April 2010


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Came home yesterday.

Did a little bit of gardening before I set off. When I pruned the damson trees earlier this year I stuck a branch into the ground just to get it out of the way. It is now covered with blossom! I have seen a lot of butterflies over the last few days, there were fritillaries seemingly fighting it out at the bottom of this garden, and I have seen a brimstone out front, and on the way to Three Bridges station I saw two blues, I think holly blues; as well as others sighted at a distance.

The journey back was relaxed and dry. I walked past the Betjeman Arms, feeling I needed a holiday from drink. One thing of note though was meeting the people behind the organization of THE BEATLES HIDDEN GALLERY. Nice people, and fascinating to listen to.

I got home to discover the dole office home visit I thought was Thursday (today) was Wednesday. I called them today and they seemed ok about it, and they can stop my benefit for less.

Afterwards I worked in gardens; both my own garden and the widow’s, rather the garden next door to the widow; which was abandoned long before the house was; and could easily become a scummer magnet.
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I was due to meet John in London today to talk about the possible prgramme for a Curry & Kipling, one which may lead to other bookings. Unfortunately a big charity show he is organizing for tomorrow had issues because of Icelandic ash, and he had to cancel the meeting.

I was going to seize the day by going on the traditional bluebell walk from the Holmbush in Faygate to the Frog and Nightgown; but I cooked a beef curry for dinner, which we could not eat until the nurse had turned up to take a big blood sample from dad (it being a test after fasting) and she was late; which is dodgy for a diabetic. Ma did not give him his long term insulin in the morning, but I think that is because of my advice. It is really difficult to know what the medical industry has actually said to them.

Had a better look at the bluebells of the ancient woodbank of the Hawth, then went looking for a librarian to talk to about a possible Sussex Day show (and failed to find the one I wanted, and needed), then went to pubs to drink beer (and succeeded to my satisfaction).

Before I come down again I need to go to U-Save and get wall hooks or face plates, and possibly steel wire to ensure the power supply to the garage here stays on.
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Did two shops at Crawley, cut my dad’s hair, and cooked sweet and sour duck for lunch and soup for dinner, both using yesterday’s roast.

Ma loves pasta and noodles, dad has always set his mouth against it. I the past I have usually cooked something else starchy for him. Today he had no choice, although I did cut up his noodles so he could eat them with a folk. He kept repeating it was delicious.

One of the walks to town was through the Hawth. The bluebells are just starting to come out.
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It was Iain Burnside’s last Sunday Morning show on Radio 3 today. I have loved this show, and not just because he has read out my comments more than once.I mailed the below:

Dear Iain

For me, your show has been one of my few ‘must listen’ things in, what seems like, an ever deadening weight of formulas and clones radio. I’ll will miss it.

Thanks for the pleasure and provoked thoughts. Hope things have the best balance of rhythm, melody and harmony, with enough dissonance to keep things exciting for you.

Iain read out the last part and the producer mailed back. He may have sent lots of them out, but still a nice touch.

Dear Glyn,

Thank you SO much for this – it’s incredibly kind of you to write in like this, and I have a presenter next door who’s very touched indeed to hear that his work has been enjoyed, and that he’s going to be missed.

Thank you for listening, for taking the trouble to write to us, and all best wishes,

I did very little today, apart from roast a duck and mow the back lawn. The champagne I bought before getting on the coach yesterday went down well; though ma had a huff when I told her off for spoiling the occasion, not so much by telling dad not to drink too much, but by shouting at him when he reacted badly. He always does and he always will, and the fact she had a glass of the stuff inside makes her fly off the handle. Things calmed down quickly, because I did not get involved in a fight, I just told them to be quiet.
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By the time I got ‘home’ Ma was in bed but dad was still up watching the snooker. She got up to describe the food available in minute detail, but did go back to bed. They seem O.K. but I need to see them through a day.

The journey down was by Megabus. I crossed Mayo Avenue to tell two young mothers that they were stood at the wrong stop. I cannot be sure that the coach would not have picked them up anyway when it went back down to the M606, and Megabus’ website clearly shows the side they were stood at, but being certain of getting on the coach because I told them is better than the chance of missing it.

It is the best time of spring. Wild primroses are out, as are the intense yellow of the gorse, and both cherry and hawthorn are in bloom, and so are the damsons at my parents, with the apple’s blossom just emerging. Best of all: lots of different of the deciduous tress are setting leaf; but not all; so bare are mixed with delicate pontils of light or bright green. All this seen from the coach (the train from East Midlands had very dirty windows).

Curry Note Went to the Karachi for a curry yesterday. I eat so rarely in curry houses now I am hardly a judge, but I would say it was a basic and sound Bradford curry; and had a salad starter (though with no mint and white cabbage instead of onion) and good chapatties; and the cost for two starters and mains was just over £13, so still incredible value.
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Very quick note.

Thursday’s show was, in terms of my own artistic and business management growth, the best yet.

I did the most singing; had the most sympathetic musician (TC) who is the first one where we both agree we could develop a show together; I performed well; and the audience was extremely positive. Special mentions to Alison and the lovely Bev.

In terms of business growth that was because of the way I did not getr upset about things not done or attended to. I did not get at all wound up (apart from Tuesday night). I know I can not do everything, Bev forcibly agreed; but I need to find better ways of making sure that things are done.

The fact I was not stressed at the show means I can make much better judgment than even the recent past. Had a three way meeting with Roger the day after to return the projector, and it was good to have a person who has seen me at my most stressed after a show, and one who has only seen me at my least stressed after a show.

Did a little bit of gardening this morning in the sun.
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Yesterday I was more stressed than I had been for months, or more. Today I am right chilled. On the other hand the fuse on my freezer blew. Lucky I had an ice cream just after it stopped; though eating the rest of the ice creams before they dripped out may explain some of the below; even allowing for the extra insulin.

It might be physical, or psychological (that’s the first time I have spelled psychological right first time! And I nearly got it wrong in this clause.). When I finished the slideshow a massive weight lifted, and Roger’s willingness to help meant I did not have to travel to Keighley at a nightmare time. On the other hand I discovered the rearranged Restart (hitting the engine with a hammer to give bureaucrats a wage) interview at the Jobcentre (see above) was booked for next Tuesday, a day I had fixed to see someone who might get me a paid performance. Fixed up the interview for another day, then got a letter telling me the Dole Gastapo visit would be on that day. Ho-hum.

Did a BCB drive time interview at 17.45 (no idea if it is on listen again). A fine couple of minutes, but I had to talk whilst the presenter who knew me left the room, and the other was fine, but a bit like women I talk at on a bus. I will try and remember to ask who heard it tomorrow; but for all the stress working around the interview caused I doubt it will prove to be pay dirt.

Went to TC’s house to sort msic. I tell you what, tomorrow’s show will be a unique, once in a life time show; even more so than the average, or the unaverage for my shows I suppose. I think I will enjoy it, and pleasure is almost as infectious as misery
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Today is my father’s 86th birthday. I should have flown down on Sunday, but obviously could not, and left it too late to get any other transport I could afford. It is a shame not to be there, but I managed to get the vile Hewlet Packard F2480 to work and did him a card which he enjoyed.

Aircraft are moving again over bits of Britain, can I just point out that the BBC and other medias started reporting dissatisfaction with the whole way the farce has been handled, 4 four days I called NATS wankers. It is not just them, it is a society riven by fear and incapable of thought.

At least staying put has meant I can write and produce the show in a more relaxed manner than I would if I was hither and dither. Since Saturday I have stayed in and worked, without alcohol as well. At least I could relax through most of the day until I started getting my own little dust cloud. It is all to do with having to be in three places tomorrow, the most inconvenient t being the closest. A BCB interview fixed for 5.40; I did not fix it and one of the other critical things now has to be done in the evening; pushing the third thing into the evening as well.

On the plus side: today I finished a new piece The Lay of Saint, George, and his quest to slay a dragon. It’s in the ~style of Albert and the Lion, and not bad
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Eeee. That were a day an all!

I was asked if I would be as angry about British airspace being closed if I was not booked to fly. The honest answer is yes, very much so, but I may not be expressing the anger quite so loud. Al-Qaeda hardly need to exist to destroy ‘Western’ civilisation. Overpaid women of both sexes will do it much more effectively if you give them power without responsibility; and that’s what NATS have.

Went to Otley to see Bev dancing with the Rainbow Morris troup. I enjoyed it so much I stopped for the second show, and gave up the chance of seeing City Vs Burton for a tenner. As a reward I got to meet Bev’s cats (and I saw some of her family). 15 year old Ziggey like me and not only laid on me when resting on the sofa, purring like a 2 stroke lawnmower, but came and tried to get close up and personal when I was trying to get the telly to switch to Dave.

On my way home I called in to the Lloyds in Shipley (and talked to a chef at the Wooly Sheep on Skipton, and the firery lass he was with). I then walk from town to the reopened Rafters. It is up for sale, but is being run by a temporary licensee. If you live local then you should pop in,

The is actually a lot not in the above, including the market trader who told me a shoe did not have steel toecaps; I pressed the back of the cap, told him he was bullshiting and walked off. I probably could have done more, but hey! It’s not as if I get angry very often.
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British airspace is controlled by a private company called Nats, who have stopped all flights because of a cloud of volcanic ash from Iceland a lot less significant than Iceland produced in 92 (a few dozen cancellations), 63 ( a new island formed with head sized rocks being flung half a mile in the air) and at least two other occasions in the last 4 decades.

Nats (National Air Traffic Service) are yellow bellied, pus brained, gobshiting clowns that could not run piss down their own leg. Aircraft engines are far better able to survive ingestion than they were, even in 92, let alone 63. England, the new sulking home of cowardice, was the first to close airspace, I bet it will be the last to open it again. I would name the tosser who said planes had flown into dust clouds and not flown out (which is a contemptible lie, it is like saying trains have driven into fog and not driven out; there have been train crashes in fog; and maybe airline crashes in dust, but I cannot think of one, and I bet the wanker from Nats can’t either). The trouble is his name is now erased from the record, and the fart catching BBC are nothing if not rigid upholders of mandarin statement.

On my own matters I spent a lot of quality time on writing next weeks show; my definition of quality being that I both produced something, and enjoyed it (or at least did not feel ill for doing it).

Went to meet with TC Melodeon at Fanny’s to talk about the show. We got on right grand I I have a very good feeling about how it will go.

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