Category: 2006

Coming up to that wonderful time of the year, Christmas, and the shopping mobs have been in full swing for weeks now. Which is fine – each to their own, and all that. But weaving my way through hordes of harried mums in the shopping centre, I do wonder: what about all us bah-humbug merchants, who only embrace the booze’n’grub excesses of the season, while avoiding the retail outlets till the January sales (which start on Boxing Day anyway!)?

But that’s just me, getting my seasonal grump out of the way early. It is mental, though, how the festive season launches earlier every year – to the extent that towns are putting up their Christmas lights as early as October! Never mind, soon be over…

So – it’s been a while, and I need to bring y’all up to speed on current events chez moi. Well, I made the planned motorcycle expedition to Ireland, amidst some horrible weather – but I lived to tell the tale! The thing was that I didn’t wrap up warmly enough, to the extent that I was stopping every hour or so at a service area to have a coffee and thaw out – the temperature was pretty icy, when you factor in wind chill at 80mph. And of course the rain was bucketing down, particularly as I traversed North Wales towards Holyhead, and the winds were pretty strong.

I arrived at the ferry hypothermic and stiff as a board, then had to endure a bouncy journey across the Irish Sea (high winds, remember?), but I survived that too. Back on the bike in Ireland, I encountered the phenomenon that is the M50 on Friday night. For those unfamiliar with this, all I can say is this: imagine the M25, only twice as bad. I’m sure that’s where they came up with the numbering for it! I got home eventually, and was actually glad to hand over the keys and start getting some warmth into my chilled bones. I remarked at the time that this was the sort of thing I used to take in my stride as a despatch rider, but no way could I do that job now…

I made up for it with a very chilled weekend – big thanks to my fam’ly for looking after me! And I got to meet up with a few pals whilst there too – all good. A shout to Patrick: we’ll have a proper chat next time I’m over, OK? Danny Byrne’s was a bit loud & hectic…

Since returning, I’ve also had a brief weekend in Bergerac – very tame, very chilled, just what I needed. And many thanks once again to Howard & Jo for their warm and ever-generous hospitality! But this (and the flight back from Dublin) being my first flying experience since the ‘alleged’ terrorist plot in August (everyone calls it ‘alleged’, have you noticed that?), I really noticed what a gigantic pain flying has become – and this is apparently more relaxed than it was! I shudder to think…

Fi’s bag was scanned twice at Stansted on the way out, and opened and picked apart in Bergerac on the way back. We had to take our shoes off on the way out, and Fi had to remove her boots and hairclip to go through the scanner on the way back. In either direction, the queues were not as horrendous as I’ve heard they were in August and September, but they were bad enough. Good job we got there a couple of hours early! The ‘toiletries-in-plastic-bags’ thing gets me, though – as I remarked to the girl in front of me at the queue for security at Dublin airport, “Don’t you feel so much safer now, with all your toiletries in a clear plastic bag?”. “That’s nothing,” she responded, “I travelled a couple of weeks ago with my laptop cable in my carry-on bag – I could have strangled someone with that!”. Quite so (I made a little more space between us at that point!)… 🙂

It’s amazing how busy it gets this time of year – everyone seems to want to meet up with everyone else before the year’s out, get drunk, have meetings, get jobs delivered, exchange gifts, get fat… I’m busy busy busy with work, and trying to shoe-horn time into my diary to socialise is proving difficult. Not to mention the non-specific lurgy which is afflicting me just now – I suspect it might be a looming cold, or maybe ‘flu, but I’m taking my vitamins so hopefully it won’t come to full fruition. There’s too much partying to be done!

Of course, speaking of parties: the mighty Benjamin Jenkins is returning to our shores on the 18th, and we shall laugh and make merry till all the booze runs out. For here it is written, and it shall be so – amen! Then of course there’s the New Year’s Eve party in Normandy; more on that in a future rambling post…

Of course, this is not a legally binding statement, you understand… Gimme a three! Gimme a SEVEN!! And whaddya got?! A grumpy old man, that’s what. Nah, not really!

So it’s been a couple of booze-ridden weeks, and I think I’ll be easing off on my alcohol intake for the time being. Out for Gwyneth’s birthday drinks on Bonfire night in Greenwich, I managed to drink too much wine too quickly on not enough food – and ended up blotto and passed out on the train home. Once I arrived in Dartford, I managed to cap the night off with a tumble on the steps at Dartford station, then a complete ‘arseovertit’ outside my front door, shredding my palms and my knees. Fiona was *so* proud…

Undeterred by this, I boldly went out last weekend to celebrate my own vintage, and managed to keep it under a degree of control. Which is to say, I managed to stay vertical all the way home! Big up to all the party people who came along; it was good to see you all there. John, Gwyn, Dew, Kerrie, Stu, Phil, Meghan, Emma, Stef (& friend – can’t remember her name, sorry!) – thanks for coming along and making the night a good one!

Cheers to everyone for the birthday cards & gifts – hugely appreciated, y’all. I certainly felt the love, y’know?

To Howard, Jo & Amber in France – huge thanks for my gift and a wicked birthday card! It certainly taught me a salutory lesson about the perils of posting pics of myself online for all to see/grab/edit…

So maybe now it’s time to grow up – you know, party a little less, make something of myself, etc… Mmmmmm, maybe not yet!

OK, I need my morning caffeine refill, so I’ll leave it with you. Cheers!

Yep, it’s that time of year when I and my muckers get together to quaff vast quantities of alcoholic beverage and celebrate advancing decreptitude, all the time contributing to it with our excessive boozin’. But that sweet, sweet wine does take the edge off – honest, it does!

And it’s not just me: my pals Pete, Gwyneth, Sam, Mono, Nick, Maria and Robert are all turning something this month (well, Pete at the end of October, but we’ll still count him anyway). We Scorpions are a plentiful bunch, or so it seems. Although not quite as thick on the ground as Geminis – sometimes it seems as though you can’t lob a lump of jelly without hitting one. Or is that just me? Happy birthday all, and in time-honoured fashion I’ll not be buying you a birthday drink. 🙂

This month is shaping up to be a busy one, with all that: Gwyneth’s birthday bash this weekend in Greenwich (close to the fireworks – cool), followed by my very own bash next weekend (11th November, Pitcher & Piano, opposite Charing Cross post office – see you there!). After that a bit of a rest, then I’m biking over to Ireland on my Dad’s shiny new SV650 – it’s probably going to be b’loody cold, but don’t worry, I’ll wrap up warm. A nice long weekend out of the hurly burly of everything here is just what I need. Of course, the following weekend I’m off to France again, so that’ll be more hurly-burly-escaping, he he…

I believe I mentioned my ravaged knees last time; well, the osteopath did a bit of manipulation and gave me some exercises and sent me on my way. Still have to see him a couple more times for evaluation purposes, but he reckons that there’s nothing earth-shatteringly wrong with my knees, which is a relief. Now all I have to do is go climb another mountain and wreck them again!

My bro was over for a visit last weekend, having himself a break from the hurly-burly of life in Western Ireland (I kid you not – the stress was strong in that paduan!), and we trekked down to the cotswolds to see our mate Jim getting married to his lovely wife Rachel. A lovely ceremony, as these things go, and the reception was just moving from a simmer to a boil when we had to leave. I, of course, was the designated driver – while my passenger was trolleyed! Oh well, it was a good day nonetheless.

The fact that it was a good day was not least because my lovely ‘uvver arf’ Fiona managed to snare a FREE holiday in the Cayman Islands, in a competition on LBC radio – while I was sitting in the church in the cotswolds! A shrill but happy voicemail message gave me the news, and I spent the rest of the day in a bit of a daze – more so even than the groom, I suspect. So that’s something we’ll be taking advantage of in the new year sometime, methinks…

I have a strong feeling of my life being boring, although it seems to be full of activity. I’ve lots of work to be getting on with, and I seem to be always on the go – but when people ask me what I’ve been up to I draw a blank! And it’s not because I’m always drunk, either… But the next few weeks will be full of fun between birthday bashes and shows at the Orchard (Kevin Bloody Wilson – yay!). And no doubt next time someone asks me what I’ve been up to, I’ll look at them blankly and go, “ohhhh, not much”…

Welcome to my life – a busy amnesiac! I’m having a great time; just having difficulty with the details…

…and say terribly sorry about the lack of contact. I’ve been heavily berated for being so incommunicative, so I’m just here to feed you a quick update before I pop off again. Not that I’m antisocial or anything, you understand – just very busy. Which, as they say, is a good complaint…

I think last time I signed off with the seed of a plan to yomp up Ben Nevis – well, that happened, and it was tough. It was quite a blow to discover that I’m nowhere near as fit as I’d hoped, and as I coughed and wheezed my way to the peak, I cursed the lardy inclinations that were responsible for the toughness of the climb. A lesson to be learned, you might say, but when have I ever learned from my mistakes???!

Pete & I started with a bimble up the motorway to Edinburgh, to check out the Fringe Festival – it was my first trip north of the border, and I was suitably impressed. Edinburgh in particular is a gorgeous city, and with the Festival in full swing, it was very much alive. Street performers abounded, trying to drown out neighbouring acts by exhorting their crowds of observers to clap and hoot at prescribed intervals. Very funny – and often they were well worth applauding. We saw Ed Byrne in a side-splitting stand-up show, a stage rendition of Get Carter (which was riveting!), and a show called “The Eggman”, which was a great laugh too. An excellent city, an excellent festival – very much recommended. Oh – and I found out what tartan I should be wearing, should the mood take me – apparently Irish tartan is based on the county of your birth, and the Westmeath tartan is quite presentable. We live, we learn…

Onward into the highlands, and spectacular countryside – in places almost otherworldly. We arrived in Fort William too late to do our 14-mile hike along the West Highland Way, but we got a good eight-and-a-half miles in before setting up the tent in the Glen Nevis campsite and going in search of food. The campsite was very civilised indeed, with showers, laundry, a shop and a burger van. I even managed to sleep OK in the tent, despite being woken up in the early hours of the morning by activity in the campsite – I suspect they were ‘Three Peak’ merchants off for an early start…

So to the following day, and the climb. I was quite surprised at the sheer number of people making the climb, and I can understand to some extent the complaints people have of the hike being too “touristy” – but then I’m a tourist too, and it’s there to be climbed after all. There were people from all over the world on that mountain: we were passed by a bunch of fit-and-feisty Aussies at one point on the way up (and on their way down, as we were still ascending!); there were a couple of German blokes in all-black Spanish traditional getup, Sombreros and all (I think they were on a stag weekend or something!); even a fell-runner passed us running up the trail – then running back down again! I think Pete & I agreed that we didn’t want to be *that* fit…

As I said, I found the going *tough*. Pete, by contrast, toddled up and down the mountain unflinchingly – and, I must say, a trifle smugly. For my part, I got to the peak with my old left-knee injury making its presence felt, so I strapped it up with the knee support I brought along (with remarkably atypical foresight, I must say!). A few photos to commemorate the event, a cup of tea and a sarnie (!), and we were off again. I discovered there was a cairn at the top, with memorials all over it – I wish I’d known about that beforehand, so I could have brought along my own tribute. At the time, I said “next time”, but that was before the descent…

Anyone who’s gone up and down hills to any great extent will tell you what I never realised when I first injured my knee in Nepal: the downhill stuff is harder. And is it ever – climbing down slippery boulders and rocks with a stiff left leg is no fun – and it resulted in a knackered right leg by the end. But ultimately, the trip was worth it, and I’ve now been to the highest peak in the British Isles. Just Scafell Pike to do now, and I’ve done the Three Peaks – but not the Three Peaks Challenge, which involves doing Nevis, Scafell Pike and Snowdon in 24 hours! Hmmmm – maybe not…

It was well worth it, though – the views are absolutely stunning from the slopes of Nevis on the way up and down, before and after the cloud-bound peak shrouds everything to a few metres’ visibility. And I’m definitely glad I did it, although I wish I’d put knee braces – on BOTH knees – *before* starting the climb. After a run on Saturday, where my knees gave up on me, I’m going to see a physio this week to see if there’s anything can be done. “Lose weight, get some exercise” is the standard prescription – as I’m doing both already, I’m hoping they have something else to add….

Well, that’s it for now – I’ve already rambled enough. Photos will make their way to the gallery when I remember to do it, so don’t go too far now…

After years of doing this to non-technical friends of mine who used to complain about computers crashing and so forth while composing webmails or blogging, I’ve taken my own advice and composed this update in a text editor before pasting it into the blog. Hoist by my own petard, some would argue, but they’re not on my Christmas card list. You know who you are… 🙂

Anyway! Now that the drama has passed, I’ve had my bit of a lie down, a relaxing massage and a soothing camomile tea, here I am to tell of my latest exploits. Well, maybe ‘exploits’ is overstating it somewhat (I mean really, my life is not so dramatic, is it?), but tell you what: you decide!

My last update of any significance was the beginning of July, and so much has been going on since then. I’ve been back to Ireland, accompanied by the lovely Fiona, with the intention of showing off the Emerald Isle (and introducing her to everyone back there, of course) – and that turned out quite well, I have to say. To start with, we had a week of hot, sunny weather. Yes, it’s not a typo or a moment of insanity – we had a week of sunshine. Hard to believe, but there you go. I even came back with a tan – go figure!

In my usual heel-dragging fashion, I’ve still not got around to uploading the pictures to the gallery, but keep checking back – they might be up there by November. Careful now… We had the joy of an impromptu upgrade from Hertz, which meant that the boxy group B car we were supposed to have morphed into a Toyota Avensis. A big, comfy, fast car to tour around the West with – and that we did. To the extent that I was all toured out by the time I returned to London – many many miles were covered, believe me. Ventures to the furthest reaches of Connemara to visit the caravan where I spent my childhood summers (yes, it’s still there!) and marvel at how the beach had shrunk (or so it seemed), then into Northern Ireland to visit Enniskillen (Fiona was curious…), eastwards to Mullingar to visit family and friends, then back to Ballina to enjoy the closing night festivities of the Salmon Festival (it rocked, and the fireworks were awesome). Phew!

And so back to Beckenham, to continue the dreary task of packing and moving – in the end the move was a reasonably civilised affair, without too much trauma. Well, I think that ‘er indoors might have had a bit of a turn when she saw the amount of stuff I was shoe-horning into her house, but anyway. All sorted, moved, and then off out for Fi’s birthday – a nice dinner at the Ivy (*rather* fine, don’t you know?), followed by the Frank Sinatra show at the Palladium. Now that show’s had mixed reviews, but I thought it was a good one – screens of various sizes providing the video of Frank singing along to the orchestra on the stage, along with a troupe of performers padding the whole thing out. A good evening, for my money…

So then it was just a case of adjusting to living in a new place, with my girlfriend, surrounded by boxes, trying to get the computer to work, trying to find my tools that I left just there but a few moments ago, trying to squeeze my miscellaneous rubbish into ever-dwindling cupboard space… The adventures go on and on.

We had a break from it, when we went to Alton Towers for my first time ever. We arrived quite early, so queues were either non-existent or quite short. And Fiona headed us straight to her favourit ride, Oblivion, at top speed. Twice, in quick succession. After the second time, I was rigid with adrenaline, so I decided to move on. If you’ve never been, I would have to say that it’s one of the most juice-pumping, pant-wetting rides I’ve ever been on, and I strongly recommend it. Seriously!

And now it’s all calming down and settling into a routine. A barbecue is in the offing, weather permitting, and who knows what else? I’m close to the Mick Jagger centre here, where they have all kinds of musical acts over the coming months (I’m already booked to see Kevin Bloody Wilson in October!); Bluewater is a short drive away, and although I’m not that much of a shopper, it’s got a good cinema and one or two reasonable eateries (and some gnarly ones, but I digress); the countryside is close by for weekend hikes, and when all else fails the M25 is only a couple of minutes away. Great thing about Dartford: lots of ways to escape! 🙂

Of course, there’s my trek up Ben Nevis with Pete next weekend, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. Watch this space! I’ll post again at some point, but I’m a little disorganised just now. You know how it is…

You have no idea – I’d just typed up a whole update, when I accidentally hit a link and wiped it out!

I’m too upset to type anything now – I think I must go and lie down for a bit.

There are new photos in the gallery from our June trip to France, in the meantime.

I’ll be back….

But not meditation in French, you understand – or you might not understand! Well, I may not understand, while you may be a fluent Francophile, but we’re getting away from the point. Perhaps ‘Musings in France‘ might have been a better title. Whatever.

Each time I visit the tiny village that is Plaisance, I love it more. It’s like the winding-down experienced on a Mediterranean resort holiday, only more immediate. Howard & Jo are wonderful hosts, always welcoming and friendly, as was anyone I’ve met there so far. So much for the notorious Gallic rudeness of which we hear so much – I wonder is it a reciprocal thing reserved especially for rude tourists…?

Friday was a glorious one, with an edge-to-edge brilliant blue sky, 30-plus sunshine and a very inviting swimming pool. At some point there will be photograhs in the gallery, so keep checking back for pics of my beached whale impression! We had intended to go wandering about in a bit of a haphazard sightseeing vein, but in the end the pool won the day. Conscious of my previous sun injury, I was slathered in factor 50 (or so) sunscreen, and taking breaks in the gazebo rather helpfully placed by the pool for just that purpose. I still got a bit too much sun, but that’s another story. A very fine barbecue, washed down with even finer wine, polished the day off beautifully. If only they were all like that [sigh!]…

Saturday was another story, with thundery showers on and off through the day, but we amused ourselves regardless – and Sunday saw us visiting a sprawling market in nearby Issigeac. You know the French markets we have from time to time over here? They seem to be in every town – multiply what we get here by 20 or 30, and you’re getting close to the size of them. All sorts of stuff; some of it reasonable and some overpriced, but great fun nonetheless.

On the Monday, Fi & I borrowed the family Suzuki jeep (called Jeffrey (Geoffrey?), of course) to go on a minor tour of the Bergerac area. And first stop, of course, was a vineyard. The vineyard in question was called Chateau Tertres du Plantou, and came recommended by Howard (on the back of one of their fine vintages with dinner the previous evening). We found the place, parking uncertainly in their yard under the watchful eye of the vineyard owner, then went to make contact as the heavens opened upon us. “Bonjour” he greeted us, shaking hands – “Er, Parlez-vous Anglais?” I timorously responded. He turned and indicated a woman hurrying towards us – “My wife…”. Well met – she spoke English just fine, so my adventures in French speaking can wait till another day. Phew!

We were introduced to the wine cellar, sat down at a table laid with wine glasses, water glasses and crackers, and she proceeded to give us a complete low-down on their wine-making process – interspersed with samples of their produce (three whites, three reds). Of course I was driving, so sipping was the order of the day. But what wine! And all produced in an organic process, with great respect for the land and its various fauna. When we moved to the reds, the lady of the winery disappeared to get some cheese and returned with a great block of brie, which she carved into bite-sized pieces for us. White wine, red wine, cheese, crackers, a comprehensive lesson in viniculture – this was a real treat, and we left with six bottles. More would not have been possible with Ryanair, unfortunately. Next time, I’m bringing a truck…

That day was a great opportunity to bimble around and get to know the general area. We went through Bergerac and continued north, turning onto country lanes and wending our way back through Bergerac to a village with another vineyard – much larger and probably a whole lot less personal, so we contented ourselves with admiring the scenery. Back to Plaisance, where the rain had finally stopped and we took our meal by the pool once more – washed down with more wine, of course (are you sensing a developing pattern here?)… 🙂

The trip was 5 days, much of which was spent just loafing by the pool, or walking in leafy lanes, admiring and attempting to identify various crops – too early for sunflowers, which was a shame. When in bloom, they must turn the majority of the countryside yellow for a short time. The weather didn’t really recover to the level of Friday’s brilliance, but apparently the weather forecasters were speaking of glorious weather scheduled for after our departure. Typical.

It’s a funny thing, but I always think of the countryside as being peaceful; quiet and still. Sitting by the pool, I occasionally allowed myself to become aware of the noises about me: the breeze gently ruffling the trees, the birdsong, the uproarious creaking of thousands of cicadas in the trees and bushes around the house, the occasional roar of tyres on the road in the distance, the very occasional boom from the nearby quarry(!) – not at all quiet or still! But somehow incredibly peaceful nonetheless. I suppose we filter for particular sounds – I sit here in Beckenham with my windows open and hear birdsong. Traffic noise is largely in the distance and rarely penetrates. Even so, I long to sit on my own terrace in southern France, sipping a local wine in the perceived near-silence of the wind, the leaves, the insects, the occasional passing traffic and the clicking of my laptop keyboard as I work to pay the rent. I think it’s a rent I’d be happier to pay, somehow.

But for the moment, I’m enjoying the spectacular heatwave we’ve got in England – for the next couple of days, at least. Oddly enough, I’m actually looking forward to the spectactular thunderstorms forecast for Thursday. Walk softly, and carry a big umbrella!

I had a great weekend, to begin with. Ian B & his band of brothers were planning an impromptu jam session, lubricated by much alcohol, on Saturday afternnoon. And yours truly was invited, so I & Fiona jumped in her trusty Seicento and headed coastwards – via the scenic route; you know me!

I’m sure anyone in the south-east of England is aware what a beautiful day that was, with only occasional interruption from the clouds – and it only got clearer and warmer as the day wore on. We got to Brighton and found Ian and a couple of cohorts – he assured us that the posse would arrive in due course. In the meantime, we went and got ourselves some lunch from one of the establishments on the promenade.

Sure enough, sundry musicians began to arrive, and soon enough there were enough (i.e. the band) to start to jam. Very cool (not in the temperature sense!), there in the sun beside the old pier, with passers-by stopping to take pics and even flop down and chill out as the boys (+1 girl) played. It was most enjoyable, and a few cheeky covers crept in there (including the aforementioned “Blister…”), and I had good fun catching up with a few people I hadn’t seen in donkey’s. Pictorial evidence will be sprouting on the gallery, as soon as I can be bothered…

But as the day wore on, I found myself becoming quite tired – we hadn’t brought enough water (glad I didn’t start on the beer!), and I felt a little dehydrated. So about 5pm Fi & I made our excuses, said our goodbyes, and trundled back to the car and northbound. Home again, and a couple of glasses of wine with dinner, and I began to feel very ropey indeed. An early night was in order, but the following day I felt worse, if anything! Sure enough, heatstroke was diagnosed, and I resigned myself to regular doses of painkillers and gallons of water. You’d think I’d have learned after the New Year’s Eve episode in Oz, wouldn’t you?! As if…

So that kinda killed off my Sunday, and didn’t do me too many favours on the Monday, but that’ll teach me to sit in brilliant sunshine on the beach without a hat! Lots of sunscreen, yes (so no sunburn – well, not much), but no hat. But on the upside, I had a very enjoyable experience on the beach watching Ian & the players do their thing (most excellently, as always) – so it wasn’t a complete washout. I’ll be going to see them again – it’s only a shame that I wasn’t able to stay for the full complement of musicians to arrive and turn it into a mass jam frenzy! And I’d forgotten what a hugely happening place Brighton beach is in summer – incredible. Although I didn’t take a chance on swimming in the sea – oh no…

Lesson learned – I’m off to France this weekend, where it’s currently around 32 degrees, so my hat is packed along with gallons of factor 3000 sunscreen. Oh, it’s going to be soooo much fun, he he…

In parting: class of ’98 – wear sunscreen!

Well, it’s all change here, at Happenins Towers! Last time we chatted, it was grim weather indeed, and grimly forecast. But now, the sky is edge-to-edge brilliant blue, the temperature is nudging ever nearer to the magic three-oh, the windows are thrown wide and the fan plays havoc with my paperwork. Joy-joy! Oh frabjous day, etc…

Of course, the other thing that’s changed is that my bike’s off the road – again. This time, there’s nothing wrong with it (at least, I hope not!) – simply a small matter of lapsed MOT & road tax, and Mr Plod said I can’t ride without them. Fine – it’s booked for its MOT next week. And it will pass – oh yes it will…

Being stuck indoors in weather like this is a major downer, but the compensation is that work is busy. Success is just around the corner – honest! I say compensation, but I think that should be reversed: the glorious weekends are compensation for the fact that work is so busy. Better? I think so.

More birthdays are looming as I type: little (or not-so-little) Jake Allen will be celebrating his second anniversary of arriving on this mortal coil, while my nephew Caelum back home will be turning 11. Yike! Time flies when you’re doing other things… Meanwhile on the other side of the world, sunny B Jenkins celebrates eternal youth in Sydney, while erstwhile flatmate and boozing companion Kiz will be following just after, stubby in hand – again, needless to say, eternally young! Finally for this month, young Louis Jones will be celebrating his second birthday in his new home out West. Happy birthday one and all – with the exception of Jake, sorry I can’t be there… 🙁

Before I forget, a big shout has to go out to my sis Jhone, who did a sponsored walk to raise money for Multiple Sclerosis in Ireland a few days ago – you go, girl! Aches and pains notwithstanding, she’s doing fine. 😉

But what wonderful weather! It bodes well for my trip to the south of France later in the month, especially as the temperatures and conditions are pegged just a tad above what we’ve got here at the moment. All good, all good – a few days lounging by the pool, glass of Claret akimbo, will no doubt do me the world of good. And the fun will only be beginning – a trip to Ireland (fairly) hard on the heels of that, to celebrate the Ballina Salmon Festival and carouse with family & friends (not to mention Fiona), is on the cards for July. Never been to the Salmon Festival? You haven’t lived, and I mean that most sincerely. Put it on your list of things to do in this lifetime… Oh – and there’s a fair-to-middling chance that travel buddies John & Gwyn will be bundling Jake up and revisiting partyland with me – bring it on!

I’ve wittered enough. Look to your barbecues!

As I sit and type to you, dear readers, the sky is battleship grey, the rain is teeming down and the wind is gusting mightily. Just another English summer, then! I was chatting with one of my neighbours the other day, and he postulated a theory that we only have an allocation of two good days a month. He could have a point there – roll on June! At the very least, I’ll have a few days in the south of France to look forward to, and here’s hoping I don’t bring the weather with me.

Unless it’s sunny, of course!

Anyway, on with the tale. Since I wrote to you last, I got the bike back on the road! Much bleeding of brakes and swearing at tools was involved, but I got there in the end, and thoroughly burned the road up in the name of testing my repair work. Oh yes, it’s good to be back on the road. Fiona doesn’t understand, as she observes me donning my copious protective layers, but I’ll convert her…

So last weekend I had a visit from my li’l sis Jhone, who I’d talked into coming over to see the healer dude who worked his magic on me in March. And she saw him and had some more of the same, and he pronounced her on the road to recovery. Here’s hoping she has the same great results I’ve had – he advised some revision of diet, but she’s a committed carnivore so that might be easier said than done. In any case, I’m delighted to help, and only too happy to spread the word – if anyone out there has a friend or relative who’s suffering from MS or ME or pretty much anything and would like to talk to Andrew (for that is his name), give me a shout and I’ll pass on his details. He’s a cool guy, and it’s a painless process – it can’t hurt, basically!

There have been mumblings about a musical project, with my old chum and erstwhile band-mate Dew, but you’ll have to wait for further info on that. It’s still in the organisational stages – which means it’s been talked about over the fifth glass of wine and then been tucked under the sofa for review at a later date. DISorganisational, more like – but anyway. It would be very good fun, and would see the return of Al the bassman – which would be most enjoyable indeed.

Best get a move on, though, because at some point in the next 12 months I’ll be moving to France, all going well. It’s shaping up to be an easier decision all the time, and I think that it might open a few interesting doors in my life. It’s begun already, frankly, with a move to Dartford to share with Fiona prior to the final move to France. She said she wants to see if she can live with me here, before trying it in France – fair enough, I suppose. So it’s a sad farewell to my very lovely bachelor pad in Beckenham in a couple of months’ time, and on to the next phase. But I’m not sad, because there’s a very fine chateau somewhere in the south of France with my name on it!

Work is trundling along quite merrily; in fact, it should be ramping up over the coming months with some interesting clients clambering aboard. International interest is trickling in, and soon our virtual customer service agents could well be ubiquitous – a non-surly shop assistant to sell you something? No problem! I’m still waiting for the company to get its big break in the Australian market, at which point I’ll be upping sticks and setting up our Oz office. Somewhere around Bondi would be reasonable, I think…

OK – speaking of work, I really should do some. I’ll take my leave of you, but not before I shout out a huge birthday greet to Julien (Thursday) and Matt (Saturday) – I dunno, my life is filled with Geminis! Scary people…

Have fun!