Strangefruit - Sea of Fog.

This came my way via Orlando Seal (check out his band Orlando Seal and the Swell) it is dramatic in more way than one.

Gareth Cooper. Dead with You.

This cropped up on Facebook, I love it!

Six harps in the Albert Hall. Bantock prom review.

Not something you will see every day.

Hear them HERE

Jan Nieupjur writes:

While the Bantock piece was all very nice what a shame the BBC or the Proms powers that be did not take advantage of having six harps on the platform and more importantly six of the best harpists in the land in the house and put on a decent programme that could have been memorable and in my memory certainly a first.

Had there been six first violins from various orchestras on stage together we would never hear the end of it and imagine the kerfuffle had there been six tenors!

Editors note: Jan nieupjur knows nothing about classical music and even less about reviewing it but I owe him money and am obliged to publish his views.

Six harps.

The Obsidian eye.

There’s a guy who drinks in my local, Old guy, in his 80’s I guess, small and wiry, looks honest and hard working and always dapper in his black suit, white shirt and black tie, as if always waiting for a funeral or just come back from one.

The only odd thing about him is his eyes; he has one piercing blue eye and one dark brown, almost black. The dark eye is glass and ill fitting.

Last week I plucked up some courage and bought him a pint, sat down at his table, looked into 
the good eye and asked about the other one.

He started to talk without hesitation and with great passion.

In 1947 he said In 1947 I was demobbed and me and 3 mates went to Butlins for a week down Southend, we shared a chalet, all them chalets look alike and on the second night I got so 
pissed I went back to the wrong one didn’t I. I crept in in the dark so as not to wake the others, undressed and climbed into the bottom bunk and fell asleep. I woke meself up with a coughing 
fit and in doing so startled the girl who was sleeping in the upper bunk.

She mumbled something like she had a mouth full of pebbles and a moment later demanded “who’s that?’

I didn’t know then but I know now that she had a glass eye and she kept it in her mouth at night when she slept so as not to lose it and to keep it moist. She had popped it back into the socket, wet with spit, before demanding who I was.

I was pretty surprised to hear a girls voice from the bunk where me mate was supposed to be so 
I leaned out and looked up, as I looked up she looked down and her glass eye fell from its socket.

Our eyes met!

Fuck I said you’ve poked me fucking eye out, well you should have caught mine she said and what the bleeding hell are you doing in my chalet?

She sat with me in the doctor’s office as he scooped out my busted eye with a spoon and replaced it with a marble as a temporary measure. Six weeks later I had a brand new glass eye and a beautiful new wife. We were together for 60 years Trish and me. I buried her six weeks ago.

Before the funeral. He went on. Before the funeral I went to see her one last time.


In her box she looked as beautiful as when I first set eyes on her. A mad idea came into me head and I gently eased her glass eye out with me thumb and replaced it with me own. I put her eye into me head before closing her eyelids. I wanted part of me to go with her you see and I wanted part of her to stay with me.

This brown un was hers, beautiful colour ain’t it. Obsidian the poets call it.

The funny thing is, he said with a chuckle, the funny thing is she was such a beautiful woman people used to say to me. Stan, ugly little runt like you, how the fuck did you catch her eye in the first place and I’d say back with a twinkle in me good un, it’s more of a case of how I didn’t catch her eye what did the trick.

Barrington for MTV

Isn't this great... Barrington de la Roche.

An ormolu stool for the new Royal baby.

A nation rejoices
a nation is happy
for Morgana of Wales
has filled up her nappy

no signs of austerity
in her posterior dexterity
yet for her no diamond
or other rare jewel

no silver
no pearls
but the perfectly formed whirls
of a
golden hued,
curlicued
ormolu stool.

We wrapped it in tissue
sent it off to the issue
of the issue
of our dear Queen's eldest son
With a brief covering word
to authenticate the turd
as a born and bred, dressed in red,
Welsh number one.

Suggesting that
when they unwrap it
they have Gilbert and George snap it
for in turd matters they
are certainly no fool
And will quickly identify
reasons aplenty why
(in the words of the hip)
it is undeniably cool...

To be blissfully happy
with the contents of a nappy:

A golden hued, curlicued, ormolu stool.

Granny had a heart attack.

Granny's had a heart attack
in the outside loo
she wouldn't use the inside one
it simply wouldn't do.

She went and had a heart attack
in the outside crapper
built by grandpa Charlie
who used to be a sapper;
he built them in the Army
built them for the Royal Marines
standard M O D design
(other ranks) latrines.

The walls were rough cut timber
the roof, corrugated tin
and like all Army crappers
the doorway opened in.

Granny had her heart attack
door wedged against her knees
in the khasi in the garden
amid the courgettes and the peas.

We couldn't get in through the door
not even skinny Hilda
we had to take the roof off
so called in Pete the builder
who climbed upon the dunny roof
and peeled off all the tin

but

By the time he got to Granny
rigor mortis had set in.

He couldn't get her out of there
without cutting off her legs
and how Pete cussed that afternoon
about Army Khazi building regs.

You'll have to hoist her out of there
a local wag observed
not an elegant way to go...
And less than Gran deserved

for

Granny was a Christian soul
worshipped every Sunday
but granny had her heart attack
upon a secular monday.

So Mummy called the Fire Brigade
they came round with a crane
not an easy thing to do within
the confines of Pottery Lane.

They hoisted granny up and out
and over number seven...
It was not god but the Fire Brigade
who took Granny up to heaven.

Dark Night of the Soul ●▬๑۩۩๑▬● Featuring marycigarettes

Baby's first tattoo.

Rusty McGlint writes from Lizard Bend, Idaho:

Hey tristan.  Babs got liquored up last week with Fangio the pool guy and ended up in the tattoo parlour. she decided to get little Morgan his first tattoo!

I reckin that by the time he is done growing up that sucker will be the size of an eagle.

Cool huh!

By the way the changing mat is from the Damian Hirst babycare range in the Sears catalogue.

Tracey Bovington - Croisette. The unsung heroine of the royal birth.

From our Royal birth correspondent Rusty McGlint. As usual his views are his own and I certainly do not endorse all of them.

There is one name that will not be mentioned during all this royal baby hullaballoo and that is 'Tracey Bovington - Croisette'.

Tracey is the 'Queens screamer '; present at all royal births in order to give voice to the proceedings when things come to the shove. Obviously royal personages are above cussing and screaming, indeed, they have neither the temperament nor the vocabulary.

When I spoke to Tracey she informed me that it had been a fairly easy delivery requiring no more than a dozen or so F words and a rudimentary grunt or two. "A piece of piss". Tracey said. "Not like some I could mention had I not signed an NDA, but not the easiest neither - that was Fergie, who insisted on doing her own screaming and bloody good she was too!

When asked to describe the royal fruit of the womb Tracey said: "They all look like monkeys don't they".

A poem for the new prince... Husband to be of Morgana princess of Wales!

A poem written during a thunderstorm to celebrate the arrival of the husband to be of Morgana princess of Wales:

Rotund booming thunder
echoing the obesity of cloud

the light is flashy
but the darkness is enlightening

we lit a candle
there was no wind

until

Morgana farted.

Peter Hitchens... A religious experience at the Tabernacle.

Peter Hutchence... Religious fanatic.

Matthew Stadlen very kindly invited me to attend his 'head to head' with Peter Hitchens this evening at the Tanernacle W11.

It looked like a good idea!

I haven't been back to the Tabernacle since manager Chris Scholey left earlier this year and was curious to see how things fared... the courtyard is fabulous and the best lunchtime or evening spot by a country mile. The planting (for which we must thank Chris) is reaching puberty and softening the architecture splendidly.

I received a lovely welcome from the staff and JJ's new hairstyle behind the bar cheered the place up no end.

In the auditorium the air conditioning worked well.

I can see why Matthew Stadlen does what he does, he's good at his job and with another interviewee I would be happy to stay for the duration and would recommend it to anyone as a refreshing addition to what's happening in the area....

...But sadly I have no time for attention seeking religious bigots like Mr Hutchence (I can only assume that he is still reeling from the death of Paula Wilcox) who like the sound of their own self importance above all else, so I left to buy washing up liquid and soft brown sugar from Tesco.

Full marks to Matthew and the Tabernacle...

Matthew Stadlen head to head with Peter Hitchens at the Tabernacle.

I'm a bit late posting this. It's a new event at the Tabernacle tonight.

In a new series at The Tabernacle Matthew Stadlen interviews public figures before opening the interview up to the floor where the audience will be encouraged to ask questions themselves.

Stadlen is a journalist and documentary film-maker and has interviewed more than 200 guests for the BBC series Five Minutes With -

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/20066560. 

The well-known journalist and author Peter Hitchens will be the first guest to go Head2Head with Stadlen. Hitchens is a columnist for The Mail On Sunday, a frequent contributor to news programmes on TV and has written six books including The Abolition of Britain. He describes himself as a Burkean Conservative.

Details HERE

Glastonbury: Ist Nations of a festival tipi encampment..

A guest blog from Jan Nieupjur. Tribal name: Dances with vowels.

Glossary of 1^st nations of the Glastonbury tipi's:  

NATION                     Description

Indig	The easily Riled people of the shared loo
Fulmi	The short tempered loo queuers
Stag	Dwellers of the mud
Sali	Dwellers of the saltmarshes
Pug	The fighting tribe also known as the Angels of Hell
Conster	The puzzled people (chief Kevin Conster)
peregri	The wanderers who cannot find their tents
Desti	The people who have arrived
Predesti	The people who know they will arrive
Assassi	The back stabbers
Rumi	The thinking people who stayed at home
Procrasti	Those who dally in the mud
Emi	The great tribe in the VIP encampment
Abomi	The awful people (in the next tent)
Insubordi	The tribe that heckles in the poetry tipi
Impreg	The successful fuckers
Resig	The people without tickets who sigh
Indoctri	The brainwashed people who think it is fun
Artificialinsemi	The petridish people
Contami	The tribe that is unclean (All become members of the Contami by the end of the festival)
Imagi	The fantasists who watch at home then pretend to have been

The royal kitkat, common poo.

The muse played a gig at Buckingham Palace recently. she was delighted to find that the queen had popped down to Tesco Metro for a box of Kitkats for the band.

This is the royal Kitkat before we ate it... It tasted regal Ma'am!

The royal Kitkat is now sadly common poo.

Sic biscuittus disintegrat.

The seagull man of Bath. What a tosser.

Charlie Dancey, who made the video, writes: This is the Seagull Man, he turns up at Pulteney Weir each Sunday at 7am and feeds the gulls, who are a menace and have been grabbing the atention of the press.

Permission is granted for this video to be freely used by the media, provided that it is credited to me. I don't much like confrontation, but the gulls are a real menace, and they also kill ducks, and we all know how I feel about ducks.

This is a higher resolution shot of the best identifying picture of the Seagull man I can find in my video...

Charlie Lives aboard the 'Northern Sun' with Cleopatra the duck presently moored at Pulteney Weir and is a driving force behind the South Quay Community Arts Project in Bath: Details HERE

Does anyone recognise the seagull man? Let me know if you do.

Portobello crime scene. RBKC guilty!

Gosh! I'm a criminal...

Yes I did it, I put my hands up, caught bang to rights etc etc.

On Thursday evening I put out a number of bags of garden waste for collection by RBKC the following morning. I had researched the methodology (a word local authorities are very fond of) for disposal of garden waste, I bought the green bags as required, I made sure the day was correct for collection on this street. I did everything asked of by RBKC.

The following morning the RBKC crew turned up, removed one bag of waste and left the remainder on the pavement.... Sheer idiocy! Why on earth could they not take it all?

This morning I found that the good people of RBKC had visited and declared the situation an 'Environmental Crime Scene'. The garbage added to the garden waste by the morons visiting the market doesn't help.

But am I the criminal?  My actions were those of a law abiding resident following instructions from the RBKC website. RBKC however (or it's minions) did not follow the instructions on their website. Surely this makes them the criminal.

I have telephoned the number on the sticker placed on the bags and have been fobbed off with the promise of a call at some time from the environmental officer... I await the call with enthusiasm.

At exactly the same time as my supposed crime the following photographs were taken directly opposite the house.

 As you can see from the lack of yellow stickers RBKC do not consider this a crime yet this scene is repeated weekly in this street due to a total absence of waste bins or skips within the market area of Portobello Green resulting in post market detritus being dumped on the streets and in our gardens. Oh, and if we should leave the litter in our gardens we are threatened by RBKC with prosecution.

Come on RBKC sort it out and clean your shit up!

The Theatre of Small Convenience. A short film by Angelica Landry.

Angelica has made a lovely little film about the wonderful Dennis Neale and his theatre in what was once a Gents lavatory in Great Malvern... English eccentricity at its best.


The Theatre of Small Convenience from Angelica Landry on Vimeo.

visiting the theatre is now high on my 'to do' list.

Urban fox No: 3

This little chap has been visiting us for some time, she checks out the dog bowl for food and if it is empty pretends to limp to get a bit of sympathy. For my part I am happy to see the little chap... The bastard squirrels keep away!

Shadow dance... 真的笑死我了啦！'s video: 这表演太强了！不分享不行！

I know nothing about this except that it is very very good!

It is also very weird. someone somewhere seems to have the ability to change this embedded video at will. the video you are watching is not neccessarily the video I embedded in this blog. Is this a Chinese invasion of some sort?

The lovers.

Every day at 6.00 pm these two love birds turn up in the garden for a spot of billing and cooing. I've taken to feeding them on seeds from the lesbian shop. 

Life on Venus? Signs of an alien invasion.

The photo is a little out of focus and wobbly due to the shock of witnessing signs of extra terrestrial life!

Saporitalia Portobello Road. Dancing on Tesco Disco's grave. (The best pizza in Notting Hill).

The muse wanted a pizza and when the muse wants a pizza there is only one solution....

I decided to try Saporitalia at 222 Portobello Road. I wrote about the place when Tesco Disco closed some months ago and decided that enough time had passed for the place to iron out any wrinkles and soothe any teething pains.

The place looks and smells good and the staff were great considering I had gone in during a very busy Saturday night to order one solitary pizza; they could have been extremely snotty but were not!

I ordered, asked how long (seven minutes) ran an errand and was back on the dot to find said pizza waiting...

So far excellent. But what would the muse think?

Best pizza in the area by a mile was the verdict and the muse has tried them all. Good fresh ingredients, plenty of it, absolutely gorgeous and at £12.50 better value than anywhere else too.

Ten out of ten then! I'll be back.

The website is HERE

David Bowie - The Next Day.

What is all the fuss about?

Duncan McTier… Guilty! A curious silence! And what about Phillip Pickett?

I find it strange that there is a deafening silence in the music world after the arrest of Duncan McTier, currently professor of double bass at the Royal Academy of Music in London. I can only find reference to the arrest in the Guardian and regional newspapers. The Huffington post has run the story but the BBC is studiously ignoring it.

Why is the BBC studiously ignoring it and why is no-one rallying round in support?

The full Guardian article is HERE

UPDATE: I'm having to keep silent on this one, I'm not one to gossip, I've even banned Jan Nieupjur from putting his ten pennyworth in. My thoughts however do go out to Duncans wife and, of course, his students!

I do, however, wonder if Duncans German style of bowing might play a part in this Wagneresque penny opera! As my mum would have said: If he'd stuck to the French way this would never have happened! Not that my mum was a double bass player but she did liken my table manners to those of a German bassist and what the fuck would the Queen say if she invited me to dinner!

I did point out to my mother that the Queen was mostly German and would probably prefer to be fiddled with in the German manner!

UPDATE. November 2014.  Mctier pleads guilty! Surprise surprise: http://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2014/nov/11/double-bassist-admits-sexual-assaults-students

UPDATE. Jan 6th 2014.

I read in the Standard today that Phillip Pickett, ex teacher of the recorder at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama, allegedly raped two students who were under his care…

                                Phillip Pickett. Accused of rape.

I tried to log on to his website to read more but found that it is down for 'Maintenance'.

I have learned however that he took up the recorder after his teeth were kicked out as a student. Prior to that he blew his own trumpet.

If I were the parent of a daughter wanting to study music I would have to think long and hard about her studying in England, it doesn't appear to be very safe from predatory teachers.

Do male music teachers feel that they have an automatic right to abuse their pupils?

UPDATE: From the Times 12th Feb 2014

Ex-Guildhall teacher Philip Pickett faces rape charges

A musician who taught at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama has been charged with 15 historical offences, including rape and false imprisonment.

Philip Pickett, 63, from Oxfordshire, is accused of eight counts of indecent assault and three of rape.

He is charged with two counts of false imprisonment as well as one charge of assault and attempted rape.

The offences, relating to nine separate victims, are alleged to have occurred between 1974 and 1988.

Mr Pickett, who lives in Chipping Norton, was a freelance teacher at the school between 1972 and 1997.

Since then, he has played the recorder and directed early music ensembles, including the New London Consort.

He is considered an authority on early music interpretation and has also collaborated with members of the folk rock band Fairport Convention.

He has been bailed to appear at City Magistrates' Court on 28 February.​​

An Angel Farm.... Harp practice!

Bess Cavendish at Mau Mau, Portobello Road.

Bess was captivating!

You do not capture a butterfly in a net or a glass jar but in gentle hands that understand every nuance of that butterflies movements. 

Damian Lewis flogging the Jaguar F type: Desire.

Damian seems to be sporting an interesting hair dye job and hand drawn eyebrows in this little promo film for Jaguar. Obviously they couldn't get Daniel Craig to do it so Damian is the next best thing for the US market.

The car appears to be bolted together bits of Maserati, TVR, Fiat and anything else you care to mention.

Young entrepreneurs set for summer launch on Portobello Market

I nicked this from 'Kensington & Chelsea Today'

Tuesday, 23rd April 2013

A fiercely fought competition to land an opportunity to trade on the world famous Portobello Market has seen three young entrepreneurs grab the chance to launch their products after they were named winners of the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea’s Market Enterprise Launch Pad (MELP) 2013.

Shani Grant, 22, who is starting a ‘tomboy’ fashion label called ‘Studz UK’, Remaro Hibbert, 25, owner of a positive message fashion label called ‘Point of View’ and Medina Mukhayer, 19, owner of ‘Mandola’ a company selling East African food and cultural goods, have each won: a £1,000 in start-up funds, six month rent-free market stall space on Portobello Market, a comprehensive support package from the Enterprise Lab and free business insurance. The Project was run by the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea.

Out of a total of 85 applications, nine young entrepreneurs were selected to pitch their ideas to a panel of judges, last Thursday 4 April, including representatives from the Council, Enterprise Lab, Rockstar Youth and Pret a Portobello. The judges had great difficulty selecting their top two candidates, the judges commented on the difficulty selecting two winners and although all finalists had brilliant business ideas and were feasible, some were better suited to a market environment than others.

Medina Mukhayer, 19, “I’m still in shock about winning, feels like the start of the rest of my life. I know I'll feel it after all the hard work, but because it's my own business I actually can't wait. I don't think I could have started my business if it wasn't for MELP, they really gave me all the tools and confidence I needed, especially as I had no qualifications.”

Remaro Hibbert, 25, “I'm happy to be one of the winners of MELP because it has given me an opportunity to really showcase my brand and actually make an impact.”

Shani Grant, 22, “Winning MELP feels fantastic, all the other entrepreneurs had solid ideas , so for my business to win MELP, I feel there is faith in my product which I never thought existed. I just want to say a huge thank you to everyone from the MELP team, Enterprise Lab and the judges, it was a great experience.”

All three will begin trading on Portobello Market in July.

Councillor Elizabeth Campbell, Cabinet Member for Family and Children’s Services, said: “The fact that the judges selected three young entrepreneurs instead of the usual two shows just how high the standard of competition was.  I wish all three young entrepreneurs the best of luck with their ventures.  Portobello Market is known across the world and has been the launch pad for many successful entrepreneurs.”

Follow MELP 2013’s journey on Facebook: Market Enterprise Launch Pad or Twitter: @RBKCMELP

Cherries in London.

Photograph: Manon Morris.

A little bit of Polish shit in Portobello.

This guy sells 'oil paintings' of London on a stall in Portobello.... I'd heard about this kind of shit being painted in China so I asked him: 'Is this shit painted in China'? He looked horrified and said: 'NO WAY. This shit is painted in Poland'.

Which ever way you look at it it is still tourist tat of the worst possible kind.

And however much you polish shit it is still shit!

Review: Sophie Barker at the Tabernacle.

Photograph: Manon Morris.

Okay! Let's get the negative dealt with first:

I have never heard such a fucking rude audience in my life. I've seen better mannered crowds at punk gigs in the 70's. Part of the audience tonight had no interest in the music and insisted on shouting at each other over the band. This was a well heeled bunch who should know better. I and my companions all were horrified.

Someone, rather than Sophie, who had to do it herself, should have told the idiots to shut up or go down to the bar below to honk and bray at each other. Ben the Bee (promoter) should have done something.... Oh well!

I know Sophie, I know how excited she was to be doing this (sell out) gig at the Tabernacle, I know how hard the band had worked to become so tight and right. Shame on you idiots for ruining it.

The band is good, Sophie is seriously good, she did some new stuff, some old stuff from the 'Seagull' album and a couple of covers  (the Cure and Fleetwood Mac) that made you wonder if they were not her own.

Sophie is about to go on another American tour, this time with The Egg, I hope American audiences are a little more appreciative.

Murray Lachlan Young's 'the Incomers'.

The writer, director and cast tell us about it.

The ecstasy of pregnancy.

Murray Lachlan Young's obit to Maggie poem.

Murray wrote the following for his BBC Radio 6 slot but the powers that beeb chose to spike it:

Maggie: Obit poem.   Murray Lachlan Young   12/04/013

Farewell to you Maggie Oh Maggie farewell

Some eulogise you, some give you hell

Repeating the phrases that caused notoriety

Stating there is no such thing as society

Friend to the bank, brutally frank

Reagan’s big pal, rode in a tank

You mobilized classes with social volte-faces

You mangled the unions, kicked euro arses

Maggie, Maggie, Maggie!

You parleyed with Pinochet, gifted the satirist.

Nelson Mandela, you branded a terrorist

Flogged council houses, sold the utilities

Founded new Labour in all probability

One usually lost if one stood up and fought yer

You hammered your colleagues like lambs to the slaughter

Stated the falklands were ‘ours’ in totality

Turned the big bang to a fiscal reality

Littered the city with monstrous earning

The lady you stated was never for turning

Your standing its seems in the final prognosis

Reviled and admired in similar doses

Some will remember the chill in your air

Some will remember your teeth and your hair

But most that you gave and you asked for no quarter

Maggie, Maggie, Maggie

Over and out

But not bad for a greengrocers daughter

Thatcher to be buried in 'Green' reed coffin!

The family of recently deceased 83 year old thatcher Herbert 'Bunny' Peachey of Swaffam  have anounced that he will be buried in a coffin of his own making.

The coffin, entirely manufactured from the materials of his trade, is green and more importantly very very cheap. Says his son Margaret.

Neighbours of the never popular thatcher are not happy however at the councils decision to pay for the funeral as his family are refusing to do so. "Throw im inter fen'. Is the option favoured.

Bunny Peachy will long be remembered as the man who stole milk from children and set fire to the local school.

Herbert Peachey, thatcher.

The worst meal I have ever eaten... The Dovey Inn, Aberdovey.

A few days spent in West Wales this week was only marred by the most awful meal I have ever  eaten.

The Dovey Inn in Aberdovey managed to produce a plate of inedible awfulness which can only be explained by a complete lack of concern for their customers. I guess they assume that their customer base is transient and unlikely to revisit. They seem to employ half wits and children in the bar and kitchen who cannot take an order properly, cannot pass on an order and certainly cannot cook anything resembling an appetising meal. Absolute shit!

I'd post a picture of the place but really can't be bothered.

The place is owned and run by S.A. Brain & co. A Cardiff based Brewery. They ought to put a great deal more effort into their management.

Avoid at all costs.

The previous day We had fish and chips at PD's Diner on the seafront in Aberystwyth which was great! The entire staff of the Dovey Inn should visit PD's in order to learn how to do it!

PD's Diner. Aberystwyth.

Photo's: Jan Nieupjur.

A picture of the sea.

More Harps.

Bristol Colston Hall above and The Royal Festival Hall below.

Nothing rhymes with death. Marjorie Hazell RIP.

Nothing rhymes with death and nothing makes any sense.



For Honey.  31.3.2013

Squirrel eats fox.

Curious!

We had a foxes skull on the window ledge outside the kitchen. I would often find the skull on the ground and assumed that the wind had moved it until one day last week I saw a squirrel sitting on the decking gnawing at the skull clenched in its paws. The following day I witnessed the little bugger trying to carry the skull off... I got it back and returned it to the window ledge.

Yesterday the squirrel got the skull as far as the top of the garden fence before I intervened.

Today the skull has gone. I presume it is up in a dray being gnawed at by a family of sniggering squirrels.

Gayageum version of Voodoo Chile by Luna.

I


I like this! I shall be talking to the muse about a harp interpretation.

Harp in Leicester

Harp in Bedford.

Cannabis scratch and sniff cards. Or should that be scraff and snitch!

                             

Hilarious!

I read today in the Guardian that the charity 'Crimestoppers' is to circulate cannabis scented scratch and sniff cards in order to help the public identify pot farms for the police. Full article HERE

Phineus T, Fat Freddy and Freewheelin Franklin must be laughing their heads off at this, not to mention Fat Freddy's cat who likes nothing more than a snaff and scritch.

Potheads around the country will be eyeing little old ladies (handbags stuffed with the cards) with a new sense of amazement.

And a new term is coined: the scraff and snitch card!

Notting Hill to have 'Literary Festival'.

According to an article in the standard Notting hill is about to have its own literary festival over the weekend of the 10th - 12th of april.

My inner cynic is screaming at me that it will probably consist of estate agents reading from their brochures, yummy mummies reading from menus and bankers bigging up their bonus reports.

The organiser is literary agent Laetitia rutherford so my inner cynic may be slightly off the mark.

We'll see.

Baby Pigeons.

It is often said that you never see baby pigeons in London.

This is what they look like!

The Notting Hill Promise.

Sea horse found in Iceland fish burgers!

Oi vey!

Scientists have discovered traces of sea horse in Icelandic fish products including burgers, steaks and fingers.

Ford anglia. Portobello Road.