w.atching the w.orld unw.ind

Her breeder taught her this little trick.



Means we have to have coasters on the night-time glasses, as well as under!

Although it's still a 'work in progress', we are pleased to announce the launch of Bruv's band's website.

Because some feckin' chav(s) decided to vandalise four of our twelve carriages early this morning, it was Cattle Truck Friday all the way on the ride in today.

I say "ride" but that implies seated transportation, not standing face to face with dozens of others who are determined to read their broadsheets, despite the risk of paper cuts to your face. I don't normally do scowling, but I sure got some practice in today.

As for the vandals themselves, I do hope they enjoyed themselves. I'd love to reciprocate, by whiling away a couple of hours reconfiguring their physiognomy with a baseball bat. One with some six-inch nails embedded in its head. Then in theirs.

It could become a new Olympic sport?

"And representing his country (that's "England" btw) is Mr.D. who is hoping to beat his pb of six chavheads in thirty seconds, using his custom-built aluminium bat with diamond-tipped nails"

Wanna play in my league?

Or I could teach them how to do Dalek impressions (maybe Mr Whiskers could assist?) involving cocktail sticks in their eyeballs?

You can tell I'm well pi55ed off today, can't you...

The wisps of rosepink-blushed clouds rapidly gave way to white-hot and smoky-grey tracer trails of vapour, left behind by the traffic leaving Gatwick.

Then the sun appeared, like an undercooked fried egg on the side of a Wedgewood plate, but the yolk gained strength and colour, lighting up the criss-crossing lateral lines from 'planes out of Heathrow, so that they formed noughts and crosses grids high above.

And the false dawn gave way to the real thing.

I love sunsets, but new dawns means a fresh start to the rest of my life, however long that may be, and I'm determined to enjoy it as best as I can.

A welcome e-mail update from my WebMistress suggests that the IE problems with my new template may soon be resolved? Some of you may remember seeing a sneaky peeky of the new 'un back in the summer, when the manifest problems forced a coitus interruptus and return to this boring old Blogger original?

I'm really looking forward to seeing what the final version looks like...?

The darkening mornings and evenings are reducing the time when I can get out and use my trusty camera (Fuji S5000), which has really re-awakened my interest in photography in the past couple of years.

I don't think I suffer from SDS - my naturally sunny disposition (stop laughing, Mrs.D.) -generally sees me through the winter dankness, but there does seem to be a consensus of opinion (or is it just media-hype again?) that this cold season is going to be a bad 'un?

Does any amateur Met Office-type person have any intuition as to weather? that's true or not?

(I've just re-read this, and it's a crap post, but it'll have to suffice.)

A dirty, grey, drizzly day in the capital.

Everyone undecided about putting up umbrellas, because it's wet, but not too much.

And now a security scare means we're cordoned off, while the forces investigate a suspect vehicle and we're under orders to stay away from the windows.

Hopefully it's nothing, but I'll update later.

update 09:12
Blimey, that was quick - all towed away (and presumably one aggrieved owner, who nevertheless needs a kicking for their thoughtlessness!)

Today’s Lyric
___________________________________________

“Mama always told me save yourself
Take a little time and find the right girl
Then again don't end up on the shelf
Logical advice gets you in a whirl
I know, a lot of things that you don't
You wanna hear some?
She said, just give me something
Anything
Well give me all you got but not love“

Joe Jackson: “It’s different for girls”
From the album: “Look sharp”

Friday saw an extremely good celebration of Niece H.’s 18th birthday, with The Reaction playing live for the assembled throng, a relaxed and well-received gig ending with a track that I should have bet on, eh Bruv? Carousing continued on well into the small hours, when the hotel manager very politely suggested that for the benefit of the other guests, we crashed?

Yep, several tied one on. One tied several on, eh, Nephew D?

And it was nice to have a “full English” with the newly-adult ladygirl herself next morning, during which our two discovered they had acquired new ‘first cousins once removed’ (or something like that) who they gelled with immediately.

There was no such conversation between my Mum and Dad, but we all agreed that to have got them in the same room together for the first time in over twenty years was a major achievement in itself. Maybe for Nephew D’s 21st, they’ll even say “Hello” to each other?

Stranger things could happen…

Today’s Lyric
___________________________________________
“The Eiffel Tower and the Taj Mahal are mine to see on clear days.
You thought that I would need a crystal ball to see right through the haze.
Well, here's a poke at you
You're gonna choke on it too
You're gonna lose that smile
Because all the while…“

The  Who: “I can see for miles”
From the album:  “Meaty, beaty, big and bouncy”

I estimated that at least 60% of the commuters in my carriage this morning had earphones on. All in our private little world…

Aliens looking down on us would figure that we were receiving the day’s instructions – “Your mission, etc.”

And appropriately, there’s a hell of a storm out there, on the anniversary of Trafalgar Day.

The battle was a success for the British fleet but the storm which followed, separated everyone and prevented the ships from repairing and treating the wounded, many more of whom died in foreign hospitals than were actually killed in the battle itself.

Today is the second Poets’ day in a row, with Niece H’s 18th birthday party down in ‘ampshire tonight, and the family D. all stopping over in a hotel so that we can avoid driver temperance.

And Bruv’s band is performing live, following their successful debut last Friday. Oh yes!!

Today’s Lyric
____________________________________
“Leapfrog over fences
Little time, less senses
Here by this railway cutting
Life goes quick and it goes without warning
That’s how life is in my bombsite dwelling.”


The Adverts: “Bombsite Boy”
From the album: “Crossing the Red Sea”

Well, until the filters and searchlights catch me in their glare again, let’s just see if “posting from Word” works, eh?    

Woot! Back in business!

And if the next update works, it means that the “Today’s lyric” will live on forever in the ether?  

           

Almost for free?

Saw a programme about chlamydia the other day - hadn't realised its effect on the reproductive processes (but then, I'm a bit out of the loop on such matters).

It seems we're producing a couple of generations of wanton sha99ers who wilfully ignore what seems to be common and public knowledge and those who aren't ruining their diverse tubes are filling the other ones with toxic smoke?

So us oldies are looking at surviving in greater numbers to our eighties and beyond, while there could well be a yawning (sic) chasm behind us, because the breeding generation aren't.

Now I haven't thought this through fully, but might not this island race die out as a result of this unnatural Mother Nature interference?

Anyone got a viewpoint?

Well, silentpee and The Reaction played their corporate socks off last night, to a resounding reception from friends, family, well-wishers and pub punters alike.

It was Mrs. Silentpee's birthday too, so she got to sleep with the drummer afterwards, Just desserts and all that. The groupies are looking older, these days, eh, V?

Just joshing...

Now, if someone can teach this old dinosaur how to podcast, I may have a track to offer the world?

Links, pix and the running order (including a spectacular "Happy Jack" by My Bruv) will be posted and Flickr'd when I get home.

Thanks for a brilliant night, meanwhile, Bruv! You were Aces All.

Last night, some inconsiderate to55er threw himself in front of our train. Never mind that he brought the whole Southern train network to a grinding halt - he also failed to achieve his goal and ended up being chucked out at the end of a 12-carriage train, still alive. They were working on him as we all made our way out to find another way home.

But worst of all is the trauma he must have caused to the driver, who would have seen him coming out of leftfield, just before he dived under the engine.

And tonight, another one waved goodbye to his mortal coil in the Hassocks area, bring a repeat performance for the evening's commuters.

Can't these people do this stuff off-peak? Yes, I know, they must be desperate to do it, but have they absolutely no thought for the rest of humanity, who are trying hard to get on with their own little lives, in their own little way?

I'm afraid I have no sympathy. Is that so wrong?

Passing the East-West runway of Gatwick South tonight, the sun was setting right at the end of the floodlit flightpath.

I could imagine the pilot saying to his co-pilot "Just head her into that great big orange ball at the end of the road."

I'm a sucker for sunsets. Shame I couldn't get a shot of it - but we were zipping through the station at 50-plus.

Today, Mrs.D. needs a lift to her shift down the mines, because I'm taking the car to attend her first ever boss's funeral. She hasn't worked for him for over thirty years, but we both liked the old fella and thought one of us at least should mark the event.

He made it to 94 and had a great, dry sense of humour - something I always like - so that's this morning catered for.

When I get back#1, Number One Daughter wants to go printer-shopping and - as we'll probably share the hardware - I'm having to tag along.

When I get back#2, Mrs.D'll have fed the donkey team and showered down and be ready for collection again.

Now, where's me peaked cap...?

So Mrs.D. is doing a late shift down the mines, Number One Son's still away with the faeries down in the West Country and Number One Daughter's gone ten-pin bowling.

So it's dinner for one for Johnny No Mates.

You know what I really like to do when I'm alone in the house?

Yep - guessed it first time.

Eat with my mouth open.

None of this polite, closed-mouth rumination. Good old-fashioned lip-smacking noshing.

Well, you're supposed to enjoy wine better if you inhale over the liquid when it's in your mouth, aren't you? So why not the same with food? Because no-one else wants to watch the cement mixer while it's working, I guess...

So, while I'm mouthing off, a big up for Bruv and his band, who are well on the way to kacking themselves with First Night Nerves. But they'll be a grand band.

Get there! For bookings or enquiries, phone 07799493849 (click for better picture)

Number One Daughter's Nexus Quantum stunt kite arrived on Friday, and she was just itching to fly it.

So we three legged it up Jack and Jill Hill, near Pycombe, West Sussex, put it together and gave it an inaugural flight.

Hours of fun!

For mine are fully fcuked.

I guess if you don't want instant tinnitus, or to have your vitals vibrated to a liquified goo, you don't stand next to the PA when the band really starts kicking off? But the alternative is to sit at the back of the pub, with your dominoes.

And. I'm. Not. Ready. For. That.

Yet.

Who's Who are a very professional, five-piece tribute band and also VERY LOUD! Yesterday they played the second night of a two-gig charity show (I never did find out what the charities were, but the collecting bucket seemed to be doing sterling [sic] service during the evening) at the Hampshire Rose, Widley, Portsmouth.

And so they gave us a chance to see the layout and audience capacity for when Bruv's band, The Reaction, play their debut gig on 14/10 (photo of flyer to be posted later - blimey, I'm posting this from my cot - it's way too early for photography).

Starting with the first of a whole session of audience requests, "Heaven and Hell," they raced through singles and album tracks which were guaranteed crowd-pleasers, even bringing on the violinist from the Australian Philharmonic Orchestra, just to play out "Baba O'Reilly." Man, that fiddler's elbow was a blur.

The microphone was twirled, thrown and caught with an accuracy which deserves a place in the England cricket team. When we talked to the front-man after the show, you could tell how much of a fan of Daltrey he is. And "Townsend" - in cut-off white dungarees - windmilled like a good 'un. And yes, there was a guitar-smashing session for the finale - wisely, with a "Substitute" guitar hehehe. Well, when you're not earning the really big bucks, you have to be a little bit careful with the axes? Or is that not rock 'n roll enough?

But for me - and of course, for Bruv, the star was "Moonie", who beat the drumkit up so badly, he should have been reported to the CPS.* The b@stard was even grinning like an idiot when he was laying into the skins with a speed that Keith Himself would have appreciated. And when he did the vocals on "Bell Boy" - the inspiration for Today's Lyric - he even sounded like The Man Himself.

Hard to believe he's been gone 27 years... (almost work-safe - funny, rather than (c)rude.

I've been lucky enough to see the original Who three times - once at the Oval cricket Ground, when they headlined a charity gig for the Bangladesh famine victims, once at Knebworth and once at the Portsmouth Guildhall, when they put on a thankyou concert for the 'extras' who'd helped out in the making of Ken Russell's "Tommy - The Film."

But if you want a great evening's nostalgia - plus ears that sound like a clucking bell -Who's Who are playing the Wedgwood Rooms on Friday 9th December.

See you there?

* The Cymbal Protection Society may not actually exist.