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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