Yellow

Lin gets her new Beetle this week, so "Daisy" will be off to pastures new. This is purely a convenient place to host the picture for use in the online classifieds!

Tubular Bells

For anyone with a passing interest in electronic keyboard history, this is a veritable treasure trove. Amongst all the quirky and quality examples on display, there really has been nothing to match the Minimoog.



Mmmm, first post this year. I've been busy.

Like it or Not

One of the great things about prog rock is that nobody really takes it too seriously - especially those who love it. Hopefully even those who don't can see the funny side of this.

Southern Freeeeeeeez

If this is a review of the year, there is a nice, albeit freezing cold, symmetry about it. This time last year we were gazing out on a snow laden garden, impassable roads and shut schools, and for the first time in decades contemplating a white Christmas.

"Enjoy it while it lasts - it'll be years before you see it like this again", we told the children.

Not even a full year, as it turned out. Two weeks ago we couldn't even open the front door for fear of losing Oliver in a snow drift, and as I type this now, a fresh blanket in the last 24 hours has enabled Lin to build yet another gargantuan snowman on the front lawn. It looks like it's got better prospects of surviving till Christmas Day than last year's.

December 18th 2010

December 25th 2009

In between all this we've briefly had a summer and managed to get up to a few things of note. A few things of note - that's a good place to start:

Lin continues to play regularly with the East Peckham Silver Band, entertaining the public throughout Kent and East Sussex. She has also continued to fulfill engagements playing solo bugle at ceremonies and funerals, including Last Post at Westminster Abbey on Remembrance
weekend - just a bit nerve-wracking!

Lin has also started piano lessons - with an aim to be able to play fluently by the time she's admitted to a nursing home. At the moment she's sounding more like Les Dawson than Les Miserables.

Meanwhile, Jon is enthusiastically rehearsing with his works band. This year they've played 50% more gigs than last - a grand total of three, but still managed to help raise £900 for various charities in the process. There's a number of other entries on the blog if you're interested in learning more.

Talking of work, things have been quite settled there. Lin is still doing three days a week as practice manager at a local GP and Jon will be "celebrating" ten years at Teligent in 2011. With the "Televote Season" now over, he's looking forward to a quiet Christmas and the chance to enjoy Saturday evening TV without one eye on a computer screen and one ear on a BT conference call.

Emma and Oliver are a constant source of enjoyment. Emma moved up to Year 1 in September and is doing very well - "Unerringly polite" was one of the comments on her school report - that was a shock to us! She also contrived to win the Plaxtol Village Duck Painting contest for the second year running, and followed this artistic triumph by winning first prize in a competition run by Tonbridge Council to celebrate the centenary of the town's swimming pool - see elsewhere in this blog for a picture of her receiving her prize from Duncan Goodhew.

Oliver started nursery school in September. It was typically traumatic to start with, but he's settled in very well and the staff are having no trouble with him.

He's still quite a baby at heart; rarely stringing sentences of more than three or four words together, never far from his dummy and comfort blanket, and totally disinterested in using the potty - so it's a real shame he's developed a taste for chicken jalfrezi.

With children turning three and six in March we are very much looking forward to a magical Christmas. Of course we are playing the Santa card at every opportunity to make sure they go to bed on time, tidy up their rooms and generally behave properly. On the other hand we are constantly moving the chocolate decorations onto higher branches of the Christmas tree as the pair of them devise more and more devious and dangerous ways of reaching them - skipping ropes, practice golf balls, radio-controlled helicopters; anything is fair game in the pursuit of chocolate.

For anyone interested, I'll be posting up a new album of pictures from the year during the next couple of days - there will be a link on the right here somewhere. In the meantime, drive carefully, stay safe and have a wonderful Christmas and a prosperous new year.

Jon, Lin, Emma and Oliver

xxxx

Good Morning Judge

It was Oli's nursery school Nativity play this morning. Once again, a triumph of saccharin-sweet cuteness over any semblance of artistic integrity; but to be fair, the rehearsals were snowed-off last week.

When Emma was at the school (and always cast as an angel) I have to admit to being envious of the parents who got to see their child dressed in the fluffy sheep costume that always drew "Ahhhs" from the audience. Our patience was rewarded this year when Oli emerged from the wings in that prized outfit.

On closer inspection, we actually think it's a rabbit costume. Or a High-Court Judge. Either way it's stretching the the Nativity story a bit.

Still - "Ahhhh"

Where Does The Time Go?

Five months!

Sorry - I've been busy. Must be something to do with having two children under six that means that there are no idle moments in which to disgorge my random thoughts. Of course this gives me an ideal opportunity to post some "Review of the Year" type entries without being repetitive - if I can find the time.

Maybe the intensive band rehearsals haven't helped - although once a week on Wednesday evenings is hardly intensive. Still, it was good enough for us to pull off a pretty decent performance in Strood at the weekend. Having warmed-up with a three song set for Children in Need a few weeks ago we upped the ante to a full fourteen song set last Saturday and managed to raise £420 for charity at the same time.

• Stand by me
• I’m a believer
• Make me smile
• Baker Street
• Ain’t no sunshine
• All of my life (Phil Collins)
  
• Candy (Paolo Nutini)
  
• Sweet Home Alabama
• Don’t look back in anger
• Take it easy
• Lido Shuffle
• New Shoes
• Hey Jude
• Santa Claus is Coming to Town

This was the first time we had performed Boz Scaggs' Lido Shuffle; a song I have wanted to have a stab at for years and years. Having lost a rehearsal to snow recently it was touch-and-go whether it would make the final set, but I'm so pleased we persisted. Some audience comments afterwards said it was our best song - presumably in recognition of how difficult it is, as there were some slightly ropey moments during the performance, but from a purely personal point-of-view I was so relieved to nail the synth solo. I just wished I'd turned myself up a bit more!

Sadly our vocalist has confirmed that was his last gig - he's never been comfortable with the more rocky stuff we do - and whilst there are two or three of us who chip in with backing vocals I don't think any of us will be stepping up (certainly not me!). Auditions start in January I guess.

Swimming

Having spent much of the day basking in the 30° heat what better way to unwind in the evening than a gentle swim in the pool followed by a barbecue - very Caribbean. Only trouble is, we don't have a pool. Or a barbecue that hasn't succumbed to rust over the years.

So it was rather convenient that our artist in residence (Emma) had followed her duck decorating triumph by winning a junior colouring competition held as part of the celebrations of the centenary of Tonbridge Swimming Pool. Her prize is a month's free access to all Tonbridge's leisure facilities, which will be very useful over the Summer holidays, and equally appreciated, entrance for the family to the birthday pool party and barbecue that was held this evening. Tickets for this event sold out long ago, and were limited to only a couple of hundred people, so by Tonbridge standards this opportunity was quite a privilege.

The evening more than lived up to our expectations, with all four of us enjoying a 90 minute swim - the longest either of the children have spent in the pool - and if it wasn't for the overwhelming smell of burgers cooking outside we would have stayed in longer. Before all that though, we had the unveiling of the commemorative plaque by the Mayor of Tonbridge, Councillor Sue Murray, and Olympic Gold Medalist Duncan Goodhew MBE, and the presentation of prizes to the colouring competition winners - sorry that Emma couldn't manage a smile; these artists can be very difficult to please.

June

Crumbs, loads of stuff I could have been writing about, and now the month is almost over.

The last entry finished with the family trotting off to the Plaxtol village duck race. Amazingly, Emma won the duck decorating competition for the second year running. They had raised the age group to under-6, so she had the advantage of being one of the older entries, but it was still pretty impressive to beat the dozens of other entries.

Since then we've had a lovely half-term break down at the cottage in Dorchester, rediscovering old haunts from my youth, such as the beach at Burton Bradstock, and finally visiting Portland Bill for the first time. It's not a bit how I expected; I assumed it would be quite bleak, but it's really quite beautiful in places, not unlike villages in Cornwall. All the more impressive when you realise there are no trees.

Since then I've been preparing for TMC's first public performance of the year. It was at a school summer fair last Saturday, where the bass player's wife is a teacher. We played the same 40 minute set twice (with a 90 minute gap) in the main school hall. Most of the events were taking place outside, but it was noticeable how many more we had watching us for the second set - presumably good reports had spread. I reckon we had about 250 people across the two performances.

Since it was a infant/junior school we thought we'd better play some more modern tunes. Then we realised that just about everything we play has featured in a TV advert or programme in recent years, so they were all introduced in that context.

• Stand By Me (Ben E. King). One of the dullest songs I've ever played - the verse and chorus are identical, but it gave our violinist a chance to be heard during the strings refrain.
• Take it Easy (The Eagles). Given the lyrics, we thought it was hardly appropriate for a school fair, but it's a fun song to play, so we kept it in.
• I'm a Believer. It's all about that organ sound, isn't it. Fortunately I've got it.
  
• Baker Street. Our sax player bought an alto recently - I always thought it sounded OK on tenor, but he's nailed it with the new one. I love the piano part for this, it never takes over, but it's always there holding the song together. It was always a challenge getting the piano, strings and pad sounds at the right time, but the s90xs makes this a breeze now.
• Make Me Smile. We have got this very tight now - although I forgot to tweak the mixing desk for the spanish guitar solo during the first set, much to guitarist Aaron's annoyance. We need a sound man!
• Glorious (Natalie Imbruglia). For obvious reasons, vocalist Chris really doesn't like doing this. We play a much rockier version than the original, but then with three guitarists it's hard not to.
• Don't Stop Believing. The Journey version rather than the Glee cover. This wasn't my choice, but when somebody suggested it I jumped at the chance. I seem to remember rehearsing this with some success back in the early 90's with the legendary "Fishmongers", but I must have improved since then as I can play the right-hand chord rhythm against the syncopated bass-line without too much trouble now. I always used to simplify it before. We got this to performance quality in the space of three or four rehearsals, so I'm really pleased how well it sounded (and was appreciated).
• New Shoes (Paolo Nutini). Just about the first song we learned when we got together last August/September, and still a band favourite.

The audience applauded politely after each song, without ever going mad as it were, so it was a pleasant surprise to have people coming up afterward to ask where they could see us again. The teaching staff have asked us to play at their end-of-year party and one of them even inquired about playing at her wedding!

We'll be reconvening on Wednesday evening to see what we want to do next. The original idea last year was to get together to see if we could play a few songs at this year's works barbecue. Ironically that was yesterday, and we didn't play - having played in front of the staff last November we didn't have anything to prove. I know that both myself a Chris the vocalist would like to move away from what we call "busking" songs into something more challenging (we'd started work on Carpet Crawlers and Romeo and Juliet), but when you have nine members it's very difficult to keep everybody happy.

Still, onwards and upwards.....

No More Tiers (Enough is Enough)

Well, here it is; in all its glory, my current keyboard rig. It could also be considered a tribute to Yamaha's technology over the past 25 years or more.

Starting from the top: My DX7, bought in the summer of 1984, when they had yet to completely consume the music industry with that ubiquitous '80s digital piano sound. I'd seen Yes at Wembley Arena on the "90125" tour a few weeks earlier, and although I have always preferred Yes with Rick Wakeman, what Tony Kaye did that night with a couple of DX7s was astonishing. I'd been given a bit of money following the death of my father that year and ended up blowing most of it on a DX7, flight case, amp and speaker. I'm sure there were some raised eyebrows at the time, but until then I'd played in bands using my home-made Maplin kit keyboard, a monophonic Davolisint and a borrowed Hohner Pianet, so this was going to be a quantum leap forward. The fact that the DX7 is still with me, and has been a part of my life longer than my Father was, is probably testament to my profound thinking at the time. Alas, it doesn't come out much these days - this was only the second time in about the last six years - but it still works perfectly, even if it's a bit bashed about. Clearly I'm never going to part with it, for sentimental as much as economic reasons - I'd be lucky to fetch £30 for it in its current condition - but I think it will be a long time before it emerges from its case again.

In the middle is the wonderful SY99 - bought new in 1992 when it was the flagship of the Yamaha synth range. I'd already acquired a Yamaha PF70 electronic piano (lovely touch, lousy sound and long-since gone), but I was really looking for something that had better master keyboard capabilities for controlling all my other equipment. The SY99 gave me this, together with a broad canvas of sound capabilities. It uniquely fused the FM synthesis technology of the DX7 era with the sampled sound playback that continues to dominate today, with the ability of the latter to modulate the former, producing weird and occasionally wonderful sonic textures. These are still highly regarded and sought after, with perhaps only half a dozen or so appearing on ebay each year, helping prices stay at around £500. I would dearly like to keep mine, but I fear that a lack of space may force me to sell it.

And finally, my latest pride and joy: a brand spanking new Yamaha S90XS; a full 88-note keyboard with a stunning S6 Grand Piano sample coupled with all the sound generation of the Motif XS synthesizer engine. I've only had it since Wednesday (it should have been Tuesday, but City Link managed to ship it to Portsmouth by accident), so I'm still finding my way around it, but it is...well I hate to use the over-blown adjective...awesome. If I have a criticism it is that you pay all this money and only get a pretty basic hard-copy user manual, with the full version coming on an accompanying CD. When I've got a week to spare I'll print it out, so that I can read it in bed, on the loo, during party political broadcasts and all those other idle moments.

I could go on, but we're off out to the annual Plaxtol village duck race. You may remember Emma won the under 5's decorated duck competition last year; she won't be winning anything this year - she's in the next age category and she insisted on using paper glue to try to stick sparklies to the plastic duck, with inevitably disappointing results.

Watch(er) of the Skies

Wahoo! It's my birthday next week, so I've had the usual inquiries from family members as to whether there's anything I'd like. As usual I've procrastinated in my responses and now it's pretty much too late for them to get anything, so I've resorted to the tried-and tested "please donate towards this really big (and expensive) thing I'd like to get". Well, that "big thing" has been ordered, and I CAN'T wait for it to arrive, but until then I shall keep quiet, in case it all goes horribly wrong.

Meanwhile I was perusing the latest issue of Smartlife magazine in case there is some new gizmo that I never knew I needed but couldn't possibly live without. And here it is......

It's called the Meteoris and is made by Swiss watchmaker Louis Moinet. Put simply it's an electro-mechanical planetarium mounted on a metre-high plinth which also houses four tourbillon watches. Now if that doesn't sound expensive enough already, the watches and the planets are coated in dust and powder from Lunar, Martian and other meteorites that have found their way to Earth over the years. And the price for this completely insane statement of opulence? $4.7 million.

Bonkers!

Twilight Alehouse

I've been decamped in my favourite hotel on the outskirts of Oswestry for the past four nights. Just to be clear, it's my favourite hotel on the outskirts of Oswestry, not my favourite hotel. It's always a sticky wicket when you talk about your work on blogs - customer, employer and employee confidentiality and all that - suffice to say we've spent usual ridiculous hours deploying our latest software masterpiece onto the Great British telephone network.

Each evening the team has flicked coins to decide where to eat. Except for Friday night, when we were too knackered after the drive up, so we ate in the hotel restaurant. And Saturday night, when we were too knackered after a 12 hour shift and got back so late that the only place we could go was the hotel restaurant.

At least the six of us got out last night, but then the majority vote went with a trip to the Simla Tandoori in downtown Oswestry. It's a decent enough place, and my Jalfrezi was perfectly palatable, but it seemed a waste of an expenses-paid opportunity.

With half the team heading back to Kent at lunchtime, the three of us who remained behind were able to finish the last bits of work at a sensible time and head to one of our preferred hostelries, the White Lion in Whittington. There's always plenty of mouth-watering dishes on the menu, and a nice guest ale to wash it down with. So I was a tad surprised and disappointed to walk in there tonight and see Shepherd Neame's Spitfire on tap. This ale is synonymous with Kent, where SN own about 50% of the pubs (probably not that many, but it certainly feels like it) - it's a not unpleasant beer, but I certainly wouldn't drive halfway up England for it. Still, the food was lovely.

We set off home straight after breakfast tomorrow. I've really missed the family and I believe they've missed me - apparantly Oliver won't play with his train set without me, and Emma is asking whether I'm bringing her a present back. I'll have to pick up some motorway service area tut on the way back to make up for my absence. And probably a nice bottle of Burgundy for Lin too.

My only dilemma now is whether after four nights away I can get away with going to band practice on Wednesday night. We're meant to be working on Carpet Crawlers this week, so I think they might miss my arpeggios if I'm not there.

The Things That They Say

I think I inadvertently found myself in a hitherto unseen part of a Two Ronnies sketch tonight.

I had just put Emma to bed and read her a couple of stories when I noticed some laundry that had yet to be put away. Being the "new man" that I am, I thought it would be a good idea to sort it out now, and set about placing each item in its appropriate place in her wardrobe. Socks, knickers, vests and jeans all posed no problem, but then I picked up some kind of dress she had been wearing yesterday.

Unsure of its normal home, I turned to Emma and asked her where it belonged.

"In the top drawer" came her reply, so I duly opened the top drawer, which was full of fleeces, and proceeded to fold it neatly away.

"No Daddy, the top drawer" said Emma. Somewhat puzzled, I removed the dress and realised that it obviously belonged in her other set of drawers on the opposite side of the room. I duly crossed towards them, but as I was about to open the top drawer Emma leapt from her bed, took the dress and put it in the third drawer down of her wardrobe.

"In here - the drawer where I keep my tops". And off she toddled back to bed.

Ronnie Barker would have been proud of her.

Here is the News

I often read articles that ridicule the round-robin newsletters that people like to put in their Christmas cards to let their friends and far-flung family know what glorious activities they've been up to during the past year. Personally I enjoy receiving these, as more often than not we don't get to see these people anything like as regularly as we used to, and so I've never considered not compiling one to send out ourselves.

On the other hand, I can see that some people find them irritating when when they just seem to be an ostentatious vehicle for telling everyone how wonderful their lives are - you know the sort of thing; endless paragraphs on exotic travels or how little Johnny has achieved 10 A'Levels before his seventh birthday. Mmmm, I guess we might have been guilty of the former in the past.

So, this year I've gone for an opt-in newsletter. Those of you reading this will be here because you've stumbled upon this page by accident or you've chosen to come here having received our Christmas card. Or you're one of the very few people who check this blog for updates - a fruitless task for much of the year - so step forward and take a bow; PT and CyberKim.

Right, so where do we begin? Well, after returning from the family holiday in Aspen, where Emma completed her first black run and Oliver safely negotiated the Olympic slalom course on his potty....

....er, right, now what have we really been up to?

Well for those of you who were reading last year, you may remember Lin had been made redundant towards the end of 2008. After a few months of effectively completing her maternity leave, Lin became a job-seeker in the spring. It was a pretty forlorn task to begin with, but after several fruitless weeks, opportunities began to arise, and by June Lin had three different job offers. She had no hesitation in taking up a post as part-time practice manager at a doctors' surgery in the centre of Tonbridge. The leap into the public sector, and particularly the NHS, has been quite a shock, but slowly but surely she is getting on top of things and starting to feel like she's achieving something.

Emma started her reception year at Woodlands Infant School in September. She was definitely ready for it, and has settled in very well. She's a typical four-year old; a real handful at home but an absolute angel at school apparently - although we think the teachers may have her confused with somebody else. She did surprise us all (and herself) back in May by winning first prize in the under 5 age group of the Plaxtol village duck race decorating competition - the judges said her effort actually looked like it was done by a four-year old without adult assistance, which was indeed the case - hers is the rubbish looking one with the yoghurt pot on its head in the picture below

Meanwhile Oliver is now 21-months old and an absolute delight. He has a very happy personality and is no little trouble at all - he sleeps 11 hours or more each night without any interruption, something he's been doing for many months now, and he eats just about anything we put in front of him. Until recently Lin's parents were looking after him while she was at work, but Lin's Mum is currently recovering from a hip replacement, so he now stays with a child-minder instead. That seems to be working out quite well - it gives him the chance to mix with other children of his own age.

As for me, well I still have a job. There have been some redundancies at work recently where colleagues of the last eight years have unfortunately been let go, but personally I'm in quite a secure position. As long as the popularity of X-Factor and Strictly Come Dancing continues there will be plenty for me to do. If you read elsewhere in this blog you'll also see that a few of us at work decided to relive our youth and have a bash at forming a band. It's been great fun and we've all been surprised at how good we sound. No doubt psycho-analysts would attribute it to a mid-life crisis, but we certainly intend to continue next year. Lin, of course, is right in the middle of a whole series of gigs leading up to Christmas with the East Peckham Silver Band, having had a busy summer with them at various venues around the South-East.

As I write this the snow is falling heavily outside the window. No doubt Emma's school will be closed in the morning (Health and Safety: a child might slip over!) - a shame, the last day before the Christmas holiday. I think I'll pop out and take a nice photo for you all......

....here it is. Merry Christmas

It's Still Rock 'n' Roll To Me

Well, we did it!

From our humble, uncertain beginnings in late July, the nine-piece TMC (Teligent Music Club) played our first gig on Friday - a benefit concert for Children in Need, that raised in excess of £200.

We settled on five songs that we've just about mastered; Make Me Smile, Wonderful Tonight, New Shoes (Paolo Nutini), Baker Street and Santa Clause is Coming to Town - all of which went down very well. In fact watching the DVD over the weekend, the musical performance was really good - although what we lack is a PA system, so trying to get nine instruments plus vocals mixed using a bundle of practice amps was a bit of a challenge.

So that's the first hurdle out of the way. We play another low-key private show for the WaGs in three weeks time, then we'll reconvene in the new year to start working on a whole load of new songs. Now that we have confidence in our musicianship I think we'll be getting a little more ambitious and even diverse - I'm floating the idea of trying Boz Scaggs - Lido Shuffle (wonderful synth solo for me to get my teeth into), and given the common musical taste I share with the vocalist (and first rhythm guitarist) I think some 70s Genesis or Floyd will get an airing.

School

It's funny how watching the children grow up triggers long-lost memories of similar times in my own childhood. This week was Emma's first at infant school; reception year as they call it - effectively compulsory nursery school, as she's a full year younger than I was when I started school.

Dropping her off on Monday morning was always going to be unpredictable - would there be floods of tears, tantrums and wet knickers? And that's just from the mothers - I've never seen so many wearing dark glasses on an overcast day. Emma was absolutely fine, even though there was a look of trepidation in her eye. She had nothing to fear really; we were already aware that two of her best friends from nursery and play school were going to be in her class, so she was quick to settle in.

Inevitably there were some poor kids crying inconsolably; you don't know who to feel more sorry for - the child or the mother who can do or say nothing to make things any better. And then I remembered that I was like that child forty-something years ago, abandoned in a completely alien place and not knowing anybody. I can clearly recall screaming my eyes out as my Mother disappeared into the distance on her bike, rattling through the Sturmey-Archer 4-speed whilst pedalling like a Tour-de-France sprinter, and never looking back to see the emotional state I was in.

So I suppose we should be grateful that Emma is up bright and early every day (including the weekend) asking if it's time to go to school yet. Bless.

Something for Nothing

I was glancing through an email newsletter from Dabs.com late last night and for a change, something caught my eye: A BT I-Plate for £7.07. It turns out this simple little device connects to your BT master socket and boosts your broadband connection download speed in the region of 1.5Mbps. Since we live around two miles from the local exchange we're lucky to get anything much in excess of 1Mbps, so an improvement of this order would be very welcome.

The reviews seemed to confirm these claims were not excessive, with people falling over themselves to award maximum stars for the product, so I was naturally curious as to how it could achieve such results. A little bit of Googling later revealed how simple the process is: all the plate does is isolate the bell wire (pin 3) from your internal cabling. In the olden days, when we used phones with big metal bells in them, this wire was essential if you wanted the thing to actually ring, but much our appendix, it really serves no purpose these days. In fact its presence is detrimental, as it picks up loads of electical interference and reduces the quality of the signal on the other wires in the phone cable. This is why it is recommended to plug your broadband router directly into the master socket.

Unfortunately this isn't always possible - in our case the master socket is in the loft (lazy BT engineer years ago) so the router is at the end of about 10 metres of internal cable that weaves its way past ring main, lighting and heating systems - a recipe for poor signal to noise ratio. On the other hand, we're fortunate in that I installed a junction box immediately next to the master socket, connected by no more than six inches of cable, before fanning out to the extensions around the building.

So tonight I ran several speed tests at various sites (Moneysupermarket, for instance) and found that on average we were getting around .56Mbps download and .48Mbps upload. Very poor; much worse than I thought. I popped up into the loft, isolated the junction box from the master socket and removed the cover, then removed the bell wire at pin 3. With everything reconnected and a quick check to see that voice calls were still getting through, I rebooted the router. According to various comments, it takes two or three days for the router and exchange to settle on a new line speed, so I wasn't expecting anything too dramatic straightaway, but I couln't resist running the tests again. The result: 3.2Mbps down and .85Mbs up.

Astonishing. A simple, no-cost operation delivers nearly six-times the download speed, and in all likelihood it could get even better in the next 48 hours or so.

Emma will love it when she goes to cbeebies in the morning.

Rock 'n' Roll!

I'm in a band. The last time I could say that was sometime in the last century, so this is a definite novelty. A few of us at work have been discussing this for a while, and finally we managed to get together for the inaugural Tuesday Night Music Club this week.

So far we have two guitarists, a drummer, a bassist (at least he will be once he's managed to win a bass on ebay), a keyboardist (that's me), a sax player and a violinist (both absent). We didn't actually play anything this week; we just had a very democratic meeting to suggest what we'd each like to practice. As a result it looks like we're going to be a jazz/soul fusion, heavy metal skiffle band. So prog rock it is. Oh, and nobody wants to do vocals.

We reconvene in two weeks time, having all perfected "Wonderful Tonight" hopefully, to see if any of us can actually remember how to play. If that's OK, we'll have a bash at "The Boys of Summer" - a song I've always fancied covering.

We already have our first booking: The office Christmas party - so we'll need to get a passable version of "I Believe in Father Christmas" in the setlist if I have my way (which I won't).

All we need now is a name and a MySpace page.....

Picture Perfect Morning

I've downloaded a blogging app for the iPhone called Blogpress. I figured with more mobility I might be able to post more regularly, especially as I was going away on business for a few days last week and would have copious hours to fill.

This turned out to be a false hope, only surpassed in its naivety by the fact that myself and two colleagues packed our golf clubs - these remained locked in the cars for five days.

So we had a pretty scary rollout - but it was the biggest hardware and software release we'd ever attempted. In amongst the 60+ hours spent getting the platform stable I did manage to visit my hotel room for an occasional sleep and snapped this picture from my window of the Shropshire Union Canal and the mountains of North Wales beyond.



Shame. It looked like a lovely day for a round of golf.




-- Post From My iPhone

St. Mary's Prayer

"It's not the despair, Laura. I can take the despair. It's the hope I can't stand."
(Brian Stimpson (John Cleese) from the film "Clockwise")

It's forty-three years since my Dad took me to my first game at The Dell (a one-nil win against Crystal Palace). At the time we were living no further than a decent goal-kick from the Milton Road turnstiles and I had spent much of the 1965/66 season watching legions of red & white-clad men strolling past the front of the house every other Saturday - usually looking very happy, as this was the season that Saints would win promotion to the top tier for the first time in their history.

Why it was several years before my father took me to another game is not something I recall now; certainly the fact that we moved six miles up the road to Chandler's Ford would have had something to do with it, but perhaps my apparent lack of enthusiasm at that first game might have been the real reason - I sat on the wall by the players' entrance for the whole game asking when the ice creams were coming round. I was only four years old. Nevertheless, some sort of spell had been cast on me: I was now a Southampton supporter. In hindsight, maybe it was a curse.

It's probably worth taking this opportunity to admit to a period of unfaithfulness. There's a loosely quoted rule that goes something like "You can change your girlfriend or your job, but you can never change your football club". The fact that female liaisons and any semblance of a professional career were not to trouble me for many years might just give me an excuse for not grasping the sentiment of such blind loyalty, for when Martin Chivers, my first football hero, left Saints for Spurs, I went with him.

How long my love of Saints lay suppressed and dormant I don't recall. Certainly for much of my time at junior school, peer pressure meant you had to support a "big" club to earn respect in the playground, or more importantly at the ritual team-picking at the start of games lessons. Support Saints and turn up in Woolworth's own-brand football boots guaranteed you'd be last to be picked and despatched to left-back for the whole game. On the other hand, a Liverpool strip and a pair of George Best endorsed Stylo Matchmakers ensured a coveted place in attack. I elevated myself up the pecking order by getting a pair of "Soccer Tabs" - an essential accessory of the Leeds United kit at the time - these were sock garters with a sizeable, frilly-edged numbered panel suspended from them. Mine were number sevens, and clearly in the minds of the usual team captains would transform me into a talent akin to their real owner, Peter Lorimer, renowned for his pin-point accurate, pile-driver free-kicks. After a few weeks, the realisation that I still couldn't hit a cow's back-side with a banjo, let alone trouble a four-foot goalkeeper from twenty yards, saw me slip back to right-half, but at least the kudos of those soccer tabs ensured I never played at left-back again.

Anyway, I digress. Just as my father had introduced me to Saints in the first place, he was also responsible for bringing me back into the fold. During an Easter trip in 1974 to my grandparents in Eltham, South-East London, he drove myself and my sister up to White Hart Lane to see Spurs play Saints. Standing on the terraces along one side of the ground we had a good view of the Saints fans to our right; they were in good spirits and voice, and I realised in amongst them were faces I recognised: a couple of blokes who worked at Eastleigh railway station; an older brother of a school friend, and others who I had seen out and about. The Spurs fans, on the other hand, were complete strangers and actually were quite intimidating. As the game progressed, and Spurs cruised to a comfortable 3-1 win, I felt no joy at all - I shared the emotions of the Saints fans, as hope and anticipation was washed away to reveal despair and frustration.

It was not so much a life-changing moment, rather a life-affirming one. The roller-coaster ride was just beginning, and within a few weeks "we" were relegated to the old Division Two, but for me the journey was just beginning. Over the next thirty years I went to most home games (as my vast programme collection will testify), with the exception of the early eighties when I was away at university. Ironically this was our most successful period in the top-flight.

Emma was born shortly before we were relegated again in 2005. By then Lin had given up her season ticket, and it gave me a good excuse not to renew mine, and I'm ashamed to admit that I have seen one game in the Championship since then (Barnsley 5-2 - not a bad choice). I always assumed that I'd start going again one day, maybe once Oliver is old enough to appreciate it (and not just pester me for an ice cream), but it seems there is now a very real chance the club will disappear before the end of the season. Despite successfully reducing the debt this season, Barclays pulled the plug on the club's life support machine, the PLC holding company, and it seems that there's every chance a 10-point deduction will be enforced. With that will come certain relegation and surely the end of the 130 year old institution - nobody in the current climate will be able to fund a recovery from there.

But for now, I live in hope. On the eve of a massive, must-win game at Sheffield Wednesday, I still have the belief that a miracle will happen; we will win, there will be no points penalty, and a white knight will appear to carry the club forward. By this time tomorrow, such dreams will be shattered, no doubt.

Starting All Over Again

.....will be:

1. This blog
2. Southampton Football Club

Back soon