- August 06, 2007
- Folk Alley
Chris arrived at pretty much the time we expected him, toting a wheely suitcase and a rucksack full of tech-gear. Reassuringly he didn’t bat an eyelid at his “room”, or indeed the state of the neighbourhood. He wasn’t even fazed when I noticed that someone has stolen my bike from off my own roof!
We had some lunch then headed off for a pint. Conversation centrered mainly on music (and on some wonderfully scantily clad young ladies in the garden of of the pub. Sunday was the hottest day of the year so far.)
We arrived home to a quick jam session to demonstrate to each other how useless we are, honours go to my daughter who quickly realised she couldn’t keep up on her guitar and reached for the percussion instruments.
Claiming to have suffered no jet lag, Chris headed off to explore the neigbourhood (and some other pubs) while we got dinner ready – it’s all go around here! An hour later, while Isabelle and I shelled some peas he arrived back, stretched out on the living room couch and fell into what looked like a coma. I had to restrain Isabelle from tucking a bear under his arm – she believes everyone should have a bear to sleep with.
He surfaced as the rest of the guests arrived. Ian Blake, formerly of Pyewackett, now a composer based in Canberra Australia, followed by John and Leilani, from Wives and Servants (and Psychopath) Garlic bread, humous, cucumber, were followed by half a pig, vegetables and roast potatoes. I’d be thrilled to say I remember much of the conversation, but I saw Ian off at dawn after we finished the eighth bottle of wine. Chris had lasted well into the early morning. It all seems a little muddled in retrospect. We all agreed that JoLynn is a genuine force for good in the world of music!
He was awakend by my daughter shouting “Wake up Daddy, you’ve got to drive me to the childminder.” Unfortunately I wasn’t!
He’s now in London to witness the Ceremony of the Keys at the Tower – a fabulously daft ritual where a bunch of soldiers in one outrageous uniform get shouted at by a bunch of retired soldiers in an even crazier uniform. Keys are involved.
I might drag him down to the acoustic night at my local if he makes it back in time.
Well – Chris got back well after closing time last night so we quite sensibly sat up until 3.00 shopping for tunes on the net. Bright and early with the lark (albeit a somewhat tardy lark), Chris set off for the British Museum today. Smearing herbal goop on his sore feet (London is a great walking city – you can get from one side of the centre to the other in about an hour’s brisk walk, and it’s all worth looking at). I did some research for diversions on tomorrow’s road trip. The Hook Norton Brewery and the Rollright stones are reasonably close. Must pack an Atlas.
Chris returned too late for chilli, but that’s OK because that’s what he was smearing on his feet! “It burns man!” he exclaimed on returning. I looked at the tube: Capsicum cream. “This is what the British Police spray in the eyes of people they want to slow down, Chris.” Veronique reached for the pump bottle of arnica she keeps in the fridge. Capsicum is a Native American remedy – I can’t help but recall that they used to string each other up by the nipples as a rite of passage – I’ve seen A Man Called Horse.
Pub tonight – we’re deep in the midst of a planning wrangle with the council, so Chris got to meet some of my local’s more entertaining figures, each vying for the most abusive thing they can say about local public figures. Sensibly we got ourselves around several pints of ale before Alice the barmaid sweetly told us to f*** off! I think she needs to retrain. Maybe as a grief councellor or a paediatric nurse.
A holiday, a holiday and the first one of the year…