Well, welcome back folks.  It’s been a long time since I posted, and many thanks to those of you who have told me you’ve missed it.  The absence is not because of any loss of interest on my part, or of detention at Her Majesty’s pleasure.  No, it’s that my writing endeavours have been diverted somewhat since I last posted. 

I’ve gone back to college and I’m studying again, this time for a master’s degree.  Why? – For all the wrong reasons if you ask me.  It’s taken up a fair bit of time, but my dissertation went in last Friday, so I feel like I’ve shed a massive burden and that I can enjoy some scriptural freedom again  I can also get back to my other project – I’m currently 25,000 words into a book, the subject matter of which I can’t reveal yet, but I’m very excited about it, so watch this space!

Anyway, I hope this finds you, dear reader, having had a good summer.  Here are a few photos and jottings about what I’ve been up to.

I’ve had a couple of trips away to play, and seen some new places.  These were, as ever, very interesting, if somewhat fleeting.  It’s funny; going abroad seems to bring out the worst in the British. We’re used to seeing drunken and loutish behaviour from Brits abroad, but with musicians it seems to bring out the puerile, as this picture shows.

Jay Gipson steadfastly refuses to grow up! (Heidelberg, Germany)

I spent a really eventful and enjoyable week at the Summer Jamboree Festival in Senigallia, Italy.  So eventful that it warrants a post of its own.  Next post perhaps.

As has become my habit in the long break from my teaching gigs, I’ve been loafing a lot on golf courses.  I’ve joined the Stage Golfing Society, where I’ve been made to feel very welcome, and so I’m getting to play with some interesting people – actors, writers, tv anchormen, even stuntmen.  I even won a competition, paired up with a writer from Midsomer Murders.  I don’t know why anyone ever goes to that village; there seems to be a murder every day…  Here’s a pic of me with my trophy, (and looking every bit like I’m peering over the top of a plate of crumpets).

The triumphant golfer.

I had an interesting weekend recently.  Saturday saw me playing an anniversary party at an interesting venue – Temple Island.  This is an island in the Thames about a mile and a half from Henley and it marks the start-line for the Henley regatta.  After taking a boat across to the island, we played outside the impressive 1771 Etruscan folly.  A delightful gig, except that I left my lights on and flattened my car battery.  I felt such a phoney when I called the RAC and told them I only needed a jump-start.  (More photos in the gallery at the end of the page.)

Temple Island folly

The following day, we had the excitement of the London Surrey Cycle Classic coming past the end of the street.  This race was effectively a rehearsal for the road race at next year’s Olympics, and an impressive crowd gathered.  The race was preceded by about 20 police outriders, and the first view of the riders was a breakaway group of four, who had a lead of about 2 minutes on the pack.  The excited expectation was almost tangible amongst the crowd as we awaited the arrival of the peloton.  Then it appeared; and then it disappeared.  Yup, road racing is definitely a sport to be watched on tv, although the Tour de France is the biggest spectator sport on the planet.  It’s hard to gauge the sort of speed these guys ride at, but the cavalcade of support cars and the like that follow, seem to be going much faster than you would expect, complete with squealing tyres as they round the bends.

The arrival of the peloton

Seconds later, the departure of the peloton

If you’ve never watched the Tour de France, it’s interesting in that, if you watch it once, it’s about as boring as tv can get.  Blokes on bikes – that’s all.  If, however, you watch it every day for the three-week duration, it has all the drama, suspense, and scandal of the most dramatic soap opera imaginable.  Watch the highlights next year.

Anyway, back to our bike race – I went up to Richmond Park to watch the race on its way back into central London.  At this point the riders had covered more than 60 miles, and the field was understandably more spread out.  I’ll never forget the dejected look in the eyes of the two back-markers as they were being followed by la voiture balai (broom wagon) and waiting to be ‘swept up’.  I’ll bet this look can be seen in the eyes of the back-markers of any cycle race.  It’s probably similar to the steely determined look I’ve seen in the eyes of opening batsmen as they stride purposefully through the long-room at Lord’s.  I’m told this look is the same at every level of cricket, from village green to test matches.

Jeff Bean (http://www.bikecrave.com/the-broom-wagon/) says this about the broom wagon: ‘The Broom Wagon is grotesque. A sick four-wheeled infirmary. Inside: demoralized riders, shattered and hollow. Tired souls. Broken skin and bones. Vacant eyes. Tears of pain.’

August ended with my playing, once again, at the Twinwood Festival at the former aerodrome from where Glenn Miller’s last ill-fated flight took off.  Being a little later in the year, I always feel my enjoyment of this festival is weather dependent.  It being cold and damp meant I didn’t really enjoy it too much, except for a really fine accordion player I heard accompanying a girl singing French chanson.  The flypast, as ever, was impressive though.

Mustang fly past.

Here’s a gallery of Summer photos. Hover for thumbnails, click to view.

I’ve been drafting new entries for quite some time now, and it has to be said they’re a good deal funnier than this, so keep coming back folks won’t you? And do leave a comment.