Road Trip....

This should be fun. Milo is playing a charity event on Saturday in Stourbridge and I've been invited along to a bit of a pub crawl in and about the local environs by Milo's brother Russ.

The pub crawl was organised quite sometime ago, so long ago that I've completely forgotten the reason why.... and being a bloke I'm not about to admit that to anyone (who hasn't read this blog of course).

I love going to the midlands, it's a kinda home coming, even tho I'm not from Brimingham or the Black Country.

The reason I feel so comfortable there is the music. I've always had a leaning towards music from that area. Dunno why, it just is..... Slade, Duran Duran, Electric Light Orchestra, The Wonder Stuff, Miles Hunt, Carina Round, PWEI to name a few.

So, expect a few photo's

Dave "Battenburg" Dawson......

Last week saw another live gig by Miles Hunt and Erica Nockalls to promote Mr Hunts new solo album "Not an exit". As usual, a fine performance which has a tendency to restore my faith in humankind just long enough to get me to the next live event.

When Milo does a solo tour it usually includes a stop off at the Half Moon in Putney, that means it's a local gig.... which in turn allows me to get horribly drunk and to revel in Mr Hunts creations.

Now, Miles is well known for his banter between songs, sometimes he explains the story behind the song, sometimes not.... it can be a lottery. What you don't expect is to hear your name mentioned with regard to one of his songs, which is what happened last week.

Unfortunately, I'd past the point of being attentive to what was being said and missed the gist of why I'd been named.

The song I'd been linked to was "The Cake", a title on the new album...... Thank heavens it wasnt "Size of a cow". I didnt have time after the gig to ask what the connection is as Milo was busy signing stuff and I had a lift to catch.... anyhow, whatever the connection, its bloody great being associated with anything that fella produces.

I 'ate you Butler

The original idea was that I "help" a mate with a few issues when it comes to drum fills and breaks. Should be easy enough, an hour on the throne and he'll be breaking around the kit like a pro. Seems teaching is a little more difficult, especially as Aaron (the fella in question) has the rhythm of a collapsing building..... which is a little ironic as from a distance it sounds like he's building a shed*

After several cups of tea it was decided that I'd stick around for the nights session. It came to pass that Aaron had borrowed a small....very very small mixing desk.... no not desk..... more post it pad sized thing along with two studio mics.

Considering that there were to be 2 guitars (bass and electric 6'er), drums, keyboards and two vocalists I decided to opt out of the logistics of gathering all those sounds together into something that resembled organised music. Eventually, when the stench of too many cooks had dispersed we were left with one spare singer and a keyboard without an amp. Apparently the only audience for the keyboard was to be the tape recorder as it seems it plays no role within the band.... don't ask

As it happened I had a bit of a hoot, there were times when bass, guitar and drums found that groove, enjoyed the surroundings, admired the swirlyness before being ejected into the street for groping some blokes squeeze by mistake..... I think its called being creative, sometimes you hit the nail on the head and other times you run screaming into the road hoping to be hit by a number 11 bus to the cemetery gates.

Now then, when I was in a band our "tapes" were kept very close to our chests, most 'cos they were bloody awful, but deep down, we knew we could do better. We'd keep them under wraps until we were tight and could maybe afford some recording time (although we never did).

Aaron decided to "release" them on t'internet. Said like that, it conjours up images of some endangered species being set free in the middle of nowhere, to live out the rest of its days unhindered by man's intervention. Unfortunately, this "tape" should of been corralled into a small area then humanly put to death, quietly and with as much dignity that can be mustered.

Of course I'm being very critical, every journey starts with a single step and this is very much a wobbly stumble across the lino. Who knows, with a little practice it may turn into a runner.

Anyhow, here's a link to the site.... but be careful, its a shocker. Scree


* Aaron. Don't be too upset about my criticisms. This is a blog and artistic licence is in play

I want to ride my bicycle

As you can see, SHE RIDES WITHOUT STABILISERS!!!

But best of all, she did it with her Daddy. Something she wont forget and will carry with her forever, as I will.

Of course she needs a few more hours in the saddle to help with stopping, starting and turning.... but apart from that, she'll be fine!

Water.....

I'm a product of the industrial 70's. I'm built from processed foods, crimpolene, terylene, artificial sweeteners and I probably contain more E numbers than a primary school's kitchen



My body has a half life of several thousand years and will continue to contaminate the water table for some time to come..... although I do seem to be dissolving from the inside out.... my hip and thyroid is one example and the other is currently blocking the lavatory back at the flat (sorry about that John*..... I attempted to tackle it this morning but as I approached it with the kitchen chair and the builders trowel I swear it growled at me!)

This of course has nothing to do with this post... well not much. You see, I just happened to come across a TV program some weeks ago that suggested Aspartame could be linked with the onset and continuation of arthritis, which is the diagnosis I've been given for my knackered hip.

So, I thought I'd attempt to remove this artificial sweetener from my diet...

That means not drinking anymore "diet" soft drinks (amongst other things of course). So, I was on water only..... I've never been fond of drinking water, I dont really like the taste.... and I've seen what fish do it in.... Then there's bottled water, which has too much of a poncy feeling about it... no, It'll have to be filtered tap water. UK tap water is about as pure as you can get, really..... I filter it cos of the fish thing. I know its irrational, but with the help of a Brita water filter I'm overcoming it.

You know, this chilled filtered tap water is quite nice, I do lapse occasionally and have the odd can of Pepsi Max, but not often. I've even been testing out some brands of Tea.... I'm currently drinking two types at the moment......Twinings Pure White Tea and a Ginger Herbal Tea... which is surprisingly tasty.

Next week I shall be experimenting with Yoga.







* John is my lodger, he rents a room from me. He is not my gay live in lover. If I was gay I'd pick someone much better looking (someone "scrummy")

Can we stop to do some shopping?

If you have a bike, then go to Wales..... unless its a Hardly-Ableson as they have corners and bends in Wales that require you to lean the machine into. Something the Hog was never designed to do.

I've just come back from 3 days of intensive biking (750 miles in total). Five blokes, four of them IAM level and one who's almost there..... and not one whining over sensitive fun bothering female person in sight...

God is a biker, there's no other reason to arrange the hills and valleys of Wales in a way that makes almost every road a technical adventure to negotiate on a bike. The Devil of course drives an underpowered Skoda towing an unfeasibly large caravan, or as I like to call them, moving chicanes.

Luckily for us, the Devil was off shaking chimney stacks in Kent and left the Welsh roads caravan free. Bloody fantastic.

Left hander......possible knee down event.

I quickly and unconsciously skim through "the system".... the bend is visible all the way through, nowt on the road, nothing to hit, my position adjusted, just left of the long white divide. Speed and gear selection needs to be perfect, enough speed to keep the adrenalin flowing and the correct gear to neutralise the suspension bias front and back.

Everything slows down, becomes quiet and I feel a tightness spread across my face as the inevitable grin begins to show.... Arse slips off the seat to the left, right elbow anchors itself into the recess contoured into the tank design, left knee and leg rotate outwards ready to skim the bitumen.
Subconsciously I begin the turn, but thats not enough to do this correctly, I need to apply some science and have heroic amounts of self belief to stop under-steering and meeting an oncoming tree....or worse.
Forcing a 1000 yard stare up the road to where I need to be in just a few short seconds and applying a forward push on the left bar to countersteer the bike and myself around the apex...... Ground rush becomes apparent to peripheral vision as the lean angle increases.....I try not to think of the forces being transmitted through the bike, to the suspension and down to the tires and onto a contact patch with the road the size of a credit card.

I can feel the increase in G's spike then begin to fade, perfectly in unison with the degrees of lean. The throttle is slowly opened making sure I don't over do it and spoil the whole experience by spinning up the rear tire too early and invoking a spleen shattering high-side......

As the bike returns to its perpendicular attitude and my arse finds its usual residence I begin to hear a strange noise in my helmet , sounds like a screaming, giggling, over excited 10 year old at a Beyonce concert....... feck...... that noise belongs to me.

Oh look! another bend up ahead...... possible knee down event.

Note to self....

Who needs drugs when you've got music? It can change your mood quicker than a dose of prozak..

So, Mr Hunt is out and about on another tour along with Miss Fidley (aka Erica, pictured above... ain't she scrummy!). I urge you to pop over to his new Myspace page and have a listen to Note to self, to say its bloody marvellous is an understatement in the extreme.

The tour is planned to coincide with the new album released at the end of this month (Not an Exit), so if ya liked the samples on his webpage then get yaself a ticket or two and who knows, I might see ya soon....



I'll be in the usual place at the Half Moon in Putney May 22nd, in the usual drunken state I expect.

Is that bone I can smell burning?

Damn my dodgy hip....

I'm at the stage where I'm attempting to help my daughter to ride a bike. She's 6 and very confident..... which is great, but you do need some basics before you take the training wheels off... like the ability to point the bike in a direction that dosent end up in a collision with either people, trees, kerbs or me. The use of "brakes" seems to be an afterthought... usually after she's hit something.

So, I've been out to the park attempting to "help".... but how? I've found it very difficult to just "let her go" or perhaps that should read "let her fall off".... I got her knee protectors, elbow protectors, hand protectors and a cycle helmet, but its still not enough to put my mind at rest. Maybe I should let her wear the gear instead of me..

Eventually my hip decided it was time I should let her go, I'm not built for jogging in any condition let alone 23 degrees of sunshine.... unless being chased by carnivorous wild animals which thankfully are few and far between within the M25 area. Actually, I'm not really built for any kind of outside hard labour, my genes lie with a life of cold underground digging. When I'm exposed to sunshine my skin turns from its natural northern blue-white shade to a very angry and burnt red colour.

Anyhow, Emily did very well, she scared herself a few times as well as a few passing joggers and dog walkers but didn't actually fall off. Best of all she enjoyed it although she didn't quite get to ride without the training wheels.... maybe next week

I had to resort to a heroic dose of combined pain killers and the walking stick came out to play again..... I just hope Em cracks riding the bike sooner rather than later as the smell of burning hip joint isn't pleasant.

Oh well.

Barking mad

Everything seems to be sorted in the flat.... well, all the major stuff anyhow. For a single bloke that means all the audio/visual equipment is installed and my clothes are still in boxes in the bedroom.

Still dont know a great deal about my neighbours, I'm sandwiched between two single mothers with an undisclosed number of children..... all below the age of 5. As these flats were built in the 70's before compressed straw-walls were invented I've found little noise pollution, but ask me again in another month or so.

The car park outside the flats tells me there's a copper living close, as well as a taxi driver.... the other inhabitants have alluded me so far.

The only strange thing worth mentioning are the kids in the taller block of flats over the road...... they.....bark. Once you get over the initial shock you start to notice that it's not just one type of bark, they seem to be able to produce several types of canine auditory manifestations which include howling, yelping, growling, snarling and occasional whimpering. Thankfully we're separated by a large fence and brick garages. I've have yet to determine if they also foul the pavements and/or bite

The Groove Controller

"The Groove Controller"

Secondhand Serenade

I just cant help it, there's something very warm and now and friendly about an acoustic guitar.

Maybe its just me and the people I've had around me while growing up in a northern town. Very difficult to say what you really mean except when its presented in song on an acoustic guitar.

So, go and sooth ya lugs and listen to whats on offer from this fella.... dunno how much of all the lovey-dovey stuff I can put up with, but it's holding my attention so far.

Secondhand Serenade

My fav at the moment is Maybe, then possibly Your Call (which is a little too sweet for me)

Anyhow, let me know what ya think.

It's all down to me

I no longer need wonder at what point someone else is gonna make me homeless. Which is the feeling I've had since 1993.



I'm the sole name on my mortgage. And that's the way it will stay. I understand that other factors may come into play to force me into a cardboard box under a bridge somewhere, but at least it wont be on a whim and a prayer of some vacuous shallow bint with the morals of a footballers wife.



I came out the other end of my little adventure, battered, bruised and scared for life. It wont happen again, and because of this I carry a small bit of peace that I unfold every night before I fall asleep.



If you're married and a UK bloke then God help you. You'll need it. Our legal system hates you with a passion, it'll leave you bankrupt, homeless and it'll take your children away...especially if you're the one who remained faithful as blame isn't a factor when dealing with divorce.









Tomorrow I'll be talking about the positive side of suicide.

This is for Kat.

I've just read your blog.

...and I'm gutted.

Nothing I say (or anyone else) will help right now. But maybe if you come back at a later stage you'll understand what I've got to say.

First, let me apologise that I havnt replied sooner. As you can see, I've had my hands full, and this is the first time I've been able to check the blogs that matter to me.

Second, it hurts... and I know it.

There's this very large and heavy curtain we like to draw around us when everything we believe in begins to dissolve. It's a very natural defence mechanism which has to take its course. That course can run for some time, there is no formula to work out how long it'll last, all you'll ever know is that eventually it will lift.

Some people never experience it. (usually the mad and the bad)
Some people try to remove it chemically. (but only prolong the agony)
Some people experience it briefly. (the enlightened ones?)

...and some of us...

are never the same again.


Kat, never think you're alone on this one. No matter how small, faraway or insignificant you think I am from your current position, I'll be here... waiting.

I'm In!

It's taken me 17 years to get to this point.

but as of the 15th of this month I can now officially call Ocean Finance and get myself some debt consolidation secured entirely on my new home.

how comforting and refreshing.

Anyhow, everything is now moved. All done without the aid of payed movers which I'll never do again.... it was a nightmare. I managed to over do it and bust my hip again and if it wasn't for the following people who gave up time and a little sweat I'd still be in the old gaff in a pool of my own waste.

So, I'd like to thank....

• The lodger (Mr Wall, who's transformation into "White Van Man" was like something from Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde)
• Chuckie (who supplied heaps of muscle and fat man power)
• Pooch (muscle and bike talk)
• Paul Haygreen (supplier of muscle and a large Audi Estate)

without these fellas, it wouldn't happen.

Check my bins...

I'll be packing tonight... until I move on Thursday.

I think it'll be an equal split between stuff I need to keep and stuff I should keep but cant be arsed to.

Things I've had to throw out so far.....

1. Sony DV Camcorder with remote, spare battery, cleaning tape and case.
2. Bin bags full of XXL clothing I never wore
3. Enough PC parts to make at least 2 reasonable computers and dozens of mice/keyboards
4. Motocross helmet
5. Full set of leathers for a smallish woman
6. 2x Motorcycle jackets
7. Rotofit hamster house
8. Tivo
9. Sony VHS Recorder
   
10. Single Bed
11. Lodger
    

The bodies under the floorboards can stay... that febreze stuff is great.

And dont worry about not giving me a hand to shift all this stuff.... I'm sure with enough tramadol, ibuprofen and paracetamol the constant pain in my hip will subside after the first couple of trips down the 3 flights of stairs in my present flat.....after all, I've got all my family to give a hand! what with the constant visiting and phone calls I get from them you'd never think I'm ONLY 4 HOURS DRIVE AWAY.

I'd like to thank....

Well, looks like I'll be moving to a new gaff next week.

This has all been going on since early January, but I've not really blogged about it..... mainly because of my inherent bad luck when making something public knowledge... so I've kept my gob shut.

As it stands at the moment I've had a mortgage offer, the sellers have accepted, dates have been confirmed and there's a large bag of money somewhere in south London with the sellers name written all over it.

But the best bit of all? it'll be all mine! (in 25 years time that is).

There'll be no soul sucking woman in the background waiting for the moment when she can legally take everything I own, make me bankrupt, have me thrown in jail for frowning and making her "fear for her own safety" which will enable her to take my children to live with some fat idiot in a house paid for and furnished by me.... all with the full backing and support of the legal system.

So, I'd like to thank the following people for making this purchase possible...

My ex wife: for making me see how shallow, greedy and dishonest one human being can be.

Emily: for being so special. It made me put a lot of fear to one side so she can eventually have something to call her own.

Chuckie: for pushing me mentally to get this done.

My Financial Advisor: for not laughing too much at my predicament and helping me through this minefield.

Beaten by a 6 year old...

I managed to get a hold of a Nintendo Wii console... along with a copy of Wii Sports, which has already claimed its first victim. Although Chuckie will deny it, playing boxing on Wii Sports put him outa action for at least 2 days with a knackered back.

Anyhow, this weekend I introduced Em to bowling on the Wii, not only did she pick it up really quickly she now holds the record on the console. It's not much fun being hammered by a 6 year old so I quickly changed to a different game, she cant be any good at boxing, I mean, she's six..... and a girl.

She now holds the boxing record too... soon afterwards the console stopped working for some reason (ahem).

When there is a hush that I contain.

I'm still 39 at the time of this posting.....

For some reason being 40 has played on my mind, well, to be honest, since I was a teenager. 40 cant happen to me, or if it does I'll have done everything there is to do. Being 40 when I was a kid, in a mining town was the end. Thats it fella, you've had ya lot, sit back and perfect the art of being increasingly useless, embarrassing and alcoholic with serious bladder weakness and a mistrust of people who smile.

But back then I still had enthusiasm hope and glory, I could make a difference and hopefully, with a lot of luck and help from like minded people I'd somehow make the world a better place. Cos in the late 70's we had a choice, either be another coughing black lung statistic or perhaps, just perhaps escape to something a little brighter.

And then you come into contact with the arseholes of this world, put here for no reason than to test your faith in the human race. Be it managers, salesmen, politicians, wives, girlfriends, council officials, accountants, anything ginger, people from the Isle Of White, pilots, doctors, dentists or architects they strap you into that chair and spout forth a million reasons why.... YOU ARE WRONG.

And... for a time..... I believed them.

and that's why I havnt done everything I should have done.

Mitigating circumstances M'lod.....

So, I'm asking the Universe for an extension. I need some extended play here. I got sucked into a downward spiral of negativity on a colossal scale..... I think I've done my time, now it's your turn you fuckers, for the lies, for the hurt, for the evil that lives deep within your shallow soulless hearts - you know who you are - welcome to your cheap seats, I hope this really really hurts, keep those pearly whites glowing, cos you're gonna need them where you're going.

If ever I needed some cake, now would be the time.

Knit one, perl one, jam it in ya goolies........

I was sent to hospital on Friday, it would seem my Rheumatologist was concerned about my worsening hip and wanted me to have a huge needle jammed into my groin to "withdraw" any puss that might be there...... nice.

Anyhow, after screaming like a girl for most of the procedure the operating doctor told me that the fluid he extracted looked ok, no signs of puss or infection..... which is good cos apparently you can loose a leg if an infection goes unchecked (I assume its the painful leg that gets the chop in these circumstances!)

It came as a great shock to find out I was to stay in hospital over the weekend, I thought I'd be chucked out almost immediately after the needle incident, but the doc wanted to keep me under observation for a few days. Being the tit I am, I didn't bring anything in for the stay, no clothes, no PJ's, no toothbrush/paste, no porn. But thanks to Chuckie (again) he rallied round and got some stuff for me (except the porn)....... Thanks marra, thats another one I owe you.

Of course all the drugs and medication in the world will never make me feel as good as a visit from my little girlie, thanks to Sue and Gary for bringing my Em to see me, she made my weekend much better.

Em brought me a get well soon card which she made herself (without any help from mammy!)

Windows Vista..... or Dave's new girlfriend?

Hi, my name is David and I'm an IT consumer cow

Facts:

I know anything that is advertised in the media is a lie.
Microsoft products never live up to their hyped expectations
Microsoft products are grossly overpriced

So, why the hell did I buy Microsoft's new Vista PC Operating System?

Well, I didn't intend to purchase it, as most IT people know you never ever buy any software on its first release, it simply wont work. It'll be bug ridden, at best it'll just crash regularly, at worst it'll destroy any important data and attempt to reduce your hardware to a silicon paste. And you NEVER EVER buy an OS on first release..... The OS is the heart of your computing experience, it has a hand in every single thing that happens on that machine.

Anyhow, I was perusing the isles of PC WORLD, not looking for anything in particular, occasionally giggling at the enormous long queue of irate customers at the "Customer Service" desk waiting for the spotty herbert to tell them that everything the sales person said before the purchase was a lie and the only way of getting your money back would be to take them to court...... and if they don't leave in the next 60 seconds they will be forcibly ejected by the knuckle dragging shaved ape with the word "Security" sellotaped to his chest.

But that's not the point, this is...... PC World managed to mis-lable and price an entire shelf of Vista Home Premium (Full version, not Upgrade) DVD's.

Being a professional within the IT industry and working for a top blue chip IT company I did the right thing...... walked over to the queue of irate people at the customer service desk, told them PC World had dropped a bollock and had mis-priced Vista by £70 and by law MUST sell it to you at the stickered price....... Feeling very please with my self I returned to the checkout with my £70 lighter copy of Vista and bought it.

The manager wasn't happy, but after I'd explained to him that employing "the dangerously bewildered" on minimum wage to sticker goods worth hundreds of pounds was no fault but his own, and that Trading Standards could shut his shop at the drop of a hat if he refused my purchase, this had him smiling sweetly and wishing me a "good day" through gritted teeth.

No doubt the knuckle dragging shaved ape on the door has been trained to recognise me should I ever return and to remove my testicles with impunity.

Oh, and I guess you wanna know how I got on with Vista? Well, lets just say I'm back using XP as I feel being able to use my DVD drive and not having the browser crash every few moments is a bonus. On a technical note, if you have a system with Dynamic Disks then back them up first as Vista will tell you they are knackered and suggest you format...... not good.

It's a bit like previous girlfriends I've had, quite tasty on the outside but filled with disease and a passion to stop you doing anything you like.