Errrrrrrrrrgh! Not that. Pervert.
This.
I am listening to the drunk, spoken word/beat poet stylings of Mr Tom Waits whilst staring out my window. It is an impossibly yellow hue on a sunny January day and (contrary to what you may now be thinking) I'm not actually a sixth form poet. Granted I couldn't actually spell the previous sentence without my automatic spell checker going nuts. Who cares? You wouldn't have known unless I admitted it. Now try to guess which word I struggled with. This is a little tactic I'm employing to make reading more fun - I'll tell you what it was at the end. See? - now you have something to look forward to.
Recently my spelling has gotten worse. I'm not sure how to combat this. And every time I type the word "the" I end up typing "th" and putting the "e" at the beginning of the next word. Every time. Its bloody infuriating but I can't stop doing it. (Nice child friendly curse back there). And No. I won't type slower. How can I excrete my consciousness out onto the page if I have to think about coordinating my motor skills too? Huh? Can't be done. By me anyway.
Anyhoo my life is coming together. Rather like a plan drawn up by th eA-team (see!).
I sleep better now I no longer work night shifts down the beer mine. Which means I can wake up easier. And I'm finding that waking up is generally useful. This won't affect you the reader in the least. But this blog is about feeding the self-obsessed side of my personality so I don't care. Me, me, me.
Real time news flash: I just saw someone drop what looked like an architect's plan out of a window four floors up from the building opposite mine. I'm going to see how long it takes her to fetch it.
If she fetches it.
Can you tell I'm bored? Brain the size of a planet you see. I bore easy.
(Long temporal event here)
She isn't going to bother.
It was 'impossibly'.
You had probably guessed right. It was the only sensible candidate because all the other words were quite short (I also would have accepted "stylings" as I had to add that to my dictionary).
Monday, 11 February 2008
Wednesday, 9 January 2008
Adverts from the telly n that
Here are a couple of adverts that I think are worth a mention. When you examine them you realise that the underlying message is actually a bit twisted. I know this is nothing new. Ooooooooo thats an evil way of selling something!! has been pointed out a million times but these two take the biscuit...........
1. The Kleenex advert
This advert consists of lots of different people being lured onto a blue sofa in the middle of a random street with the inticing words "fancy a chat" being uttered by the Kleenex man. It shows close ups of these saps engaging with the Kleenex man and they're all smiles and chatty. Then it shows them starting to get a bit emotional. And the Kleenex man is right on hand to give them a tissue. Thus pointing out the purpose and usefulness of thin sheets of paper that have been balm coated. Fine and good.
Cue slogan "Let it out" written accross screen and the advert ends.
Then I got to thinking about what was meant to be happening. This Kleenex man was taking random people, clearly of a slightly fragile disposition and making them cry. Kleenex man is obviously very good at manipulating people. He knows just what buttons to press that can break a person down in a short space of time. The bastard. Not a person I'd want my product associated with.
2. The Toyota Yaris advert
This advert is basically glorifying revenge as something aspirational. It tells the story of a woman who breaks her boy friend's model plane because her boy friend recently shut the door of her car using his foot. (He was using both hands to carry something heavy for her at the time).
Now what is their selling point hear?
Our car is bought by the petty demograph. The kind of folk who have OCD. The kind of people who bear a grudge against a kind person for an act that had no consequences anyway. What were they thinking?
Right. Rant over.
FYI to make myself feel better I installed a CD player in my office at Brookes this afternoon. I listened to "Paint a lady" by Susan Christie and everything was OK. Instantly. Even though I was at work. Ahhhhhhhhhh. (That is an expression of how soothing the song was and not "Ahhhhhhhhhh" in pain or anguish as it could be interpreted). If you also want to hear this amazing bit of music then beg or borrow (I don't endorse theft) a copy of Folk is not a four letter word, Vol 2. Selected by Andy Votel. I promise you will not regret any effort spent in tracking this down. Unless you have no soul. In which case you probably work in advertising.
1. The Kleenex advert
This advert consists of lots of different people being lured onto a blue sofa in the middle of a random street with the inticing words "fancy a chat" being uttered by the Kleenex man. It shows close ups of these saps engaging with the Kleenex man and they're all smiles and chatty. Then it shows them starting to get a bit emotional. And the Kleenex man is right on hand to give them a tissue. Thus pointing out the purpose and usefulness of thin sheets of paper that have been balm coated. Fine and good.
Cue slogan "Let it out" written accross screen and the advert ends.
Then I got to thinking about what was meant to be happening. This Kleenex man was taking random people, clearly of a slightly fragile disposition and making them cry. Kleenex man is obviously very good at manipulating people. He knows just what buttons to press that can break a person down in a short space of time. The bastard. Not a person I'd want my product associated with.
2. The Toyota Yaris advert
This advert is basically glorifying revenge as something aspirational. It tells the story of a woman who breaks her boy friend's model plane because her boy friend recently shut the door of her car using his foot. (He was using both hands to carry something heavy for her at the time).
Now what is their selling point hear?
Our car is bought by the petty demograph. The kind of folk who have OCD. The kind of people who bear a grudge against a kind person for an act that had no consequences anyway. What were they thinking?
Right. Rant over.
FYI to make myself feel better I installed a CD player in my office at Brookes this afternoon. I listened to "Paint a lady" by Susan Christie and everything was OK. Instantly. Even though I was at work. Ahhhhhhhhhh. (That is an expression of how soothing the song was and not "Ahhhhhhhhhh" in pain or anguish as it could be interpreted). If you also want to hear this amazing bit of music then beg or borrow (I don't endorse theft) a copy of Folk is not a four letter word, Vol 2. Selected by Andy Votel. I promise you will not regret any effort spent in tracking this down. Unless you have no soul. In which case you probably work in advertising.
Friday, 14 December 2007
About time
Yeah. I've been an impotent, lame, flaccid kind of fool for not blogging for so long. Irresponsible really. What with the increase in suicides, the people throwing themselves into the road just because life without my words seems so empty. I will no longer shirk my social responsibility and will once again entertain Ye through the medium of these 'ere pixels.
I still don't smoke. Na na na-na-na. Up yours Nay Sayers! You know who you are.
Anyhow I have been keeping busy. I know how to perform venipuncture now. Sleep soundly. If anyone is in the least bit interested in helping mankind (and more importantly me) by becoming a participant in my PhD project do not hesitate to contact me. I have designed a very informative email response in advance in case anyone wants to know about it. You can all get involved. I do want your blood though. Yes you.
Enough abuse of the blogging space to recruit people for my own ends.
But I don't have much else to talk about these days. Ah. Goes with the job you see, I'm becoming a socially awkward, reclusive PhD student. If I were in the room with you right now I'd probably be finding it hard to keep eye contact.
I have discovered a new joy in running. I never used to be able to do this. Now not only am I capable but I actually like it. Hmmmmm. What a topsy-turvy crazy world this is.
Ya know considering I haven't bothered writing anything for months it really feels like I'm scraping the bottom of the word barrel. So in the interest of keeping the standards up to my usual award winning*, benchmark setting, monumentally mind bogglingly high standards I'm going to stop. Now.
*May not actually have won awards.
I still don't smoke. Na na na-na-na. Up yours Nay Sayers! You know who you are.
Anyhow I have been keeping busy. I know how to perform venipuncture now. Sleep soundly. If anyone is in the least bit interested in helping mankind (and more importantly me) by becoming a participant in my PhD project do not hesitate to contact me. I have designed a very informative email response in advance in case anyone wants to know about it. You can all get involved. I do want your blood though. Yes you.
Enough abuse of the blogging space to recruit people for my own ends.
But I don't have much else to talk about these days. Ah. Goes with the job you see, I'm becoming a socially awkward, reclusive PhD student. If I were in the room with you right now I'd probably be finding it hard to keep eye contact.
I have discovered a new joy in running. I never used to be able to do this. Now not only am I capable but I actually like it. Hmmmmm. What a topsy-turvy crazy world this is.
Ya know considering I haven't bothered writing anything for months it really feels like I'm scraping the bottom of the word barrel. So in the interest of keeping the standards up to my usual award winning*, benchmark setting, monumentally mind bogglingly high standards I'm going to stop. Now.
*May not actually have won awards.
Monday, 24 September 2007
Blogarithm
How are things your end? I really hope you're ok. Thats right. I'm genuinely concerned for you; the reader. After all happiness is an important, if oft argued over concept. And thats the kind of service I provide. I'm at least 37% more sincere than the news reader who wishes you a good evening.
So whats this crazy, zany play on words title about? Huh? Well I've been drinking and reading about chaos theory. Thats all you need to know really. If some maths geeks want to nick the word to use as their funky maths forum web page they're welcome.
The last week, the build up to this random title selecting moment, has been interesting. Due to some intractable life errors I was forced into a corner to confront my lifestyle. I'd recently been uncharacteristically naughty/stupid. Very melodramatic. I felt dirty. A shower didn't help. What was one to do at a time like this? I looked into my repertoire of useful sayings. "If it aint broke don't fix it" presented itself. I looked deeper and found with some imagination another implication arose from the ashes; if it is broke fix it.
I was broke(n). I needed fixing. Gumption would be required. I decided that giving up smoking could provide a physical if not moral redemption for my misguided actions. I have been a heavy smoker. Quitting has involved sweat, sleep deprivation, temporary abstinence from booze, self fornication, illegal downloaded movies (not the greasy kind, just anything to distract me), cycling, running, mars bars, self doubt, blah, blah, blahhhhhhhhhhhh.
So far so good! I write this on day 10. I don't want to write much more here because I don't want to jinx it. Which is odd because until I wrote that I thought I didn't believe in luck.
I start a proper job in a few days. This is dominating my thoughts. I will be in a position of minor responsibility. In my research contract they have foolishly stated I have to lecture for 6 hours per week. Imagine that. Me. Teaching. Supervising. Advising! Ha. I'm absolutely petrified. At the same time I feel indifference to any institution who could assign me to such a role when I'm not ready! Arggggggggghhhhh. Anyway this is not the place to raise these concerns.
Brown are my trousers. Blue is the sea. Buck up old fellow. Pull those socks up, pull your thumb out, look lively, stiff upper lip, er........... when in Roam?
No.
I still haven't got the hang of that one.
Who knows it might just work out.
So whats this crazy, zany play on words title about? Huh? Well I've been drinking and reading about chaos theory. Thats all you need to know really. If some maths geeks want to nick the word to use as their funky maths forum web page they're welcome.
The last week, the build up to this random title selecting moment, has been interesting. Due to some intractable life errors I was forced into a corner to confront my lifestyle. I'd recently been uncharacteristically naughty/stupid. Very melodramatic. I felt dirty. A shower didn't help. What was one to do at a time like this? I looked into my repertoire of useful sayings. "If it aint broke don't fix it" presented itself. I looked deeper and found with some imagination another implication arose from the ashes; if it is broke fix it.
I was broke(n). I needed fixing. Gumption would be required. I decided that giving up smoking could provide a physical if not moral redemption for my misguided actions. I have been a heavy smoker. Quitting has involved sweat, sleep deprivation, temporary abstinence from booze, self fornication, illegal downloaded movies (not the greasy kind, just anything to distract me), cycling, running, mars bars, self doubt, blah, blah, blahhhhhhhhhhhh.
So far so good! I write this on day 10. I don't want to write much more here because I don't want to jinx it. Which is odd because until I wrote that I thought I didn't believe in luck.
I start a proper job in a few days. This is dominating my thoughts. I will be in a position of minor responsibility. In my research contract they have foolishly stated I have to lecture for 6 hours per week. Imagine that. Me. Teaching. Supervising. Advising! Ha. I'm absolutely petrified. At the same time I feel indifference to any institution who could assign me to such a role when I'm not ready! Arggggggggghhhhh. Anyway this is not the place to raise these concerns.
Brown are my trousers. Blue is the sea. Buck up old fellow. Pull those socks up, pull your thumb out, look lively, stiff upper lip, er........... when in Roam?
No.
I still haven't got the hang of that one.
Who knows it might just work out.
Friday, 14 September 2007
Folk you, you folking folk
I have recently been given a vinyl deck with a USB output on the proviso that I copy the vinyls of its previous owners onto CDs for them. Awesome I thought. Now they've said I can keep the vinyl too. I got really drunk and thought about how touching this was because vinyls are personal things and so emailed them telling them it was too much, i'd feel bad etc etc. They didn't care as they're moving onto a house boat in a few months and are ridding themselves of all but the most essential of their posessions and they know i love old music. So thanks Elizabeth and Pete! Good things happen when people hear you playing Fairport Convention in the Star.
Anyhow I've been copying their old vinyls, at the rate of a out 2 or 3 a week. It is actually quite a labour intensive process. You have to play each vinyl in real time. Then you have to normalise the volume level. Then you have to chop the continuous audio into seperate tracks - so you have to find the beginnings/ends of all the songs. Then you have to export the tracks as WAV files and name them. Then you can burn the CD if you don't have arguments with windows media player. I've gotten faster at doing it after a few albums.
So I've been listening to old folk records and reading a book a few afternoons a week. Big whoop. But it gets interesting.... I have discovered one LP in particular that I love. It is an album entitled "Morris On" and is a sort of folk rock super group; Ashley Hutchings, Richard Thompson (knew I'd like it when I saw that name), Dave Mattacks, John Kirkpatrick and Barry Dransfeld (I'd never heard of him before). It features a song which has the privalage of being the only one ever to actually force me to laugh out loud on first and then repeated listens.
The song is "Cuckoo's Nest" and I shall try and find the lyrics and paste them into me blog. What is the folk song Cuckoo's Nest about? Huh? You want me to tell you. OK 'cos I hate that look on your face. Its about a vagina. The basic premiss of the song is boy meets girl, boys tells girl he wants to touch her up, girl says no, boys says don't be like that, girl relents, boy fingers girl, they like it, get married, have kids and boy can finger girl to his hearts content. Its got a haunting tune too.
CUCKOOS NEST
As I was a walking one morning in May
I met a pretty fair maid and unto her did say
I'll tell you me mind, it's for love I am inclined
An me inclination lies in your cuckoo's nest
Me darling, says she, I am innocent and young
And I scarcely can believe your false deluding tongue
Yet I see it in your eyes and it fills me with surprise
That your inclination lies in me cuckoo's nest
Some like a girl who is pretty in the face
and some like a girl who is slender in the waist
But give me a girl who will wriggle and will twist
At the bottom of the belly lies the cuckoo's nest
Me darling, says me, if you can see it in me eyes
Then think of it as fondness and do not be surprised
For I live you me dear and I'll marry you I swear
If you'll let me clap my hand on your cuckoo's nest
Me darling, says she, I can do no such thing
For me mother often told me it was committing sin
Me maidenhead to lose and me sex to be abused
So have no more to do with me cuckoo's nest
Some like a girl who is pretty in the face
and some like a girl who is slender in the waist
But give me a girl who will wriggle and will twist
At the bottom of the belly lies the cuckoo's nest
Me darling, says me, it's not committing sin
But common sense should tell you it is a pleasing thing
For you were brought into this world to increase and do your best
And to help a man to heaven in your cuckoo's nest
Me darling, says she, I cannot you deny
For you've surely won my heart by the rolling of your eye
Yet I see it in your eyes that your courage is surprised
So gently lift your hand into me cuckoo's nest
Some like a girl who is pretty in the face
and some like a girl who is slender in the waist
But give me a girl who will wriggle and will twist
At the bottom of the belly lies the cuckoo's nest
This couple they got married and soon they went to bed
And now this pretty fair maid has lost her maidenhead
In a small country cottage they increase and do their best
And he often claps his hand on her cuckoo's nest
Some like a girl who is pretty in the face
and some like a girl who is slender in the waist
But give me a girl who will wriggle and will twist
At the bottom of the belly lies the cuckoo's nest
Brilliant.
Anyhow I've been copying their old vinyls, at the rate of a out 2 or 3 a week. It is actually quite a labour intensive process. You have to play each vinyl in real time. Then you have to normalise the volume level. Then you have to chop the continuous audio into seperate tracks - so you have to find the beginnings/ends of all the songs. Then you have to export the tracks as WAV files and name them. Then you can burn the CD if you don't have arguments with windows media player. I've gotten faster at doing it after a few albums.
So I've been listening to old folk records and reading a book a few afternoons a week. Big whoop. But it gets interesting.... I have discovered one LP in particular that I love. It is an album entitled "Morris On" and is a sort of folk rock super group; Ashley Hutchings, Richard Thompson (knew I'd like it when I saw that name), Dave Mattacks, John Kirkpatrick and Barry Dransfeld (I'd never heard of him before). It features a song which has the privalage of being the only one ever to actually force me to laugh out loud on first and then repeated listens.
The song is "Cuckoo's Nest" and I shall try and find the lyrics and paste them into me blog. What is the folk song Cuckoo's Nest about? Huh? You want me to tell you. OK 'cos I hate that look on your face. Its about a vagina. The basic premiss of the song is boy meets girl, boys tells girl he wants to touch her up, girl says no, boys says don't be like that, girl relents, boy fingers girl, they like it, get married, have kids and boy can finger girl to his hearts content. Its got a haunting tune too.
CUCKOOS NEST
As I was a walking one morning in May
I met a pretty fair maid and unto her did say
I'll tell you me mind, it's for love I am inclined
An me inclination lies in your cuckoo's nest
Me darling, says she, I am innocent and young
And I scarcely can believe your false deluding tongue
Yet I see it in your eyes and it fills me with surprise
That your inclination lies in me cuckoo's nest
Some like a girl who is pretty in the face
and some like a girl who is slender in the waist
But give me a girl who will wriggle and will twist
At the bottom of the belly lies the cuckoo's nest
Me darling, says me, if you can see it in me eyes
Then think of it as fondness and do not be surprised
For I live you me dear and I'll marry you I swear
If you'll let me clap my hand on your cuckoo's nest
Me darling, says she, I can do no such thing
For me mother often told me it was committing sin
Me maidenhead to lose and me sex to be abused
So have no more to do with me cuckoo's nest
Some like a girl who is pretty in the face
and some like a girl who is slender in the waist
But give me a girl who will wriggle and will twist
At the bottom of the belly lies the cuckoo's nest
Me darling, says me, it's not committing sin
But common sense should tell you it is a pleasing thing
For you were brought into this world to increase and do your best
And to help a man to heaven in your cuckoo's nest
Me darling, says she, I cannot you deny
For you've surely won my heart by the rolling of your eye
Yet I see it in your eyes that your courage is surprised
So gently lift your hand into me cuckoo's nest
Some like a girl who is pretty in the face
and some like a girl who is slender in the waist
But give me a girl who will wriggle and will twist
At the bottom of the belly lies the cuckoo's nest
This couple they got married and soon they went to bed
And now this pretty fair maid has lost her maidenhead
In a small country cottage they increase and do their best
And he often claps his hand on her cuckoo's nest
Some like a girl who is pretty in the face
and some like a girl who is slender in the waist
But give me a girl who will wriggle and will twist
At the bottom of the belly lies the cuckoo's nest
Brilliant.
Sunday, 19 August 2007
iSwear
Try typing swear words into itunes. Juvenile aren't I? Its funny. So far nobody in my pitiful 26.79GB of music has been fool hardy / man enough to use "cunt" as even part of a band/album/track/anything. (Sorry Pikey if you read this). Although I should bring to your attention the band Wank that have an album called "get a grip on yourself". Nuff said.
The same joys can be had from google earth.
I'll be back in a minute to explain. Unfortunately my mouse has decided to malfunction simultaniously with my intestine. So I'm going to have a poo and then subsequently use the arrows on the keyboard..........................
RIGHT. (Amount of space scrolled down does not reflect the amount of time i spent sitting).
If I've ever had a more invoragting shite I can't remember it. Yep. I'm going to describe the poo I just did. Not its shape and form but the emotional impact upon my good self.
What set it apart from the others (excluding time and distance travelled along pipes towards the Thames) was the accompanying feeling of freedom. My flat mates are away so I had the door open and my music up loud. And I took my sweet, sweet time. Run out of bog roll? I'll fetch some from my room with no trousers and no worries. So lets hear it for a really good pound of mashed up Dundee cake. Its a rare thing in my day, age and house to be able to have a poo like that.
And now my mouse works again. Best poo ever.
.................................There are four pages of places on my planet with "Fuck" in. Wank Nesselwang is in Germany. Dick is in Chippewa, Michigan, United States.... Fanny; Wyoming, West Virgina. Toss; Ton, Trento, Italy.
There is nowhere called Cunt.
The same joys can be had from google earth.
I'll be back in a minute to explain. Unfortunately my mouse has decided to malfunction simultaniously with my intestine. So I'm going to have a poo and then subsequently use the arrows on the keyboard..........................
RIGHT. (Amount of space scrolled down does not reflect the amount of time i spent sitting).
If I've ever had a more invoragting shite I can't remember it. Yep. I'm going to describe the poo I just did. Not its shape and form but the emotional impact upon my good self.
What set it apart from the others (excluding time and distance travelled along pipes towards the Thames) was the accompanying feeling of freedom. My flat mates are away so I had the door open and my music up loud. And I took my sweet, sweet time. Run out of bog roll? I'll fetch some from my room with no trousers and no worries. So lets hear it for a really good pound of mashed up Dundee cake. Its a rare thing in my day, age and house to be able to have a poo like that.
And now my mouse works again. Best poo ever.
.................................There are four pages of places on my planet with "Fuck" in. Wank Nesselwang is in Germany. Dick is in Chippewa, Michigan, United States.... Fanny; Wyoming, West Virgina. Toss; Ton, Trento, Italy.
There is nowhere called Cunt.
Wednesday, 13 June 2007
Lager cheese.
Due to in-operable levels of self improvement i have lately been too up my own ass to blog. I now make the almost impossible stoop down to your level.
Ouch.
That smarts.
Seriously though I haven't read anyone's blog for about 3 months and having just read Han's I've remembered just how awesome blogs can be. So really don't expect too much from this as I'm drunk and it just took me 5 goes to write "anyones". ayneons?
What have I been doing?
Like you really care.
I got my uni results resluts which were excellent. (Stroke of the beard, sip of port). I got accepted onto a PhD course (glug of port, slippery nipple). And I decided i wouldn't get a "proper" job for the time being.
This situation was fine as I had nuts, berries and cash stock piled for the summer months. (Bad analogy I know because nuts and berries are a winter crop). Anyhoooooooooooow I went on holiday twice. Boat trip and Prague. Boat trip was so epoch makingly monumental that you will probably read about it in GCSE history books next year so there is no point documenting it here.
Prague. I went with my good friend Sarah who has family over there - we didn't visit whore houses and weren't on a stag do. We ate stew and dumplings and drank good lager. Obviously the architecture was great and it was steeped in history but I'm sure you'll be more comforted to know that the local speciality is fried cheese. Lager and fried cheese. I left there a stone heavier.
Oh yeah and my nuts, berries and spending money were all nicked out of my bag before I even arrived in Prague by some airport baggage handler who better hope there isn't an afterlife because if there is and I'm there I'll make 'em wish they'd never found it.
So now I'm trying to cycle off >1 stone of fried lager cheese, read articles so I'm suffieciently book learned for October and grift enough cash so I can eat at Cropready festival next weekend..... Richard Thompson with the Richard Thompson Band electric and also Fairport Convention perform Leige and Leaf.
Currently I'm looking forward to fishing with Darren and Mat Lewis and maybe babbing a few evil American Cray fish outta the river Cherwell. So you will probably gather I'm on cloud nine right now. Mmmmmmm summer.
Smell you later.
Ouch.
That smarts.
Seriously though I haven't read anyone's blog for about 3 months and having just read Han's I've remembered just how awesome blogs can be. So really don't expect too much from this as I'm drunk and it just took me 5 goes to write "anyones". ayneons?
What have I been doing?
Like you really care.
I got my uni results resluts which were excellent. (Stroke of the beard, sip of port). I got accepted onto a PhD course (glug of port, slippery nipple). And I decided i wouldn't get a "proper" job for the time being.
This situation was fine as I had nuts, berries and cash stock piled for the summer months. (Bad analogy I know because nuts and berries are a winter crop). Anyhoooooooooooow I went on holiday twice. Boat trip and Prague. Boat trip was so epoch makingly monumental that you will probably read about it in GCSE history books next year so there is no point documenting it here.
Prague. I went with my good friend Sarah who has family over there - we didn't visit whore houses and weren't on a stag do. We ate stew and dumplings and drank good lager. Obviously the architecture was great and it was steeped in history but I'm sure you'll be more comforted to know that the local speciality is fried cheese. Lager and fried cheese. I left there a stone heavier.
Oh yeah and my nuts, berries and spending money were all nicked out of my bag before I even arrived in Prague by some airport baggage handler who better hope there isn't an afterlife because if there is and I'm there I'll make 'em wish they'd never found it.
So now I'm trying to cycle off >1 stone of fried lager cheese, read articles so I'm suffieciently book learned for October and grift enough cash so I can eat at Cropready festival next weekend..... Richard Thompson with the Richard Thompson Band electric and also Fairport Convention perform Leige and Leaf.
Currently I'm looking forward to fishing with Darren and Mat Lewis and maybe babbing a few evil American Cray fish outta the river Cherwell. So you will probably gather I'm on cloud nine right now. Mmmmmmm summer.
Smell you later.
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