Research published this week has shown that has been established by members of the medical profession that, beyond all reasonable doubt, oxygen is bad for you. Breathing is recommended only for pregnant pixies over 55, and then only in May and with a note from their mums.
Furthermore, I notice glumly, that anything that tastes nice – or even tastes of anything – will cause rotting of the back end, and probably cause your Collies to wobble more than strictly necessary. The recommended method of living your life is apparently to find a large cardboard box, crawl inside and wait for the Armageddon that will come your way.
Because cardboard is bad for you.
But wait – what is that little ray of sunshine?
Why; it’s the sound of Acoustic Music.
And while the music might give you earache, remember it’s better than the ray of sunshine. That’ll give you skin cancer.
Be Welcome Gentle Reader and read on…
Blimey, welcome to 2016 and a positive start. We have hit the gym and revised the diet and reviewed (and changed) the old booze intake, but the news this week and the dietary advice from the gym and all the rest of it indicates that if we do all the bits and pieces recommended, we won’t live longer, but it will feel like it.
Nothing for it then, might as well head for the hills and make sweet independent music.
We’re working flat out on the new show. Carol is multitasking like mad in the new songs, playing bass, flute and singing. No, not at the same time, that would be silly. She is just wearing an outfit made of jelly and raffia whilst singing into a gas bill.
Which is not silly at all.
The new songs are shaping up well, including one, which appeared from almost nothing this week. ‘A Space on a Stone’ is a song about graveyards.
Or gravestones more to the point.
It’s inspired by some wonderful weathering we saw on stones at St Bartholomew’s Church, in Newbiggin. It struck me at the time that the only way we might know about the folks that lie there, in everlasting slumber, would be by the words on the stone. They are remembered until the wind and the rain take slow vengeance upon the stone and erase not just the etched words, but the stories, memories, and history of folks long ago.
And there, you have a song.
Did I mention the bouzouki?
This week we sallied forth to the Bridge, just for a change. It was a nice evening – several acoustic chums in evidence, and we had a pleasant evening. It was low key and laid back – but probably all the better for it. There are some pictures here somewhere, all taken by the Wrinkly Wroadies, before time caught up with them. Someone shouted ‘Time’ and they disappeared to the bar faster than you could blink.
This coming week is more rehearsal – a lot more rehearsal – more preparing stuff for the new show, more tech messing about, and loads more admin as people (thankfully) feel the need to get in touch and see if we can drop by.
Life is good.
We did another Care Home this week, the big shows start to kick in shortly, but it is nice to do the homes. An old lady lay, rather than sat, in her chair – she was draped into the thing like a heavily careworn rag.
Then we started the songs and gradually, bit-by-bit, she started to sing.
One day, maybe, I’ll feel the satisfaction of playing a hugely successful stadium show. Until then, that’ll do nicely.
And so as the sands of time start all over again, I notice something with great pleasure.
So do we.
Until next time, Acoustic Chums,
 That’s both of the sober ones
 Mine is independent of tune.
 But does make the car a chore to clean
 There’s ambition for you, right there.
 Don’t get me started. My views on religion have universal appeal for everyone. That means I can offend everybody.
 I have a poet’s soul. The poet in question wasn’t using it and left it lying around. I thought it was probably cleaner than mine (sic) and borrowed it. It’s a bit ‘Pink’ but quite comfy.
 ™ jiva