Welcome back folks.  Another longer-than-intended break since the last post but that’s the result of trying to become a proper, published author as well as a sax player, arranger, academic, student, and a whole lot more besides.  The good news is that I’m hoping by January to have finished my masters degree and my new book, which should be published before Easter.  Watch this space.

On the subject of last posts, I must say the sound of the bugle gets me every time on remembrance day.  It brings a lump to my eye and a tear to my throat.  My maternal grandfather was gassed during the Great War but managed to survive ‘til he was 46.  Good job he did really, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this.  I never knew him though. 

I remember seeing a shellshocked old boy once while I was waiting in the barbers for a haircut, and that must have been in the early 80s, a mere 35 years after the end of WWII.  Poor fellow.  (This, of course, was when I actually had hair to cut.  These days if I say ‘I’d like a haircut please’ to a barber, he asks ‘which one?’)  What gets me is that wars aren’t fought between countries, they’re fought between governments – and they’re the ones sitting in bomb-proof bunkers while they send thousands of young people to do the fighting.  Ok that’s it for this rant, I’ll step down from my pacifist soapbox now.

A couple of posts ago I mentioned how my damaged hearing sometimes manifests itself as misheard comments.  Well, I was sitting in a class at University recently with a bunch of undergrad students from the local ‘Rockschool’.  These students are bright and enthusiastic wannabe rock stars.  The subject matter of the lecture was motivation, and the lecturer asked the question, “Can somebody give me an example of someone that really inspires them?”  A long-haired guitar player answered, and I was convinced he’d said, “Julie Andrews”…  What he actually said was Jimi Hendrix.  I thought you were supposed to get grumpy and feel sorry for yourself when your faculties start to deteriorate, but if I get laughs like that, roll on old age.

I was relating the above to one of my academic colleagues and he told me a story that saw him hastily sending an email to a particularly buxom administrator.  During the course of typing he ‘double struck’ two adjacent keys.  This resulted in the email starting: ‘Dear M****, I know you’re busty but…’  Now take heed of this folks – next time you type in a hurry, read what you’ve written before hitting send.  It seems Freudian slips can have physical manifestations too.

November saw me back at the glamourous hub of the showbiz universe that calls itself Pontins, Camber Sands for my 10th Rhythm Riot festival.  The personnel of the house band has changed a bit over the years, but they’re always good company, and it’s always good fun.  This year saw me reunited with the Bobbettes – four charming ladies from Brooklyn – whom I met in Italy in the summer.  They’re great fun and I wasted no time in resuming much mutual good-humoured piss-taking with regard to our strong accents.  Or should I say straawng accents.

Reunited with the Bobettes – Someone’s brought that plate of crumpets for me to peer over again!

I also played with another veteran rock and roller called Ray Sharpe.  The pic at the top of this piece shows me and some of my colleagues with Ray after our show.  What’s probably not so obvious is that that’s Ray’s hand on my shoulder.  Only kidding...

The highlight for me was playing a show with a really good band from Chicago led by J D McPherson.  The guys in the band flew in from Spain on the afternoon of the gig, and left early the following morning to play the final gig of their European tour in Belgium.  Despite their obvious fatigue, they absolutely gave their all on the show.  On top of that, they were super guys, and made me feel really welcome. 

I knew it was going to be a really good band from the way they didn’t use the pa in rehearsal, rather they just had everyone stand in a circle in the middle of the stage and very quietly play through the stuff.  Here’s some film from the show.  You can hear from the audience’s reaction that it was the most popular ‘turn’ of the weekend.

I felt like I’d seen a ghost the other night.  I’d been to hear the London College of Music Sinfonia play a concert and afterwards went to a nearby pub in West Ealing to hear The Sound of 17 Big Band.  Walking up to the pub I stopped in my tracks when I saw this in a shop window.

Strowger – the little black boxes with white labels on shelf D are the meters that were used for billing purposes.

It’s a shame the shop was in darkness and the window frame is casting such a shadow, but if you’ve never seen this stuff before, it’s Strowger electromechanical telephone switching equipment.  I spent a good deal of my early working life installing this stuff in telephone exchanges, even though it was already an obsolete system by 1979 when I started my apprenticeship.  I think the shop was some kind of super-whizzo modern communications place and this window display was an ironic statement.

From my inbox: This recently dropped into my inbox and I have to say it’s the perfect antidote to the old gag – What do musicians use as contraceptives? Their personalities...

I felt a pang of smug pride as well as a giggle welling up as I read it.

Ok folks, that’s about it for this time and probably about it for this year, so do have a nice holiday period, be nice to one another, and may your god be with you.

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