On message

Unless you live in the middle of nowhere you'll never really experience true darkness. Light pollution is everywhere seemingly. Tho' we did struggle walking back from the pub to our Devon digs recently. I wouldn't have lasted five minutes in the War. When we were fighting The Hun a blackout meant just that: no streetlights, no torches, no escaping light from any building was allowed whatsoever. You'd have had the ARP Warden, Mr. Hodges, on your case faster than you could say Dad's Army. Lucky then, that we had London Transport on hand to dispense some sage advice. The above sign was part of a raft of information the government were putting out there to help the war effort. I'm not a war historian but I do enjoy reading about the social history of the period and in particular the messaging (some may say propaganda) that was prevalent at the time. The Bright/Dark poster jumped out at me in a book I'm currently reading about the history of the London Transport roundel. More to follow, but not, as I say, in a World at War type way. Put that light out!

Comes with baggage

#11

Those of you who swing by these parts on a regular basis may or may not remember that back in 2020, when there was fuck all else not a lot to do, I documented my existence in 10 objects. I know, what was I thinking? Like I said, every day for nigh on two years was a slow news day.

Anyway, at Number 8 I threw in a twofer: that's right, the frisbee and the rucksack. Well, things have moved on since those heady days of lockdown. Let me explain. With the steady advancement of age and the ever growing list of stuff I take out of the house with me (perm any three from five - camera(s); playing cards [another lockdown legacy]; battery packs & chargers, books; glasses wipes) I've become wedded to a man bag. In fact, not just one but two. Another explanation required, I feel: put simply, I outgrew my first one - a beautiful hand stitched affair with loads of secret zipped inner compartments, from one of those brilliant leather shops on Brick Lane in London's East End (Ernie probably passes it most days on his travels.) So, I upgraded. Funnily enough it was from Totnes (the town I'd bought the rucksack from thirty odd years ago) and was sitting not inside but outside a charity shop (without a shoulder strap) feeling very unloved. And with it being sans shoulder strap it was going for a song. I liberated it, found a new strap and gave it a new home. Ladies and gentleman, My Life in 11/12 Objects. 

#12

That Riviera Touch

Just back from a few days in Devon. Crammed loads in - Ian Prowse at the Barrel House in Totnes; played a couple of songs myself at the Bay Horse; had some lovely meals (and dark beers) in the Albert just over the river, and came back with a rude mug, a rather splendid guitar charm, a classic Generation X badge and a signed copy of Rory Stewart's Politics on the Edge. We pulled in a a couple of away days too - Kingsbridge, Burnham-on-Sea and Burgh Island. And went to Torquay on the train for the afternoon.

If I could sum Torquay up in just four photos (I'm holding one back for July's Photo Challenge) then these would be them. Yes I know it's got loads of palm trees (not for nothing is it called the English Riviera) but I thought some fishing nets, a sand artist and the station footbridge at the station says far more about the town than a few fronds.

Blurred

I had a good excuse for missing the opening night of Ian Prowse and Amsterdam's 2022 tour in Nottingham. I was in America. But I did catch them half way round; at the Adelphi in Hull. That was the night I lost it when Ian sang Does This Train Stop on Merseyside. It's what I do.

And then on Saturday we caught the train to Manchester and pulled in the last night: Gullivers in Manchester was ramming. It was also very hot. A small venue above a pub is my favourite environment to watch bands; always has been. If you've ever read my 50 odd gigs piece I wrote back in 2014, there's a fair smattering of pub gigs on there, dotted around the country, hither and thither. Which reminds me, I really must update that list.

Another small venue Ian's playing in a couple of weeks (solo, not with the band) is The Barrel House in Totnes. Ask me if I've got tickets. Of course I have! And, as you can see from the poster at the top of the page, Ian has already announced his Spring dates for '23; yep, I'm currently eyeing up Leeds and Sheffield. If any of these dates are near where you live (or even if they're not) I strongly urge you to blag a ticket. You won't regret it. 

My Life in 10 Objects (#8)

I've been a tad distracted of late, so the latest instalment of MLITO (catchy, huh?) got temporarily jammed in the works while I was busy in the back putting out a few fires.

Today's object comes as part of a twofer, simply because the first object - when it's not in use - resides in the second. Let me explain:

Since James was old enough to throw, and catch, a ball, he's been throwing a frisbee with his old man - usually on beaches (and usually beaches in Devon).

When packing for holidays our Discraft Ultra-Star 175 (175 grams - weight is everything when it comes to frisbees) was every bit as important as a toothbrush or a clean pair of socks.

The action shot below shows perfectly the frisbee in mid-flight.



This was Slapton Sands in South Devon about ten years ago. (Looking at the clear blue sky I don't think thermals would have been an issue that day!)

James is coming up to Scotland with me in a couple of weeks - so no prizes for guessing what we'll be taking away with us.

And that second object? Like the frisbee, I've just remembered, it was bought in the same town (Totnes) and probably around the same time (c.1997). My rucksack - to be found in the bottom of my wardrobe - has been all over the world with me and, as I said above, it gives board and lodging to the frisbee in the close season. Today's object(s).