Quails eggs and gingernuts

The week thus far:

Out in Soho on Tuesday night to celebrate the birthday of Mr Adams: Sting lookalike, maninblack and king of the gingernuts.

Then Acoustic Suicide last night with songs sung in Roma and Turkish from Thee Intolerable Kid and songs with judicious use of the c-word, as well as a song dedicated to misunderstood diabetics, from Simon Breed. All of this and free quail's eggs too, I kid you not, making for a very fine evening's entertainment.

And tonight we're staying in - Howard Marks is on TV and looking uncannily like this mask Shelly made today.

Converted Barn Dance

Tales of the East Midlands nouveau riche set to a mediaeval prog background? That'll be Supreme Vagabond Craftsman again, this time playing a marvelous set at the Hello Goodbye night at the Half Moon in Hernia Hill. Also on the bill were the excellent Hamilton Yarns, whose pastoral English whimsicality might not be everyone's cup of tea, but it gives me the same warm glow I get from Vernon Elliot's music for Noggin the Nog and the Clangers. Special mention also to Keshco for fulfilling their promise to have a band member dressed as a proper old fashioned tramp...fitting in nicely with the vagabond theme.

Where's your caravan?

Got some quality time in the Oak with Spratticus and Christina on Sunday. Then down to Selhurst Park with Robert and Tom last night to see the Tractor Boys in action. Every time I've been to a Town game over the last few years they have lost, so it was a bit of a gamble going along to this game just after they'd rediscovered their away form. Fortunately the curse seems to have been lifted and Ipswich romped to a triumphant 1-0 victory. Cracking game, with both players and fans on good form. I'd forgotten how therapeutic it can be to spend a Tuesday evening in a cold stadium shouting 'Blue Army' with a couple of thousand kindred spirits. Wonderful player that Alan Lee is, however, I couldn't quite bring myself to join in singing his praises to the tune of Spandau Ballet's 'Gold'. Be interesting to see how the name of new signing Velice Sumulikoski ('the Macedonian Steven Gerrard') works itself into a chant.

Forest Punk

Brilliant session today from the excellent Supreme Vagabond Craftsman, who are arguably the finest grindcore folk outfit ever to come out of South Leicestershire. Also on the show was Denver Colorado's George Inai, who does a very nice line in mariachi flavoured ballads.

Badger's Badge

Found by Steph in an Essex Road charity shop. You can't argue with the design or the message really, can you?

Milestones

Saturday night in London's oldest restaurant (apparently) for our neighbour Sylvia's 80th birthday bash. Very nice too. Talking of milestones, my trusty Halford's cycle computer tells me I've now ridden 2000 miles since I fitted it on my bike on my last birthday. Not as impressive as Sylvia reaching the big ochenta, I grant you, but still not be sneezed at, I reckon.

Edward Suffolkhands

Up the A12 for my Mum's 65th birthday celebrations. Beautiful skies over Walberswick before we left for London tonight. My sister-in-law says that Johnny Depp is looking for a house in the area. Not sure how I feel about that. I think I might prefer Suffolk being known mainly for bird-flu, nuclear power stations and serial killers - it helps keep the crowds away. On the other hand, flocks of mini-goths clogging up the tea-rooms of Thorpeness, desperate for a glimpse of Jack Sparrow would liven the place up a bit.

Jlesh Munce

Down to the Windmill in Brixton last night for a marvellous array of bands. Old friends of the radio show, Captain Blood Blood and the Sea Dogs have now expanded from a trio to a quintet and were in very fine fettle indeed. Chips for the Poor did an epic 9 minute set, which included the excellent 'I am warm in my coat' played twice, but the highlight of the night was Spin Spin the Dogs. Proclaimed on the interweb as 'Derby's most hated band' despite, or perhaps because of, being from Nottingham, they're in fact a fantastic blend of Beefheart, Pere Ubu and Stump. Truly fabulous stuff - hoping to get them in for a session very soon.

Worst before...

Shocked to discover that Tesco are now stamping their sell-by dates directly onto their houmous. Fortunately I had a jar of Barry Norman's pickled onions at hand to help me get over the trauma.

It ain't the meat it's the motion (that makes your daddy want to rock)

Quick recap on the last few days:

Thursday night at Acoustic Suicide to see harpist extraordinaire Serafina Steer playing a sublime version of Morrisey's 'Suedehead'.

Friday night in the Oak with Spratticus for the AGM of the Tony Harrison appreciation society.

The Resonance (no relation) Association were live on Saturday's show, after which there was a brief Crops reunion at the Parquet Mortar.

Then on to the Bethnal Green Working Men's Club to meet up with Adaesi, Rod and Nick for a very pleasant evening of rock and roll. The band were great, as were the lady dj's, who played some fantastically edgy sounding stuff from the fifties. Time to get the fluorescent socks and the Showaddywaddy LP out from under the bed - I can feel a teddy boy phase coming on!

Lionel Richie's Wardrobe

To the Priory Arms again last night with Team LRW bolstered by Shelly, Sandra and Tomoland for the pub quiz. Amazingly, and despite Tomo convincing us that Tin Tin's dog was a poodle, we won. We converted our winnings back into booze and celebrated with a hamfisted round of Buckaroo.

If it ain't a mess it'll do til the mess gets here

First Hello Goodbye show of 2008 kicked off the new year with great sessions from David Cronenberg's Wife and a solo Jamie Irrepressible. DCW's set included a song about a relationship between a man and a schoolgirl, the lyrics of which they'd thoughtfully typed out for us to vet in advance, in case they were too controversial for a family show. I didn't see anything that could cause offence so gave them the go ahead, secretly hoping that we would get a couple of outraged emails or phone calls from retired colonels in Tunbridge Wells. Sadly, however, it would appear that the self appointed bastions of family values and common decency are not setting their dials to 104.4 fm of a Saturday lunchtime. Which means they would have also missed Jamie's performance too - only one song, but terrific stuff.

Caught up with T-Lo, Tomoland et al in the Parquet Mortar for a couple of swellies, then had a great dahl makani in Simply Indian and went to see No Country for Old Men, the Coen Bros adaptation of the Cormac Mcarthy book. Fabulous stuff, already a candidate for best film of the year I'd say. Classic Coens and nicely dark, like Blood Simple. There's some great business with dogs in the film ('That's a dead dog' 'Yes it is') and a particularly marvellous scene where Josh Brolin is pursued across a river by a hound. Fantastic cast, excellent dialogue, brilliantly shot and a pleasingly ambiguous ending. Go and see it.

Out with the old...

So farewell then 2007. On the last afternoon of the year I cycled over Tower Bridge to visit Seething Lane, where Pepys used to live. His house, of course, is long gone - having burned down a few years after surviving the Great Fire. Strangely, the area around his statue smelled quite strongly of vomit. Saw in 2008 at John and Garry's in Camberwell with fireworks provided by their neighbours. Hit the saddle again at mid-day today, cycling up to Hampstead and back, then met up with last night's revellers again for a stroll along the Thames. Can't quite believe it's 2008 already. Still feels like 1994 to me.

Spent all day in the fucking pub...

Celebrated a 2km swim by spending the rest of the day boozing with T-Lo. Lunch in the Priory Arms in Stockwell, then Sintra for Sagres and brandies. The bar staff did everything they could to discourage us, first by refusing to accept an out-of-date fiver, then by giving us the wrong wireless password. Where others might have taken the hint, David simply went to the cash machine for more fivers and picked up a book from his flat to provide us with the info we were looking for online. Genius! Then back to the Priory for the pub quiz, presided over by the Steven Berkoff-esque landlord. We did pretty well considering how hammered we were...I think we came third.

The Meninblack

The post-Christmas blood sugar reduction campaign began yesterday with a brisk cycle ride up to Cristapolis to see Robert and Tom. All the good work was undone by stuffing my face with pie and mash in Domalis (delicious though so worth it). Managed to break the speed limit down Gypsy Hill on the way home!

Ho Ho Ho Tally

Returned yesterday from the annual seasonal voyage round the London/Notts/Suffolk triangle. Had Christmas lunch in a Derbyshire pub with two fellow diabetics at the table, trying to convince me that I could allow myself a dessert once a year. I held firm, dear reader, but did succumb to the siren call of the strawberries on top of the cheesecake.

The long drive down the A14 was made more entertaining by Shelly practising White Stripes and Dolly Parton tunes on her new pink ukulele. She's currently hard at work learning 'When I'm Cleaning Windows', which is actually a lot harder to play than 'Hotel Yorba'. Respect due to Mr Formby.

Met up with T-Lo in Suffolk. I was designated driver so wasn't able to join him on the Tally Ho - the highly potent Adnams brew, only served in half-pints as it's practically a liqueur. The effect it had on him was pretty impressive, so I've promised myself a return trip to the Low House to try it out myself. When someone else is driving.