Thoughts From The Gap

Epiphany

2007-03-15T06:59:00.000Z

This one is for Lucy who posted a comment on Goatfood, saying that she'd been here and was overjoyed to discover that she wasn't the only Pink Floyd fan in the world - who was prepared to own up to the fact! Well, rest assured, there's a few of us about!

In my record (yes - vinyl!), tape and CD collection I have most of their output although I'm not that keen on the very early (Syd Barret - sadly RIP) stuff. I have seen them once, at the last ever performance of 'The Wall' at Earls Court.

So to the title of this post.

For a long time in the 60's and 70's I was totally devoted to folk music (see 'Poem' and 'Totty'). I was considered to be a half-decent guitarist/singer and was out playing 4-5 nights a week, mostly for beer and expenses, sometimes for money. Early on I had the chance to go pro but turned down as I had a pregnant wife (who left me 2 years later - but that's another story!) and a proper job etc. It began to dawn on me that it had little future and I was starting to tire of the whole business when I went back to someone's house after a gig. This music was playing in the background which drew me - it was 'Wish You Were Here' and that was that - it really was a revelation. The guitar went under the bed, not to be played for about 5 years and I threw myself into catching up on all the music I had missed.

30 years on I'm back on the scene this time as a guitar tech/roadie for a 'proper' musician and his various bands and as a stage tech with a sound engineer mate. I miss performing but I'm glad I'm out of it - which in a way was due to The Floyd.

So....Come back Lucy, whoever and wherever you are and tell me your story......

Shot scot

2006-12-23T08:57:00.000Z

I have just been turned on to this newspaper thanks to Richard and having done the haggis hunt proceeded to the news headlines. Check this out - I mean, how unlucky can you get? That cleaner nearly HAD 'dunroamin' !
'No action taken' - What!! Having a loaded gun in your hotel room is OK then...!
Obviously the police at Bonar Bridge are kept very busy....

Progress??

2006-12-20T15:09:00.000Z

When I started this blogging lark it was all very easy once I'd set up my template - I'd click on the link for 'blog' or 'dashboard' and there I was. Then THEY said 'Go to the new format - beta blogger - it's a lot better and easier ---- Ha Bloody Ha!!!
It's a nightmare - what a pig's ear - each time I go to 'Dashboard' I have to sign in with my blogger stuff, THEN sign into my Google account and each time I tick the 'remember me' box but it never does (remember me). The only good thing about it is that my usernames and passwords are now firmly imprinted into my ageing and very limited memory.
What was wrong with the old blogger - it seems to have worked for many people for a long time.

There is an old adage - IF IT AIN'T BROKE, DON'T FIX IT

Frustrated of Devon..................

Totty

2006-12-17T11:34:00.000Z

I woke up this morning with a song running around my head. This is a not uncommon experience for me - working on my own most of the time I tend to get lost in my own thoughts and tunes in particular can get locked in and in some cases, drive me nuts.
Anyroadup this song just came out of the blue. I haven't thought about it, or sung it, in years.

Strange that!

I should explain that I was a very active semi-pro folk singer in the '60s and '70s (I may well write about this in more detail later) and I heard this song while visiting Ewan McColl's 'Singer's Club' round about '65/'66. It was written and sung by a young chap whos name escapes me except he was a 'John' - I apologise to him for this, as where possible, I like to give credit where it is due.
It is unusual in that it is written almost entirely in cockney rhyming slang - which should prove a challenge for my overseas readers, if not some of those at home!

So...here are the lyrics(I actually have a recording of me singing it but fortunately for the world I don't know how to post it!)

Totty

As she walked along the street, on ‘er little plates of meat
And the summer sun was shinin’ on ‘er golden barnet fair.
Bright as angels in the skies were ‘er two blue mutton pies,
In me east and west old Cupid shot a dart and left it there.

She’d a grecian I suppose and of ‘ampstead ‘eath two rows
In ‘er sunny south they glistened like two glittering strings of pearls.
Down upon me bread and cheese did I fall and murmer ‘Please
Be me storm and strife, Dear Totty, oh you loveliest of girls.’

Then a bow-wow by ‘er side, who ‘till then ‘ad stood and tried
A jenny lee to banish, wot was on ‘is jonah’s whale.
Gave an ‘ydrophobia bark, she said ‘Wot a noah’s ark’
And right through me rank and riches did me cribbage pegs assail.

‘Ere the bulldog I could stop, she ‘ad called a ginger pop
Who said ‘Wot the ‘enery melville do you think you’re doin’ ‘ere?’
And I ‘eard as orf I slunk, ‘Ere that feller’s jumbo’s trunk!’
And the walter joyce was Totty wiv ‘er golden barnet fair.

Everybody got that?......

Rain

2006-12-10T19:08:00.000Z

No not the Somerset Maugham story/play, just the weather.

It's all getting rather tiresome. I have two active, healthy teenage sons who create vast amounts of washing in no time at all. Being (or at least attempting to be) a moderately 'green' person (you wouldn't believe the time I spend organising my recycling) I chose not to get a washer/drier - instead I rely on a clothesline and an airier over the Rayburn. Also I hate ironing and a good, dry, windy day takes care of most of the creases - but this bloody weather is just awful. For god's sake it's like April - sun, shower, wind, shower and then RAIN. I'm getting quite paranoid about it. When it's fine and dry in the morning I feel quite guilty putting washing on, knowing quite well that it will cloud over and start to rain the moment I leave the house having put the washing on the line.
Yes it's all MY fault - sorry about that. I'm pretty certain that the tornado in London wasn't down to me - I can't be THAT important to Murphy, surely....
To add insult to injury - having been extraordinarily busy of late, I found myself with a 'day off' today - wow, what to do! - I quite fancied going to see a Rory Gallagher tribute band called 'Sinnerboy' who are playing (as I write) in Poole - 120 miles away. I was up for the drive - no problem to me - I'm used to that what with all the gigging I do - but the weather is diabolical and I just can't face a 2 1/2 hour drive in gales of wind and driving rain. So no gig. I feel deflated and pissed off.
It's December, for Christ's sake. At least, when I was young, it had the decency to snow - you knew where you were with that!
It must be global warming, caused by all those washer/driers!!!

There, I feel better now, even if I must be the saddest person in Devon.....

Help........

Birthday Boy

2006-11-17T07:09:00.000Z

Today my boy Jack becomes, an adult. My God, is it really 18 years since he was born!

Just like me, he was determined to show his bum first to the world and so was born by caesarian section. I got stuck in traffic and nearly didn't make it in time - they weren't prepared to hang around. After getting him out, they gave him to me and took my wife away to 'finish off' and I was left with my 10 minute old son, alone in a room. Then an extraordinary thing happened - he opened his eyes and looked around the room as if he was thinking 'So now where am I?' and then he looked straight at my face, eyes focussed as if he was saying 'And who the hell are you?' - and then he went to sleep quite calmly.

It was a very profound experience.

So, tonight I shall take him to the pub and buy him his first legal pint, as a father should!

More Poems

2006-11-13T13:18:00.000Z

These were written by my youngest son, 2 years ago when he was 14. He's definitely the bright one of the family and was reading stuff like 'The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy' and 'Lord of the Rings' when he was 7. Quote "I don't really understand this bit here, Dad". "What?" "Where Ford Prefect says that going into hyperspace is a bit like being drunk, and Arthur Dent says that's not too bad and Ford says he ought to ask a glass of water...."
Anyway Here are two of his poems. The first should have been posted yesterday - Armistice Day - but I spent most of the day working and then getting drunk (see previous post - 'Gin')

Lives lost in No-Mans-Land

Over the deafening blasts of gunfire and screams of pain,
The signal comes, we turn and run from the death of the trenches.

Trudging wearily forward, each step torture,
Faces barely visible through layers of mud,
Not speaking, limping, sodden, weary, tormented,
Splattered in mud, hair filthy and matted.

Stiffening, we heard and saw gas, poison, death.

Without a thought, shifting our heavy packs,
On went clumsy masks,
But one man chokes.

Gas thickens; shadowy figures try to escape the deadly air,
Drowning in clouds of reeking death,
Drifting to innocent souls now writhing in choking agony,
Retching and staring in horror.

If never that is seem by man, by far too soon it would be,
The filthy bloody face of the writhing man shows what war is,
Never my friend would you have seen with no disgust, no sorrow,
No hate for the common enemy.

But to imagine is to know the rags, the bare bones of what is told,
The sooner you die, the sooner it’s over,
As known when hearing liquidated lungs splutter out spraying
Glory and relief to die.

Never again say, my friend, “do not cower, be proud, war is glory,

You know nothing.

I Do Believe

I do believe that I can cleave the head off
someone’s neck,
The shoulders gone the blade has shone
He’s dead no need to check.

I do believe that I just sheathed a sword
That once drew blood,
It slashed and stabbed and whirled about
And laid it’s foes in mud.

I do believe that I can breathe while others
I know don’t,
The bony hands that wrung their necks means
Blow and suck they went.

I do believe that I achieved
A never ending war,
In which men of many nations,
Went mad at what they saw.

I do believe that I’m the best
That have been born,
Thus I dig myself a grave
For this is what I’ve sworn.

He treats death with a touch too much relish for my liking - a combination of extreme youth and computer games I reckon.......

Gin

2006-11-12T16:42:00.000Z

Alcohol is all things to all people, innit?
Richard likes 'proper' beer or 'foaming ale' as he calls it, my lad, Jak, who becomes officially adult in 5 days, isn't that fussy as long as he gets off on it and it's cheap (were we like that at that age - I suspect so!) me, I like gin and tonic , (of course) that fine combination of C2H5 OH , jiniper berries and quinine. With a bit of luck I'll never get malaria - just liver failure!
Why this ?
Today I fitted 12 roller blinds into a rich person's holiday flat in a 'New Luxury Development'.
I live in a 'Holiday Area' where these things abound. Wealthy people come here and buy these place for fortunes, thus putting the price of dwellings way beyond the expectation of 'ordinary' local people. I could 'go on' but what's the point?
Anyway, 5 hrs on, I hit the shop, looking for 'dinner inspiration' for my boys - I'm a single parent (sort of) I'll explain sometime later.....and ......there it was .....'special offer'..... 2l of Gordons gin for £25 - COR!!... so if this is starting not to make sense I'm sure you'll understand.....

Poem

2006-11-08T22:57:00.000Z

Getting into this now...........

One of the problems with getting old is the temptation to romantisise the past - 'the good old days...'etc.
Ten years ago, after my marriage fell apart, quite out of the blue, an old lover came back into my life. This turned into a torrid, long-distance affaire which lasted a while and then died (as is usually the case).
Here is my one and only 'poem' which fell out of me in about 10 minutes flat and which I am equally proud of and embarrassed by:

HISTORY

she saw me at the club, singing
then I was standing at the bar
and she talked to me
‘like your songs’
I wasn’t listening
just polite
it was a fan thing.

I went to the place where she was
not to see HER
not to see anyone
just to BE there
but she thought so and came to me
the shy one, just divorced.
strange, I didn’t know her
but nice to be chatted by a pretty young one.
so we drank and danced
I kissed her – how bold!
and bolder still I tried more
she would have
but her clothes wouldn’t
and that was that :
the start of it all.

a strange affaire
out with the lads
what lads?
drink
dance
kiss
then drive into the night
naked in the back seat
sex and adrenalin.
then her to home and me to mine
and always to someone else
‘had a nice time dear?’
through all this she loved me
really
I loved something
but never sure.

she went away
to ease the hurt of never being
the one at home
but she stayed in my mind
always.
there was sex
but never like with her
so, bereft, I followed her
but never to stay
and visits end
but the hurt grew
so she went away again
hidden.

many years passed
many thoughts of a stupid man
and her beautiful eyes.
love grew in me
too late
much too late.

then when life was too cruel
too much hurt
I cried out
and she heard
so strong.
somehow she found me
took the hurt away
and put love there
forever.

PAST

a polite enquiry
unleashes years of
hidden dreams.
heart on sleeve
he writes back
and waits
disbelieving all the signs
but hoping.

neither can believe it
more letters
less awkward
a telephone call
such apprehension
her voice after all the years
brings joy to his heart.

he goes to her
brighton pier.
he waits
late?
no
there!
time slows
look
hug
hard beach
soft mouth
walking
holding
touching
kisses in a crowded room
oblivious
joy
love.
one day
a jewel among days

they write
talk
love grows
missing
aching
longing.

she goes to him
sunny devon
to find out
about them.
sleeping entwined
waking
touching
holding
strawberry kisses
loving
lovers.

PRESENT

he is changed
a nicer man.
love rules ok
relaxed now
write
talk
love
and being
loved.

happiness.

First

2006-11-08T14:37:00.000Z

So, here it starts.
I'm always slow to take up anything, but never late etc.

The title came from a friend a long time ago and for a while I had a computer file into which I put things that occurred to me or appealed to my mood.

Here they are:

At 30 I said that I'd reached the gap between youth and middle age. It's disconcerting at 55 to find, as my body continues to age, that my head is still stuck firmly in that gap. It's surprising how much of a shock it is to look in the mirror. (Obviously that was a while ago - still applies though!)

Fatuous sayings
"Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved"
And
"You're only as old as you feel"
Speaking as a lonely and sad old git who feels himself unloved and unwanted and who sees the end of his life rushing towards him like an out of control express train. Having virtually nothing to look forward to I take exception to such pearls being cast before me by my younger friends who, having so much before them, have no conception of what it's like to be me.

'Life is what happens while you're making other plans' - Film 'Kuffs'

‘Life is what happens while you’re waiting for a table’ – Sex and the City.

Why do all the women I know store knives point - up after washing them up ?

"If you never want to be criticised: Say Nothing, Do Nothing, Be Nothing" Confucious.

Diplomacy is saying 'Nice Doggy' until you can find a rock. (from a Craig Thomas book)

Is everybody affected by Murphy's Law as much as I am ? Perhaps I'm more aware of it - or more paranoid

Nytol tablets ("a clinically proven sleep aid") have a warning on the pack - 'may cause drowsiness' . Is this ludicrous or what ?

"This kind of certainty comes only once in a lifetime" - Clint Eastwood in 'The Bridges of Madison County'

' ........now in later life it's as if I'm standing on a mountain of broken glass looking for the diamonds I threw away in my youth.........' - Film 'The Foreign Student' (on lovers)

"You are old too soon, and smart too late" - Mike Tyson

Stephen Fry’s Sept 11 shirt story – “if my mother had good taste I’d be dead”

The Moving Finger writes and, having writ,
Moves on; nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a line,
Nor shall your tears blot out a Word of it.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks
It bears out even unto the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor man ever loved.

_____________________

Well that's me laid bare - now I'll have to go away and think for a while...........