Life isn’t all Ha Ha Hee Hee – but the pleasures are so many and multifarious that it’s difficult to settle on just one for the Loose Bloggers Consortium.
So these are some people I encountered a few days ago – what a pleasure to share them with you.
They’re Adam Beattie and the Consultants – and this is a beautiful song called “A song of one hundred years”
He’s from Scotland. They play in the Gladstone pub off Borough High Street in south London every now and then. They’re sensitive, intelligent and great. The pub is good too. I was there with a bunch of arty people I met on the radio here (hint hint – clip of me on the radio).
They played this song too – “All I Know” – with Brooke Sharkey singing and playing double bass. And two guys I don’t know – who were also ace.
What a Continue reading
Shane MacGowan and Cait O’Riordan
In days gone by, The Pogues never failed to cheer me up.
We go back a long time.
I remember sitting on top of a wardrobe in the Crescent in Belfast watching Shane MacGowan beat out a fast tempo with a biscuit tin lid on his bonce.
Or the time the UDR kind of pulled us over because the car was bouncing excessively to Sally MacLennane (er… that’s the song rather than any young lady who may share the name). It was odd, because we were stationary at the time. Perhaps it just seemed we were moving. Or they weren’t so keen on The Pogues.
Or the time I was rescued by Jim from a melee in the Ulster Hall. (Dunno why. It was all fine. Just a bit lively. No idea what he was worried about.)
Or the time in Dublin that “Country” Jem Finer accused me of chucking a television out their hotel window. It wasn’t me at all. (Though I’m not so sure about the fella I was with.)
Or the time I bumped into Cait O’Riordan coming out of the gents in the Olympia Theatre. (No, nothing like that. She was with Elvis Costello.) She sounded like this.
Or the time we sneaked into the Fleadh through a bar tent… Or the time… Or the time…
Or all the times The Pogues were a guaranteed remedy for melancholy.
So here they are. They have cheerier songs, but this was the best video I could find. Even with a song of death, regret and mutilation they still lift my spirits.
Anyone got a guaranteed spirit-reviving song they like to offer as an alternative? (And don’t suggest All Kinds of Everything by Dana – it won’t get through.)
Man shovelling. Shhh!
Aah… the weekend. Time to relax. Recharge. Rejuvenate.
Re… reach for a shovel. (Wasn’t that an S Club 7 song?)
Lift the sewer access hatch.
And start digging.
Through packed “sludge”.
There’s nothing like blocked drains to remind you of one of the essentials of civilisation – good plumbing Continue reading
The Africa Express
Some nights are magical. Saturday was one of those nights.
The Africa Express completed its British journey in London, disgorging a unique and wonderful band of African and British musical stars at the back of Kings Cross station.
Then they began to play Continue reading
Admittedly this picture is not an exact likeness of my mother… She’s not blonde. Nor armed. Nor so rude. In fact it’s a complete misrepresentation. Hard to justify at all really.
“What lesson from your mother do you still live by today?” I’m asked. *
There were many good lessons. How well I live by them? Probably wrong for me to judge myself. (Or else I’m too chicken to admit the truth.)
Except for one.
There’s one lesson she taught me that I always keep in mind and live by.
It’s this: V Continue reading
I know what it feels like. A hug.
But what does it look like?- asks Delores of the Loose Bloggers Consortium.
Hmmm… Hard one. I’ve been to Hell of course. I know what that looks like. Not my sort of place.
But as for Heaven? Don’t know. But I know who to ask.
David Byrne of course.
The good Continue reading
Pic from InsideThe Games.biz
The security at London Olympic venues is now being provided by soliders. As far as I’ve heard, they’ve been polite, reassuring and quite hot. Phoarr! (That’s according to one Olympic volunteer anyway.)
But here’s a security dilemma that left the soldiers scratching their heads. And there’s a prize for the best (or correct) solution supplied by YOU.
It was like this: The first military searcher could not decide. He called in his sergeant. The sergeant pondered a while, before eventually coming up with a verdict.
The puzzle is coming up in a moment. But your challenge, dear reader, is to tell me in the comments below, what you think the army sergeant decided. (You’re also welcome to say what he should have said or done.)
So here’s the scenario:
A parent with accompanying children arrived at the entrance to the Olympic venue with two full plastic water bottles.
The rule is that no liquids are allowed to be taken into the site. (For security reasons. Free water is available inside. Empty vessels are permitted.)
But this resourceful parent, anticipating a hot thirsty day, had frozen the water bottles overnight. As it happened, the day was overcast, and chillier than expected – and the ICE HAD NOT MELTED Continue reading
Probably not Molly Lindley herself. From the Philosophy of Science Portal. (Click on the pic to get there.)
Light. Light! Light?
The word may prompt all sorts of noble concepts and ideals of faith and idealism in your mind.
As for me – it’s this song. All about…
Molly Lindley, she smokes like a chimney
But she’s my little nicotine gal
It’s Allan Smethurst aka The Singing Postman – postman and singer from Norfolk. More information and song lyrics here.
My friend Sara used to Continue reading
"It's just you and me babe. Against the world." "I love you Ringo." "I love you too Ringo."
Sorry Ringo, I owe you an apology.
A few weeks ago Ringo Starr was the object of ridicule for failing to hoik one of the Vernon Girls onto his knee. The evidence is here.
All the other Beatles were beautifully laden. Ringo was the odd one out. Poor Ringo we purred, like mean Heathers.
But now the redoubtable Nigel has returned. Having slain grammatical heresy, he’ s now championing the man who was described as “not even the best drummer in the Beatles.”
Oi! Before you get too hoity toity standing up for Ringo everyone, don’t forget he was responsible for this – I’m not hosting the video here, it’s so dire – you’ll have to click on the link to see it.
But regardless of his stick and snow action, there’s nothing wrong with Ringo’s pulling power – as this newly discovered picture supplied by Nigel reveals Continue reading
Filed under friends, Music
The Vernons Girls and the Beatles. Poor old Ringo, nobody wanted to sit on his knee.
No! This is NOT a rant from an Irish man against the English. Nor indeed against anyone bearing that surname. It’s not even by me.
It’s a guest post from eminent Blackwatertown reader Nigel Morgan, who’s English himself.
It’s his heartfelt cry to the heavens about the corruption of the English language. But is he right?
A DIATRIBE ON THE DIRE AND DREADFUL!
“How are you?” I innocently asked Continue reading