AS GOOD AS I ONCE WAS!

Bit of a short blog at the tail end of last week due to lunch going on rather longer than expected, having met up with the two Daves - school friends I'd not set eyes on for thirty eight years or so.

Had they changed out of all recognition? Not just physically, but also how would their lives and experiences have informed the way they think now as opposed to back then?

Would they be the two blokes I recall being a lot of fun, getting up to teenage pranks as well as the usually unsuccessful attempts to impress girls have changed, worn down by years of hard work and drudgery?

Would they remember me with fondness or upon re-meeting, instantly remember what a dork I was?

We arranged to meet in a restaurant not far from the BBC, so if they put a frog down my shirt or set fire to my trousers I could run to the safety of Auntie a few hundred yards away.

I needn't have worried. Apart from a couple of physical changes (poundage, hair and better clothes) they were exactly the same as I remember. Still tremendous fun.

They were both now "David", "Dave" having been left behind sometime in the very early eighties.

I had brought along a couple of photos of the period, and we discussed our lives and careers since that moment and wondered how we had lost touch.

Very simple really. The whole world beckoned and we had all three of us seized it, along with the physical distances and the new friends we had acquired along the way.

We shared funny and at times harrowing stories of romances good and bad. A sign of maturity I suppose was the realisation that we were certainly to blame for part of the chaos that had appeared in our life from time to time.

We tried to recall other old friends with partial success. Some had had remarkable successful lives, others sadly less so.

We talked about one of our common bonds which was music. I was delighted to note that after all this time, both Davids were avid gig-goers and are frequently out experiencing live music.
Now in middle age and contemplating semi or complete retirement, their zest for life was still undimmed. We laughed a lot and remembered events slightly differently, which filled in a few blanks along the way - probably caused by too much cider or cooking sherry. These were about the only drugs available to us at the time. Just say no kids!

We talked for hours until the evening began to draw in. The time flew and we are now pencilling in a few dates to go to see some music together.

It was genuinely really terrific to see them and reminded me why we had been such good friends all those years ago.

In answer to your burning question that was outlined at the head of this blog, yes I was a dork and had been a horrible music snob. Something I hope that has been corrected after thirty eight years.

SCHOOLS OUT!

Sorry this is so short. After 38 years these two guys turned up for lunch. As of this moment lunch is still going on!

CALLING ALL THE HEROES!

It was "Date Night" last night which was very welcome.

This is where either the Dark Lady or myself organises a little something just for the two of us. An evening for ourselves. No distractions. No children. No family. No friends. Just us.

The reason for this is very simple - we don't get a lot of time together. She is a high powered tycoon. (She actually thinks she's a "low powered office worker". I know which I prefer.)

I of course am a broadcasting demigod (for this read "bloke who plays records in the middle of the night and rarely troubles the daytime schedule and certainly very very rarely the TV schedule"). Well, we are busy people.

There are not enough of the right hours in the day to ensure we get to spend some time alone together, so we arrange these "dates". It keeps things fresh and the DL doesn't have enough time to get fed up and irritated with me before it's time to leave once again.

This is another good reason for marrying relatively late in life, as your spouse won't have enough time to grow to loathe you before you drop off the perch naturally before he or she resorts to greasing the stairs.

Last time we went out I had arranged tickets to see Randy Newman with a bite to eat beforehand. This time it was the DL's turn to sort things out.

She had been listening to what I had been saying (guys, apparently listening to your partner is good and should be encouraged), and had stored away in her head the fact that I wanted to see the new film "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel". The film stars a brace of Dames in Judi and Maggie, and a generally fabulous cast including Ronald Pickup, Bill Nighy and Celia Imrie.

Everyone I know who had seen it including Janice Long and my dad had raved about it. My father is scarcely a regular film goer - he has seen a couple of films this year and prior to that the last one he saw was Ghandi in 1982!

So, we arranged to meet in the pub at 4:30PM for a pint and packet of crisps. I had the pint and most of the crisps as her mother phoned just as they were opened, so I choffed my way through them whilst she was talking.

This was going to be a surprise, so she wouldn't tell me where we were going. I usually like to make a few stabs at what it might be, usually starting with "is it a duffle coat"?

I always start here, as that is the only time she has surprised me and I have guessed correctly beforehand.

Into the car and we eventually drew up outside one of those tiny cosy cinemas that boast comfy seats and nice snacks.

We even had a sofa so we could sit next to each other. There were two types of pizza and ice cream. Yes, before you start I did spill the ice cream down my front. An evening out is not complete without something being spilled down me, either by others or more usually yours truly.

The cinema was so swanky, even the adverts seemed upmarket. So no ads for curry houses and local garages. No. There were lush commercials for exotic places, including the Azores. First time I have ever seen them advertised.

Luckily I had had a Diet Coke before we came in as the caffeine kept me awake. Not that I was bored, it was just that the seats were so comfortable.

It was a great evening but now the bar has been raised rather high.

My turn in a couple of weeks. How can I top that?

HERE COMES SUMMER!

Weather was spectacular over the weekend. Well, it was where I was and so it was fun to visit friends on Sunday for lunch. Windows down in the car with the wind in my hair.

I still have hair so I am going to enjoy it while it and I last!

We went to visit some friends, Martin and Julie.

They have a sweetheart of a son called Jack, who I am not sure of his age as he is a growing machine and seems to be four or five inches taller every time I see him, although apparently he is not the tallest in his class.

His parents are tall so I suppose it was a genetic possibility that any offspring may be in the Harlem Globetrotter end of the spectrum.

I have often wondered with basketball if it would be possible to be a major league player if you were only about five foot tall.

When we were in the US in 2010, Dark Lady and I went to Madison Square Garden in order to watch the New York Knicks play. They, as did their opponents, seemed awfully tall. We watched one chap regularly on TV during the trip who rushed around and received a terrible battering over the course of the season - a severely blackened and closed eye here and a broken nose there. So intrigued were we with this tiny chap and his dogged determination that we looked him up on the Internet. He was about six foot four! Compared to his seven foot colleagues he seemed tiny.

Meanwhile back at Martin and Julie's, their son Jack (by now probably half an inch taller) was hopping up and down with excitement about lunch, sunshine, bugs and creepy crawlies - in fact pretty much everything. He is possibly the most enthusiastic child I have ever met.

I started pondering about the hopping thing.

Why do children leap up and down with excitement? I get excited about stuff but rarely feel the urge to leap up and down on the spot. Luckily for everyone I didn't, or had we not been in the basement we probably would have ended up there.

Is it that they feel by making themselves appear taller, they will be noticed more easily?

Is it the movement? Do they think adult's eyes only detect movement?

Or is it an inverse thing? Think back to the classroom. The kid who knew the answer and put his hand up as far as he could whilst half out of his seat. Squealing "Miss... miss... please miss".

The teacher would always ignore him and point at the kid with a) no idea or b) who was staring out of the window.

c) This was invariably me.

I would like to see more of this sort of enthusiasm of the hopping up and down sort from our leaders and supposedly betters.

Instead of treating us all like idiots and thinking that if they rushed around forcing down cheap pasties whilst trying to maintain that they ate like this all the time, when in fact nanny had sprinkled beluga caviar and hundreds and thousands (of pounds that is) on their bokoflakes each morning. We would think that they were "just like us" and really really want to vote for them as we trust every utterence of theirs.

In order to earn our respect they should entertain us and demonstrate their enthusiasm for their well paid jobs by hopping up and down, hoping to be chosen to speak by the Speaker of the House of Commons John Bercow who like me is err... "a little chap".

If everyone hopped, not just children but adults of all sizes, the whole concept of "heightism" would be addressed and solved. Another prejudice sorted.

It would be healthy too, so just think of the calories burned. Wouldn't you prefer to be represented in Parliament by an MP at the very peak of his or her powers physically and intellectually, rather than some overstuffed bloke with Port and Venison all down his tie?

I think enthusiastic hopping is the way forward on this one.

Thank you Jack for crystallizing these thoughts. Future generations will thank you.

I worked out this tortuous theory whilst having a walk in the continuing sunshine. As it was now April they were out of the wardrobe and on!

"The weather is going to get so much colder shortly, and it may snow" said the Dark Lady when I told her that the sandals were now on "April to Autumn" as was the norm with my premarital footwear regime.

"No socks till September!"

"Don't be silly" she said.

I haven't told her about the hopping theory yet!

THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN!

Friday and it was the weekend. Yaaaay!
My mate Libido Boy (who was one of the best men at my wedding last December) hit town, as we were due to go to a gig. Not seen him this year so far so was really looking forward to it.
We headed off for the Union Chapel, a beautiful venue in London's Islington to see the fabulous Roseanne Cash.
The way these evenings usually go is he arrives, then we have to um and ah about what shoes he is going to wear. He is in the leather trade, so footwear is very important to him. The rest of him may look a mess at times but his shoes are always immaculate.

Then we have to decide if we are hungry or not, as we won't be eating anything apart from salty snacks until the post-pub burger at around 2AM.

This time hunger was decided upon, so we went to an Italian place and as usual I got olive oil down the front of my shirt.

The Union Chapel is a gorgeous venue for this type of concert. It was going to be a quiet acoustic night with Roseanne and her husband John Leventhal on guitar.

First on were two young lads called "Winter Mountain", who came across as nice young chaps but seemed to me to be a wannabe Simon and Garfunkel without either the songs or the beauty of the harmonies. LBoy liked then and they got a warm round of applause, so it may have just been my cynical jaded ears.

Then during the interval we had a rock n' roll ice cream each. (It is that sort of venue). I had chocolate. Lboy went mad with a vanilla tub.

He also is unable to see a woman without chatting to her. Turns out she was the wife of Simon Nicol from Fairport Convention, who was sitting next to her. We talked and found out we had friends in common. Then the main event.

From the moment they walked on stage we were rapt. I had forgotten how good a singer she was and at 57 years of age has not withered at all.

She ran through a lot of songs from her album "Black Cadillac" and the more recent "The List", including "Sea of Heartbreak" which I played on the show Monday morning.

She even did a killer version of "Ode To Billie Joe", the Bobbie Gentry song of which I am not a particular fan, although I certainly warmed to it after her version particularly as she mentioned at the end that she had no idea what they had thrown of the Tallahatchee Bridge either. Which was gratifying as it has baffled me for years too.

We wondered if there would be any Johnny Cash songs in the set, and when the audience called out for some she neatly sidestepped it politely and rather cleverly with the words:

"I don't go to my Dad's office to do his work for him!"

All in all a perfect evening. Beautiful music performed with enthusiasm and humour. What more could two middle aged men full of pasta and ice cream ask for?

BEEEERRRRRR!!!!

We hopped into a cab and headed for Camden, and a pub we always go to called "The Elephant's Head", although for some bizarre reason that always comes out of the Dark Lady's mouth as "The Blue Elephant".

At this stage in the evening Libido Boy starts to worry about his salt intake and I get concerned about my liver.

The reason is that LBoy likes a packet of crisps with every drink. I just like a few pints.

Bearing in mind that scarcely if not a drop passes my lips during the week these days, I felt that we should push the boat out on this a special occasion.

DL, who naturally worries about her idiot husband, did text and ask how the "hevvvy drinking" was going. So I had to send her a picture to show that we weren't getting into any trouble. Unlikely, as apart from the guy on the wheels of steel we are probably the oldest people in this pub by 30 years.

After the obligatory burger from a street vendor and the boozy walk home that was it for a perfect evening. Got into bed about 3.00 am and woke up on the dot of 7!

IN THESE SHOES?

Feeling pretty good about the teeth and eye during “MOT week”, the next job was to get my car serviced and MOT'd.

Seeing as how I bought the "Ford mid-life crisis" (it's not actually a Ford) 4 years ago as an ex demonstrator and that it has only covered 35,000 miles, I wasn't expecting any nasty surprises.

My brother-in-law has just had to have £2,000 worth of repairs done to his 3 year-old car with only 6,000 miles on the clock and the Dark Lady had had to fork out for damaged brakes on her three year-old car with about 20,000 miles on the clock.

Apparently there is a small radiator leak on mine. The air con needs re-gassing and only one of the twin air horns work making it sound like Noddy's car

So much for modern engineering. I don't expect vehicles to be immune from problems but it strikes me that they should last a bit longer than this before expensive bits go wrong. I thought the body was holding up pretty well compared to the car…until the tickle started in my throat. A couple of hours later I had a wheezy cough with the odd added sneeze for good measure.

Not sure if it is a cold or hay fever. Bob in the flats said a lot of people living there had gone down with it so I am hoping upper respiratory tract infection rather than hay fever. Or maybe that will be a treat in store for later in the year!

Then I woke up with a sore foot!

Is there no end to it? It feels like I have bruised it stamping along the pavement in my plimsolls.

However, being in this discomfort meant a minus and a partial plus: I had to cancel my skating lesson which was a shame as I was looking forward to trying out my newly-sharpened blades.

Met the Dark Lady in a break from her work as we had to go buy a new shower curtain and a kitchen bin. Whilst we were there we also started looking at bath towels. I am a big towel fan as I am a big fan of the bath and can easily spend two hours soaking in the tub.

However, purchasing a bale of towels with my adored wife is not a straightforward matter. DL likes to wander the shelves unfolding and refolding them and asking which colour suits; with this game you are not allowed to cut to the chase and simply say

"Let's have the red ones".

Oh no. You have to go through them all shade by shade.

"Red? Blue? Light blue? Orange? Pink? Green? Black? Yellow? Purple?

Not content with those there are the “girl-only” colours to be examined

"Taupe? Stone? Mulberry? Sierra? Ocean? Eau de nil? Verdigris? Avocado?"

This went on for such a long time that my bad foot started to protest and - ever concerned for my welfare - we left the store. Without towels.

I have a suspicion the DL thinks I was over-egging the injury in order to get out of the shop.....

OK then.... Prove it!

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BRIGHT EYES

Off to the airfield yesterday in order to catch up on the flying (or "lie in", according to Strangelove); either my diction is now so poor or his hearing is duff due to all the VIP-only gigs he goes to.

Since I got my licence in 2010 I have not had a massive amount of time to fly. Unless you fly solo 12 hours in a 2-year period you have to take your test again. I need 7 more solo hours before September.

I have been converting to another aircraft which is based closer to London rather than travelling up to Halfpenny Green in the Midlands to hire the C42 from Hadair and its chief, the excellent Steve Wilkes.

Since last summer, long-suffering Keith in Upminster has had to put up with my glaring errors and general incompetence as I try and get to grips with his Jabiru UL450D.

The weather and holidays have been rather against us of late but was good enough Tuesday for us to go up for an hour. We went round the block a few times until Keith pronounced himself satisfied and just needed to show me how to operate the radio.

"feel between your legs. Next to the throttle you'll find a button. That's the transmit button."

"I can feel something........er, it appears to be a bolt!"

"Other side of the throttle"

"Got it"

Once more round the block and out he hopped.

"Your go. Just do a circuit and watch for the wind eddying over the trees"

Ten minutes later I was back on the ground.

Yaaay. Now only need 6 hours and 50 minutes solo before September.

In the evening Dark Lady and I went to a showcase at the BBC to see a singer called Katrina from LA. No, not that one. She had a nice voice and stage presence although DL thought there was a bit of Bonnie Langford stage school influence in there which I agreed with. She was well received and afterwards we said hello just as a young bloke arrived with his camera. So being the seasoned pro that I am I grabbed her and posed for the pic cheek to cheek.

She whispered:

"I think he wants you to take a picture of me and him. NOT you and me!"

So laughing it off, I duly obliged and slunk away to catch up with the DL, who - oblivious to this huge blow to my gigantic ego - was already outside.

MOT week continues with a trip to the optician. Teeth Monday, now the annual eye test. I've been using pound shop readers since I lost my last proper pair a couple of years back. I thought I would wait as I didn't want to buy a new pair and then need another new pair if the prescription changed.

I had my eyes puffed at with compressed air for Glaucoma test and they took flash photos of the back of eyes leaving everything with a gentle purple rinse for a few minutes after.

In the dark the optician shone stuff, peered at me lenses, whirred back and forth and eventually the verdict:

1.75 up to 2.00. First change in 8 years so apparently not bad for a bloke my age. I Informed the Dark Lady of this fact who simply replied:

"Now let's get you some proper specs".

As you and I know: This means she wants to choose the frames!