UP UP AND A WAAAAAHHHHHH!

Spectacularly busy week (by my standards anyway). After the show on Monday morning I hopped on the train up to Birmingham to visit relatives and was unable to sleep in the "Quiet carriage" due to an influx of noisy schoolchildren and then the conductor/guard yelling "Tickets..passes" above the hubbub.

Am I becoming a grumpy old man? When it says "quiet carriage" does it mean just that? Or is it just the name given to the rolling stock so the coach may as well be called "Jennifer". However I like to think I am still liberal enough to be in favour of gun control and unlike the pub bore I am still not likely to respond to any question with the lightning riposte: "Bring back hanging…the birch….spell in the army will do 'em a power of good…scrounging off the dole….coming over here taking all our jobs….would you let your daughter marry one?"

However a few more journeys like that and just give it time…

Came back early afternoon, had a shower and went to meet a friend outside a small club in the West End of London for a low-key gig by a fabulous singer/songwriter called Beth Hart. She is very earthy and has been lumbered with comparisons with Janis Joplin. As she is a former alcoholic who has had substance abuse problems which she freely admits. I hope she doesn't go the same way. Maybe she could have a quiet word with Amy Winehouse while she is about it.

It was a standing-up type gig so me and my even smaller friend didn't see a lot, which sparked a thread on the show about there needing to be some sort of small person legislation at these events to ensure everyone gets a good view. One thought was to drape string across the venue with it lower nearer the stage and higher at the back. So you would take your place in the hall where the string just brushed your head. Bumped into Johnnie Walker who was enjoying the gig and being tall he could see too! Jeff Beck was slated to turn up for an encore of "Whole Lotta Love" but didn't make it. However it was a good show and eventually I got to bed at about 10.30pm just in time for a three hour sleep.

Looking back at what I have written so far it seems there is only one thing for it and that would be for me to be a benign dictator. Perhaps it is just an outbreak of "Small man" syndrome.

Thursday and it was out to Oxfordshire for the week’s main event. Nick Marley listens to the show and for years has been telling me what I really need is a hobby. The hobby being flying. He is a partner in the Yeoman Light Aircraft Company who import a rather fancy microlight aircraft called a 'Dynamic' which is made in Slovakia. I have resisted going until now as frankly I am not sure that I have the mental capacity or the temperament to be a pilot. So I didn't want to waste his time.

However curiosity prevailed and so I accepted.

If you say "Microlight" to laymen like me you think of those fabric things with a handlebar and a person or maybe even two people freezing in helmets and thermal underwear as they bounce around the skies looking uncannily like a pair of gonads from beneath.

Technology has moved on and now they can look and act like "real" aircraft. This one had a radio and GPS, a heater and all sorts of dials and switches. I was introduced to Sean who oozed confidence which is good for me as a rather timid individual. Richard North had just flown in from Cambridge in his and said that pilots often were keen motorcylists as well. Oh rats. I thought I have never been temperamentally suited to motorbikes either! A short time later Mike Gregory, a retired traffic policeman, arrived in his. He was obviously born to fly after a lifetime stuck in traffic for his job.


The landing strip was a field. After all the checks we set off and up we went. It was terrific and a lovely sunny morning as we flew over Silverstone and near Didcot Power station. When we were at 2,000 feet and doing about 100- and- something m.p.h. as I don't understand "knots", Sean said: "I gather you have safety concerns". Which was his polite way of saying "wuss". "Well I do worry about things like the engine stopping". Having spent too much time watching Air Crash investigation on satellite tv. "Lets see what happens" he said and promptly switched it off.

Erm…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………!

"What do we need to do if the engine stops?" Me: "Pray?...be the ones that nobody remembers in the plane with Buddy Holly or Patsy Cline?"


A: The Big Bopper. Richie Valens and Cowboy Copas and Hawkshaw Hawkins.

"No (patiently. Realising he has a potentially hysterical idiot in the cockpit with him). Look for somewhere to land. If we look around us we can see some good flat fields and a disused airfield over there. There are also a couple of farmers field / landing strips over to our right which are in easy reach. Now whilst we have been looking for potential landing sites four minutes have elapsed since I turned the engine off. In that time was have lost 250 feet of height. That is not the same as plummeting to the ground and leaving a smoking hole now is it?" (These conversations are taken from memory which was trying to cope with a lot of different brain signals at the time so they may not be wholly accurate).

So if we start the engine again up we go." Up we went and then Sean said. "Let’s see what happens when we go so slowly that the plane stalls……..." "Good wheeze" I whimpered. It shuddered a bit and the nose dropped. "Here you have a go". Ulp!

I took the stick and was amazed at how sensitive the aircraft was. I was not going to trouble the rudder pedals on this occasion as it was all I could do to concentrate sufficiently to turn the aircraft and climb and descend without laughing hysterically and clapping my hands with glee. Then it was time to see what the microlight could actually do performance-wise. Sean has well over 20 years flying experience in all types of planes and he flies these for fun because it was "real flying". We turned sharply and it felt that the aircraft was actually in water due to the amount of air flowing over the wings. I felt rather dizzy. "We are pulling one and a half G so squeeze your body as if you are straining at the stool" he advised. "this will help push the blood back to your brain so you don't suffer a grey-out". Luckily I had just been. I hate to think of the state of the Red Arrows Cockpits after a particularly energetic display - and you thought that was smoke coming out of the back of those jets!

We flew around for a few more minutes and then floated gently back to earth. What an amazing experience and a far cry from my previous encounter with light aircraft more than forty years previously. Nice People. Nice plane. Nice time. I will have to think hard about my suitability to join the world of aviation. Maybe I should just have a trial lesson or two….

I teased you on the show before I went telling you I was going to do something for the first time in a long time. You naturally responded with choice remarks such as "Buy a round. Get a haircut. Have a bath" and also "get kissed" which is horribly closer to the truth than you realise!

My first flight as a very small boy was spent sitting in the tail of a light aircraft with my Father and Uncle Ted who was the pilot. I was terrified and my poor old Dad had to hold my leg all the time to make me feel safe. At one point he let go and I asked him to hold it once more. I was very aware of this when I went up in the Dynamic. It is a probably an etiquette thing. Nothing I have read about the cameraderie that exists in the aviation world has ever said it was acceptable or even desirable to reassure nervous passengers by holding them.


Pre flight check:

Documentation complete

Doors closed and latched

Harnesses secure

Park Brake On

Flaps retracted

Avionics off

Leg held

WAKKY WEIGHIN' WOZN'T WOT WE WONTED!

As expected, the weekend in France has reversed the ‘Blubberwatch’ process, but fortunately not by much. So an extra pound has been added as a result of Norman dairy products. However I survived the out of date fish soup. Salty but nice!

It’s been a busy and extremely fun week. Went out with a few friends and colleagues from work with singer/songwriter Nell Brydon who I’ve featured on the show a couple of times as part of ‘Lester’s library’. Lunch lasted quite a long time, not due to enormous amounts of food and wine but the conversation was just flowing easily. We also discovered a lot of things about each other. One was that everybody had a cracking story to tell. There are few things I like better than to sit and ‘yarn’. We also realised that as a young New Yorker who is due to tour here fairly extensively, Nell didn't have enough vocabulary to deal with potential hecklers. By the time we finished with the poor woman she had an arsenal of profanity that would shock Russell Brand! Nell’s currently in Iraq entertaining the troops with a new band as her old one were too timid to go! So time was spent trying to think of a name for her new group as well as names for the old one. She seemed such a nice young gel before we corrupted her.

After the meal we were having such a good time that we drifted off to a pub in London's Soho where we continued with the talking. Odd place I thought with a ‘unisex’ loo. I followed a woman into a cubicle to discover she had, er left the seat up. “Thanks", she said to me in a gravelly voice, as I let her pass.

Due to ‘hit album’, I’ve been asked by the ‘TOGS’ to provide a picture for the sleeve. So Andy the producer and myself, racked our brains as to what we could do that would be fun and distinctive. We then thought if we recreated a 60's type cover that would be fun, as ‘My Brother’ came from that era. We obviously had to have one of those ‘happy wacky zany madcap jumping in the air’ shots that were so popular at the time. With the aid of my digital camera and an empty office at about 06.15 we had a go. However, we failed miserably. I wasn't able to launch myself into the air sufficiently high enough and, due to hand/eye coordination problems as well as shutter lag, I was either a blur, still on the ground, or my head was missing! So to ‘Plan B’: The other ‘happy wacky zany madcap LP cover photo' - the ‘crazy up a lamppost’ shot.

On Friday night, Libido Boy came to stay once again as he had a hot date on Sunday night, plus he wanted to plunder my record collection. We went off to see Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes who were excellent. They hit the stage running with minimal chat and they played for two and a half hours. They’re a great band not only showcasing some tunes off the new album that Johnny had made of Tom Waits covers but they also played some of their own stuff. As they were in the UK they also played some Beatles song as well.

I have to say they were the shabbiest looking band that I’ve seen for a long time. It looked to me like they’d collectively stripped a charity shop and had been clothes sharing every since. It didn't detract from a terrific gig however.

After they finished we went to Camden to that pub I mentioned in a previous blog where they have a man on his wheels of steel. It was busier than our previous visit and there seemed to be more young women done up to the nines in achingly fashionable retro outfits. I had to keep reminding ‘L’ boy that we were their Dad's. We walked back to the flat and in the morning we set off to Hastings and my record collection. This was a rather protracted exercise as we decided to go by car. Due to an accident we undertook a lengthy detour of the backstreets of Catford until we eventually found ourselves back on the route…..and behind the same car that was in front of us before we set of on our Sat-Nav led excursion.

We spent the afternoon in the spare bedroom playing scores of CD's and then went off to the pub to meet some other friends and watch a covers band. I’ve been accused of being dismissive, with some justification, about pub bands. They are pub bands and it’s free to get in. So if you get a leaden version of ‘Whole Lotta Rosie’ time and again, does it matter? Probably not. However, in a small venue, equipment can't replace ability. As musical gear has become more sophisticated and cheaper over the years, amateur bands feel the need to add lights and larger than necessary PA systems. Guys it is a pub you don't need to mic the drums! We stood on the beach in the howling wind and watched the waves for a while before eventually going to bed at about 2am.

In the morning I took a cup of tea up to ‘L’ Boy to find him in his underwear in the spare room surrounded by yet more CD's. Seemed he’d been there for much of the night. Not spoken to him since, so I don't know how well his date went. I expect badly. He probably fell asleep midway through the meal, having had about eight hours sleep over two days. Still, knowing him he will bounce back!

'MY' HIT ALBUM

Not sure where the time goes these days. It’s often said that as you get older the time appears to speed up. At the current rate of progress I will be retired by next week. The week after I will be examining walk-in bath commercials with interest, and a couple of days later will be seen smiling gummily in my bath chair, as the telegram from King Charles is read. Not wild about the following week however.

Last week sped by in a whirl of cups of coffee with friends and relatives. I went up to Birmingham on Monday after the show to see my Dad. He’s a man obsessed with getting the most out of life, which is terrific. However, it does mean that you have to book an appointment to see him as he may be out walking the hills, researching something in the library or looking through his microscope at "slime mould". Failing that he’s usually making something in the garage.

My sister and brother-in-law were there too and they kindly gave me a lift back to the railway station. We passed the ‘Mailbox’ where I used to be based until the show returned to London in April, and I noticed a small crowd. As they dropped me off, I had a couple of minutes before my train, so sauntered over to have a look.

September - and there was ‘Santa’; his sleigh, fake snow and some "little helpers". No idea what they were there for although for some reason it plunged me into slight sense of gloom as I am not a big fan of Xmas. By the time the 25th of December arrives, everyone is fed up with it because it starts earlier each year. I mentioned this to one of the onlookers and said, "Does this annoy you slightly?" He agreed. I mentioned it on the show the following day and you pointed out it was a publicity push for a Children’s Hospice. Oops!

Later in the week it was time to record a track for "My" hit album. I’ve been viewing this moment with some trepidation, rather like a condemned man the night before trying to enjoy his final meal and hoping there would be a visit from the Warden. I had rashly agreed to do this several months earlier and had hoped it had been forgotten. No such luck. A backing track had been sent to me and the lyrics. As such, I didn't get much sleep after the show as I was up with the lark, rehearsing and hoping the neighbours wouldn't hear. It took several go's until I nailed it, then I wasn't able to do it at all after that.

Lunchtime Wednesday and it was into the studio to er "lay down some tracks". Half an hour later and I was with one bound - free! The whirring sound I heard was undoubtedly poor old Terry Scott spinning in his grave. So stand by for a rousing rendition of "My Brother" on the new Children in Need charity CD that Terry Wogan’s ‘TOGS’ have put together. I gather there are some proper singers on the CD such as Aled Jones and Clare Teal, so your money won't be wasted.

Friday morning after the show I zipped down to Portsmouth and headed off to France for the weekend. This was a wise move in many ways, but not in others. I go there regularly despite the fact that my French is still pretty poor. I have friends over there, and it’s always good to see them. Edith I’ve known for nearly 20 years and she speaks no English and, with my halting schoolboy French, it can be slow going, if not downright baffling at times. If we’re having a meal, she leaves the telly on so that dubbed versions of ‘Murder She Wrote’ and ‘Diagnosis Murder’ can help fill any awkward gaps as I try and digest the last breakneck flurry of ‘foreign’. Meanwhile Edith mulls over what it was that I said, and then tries to figure out what I actually meant.

The downside is the hospitality. Well it would be churlish to refuse. Edith makes food out of anything that moves, some things that don't move quickly enough, and stuff that doesn't move at all. I often find her with a bucket picking large snails off the back of shed doors. As it is Normandy there’s a lot of apple and dairy based foods.

‘Blubberwatch’ regulars can see this as an elaborate excuse in the making. Every Thursday it’s wacky weigh-in day around about 10.30 in the morning as I find that this is the optimum moment when, for some reason, I appear at my lightest. Last week by a certain amount of moving around on the scales, I managed at last to find "the sweet spot" where I was least heavy, and I noted another pound had disappeared from my girth. I’m typing this on a Wednesday and I have a sneaking suspicion that the pound may have returned. The depressing evidence will present itself on 2nd October. However I consider myself ‘work in progress’ and I refuse to be disheartened. I’ll have to redouble my efforts and maybe join a gym to ‘up the amount’ of calories burned and not get complacent with my food and beverage intake after an easy first stone of loss.

I took the ferry back on Sunday afternoon and arrived in Portsmouth at 10.15pm. This gave me plenty of time for a drive up to London, an hour lying on the bed before going in to the BBC to do the show. I usually get a cabin so I can have a snooze during the crossing. However, on this occasion, someone had decided to play a computer game in an adjacent cabin. This meant that for 6 hours all I could hear through the wall was: ‘beep bop…bop beep beep beepety bop beep’. Not a lot of snoozing was done hence I felt a bit weird when I arrived at the studio.

Richard Allinson who’s sitting in for Sarah Kennedy, exacted a terrible revenge when I remarked on his shirt - saying that the show sounded the same as ever despite me having no sleep. And as for the "sweet spot" on the scales, didn't I mean the floor? Curse that man. He’s not overweight either. Don't you come flaunting your thinness at me, slender-boy!!

It will soon be the weekend and, well, swipe me if there isn't another gig to go to. This will doubtless get a mention along with the fish soup which suddenly came to my notice on the 29th of September, as that was its consume- by date. That’s if I am spared. Out of date fish soup can be a killer!

I SHAKE THE RAIN FROM MY SWEATER

Not been to anything for seemingly ages so decided to rectify that on Friday night with a trip to a small venue in West London not too far from the BBC TV centre in Shepherds Bush called "Bush Hall". This is another of those standing only type venues which is actually tiny so holds a couple of hundred. It is a nice old theatre with enormous character. Me and my mate "Libidoboy" were off to see the "Swamp Fox" Tony Joe White.

The Boy wasn't too sure if he was coming down from the Midlands by car or by train as he didn't know if he was going off to meet a new woman in Guildford the following day. If he was. He would bring the car. If he wasn't he would hop on the train. He was havering...... "There are trains to Guildford too you know". "Oh I'll get on the train then". He was an hour late.

We went and had something to eat in a cheapish Italian restaurant before we went to the gig. Then got on the tube out to Shepherds Bush. Arriving before the concert it seemed a good idea to find a pub to while away an hour before the doors opened. We found a place and went in. Libidoboy's eyes swivelled round looking for likely victims. As he spotted a single woman at the bar I was there before him standing next to her and ordered the drinks. They had run out of lager! "What crisps have you got?" "None" "How about a Guinness and a pint of bitter? They had the former but ran out of the latter by the time they had pulled 7/8ths of a pint. "This place is changing hands on Monday so we are running the stocks down" said the barkeep. I gave a spirited rendition of one line from "The pub with no beer" and asked if they were going to charge me 7/8ths of the price of a pint. The woman smiled and said "Quite the comedian aren't you - is this your local?". "Er not if they don't have anything to drink it won't be" I quipped. I was losing her...she went outside and entwined herself round a very large tough looking bloke. We leaned against the wall and watched the world go by.

When the venue opened we went in and queued at the bar. A bloke in front of me was complaining about everything. He said he had seen Tony Joe White in Nashville while sitting at a table drink in hand in a glass. Now he was going to have to stand up and watch him with his drink in a plastic cup. I think his friends wished they had left him at home.

To say it was a low key gig was an understatement. Support act Emily Barker came on with her guitar in a case direct from the Tube tuned up and started up. Libidoboy was entranced. She had a nice voice although I thought her material was rather weak and she lacked presence. She needed to be more assertive I think as a selection of people talked loudly through her set.

After about half an hour she finished and our legs had gone sufficiently numb not to worry about standing any longer.

On sauntered TJW and his "band" well a keyboard player and a drummer. He has enormous charisma despite hardly uttering a word. Sitting down. Stratocaster plugged in. Hat and shades on and they were off. It seemed to me and I can't say I am an expert in the field. He loves his extended jams. Tony Joe White is a distinctive guitarist and every so often would mumble half a lyric. This seemed to be mainly about "rivers" or"boulders" from what I could tell. This is not a criticism I hasten to point out as the overall effect was mesmeric. I peeked at my watch and 45 minutes had flown by. Biggest cheers of the night were obviously for his "hits" Polk Salad Annie. Steamy windows and for me the highlight of the evening and worth the price of the ticket alone; Rainy night in Georgia. When he finished they left the stage. We shouted for more and nothing happened. House lights didn't come on and so we waited. Suddenly Emily Barker came back and asked for Security backstage. Not entirely sure what was going on but the drummer came out to tell us that it was "Like Saturday Night Live back there" and that they would be out when it was all sorted. We reckoned there had been a dressing room invasion possibly by a dancing fool up the front who kept trying to give Tony his hat.

After about 20 minutes they were back did another extended jam and left. As we exited we saw several police vehicles and attendant coppers.

It was 11 pm. What to do now as the night was yet young. Camden seemed a good ruse so waiting for the Tube we noticed Emily Barker guitar in her back getting on. Now that was unstarry! Due to the press of people there was only one spare seat so seeing as how Libidoboy is 6 months my senior I gave him the seat.

Went into a pub that was playing dance music and had a pint and a bag of crisps. This is where Simon and I differ. He is constantly on the move. I like to get comfortable. "Lets try that place over there" he said so we went across the road to a pub called "The Elephants Head". This turned out to be a stroke of genius. There was an old guy in the corner with his wheels of steel giving it obscure reggae, ska, rockabilly and rock n roll. Until 2.30am. So more beer and more crisps. At one point the conversation turned to leaving the loo seat up. The Boy reckons this is a microcosm of all that is wrong with male/female relations.

In a truly democratic and equal relationship. Half the time the seat would be up and half the time it would be down so why worry? My view is that is a courtesy to keep the seat down and shows a tender and caring side. I said he should just let it go and not argue the toss as this only led to frustration and anger. He reckoned that by caving in I would appear weak. Not sure if that argument was resolved but it did carry on for several more pints and packets of crisps. Chucking out time and we stopped for a burger which at £2.50 seemed surprisingly good value for London and was pretty tasty. Walked the mile back to the flat and was in bed by 3am after another terrific evening. Woke up at 8am. Libidoboy had a headache. I left him to it. I had to get off to Hastings so went for my train whilst he wondered if his date in Guildford was still on. I left the seat down.

Blubberwatch.

Things beginning to move again in the right direction of last weeks "stall " Lost another pound or so. It is difficult to know precisely how much as the read out on the scales is so small. However there appears to be a widening gap between 12 stone 7 and where the needle is at now. Not sure if the beer and the burger and the crisps are going to count against me on this Thursdays "Wacky Weigh in". One thing is certain. With all the crisps my blood pressure is probably several points higher than it was before the weekend.

'STALLED'

Aeeiii! I knew it would happen. After weeks of seemingly effortless weight loss, I have ground to a wobbling shuddering halt. Not an ounce was shifted last week. However you seem to think the way forward is to try and trick the body into thinking that I was going back to my old habits. A ‘Blow out’ was called for but not as long as a week as some of you suggested but maybe a day or so.

Well I’ve taken your advice. Last weekend was designated ‘48 hours of indulgence’. I can do this very easily and frankly, I like it a lot. Not sure if this meant it had to be all food and drink. Or would a lot of TV and no exercise help as well……I decided on the latter course for safety? I’ve also identified a sartorial goal….my leather trousers which are probably hideously discredited in the fashion stakes these days. I’ve not been able to fit into them for about 10 years so it would be interesting to see, if eventually, the weight loss means I will be able to pull them on and sashay into town all ‘biker chic’. Last time I wore them, I remember a couple of chavs in a Fiesta driving by and shouting "F!"%%@t at me. This wasn’t the effect I wanted to achieve.

First off, Friday evening down the pub for a few pints. Although to my disappointment there was no guest appearance by ‘Melody Layne’, a singer who along with her backing tracks, had the boozer enthralled the last time I was in. She certainly knew her audience, giving it her all with a load of country and pop favourites, and glad handing the old guys. Melody was so versatile that she was even able to text whilst singing - now that’s something you don't get at a Madonna gig!

After my liver waved the white flag it was up to ‘Wok U Like’ for a takeaway. Although I’d not been there for nearly two months, I was greeted like an old friend and, this time, they didn't snigger when I ordered my usual Special Foo Yung and Chips. However, I did hold back on the pancake roll this time. Then it was back home for food and ‘South Park’. That was a good way to while away a few hours.

Earlier in the day I’d attended another charity event. It has been quite a week for events. Janice Long had been a judge at the Mercury Music Awards where her faves - "Elbow" triumphed. The previous weekend I had drawn the raffle at St Michaels Hospice in St Leonards-On-Sea. Friday just gone it was another raffle draw, this time up at the Conquest Hospital, (It’s Hastings and it’s the law that everything has a 1066 theme to it) for Hospital Radio Hastings.

However, both Janice and myself were trumped by my old college friend Bill Shipton. On Saturday night he’d been giving an emotional and hilarious speech to the assembled masses at the ‘Erotic Awards 2008’ in London's Brixton, where he’d been given a lifetime achievement award. He not only got a rosette….presumably for ‘Best in Show’, but he also carried away, in triumph, h is trophy: This was a 10 inch high winged phallus in gold! Now that is a conversation starter. I suggested it was given pride of place on his windowsill so that passers by could see it and marvel. He said it was a bit difficult to pack and he had to carry it out of the venue in a bag as it would have looked a bit odd trying to hail a cab with it at 4 in the morning.

A further link to Bill came with a visit to the studio last week by Alice who is a student. She is doing a media course and wanted to see the programme. She’s nineteen and a total sweetie. She even feigned interest when I took her for orange juice and a croissant afterwards and bored her half to death with stories of my glittering career. I also pontificated away about the radio industry in general and the philosophy, such as there is one, behind the "Best time of the Day show".

She yawned a few times but apart from that seemed attentive. She was probably doing multiplication tables in her head in order to keep her mind active. How do I know Alice? I was also at college with her mother Lorna. Sometimes I feel so old!

TRAIN I RIDE

Had a very tedious couple of hours at home over the weekend doing my accounts. I have been interested to see how the move from Birmingham to London has altered things. My use of petrol has plummeted by 75%. However my public transport costs have risen by a similar amount. This is because I find it easier and more convenient to travel by train and tube and bus now that I am in London, whereas doing a commute from Hastings to Birmingham every week meant that I knew every bump in the M40 and was doing up to 35,000 miles per year.

Having admitted the above doesn't mean necessarily I am turning into an Eco Warrior. It is as it should be in terms of getting the public (i.e us) to do what is best and that is to use these services if they are a) Convenient and b) Cheap enough. I have found by judicious use of prebooked tickets I can get to Birmingham and back for less than the price of the petrol I would have used. This also enables me to be asleep on the train drooling and scratching myself which has a lot more to commend it than doing something similar behind the wheel of a car.

The weather was so vile over the weekend that apart fro going to draw the Tombola for the St Michaels Hospice summer Fayre in St Leonards, I stayed in and did a load of chores including the above paperwork. Also set to reorganising the CD's in the spare room. Space needed to be created as there were too many "A's" and "B's" to fit on the shelves so a lot of reorganisation was required. Having completed this I thought for the future it would be good to move some of the sub-genres so they would be co-sited on one set of shelves rather than being spread out on their own and interfering with the mainstream stuff that I have a lot more of. (Screams as inner Nerd bursts through his chest like the Alien did to poor old John Hurt).

Whilst I was placing the Country next to the Rap and R&B it did occur to me that I had the possibility of a whole "Heat of the Night" thing going here. If you have not seen the film or read the book: Black Detective Virgil Tibbs sent from Philadelphia to Mississippi to investigate a murder. Meets horrible racism. What sealed it as I was placing the CD's on the shelves was that these had been constructed by an excellent carpenter by the name of…..Mr Tibbs.
As I closed the door I could swear I had shouting and gunshots. Maybe it was an overactive imagination.

Weather so vile that the front door swelled so unable to open it. As it is a new door I am not going to get into the shaving a bit off here and there in case it ends up like the old one which had suffered mightily from "tweaking" over the years. It ended up being rather saggy and with the wind howling around the edges so that internal doors kept slamming and my hair would move whilst I sat watching the TV. This is a good reason why many houses are constructed with a back door.

Monday went off to the Midlands to see my Dad. Having prebooked the train ticket I had plenty of time for an early morning bagel. The branch of "ACMEBAGEL" had just opened so in I went expecting one of their delicious tuna delights. I particularly enjoy these as they are relatively healthy, taste nice and the smell of fish drives my Fathers cat wild. It actually growls sometimes. Particularly when we are playing his favourite game of "Stretchthecat" on the stairs. This is fairly simple but gives him hours of pleasure: He runs at my ankle then up the stairs digging his front claws in the stair carpet. I then grab him by the hindquarters and pull him gently backwards whilst he tugs on the carpet, er, growling. Then when I let go he decides to lie on his back on the stair daring me to stroke his stomach. At that point his little paws are a blur and he is in "look at me I am a tiger with these sharp teeth" mode. When this activity stops all you do is look at what remains of your hand and forearm and think to yourself "who needs to self harm when you have a pet?"

I have just read that last paragraph and realised I must be channelling the late Beverly Nichols!

However on this occasion I and the cat were thwarted. The Bagel Wrangler looked at me and said "we don't have any". "What no Bagels? You have just opened! Why open if you have nothing to sell??" I flounced out with the eyes of the Bagelbouncer boring into my back and got on the train. When I arrived at Snow Hill station in Birmingham and crossed over to the Tram, Pete Waterman was there being interviewed for TV about something. Knowing Pete Waterman I expect is was something to do with trains.

On the journey back I headed for the "Quiet Carriage". This is where allegedly people talk in whispers, don't listen to loud music and switch off their phones. On one occasion a couple arrived with their baby who was silent for a while and then started yelling. Wondered if they realised that this rendered the quiet carriage er unquiet? Perhaps there should have been a "No Mobiles. No Loud conversation. No music and No children" policy.

Either that or they could have played a sort of aural peek-a-boo and rushed from the quiet carriage back to the ordinary seats and then when composure had been restored rush back into the quiet zone again. Just as stereotyping and racial profiling is wrong, I noticed a youth across the aisle who was settled in for the journey with a copy of a car mag. Copy of "NUTS" and 8 cans of strong lager. "Uh oh" I thought. Hang your head in shame, Alex Lester. The only sound from him in two hours was the occasional "tscchh" as another can was opened. Back in London he put all his empties in the bin and got off. He was probably glad to leave due to the noise a middle aged woman had been making with her constant phone calls.

I notice the autumn more after the weekend as it is now obvious that the leaves are beginning to turn. It is getting darker earlier as well as still being twilight when I leave the BBC in the mornings after the show. I always take the same route through the park and am enjoying seeing the changes. Although it is always better when it is dry. However slight drizzle did enable me to see a rainbow which appeared to end at my flat. Yaaay possiblity of a crock of gold? Well not for me, just a reminder that the rent is due shortly. Dang!

As I intimated in last weeks blog, Blubberwatch has slowed again slightly so only lost a pound over the last seven days. Hopefully the momentum will increase, although I do have two things to go to at lunchtime this coming week. I will look for the "light choices" on the menu. On the whole I am pretty pleased with the way the diet is going. At least it is still heading in the right direction. Also by burdening you with every ounce you are keeping me on track, so thank you.

BACK ON TRACK

After last week’s disappointing "Blubberwatch" when I only last a pound, it seemed we were back on course after the Thursday morning, 10.30 wacky weigh in. Starkers and staring bug- eyed at the tiny readout on the scales, another 3lbs has vanished somewhere. I am now a stone and a half off my target weight of 11 stone.

We had been talking on the show about the possibility of there only being a finite world supply of fat. Which means that the weight I have lost has been added to the frame of someone elsewhere in the world. I can only hazard a guess but it may suddenly have appeared on the hips of a woman wearing sweat pants sitting at the counter in a branch of "Applebee's" in South Dakota and working her way through the card. If you think this is a crackpot theory, how about this for "proof": If the world population continues to rise at its current rate we will eventually run out of stuff to eat. This means more but slimmer people and so the global fat content remains the same. QED!

However exit polls (ugh!) for this week don't augur well for such a large reduction so the woman in the diner may still be able to fit in her car for another few weeks. Now over to John Snow with the swingometer or maybe he should have brought the sandbox instead.

Quiet week of medium rather than high jinks after all the excitement of the last fortnight. I had to get my TV fired up over the weekend as I had a lot of stuff recorded that needed watching. I tend to only find time to watch the box at the weekend so sometimes actually have to sit down and wade through stuff I have recorded speculatively. I don't want the electricity used in the recording process to go to waste if I don't watch the end result.

This meant 6 hours of "Star Trek Voyager" (I had not seen the first few episodes) So my inner nerd has been satiated now I know how they got catapulted into the Delta Quadrant.

I also had recorded several music documentaries. One on Jimi Hendrix - not a new doc by the look of it as there was a lot of footage of the late Noel Redding. However I never knew that Jimi was a big fan of the "Goon Show". Also two programmes in the series "The Blues" - the series compiled by Martin Scorsese.

That, with sundry other half- hour comedies etc, meant I didn't really shift out of the house on Friday and quite a bit of Saturday, come to think of it.

Also a lot of CD filing had to be done. I have still not managed to listen through to all the stuff that arrived when I was in the U.S. Plus there have been a few trips to the record shop. I shifted three crates of product from the car to the spare room and started to file....and file....and file. Until I had filed myself to a dead stop.

Also there before my eyes was concrete proof of my short termism: Because I am only 5ft 6" this means I can't reach the top two shelves without a stepladder. So for ages I have been starting the "A's" two shelves from the top. Now I have run out of space and need to rejig the shelves, moving a large proportion of the alphabet to the top and giving the rest of the alphabet more room to breathe.

This set off a chain of discussion on the programme this week about making our alphabet a bit more interesting and democratic. This could be done by running it backwards from Z to A so that "ZZZ Taxi's" would be first in the phone book. Maybe also adding an extra letter or two. You came up with the brilliant extra letter which was an upside down '?' to be placed in any word you couldn't remember how to spell properly so that it would assume the properties of the missing letter. This to me was the work of a genius, however the knock on effect would be that already discredited exams constantly accused of being easier would in fact definitely get easier.

On Tuesday I went out for a salad with Liza, my former producer from Birmingham. She was down to produce a couple of shows with Malcolm Laycock. We were both trying to keep it "lite", though why she needs to I don't know, as she is teeny thin. I was particularly impressed with the mint tea that I ordered, when it arrived looking rather like a village pond.

Walking back across the park later I realised sadly that autumn was nearly upon us. The leaves are beginning to turn. The evenings are getting shorter so soon I will be getting up and going to bed in the dark and also leaving the studio in darkness too. However I stooped to pick up a conker and wondered if it would not be a good idea to have a Radio 2 conker league, alleged Health and Safety issues aside. It would be a marvellous bonding experience for the station. Or then again it could lead to horrendous ego-driven rifts. I went to bed and dreamt of being clubbed to the ground by my colleagues. We are on a knife edge here the whole time.....you have seen Lord of the Flies! Mmmmmmmmm