagues and we all agreed something was amiss. Safe to say, we all failed. I’m still annoyed about that because if I’d have not bothered and concentrated on my Biology exam, I could have at least scraped a “D” grade there. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But that’s life.
Exams? Age makes me realise that they aren’t worth the paper they are printed on. Nothing beats experience and enthusiasm.
Meanwhile, here’s the latest version of that Crossroads tune I posted the other day. The end isn’t finished yet:

About a month ago, I decided to blow the dust off my JVC camcorder and get it ready for the arrival of BabyLockTM. Don’t get me wrong, I am not one of those expectant Dads who ends up making a documentary from the business end, as it were. I just wanted to refamiliarise myself with the camera so I could capture some footage of the newborn. I’d had the camera for about two years and not had much use from it. The Ashbory Bass video that I made for this site was created using it, but the rest of my vids for YouTube were made using a small webcam. So you can imagine that I was royally pissed off when I discovered that the camera had developed a fault and refused to work, despite being underused and stored in a cupboard. I knew the thing was kaput and it wasn’t worth trying to get it repaired because I bought it cheap in a sale. I normally buy more expensive electronic equipment but in this instance I thought I’d grab myself a bargain. Big mistake. I won’t do that again, so said knackered camera ended up in the bin.
So I was really cheesed off with having my gear pack up on me for no good reason. I don’t mind something dying through overuse or a schoolboy error, but the camera had practically seen around an hour’s shooting action. This time The Missus insisted I buy a new camera and so I had a look around. I vowed not to buy another cheap JVC, so I plumped for a Canon HV10, which boasts High-Definition footage on standard Mini-DV tapes, which was handy as I still wanted to access my old tapes I’d made. I got a decent web price on it and it arrived last week. I’ve been messing around with it since and here’s a very short HD clip of Mr Fox appearing on the green opposite Chez Lock and disappearing. It was all over quick and I was lucky to catch him in the afternoon sunshine. The clip was also taken through a glass window at a considerable distance so don’t expect the footage to be so HD sharp it will cut your eyeballs.

On Friday, I travelled a great distance to spend over two hours at a bank, signing my life away and laying the final foundation for the future. On Saturday, we drove past our possible new home and future and did another reccy of the area. To the north there are forests similar to our old neighbourhood Epping Forest and we viddied the local houses and residents going about their weekend.
The last time I had been here was in February and since then doubts naturally entered my heart correlating to the passage of time and the process of engaging estate agents, selling properties, engaging solicitors and trying to find the best bank to represent me and my future endeavours. Naturally, doubt does creep in. But seeing the village again allayed my fears. This was the best of the bunch and after over three years of planning, the next phase of my life appears to be happening to plan. Again, I’d love to spill the beans but I am scared I’ll jinx it before completion day. We still need to sell ours and contracts are pending, awaiting searches to be done and contacts to be finalised. It is a tense time.
Thanks to the magic of the InterWebSuperHighway, I can show you where I am hopefully going from and going to via some clever aerial photography…

Here we are…

There we go… (fingers continually crossed)
Meanwhile, it is less than seven weeks until fruit-of-my-lions, blood-of-my-blood, flesh-of-my-flesh hopefully arrives into our world. Recently, I had a dream featuring my late grandfather who ominously warned me not to count my chickens and make too many plans where BabyLockTM is concerned. It was kind of sobering as my grandfather was a man of few words and when he spoke, you listened. But baby continues to wriggle and thrash around inside mum’s belly and has a strict pattern. S/he takes after her/his old man and wakes up in the afternoon and becomes livlier in the evenings. I have noticed that BabyLockTM is quite a Genesis fan as it reacted well to both the band’s performance at Live Earth and the recent Dusseldorf concert DVD that my uncle Don Load gave me. Mind you, I haven’t tried any King Crimson yet. Forget whether it is a boy or a girl, I am hoping for a drummer, probably much to the consternation of the spirit of my grandfather who is probably shaking his head at me, hoping that I’ve not got my hopes up too high.

This is a little backing track I came up with last night. Again, it is just a framework for something. It could be a proper song or I could go and ruin the vibe by attempting to solo all over it. Decisions, decisions, eh?