2 February 2015 (Monday) - After the Night Shift

Last night on the night shift (for a change) I had a look on the Radio 2 website and saw a podcast that looked interesting. "Johnnie Walker's Sounds of the 70s" said on its blurb that it featured an hour-long interview with Ron Mael; one half of (arguably) the best band on the planet. So I called that up. If nothing else it would be different to the stuff I normally listen to on Radio 4.
The podcast started off with music from Dr Feelgood, Queen, Elvis Costello, Billy Joel, Issac Hayes, Gloria Gaynor, Elton John, The Disco LameActs, far too much hippy rubbish, and loads of people that history has now quite rightly forgotten. I found myself being grateful that it was a podcast because I could fast-forward through a lot of the dross. The presenter wound me up by spending far too long wittering about the records. His reading out the letters from those who'd written in with requests was rather sad. And his sucking up to musicians who've never heard of him was rather cringe-worthy. He announced that after forty years Ron Mael was still one of the most iconic musicians of the 1970s. Of course he is. Have there been any other new iconic musicians of the 1970s in the meantime?
Ron Mael finally appeared about an hour and twenty minutes into the show and was actually on air for about half an hour. Like all of us, he said a lot without really saying anything. To be honest for all that I like the band, I'm not really interested in the musicians themselves. Am I supposed to be?
It wasn't what I've come to expect from a radio show; and it was frankly odd to be at work with three of the greatest songs in the history of the universe playing at top blast (This Town, Mother Earth, Number One).

I think my reaction to the experience is best summed up by the fact that it was that it was with something of a sense of going home that I turned back to Radio 4. Radio 4 featured an article on everyday life in Romania where they interviewed a village sex theraist (who was adamant people shouldn't kiss in public because it would be too wantonly lascivious) and an Elvis impersonator who couldn't afford to buy blue suede shoes.
It wasn't actually any better than Radio 2; it's just that I'm more used to it.

I've often said that I like working at night. I do, but it has to be said that some nights are better than others. Last night wasn't a good one. I was glad when the early shift arrived to take over from me. As I drrove home my phone beeped with the new email noise so I pulled over to have a look-see. Two new caches had gove live in Ashford. One wasn't too far from where I was so I chased the First to Find. And got it. Happy dance.
Mind you whoever had hidden it had disguised the box with green paint, and the paint was still tacky. And was all over my hands. I wiped most of the paint on to the trunk of a nearby tree, and wiped the rest of it down my trousers.

I went home, washed my hands with some decent soap, then popped over to the hospital. I had a follow-up appointment following my operation from last year. As I was in the area I had a look for the second of the new caches. I got another FTF, and another dose of paint all over my hands which I washed off in the hospitals' toilets.
I arirved for my appointment rather earlier than I was expecting, and was seen pretty much right away. All is well in the snout department. Apparently.

I came home and took "Furry Face TM" for a walk. We hadn't gone far when I realised he wasn't a happy dog. His tail was down and he was walking rather slowly. So we cut our walk short. As we came home I let him off the lead on the co op field;he seeemed very stiff. Whilst I slept yesterday, "er indoors TM" had taken him for a ten-mile walk. The poor dog was worn out.
Once home we both slept for a while. I then spent several hours working on my next Wheri-project and I then had a message...

Regular readers of this drivel will know I am an ardent supporter and fan of the astro club. I have been a member right from the start. But things were different when it started. My blog posts from five or more years ago are very bitter about the twit who started the club in the first place.
The chap who started the club up didn't want as astronomy club. He wanted an audience; he wanted disciples. He *hated* it when anyone other than himself was speaking at the club. On one night when half a dozen friends came to hear my lecture he tried to stop me speaking because he felt it should be him talking when new people were there. We had a constant stream of people coming for one meeting and never coming again because of his self-obsession. A club which now has regular attendances of fifty-plus people never got about ten when he was at the helm.
I see this chap's been convicted for running over a lollipop lady's charges...

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