ALEX LESTER'S UNLOVELY PARTS CLOD BAND

It is that time of the year once again. Coming round with ever-increasing frequency along with the Queen’s birthdays.

(I reckon with two a year she must be clocking in at about 160 something by now. Why have we not seen her getting yet another telegram from herself and blowing out some candles on the TV news? She must easily be the world’s oldest person by now.)

Maybe I am missing something here. Still, won't be the first time that has happened.

Yes time for the annual Children in Need song fest, with a new album "Bandaged" being recorded. Shortly after writing this I am off into the studio to attempt my offering this year. Hot on the heels of the success that was "My Bruvver", I shall be slaughtering "The Runaway Train" - as if the children hadn't suffered enough!

However, Hellen Bach and Norman who are just two of Terry Wogan’s TOG army invited me to take part in the recording of this year’s anthem at Abbey Road studios in London.

I have been boasting to the Beatle fans that I have been recording at Abbey Road with MY band that this year featured among others Ex Rolling Stone Bill Wyman, Pink Floyd Drummer Nick Mason, Ade Edmondson, Pixie Lott, Paloma Faith, Cara Dillon and the fabulous Claire Teal who you can see to great effect later this year when we are both part of the Radio 2 team for an edition of "Eggheads". (She demonstrated far greater intelligence than the rest of us old duffers despite having megabrains like Paul Gambaccini as the team captain.) There were a whole lot of other great musicians there as well as the London Gospel Choir and an orchestra of schoolchildren. As you know I have deep reservations about young people and musical instruments. It may be over 40 years ago but I can still remember the horror that was kindergarten band lessons. Mrs Hillbron would patiently explain what the notes on the blackboard were for and tell us that we were to blow, shake, clack and rattle when and only when she pointed at us. "one two three..." and all us kids just shook, blew, clacked and rattled indiscriminately.

Then of course there are recorders and violins which should not be allowed within a hundred miles of anyone under the age of 20. Although there are of course notable exceptions such as Nigel Kennedy, who if you compare the little chap on the archive footage from his time at the Yehudi Menuhin school and the virtuoso that he is now is perhaps a salutary lesson to us all : Playing a musical instrument turns you into a "Mockney". His accent changed dramatically - maybe something to do with having a bit of wood shoved under your chin for 13 hours a day for 30 years. I am not sure.

"Laydeez and gentleman will you please welcome Mr Eric Clapton: "Lawks lovaduck!"

Mr B.B King! "Lucille and I'll go to the foot of our stairs."

And who is this mystery axeman? "Hi I'm Brian May from Pearly Queen and here's a track from our new album : “Boiled beef and carrots"



Arriving at the studios, I always marvel at the graffiti on the gateposts, pledging undying allegiance to the Fab Four and others. I am hoping someone has daubed "Pudsey you rawk" on there since my trip.

There are always tourists having their photograph taken on the zebra crossing outside. However, often they are standing on the wrong one as there are two fairly close to one another.

Once in the studios it was quite a wait until the recording started so time to get to know my fellow "singers" - as you may notice from the film when the song comes out if I have not ended up on the cutting room floor like I did as "Mad Patient" in one of the first episodes of "Doctors" a few years back Grrrrr. I am down at the ‘nonsingers and not very well known yet singers’ end of the line. Despite rocking back and forth on my banana shoes which also added extra height I was on the front row with the small people like Sarah Greene and Emma Pay, who gave me a copy of her cd which I played on the show as part of Lester’s Library. She is teeny tiny and a musician, singer songwriter and corporate lawyer. This means I think that she can and probably will have to sue herself at some point in the future as her career takes off.

There were also people I vaguely recognised from the teevee and a lot who I didn't. However this is not me being snooty. I was standing next to a very attractive actress from a soap - no idea who but then again she only had eyes for Lee Mead who was in the singers’ section. Behind me was Joe Pasquale yet with a voice as distinctive as his, heard not a peep.

We did several takes until the producer Adey - who looked the spit of Ade Edmonson so I found this a mite confusing - pronounced himself satisfied. The hardest part I found was that lacking coordination and not having "soul hips" as Emma Payn told me, I was unable to sing and clap in time. I felt like the monster in the film "Young Frankenstein" where he is called upon to show he is normal and not dangerous by singing and dancing with Gene Wilder in a tuxedo performing "Putting on the Ritz".

Pudsey turned up to wave along. I have met the famous bear on several occasions over the years and I swear this time he has had a little "surgery". If you were lucky enough to get to the gig in Hyde Park the other weekend where Barry Manilow among others performed for us, you may have noticed that Baz appears to have had some work done. I am not going to do any hooter related gags. Although as a member of the Manilow fan club (do they still sign all their correspondence "Manilove"?) once told me : "He has not got a big nose, he has a small face". The picture of Baz on song on our website gave him the skin tone and appearance of one of the Muppet Babies.






I am honoured to be an ambassador for the Hospital Radio Association so last Friday it was a flying visit to the Conquest Hospital in Hastings (This being my adopted home town, everything has to have a Harold/William/1066 spin to it.)

The volunteers had been busy doing their programmes and comforting patients with requests as well as raising the necessary funds. My job was to pick the raffle winners. Still it was a chance to meet with some nice people and I got a free cup of tea.

Also I pointed out to them that perhaps it would be a good idea to carry my show between 3 and 6 in the morning instead of their own pre-recorded voice tracked show. I like a captive audience! They promised to mention it at their next AGM. Fingers crossed.

HIGH AND WIDE!

Having visited the Royal Air Force Museum in Hendon the other week (see previous blogs), I had only scratched the surface so it seemed a good idea to go back and finish the job. Also it would rack up a few walking miles into the bargain.

However a late start and new shoes slowed progress. I have been suckered into buying a pair of shoes which health nuts swear by. They are supposed to ape the gait of Masai Warriors. If you have ever seen pictures of Masai Warriors they are tall slim and graceful. They exude an aura of calm dignity.

So how different to this "warrior" who managed to find a pair on special offer and had to hold onto the shop assistant as he tried them on in case he fell over. The idea is that they are supposed to exercise a lot of forgotten muscles without you realising. The reality is that you are constantly moving slightly in order to maintain your balance. I remembered the sensation vaguely from a pair of stilts that I had as a child that my Dad had made. The simple description of this footwear is "banana shoes".

So off I set "sproing sproing sproing" to the tube station. Gingerly down the escalator "sproing sproing ker-sproing".

Queensbury tube. Up the escalator and out into the street "sproing sproing wobble sproing". It was only a couple of miles max to the museum and as it was about 6 back to the flat. I knew that I needed to leave about two hours for the return. However unfortunately this only left about 40 minutes in the exhibition.

There was a whole lot more packed into the hall than I realised and so a third visit is going to be necessary. I need to be more organised.

With these banana shoes progress isn't as fast. Maybe this is why the noble Masai excude that air of calm. They are going nowhere in a hurry but realise it. The museum was interesting and in the bomber section there was an elderly man explaining the finer points of one of the planes to passers by. Turns out he had flown them during the war. No time to engage him in conversation. I had warrior walking to do…"sproing sproing sproingety sproing" I am going to have go back a third time.

On the long march back, my mind buzzing with aeroplanes, I happened to look up at a block of flats not far from Brent Cross on the North Circular road and spotted this plaque : Amy Johnson. Aviators everywhere! Although I gather she should be referred to as an "aviatrix".

If you are not familiar with her work: She set numerous long distance flight records then unfortunately drowned in the Thames Estuary whilst on a ferrying flight for the Air Transport Auxiliary in 1941. Worthy of a blue plaque I think.

All this exercise fitted neatly together with a selection of bizarre threads on the show on Friday when the news reported that 60cm thighs were healthy. At first as usual we got the wrong end of the stick confusing circumference with diameter.

60cms is the width of the average washing machine. That is big leggy!

We were also musing on irrational fears and Simon "Iron man" Tester - my producer who is getting into cycling in a big way after trying rugby and failing…(and only as a spectator) - had noticed that in the gloom of the night-time office there lurked in the corner the rather sinister sight of Arnold Schwarzenegger in cardboard cut out form.

For some strange reason he found this rather unnerving. Dumbly putting two and two together we wondered as do you how big Arnie's thighs were. So we hauled him up to the studio then discovered that we had no tape measure. The BBC can boast so many studios around the world. TV and radio channels the envy of the world. Online services that rivals loathe and yet we can't manage a tape measure!

You noted that one sheet of A4 paper was nearly 28cms to a couple of those round the leg should give us an idea. Arnie was a bit more difficult as he was cardboard and like Stanley…flat! Also we weren't entirely sure if the Terminator replica was life size or not. Although we were impressed with his flat stomach. He must have been using one of those "ab masters" that are advertised on daytime TV.

In order to make him look a little more friendly and less forbidding it was decided a smiley face was what was needed.

You also pointed out that to create a level playing field and make us feel better about our body image, if you took a photo of a gorgeous person and turned their mouth upside down it made them look hideous which was a great comfort. You also pointed out - and like all good science - the control was that the cast of Eastenders looked like that anyway so no amount of cut and paste with their mugs made a ha'pporth of difference.


Obviously the big news of the week was the bombshell that hit when Terry announced his retirement from the breakfast show and the news that Chris would be taking over in the New Year.

I have had the privilege of knowing Terry ever since he returned in the early 90's when his TV chat show ended. He has never been anything other than positive, kind & courteous to me and complimentary about the show. I have been in this industry for more than 30 years now and I have met a lot of people and some of them have been vile. Terry is a gem who will be sadly missed. However (and I have no vested interest here as one thing was certain when Terry decided to retire - it would not be me taking over!).

I know Chris vaguely, we are colleagues not mates and never see each other outside work. Yet he has always been positive, kind, courteous and complimentary about the show.

I am looking forward to hearing how his new programme sounds and am not prejudging it like many people on internet message boards.

Chris must have developed a rhino hide by now. I know it would get me down if I was in his shoes. Looking at some of the posts describing him for example in one instance as "scum", I wonder what goes through someone's mind as they sit at their keyboard berserkly tapping out this poison. He is a DJ and TV presenter, not a paedophile for goodness sake!

'NOT THE BUTTON!!!!'

Currently running a week behind real time so these are the ‘highlights’ of last week:

I had read in my local paper, the ‘Hastings Observer’ - (Best ever headline when reporting on an inquiry into a crane dropping a small bulldozer onto an unoccupied shed with no casualties apart from some splintered wood - "CARNAGE!"), a few weeks back that someone was going to be standing on the plinth in Trafalgar Square. All part of the Anthony Gormley thing of 100 days of one person per hour standing up there being artistic. I interviewed him about it when I sat in for Claudia Winkleman a few months back. Not sure who or what the local person was about, but when I arrived she was nearly at the end of her hour and was holding up a piece of paper with the words: “I have had a really good time", or something similar complete with a smiley face. When I have seen plinth people in the past, I’ve noticed that they seem to have run out of material pretty quickly, as an hour is a very long time to be standing up there surrounded by gawpers like me. I whipped out my camera to take a pic and… erm, this is all I got.

So apologies unnamed woman, I’m sure you did my adopted hometown proud. I will have to be careful with this or I’m going to end up being jailed. A girl I know was out with another woman friend once and noticed that a bloke was trying to take a picture up her skirt whilst she was checking out the magazines in a newsagent. Needless to say the bloke fled in terror when they brought their considerable and justified fury to bear.

After I’d finished taking embarrassing snaps of strangers, I decided to have a walk along the Thames. I love walking alongside water as there’s so much to see and also it’s generally flat. No waterfalls on this stretch of the river. I was on the South bank and walked into a swanky mall and suddenly my blood ran cold for there it was…..the machine that blighted my life! I’ve never been much of a rebel and have always obeyed signs that say ‘Keep of the Grass’ or ‘No Fishing’.

A few years ago I was out with a friend and we were walking along the river and came to this same mall called ‘Hays Galleria’. In it there’s a rather fine moving sculpture called ‘The Navigators’ by David Kemp.

The oars move and water pours out turning the paddle wheels and various other bits of it whirl round. It makes an excellent centrepiece and focal point for all the people eating and generally milling around and shopping. It also has a big red button on it marked ‘In emergency’. I was pointing this out to my friend and for some dumb reason had forgotten, or misjudged, the length of my arm with my outstretched finger. The upshot of this was that I pressed the button and the whole thing ground to a noisy halt. The Galleria fell silent and several hundred pairs of eyes swivelled in my direction. The button had a lock on it so it needed a security man with a special key for it to be reactivated. My impotent tugging at it had no impact other than to focus people’s attention on the perpetrator….me! There was only one thing for it and that was to slink away trying, (and failing), to look nonchalant. I gather that whistling is one way to affect nonchalance.... I can't.

This act has haunted me for years and it spawned a thread on the show at the time entitled ‘don't touch the button’. It would appear I wasn't alone in this as others have had similar experiences. No wonder we live in ‘Broken Britain’. People can't go around pressing buttons that don't belong to them whenever they feel like it; it’s the top of a particularly thin and slippery wedge!!

Meanwhile back in the present (well last week anyhow), further up the South Bank there was a commotion and a lot of people wandering around looking like they were attending a wedding. They were I suppose, but it was for a film. Straining to see if it was yet another London based Rom Com I was unable to spot Renee Zellwegger, Colin Firth nor fop-fringed Hugh Grant.

Also absent were Simon Pegg, Emma Thompson and Stephen Fry. However judging by the director’s accent as he yelled at the cast through the megaphone, and also members of the crew, it may have been a Bollywood movie in progress. Since I’ve been living in the capital I’ve stumbled on four or five different film sets. One was a costume drama being made outside a pub in Maida Vale. Another time early one morning, another Bollywood crew were filming a sports car going up and down St Johns Wood High Street. On another two occasions Regents Park was the location and a square in Soho.


I like to think that if they will all come out at the same time, and are all going to feature at Cannes, the critics will note me in the background on all of them. A bit like ‘Where's Wally?’

Still continuing with the walking and the diet and it seems to be delivering the desired result, so Blubberwatch has now resulted in me weighing less than before my first America Adventure in 2007. There’s still a way to go though, so let us hope it continues. The downside is I am ‘between’ trousers. The fat pair is now ‘baggy’ and I need a belt to hold them up. The other pair is still rather tight causing a marked ‘Clarkson overhang’.

Many of you have remarked on the new feature we have on the website - our Cartoon Gallery. Clive Goddard is a professional artist whose work has been seen in among other things, The Times, The Spectator and Private Eye. He’s also the illustrator of children's books in the "Horrible" and "Awesome". Clive has kindly agreed to provide a cartoon about the show every month. The first one is up and depicts ‘Buffoon Town’. The next one I have seen and it features me among others. Hopefully by the time it’s published on the web I will look nothing like it

IT'S A LONG WAY FROM THERE TO HERE

Bit of a quiet week last week. So emboldened by the walking and the resultant weight loss, have decided to keep at it. Despite me pontificating about humans being waterproof and not worrying about a bit of rain, it is probably a good idea to get as many miles in before the autumn is upon us.

Another bright hot sunny day so it was a walk along the towpath of the Regents Canal to Little Venice with its floating cafe packed with tourists and parents and the constant wailing of infants. One of the many reasons I have never been particularly broody.

Parents have my admiration for being able to put up with the noise their children make. Whenever I have been in relationships where there have been "step" children I am not sure I acquitted myself very well.

After a seemingly very short time I wanted to go and hide in the shed to get away from the barrage of sound. If kids came with an on/off switch that may be better. Although the temptation to leave them in the "stand by" position until their early twenties may count against me if I ever audition for the post of radio "Uncle".

Next this afternoon on the BBC Light Programme, Uncle Al says. "Shut up children everywhere!"

"It's different if they are your own.", friends tell me. I am not sure that I could take the chance. It would seem a pretty awful option for a child to have me as a Dad glaring at them and shushing them all the time.

I also consider myself "eco friendly" by not cluttering up the Earth with offspring. As I have said to Ken Bruce - who has five, or is it six : "You have had my share".

I was walking, wasn't I, when I was distracted into that diatribe by howling infants......!

See - they make it very difficult to concentrate and keep your mind on track. I headed up towards Wembley along the canal towpath with the railway and the dual carriageway for company as well as cyclists whooshing by, some ringing their bells to warn me and others just assuming that I had eyes in the back of my head.

Being a terrible dreamer and living inside myself a lot of the time I don't notice a lot of things although sometimes odd things work their way into my consciousness such as the block of flats that seemed to be held together entirely by satellite dishes. Can you remember a time when we didn't have these "luxuries"? Fewer channels to watch but less electronic clutter.

A few people were out fishing and in the sunshine and seemed unconcerned if they didn't catch anything. That must be the answer if you are an Angler. It is all about the peace and tranquility. It would I suppose defeat the object of the exercise if your blood pressure rose in frustration because you hadn't a keepnet brimming with well and truly tickled trout at the end of the day. I have mentioned this on the show before that if the fishing is going according to plan and you pass an angler, they will always wish you "good morning" no matter that it may be four in the afternoon. They are so relaxed that they have lost track of time.

There are exceptions to this. Notably being if you are involved in sea fishing. It must be difficult to maintain a feeling of tranquility and equilibrium when you are pitching and tossing in thirty foot waves in the middle of the night and in danger of being washed overboard. That or perhaps you are a whaler so you are also pitching and tossing in thirty foot waves in the middle of the night and in danger of being washed overboard with the added nagging thought at the back of your mind: "You know this is SO wrong!"

I was sure it wouldn't take long and yes, the first "Michael Jackson is alive and in hiding" blurry video has been posted on YouTube.

It is nice to know that old habits never die. Although I am never sure how the conspiracy theorists make their choices.

Not heard any "Bing Crosby is alive" nor "Ted Moult spotted in Safeway" rumours lately.

However whilst not wishing to fan the flames of speculation I can tell you that Elvis is definitely alive and well as I saw him on the sundeck of a block of flats not seven days ago. Shortly after this shock sighting I found fifteen pence on the ground as well as a discarded lighter which still worked. So how many of you can boast that you spent a very pleasant four hours walking looking at boats, graffiti and roaring traffic and made a profit into the bargain!

Friends are one of life's great joys and I am very blessed in having a number of lovely close friends although whether they would describe me as "lovely" is another matter. Friends also know what your likes and dislikes are. So having mentioned that, Janine and Dusan came to see me the other day with an "unbirthday" present. They had seen this and thought of me.

"It is an Aloe Vera plant. We know how dreadful at gardening you are but thought your house could do with an unmurderable bit of green. We also know what a rotten cook you are too so when you burn yourself yet again (I once boasted a set of Sergeant's stripes on my forearm that took several years to fade, after an abortive attempt to wrest a reluctant chicken and mushroom pie from the oven) you can just clip a bit off and rub it on the wound."

I am blessed.

'REGGAE WILCO'

The walking regime continues. I am not one for map reading and compass bearings and finding routes across fields. In short I’m not made of the right stuff to be a ‘rambler’. The thought of marching across country with a ski pole, talking to Janet Street Porter fills me with abject terror. I once saw her in the old town in Hastings with Neil Tennant of the Pet Shop Boys and her then squeeze Normski. I tiptoed past. She made me nervous as she’s one of these people who always look ‘certain’.

I enjoy walking, looking in shop windows and looking at the boats when I am tow or river path walking. That will do me fine and that way it doesn't seem too serious to me. I am not intellectually rigorous enough to do ‘serious’. My sister and brother-in -law and my dad however are ‘WALKERS!’. For them it’s fields…it’s hills…it’s a long way. No prospect of them getting fed up halfway round and getting the bus home.

Decided to take the tube all the way up to Stanmore -where the Jubilee Line ends, and walk back to the rented flat. It was an overcast day but no matter. After I’d been walking for approximately half and hour I spotted a sign for the RAF Museum at Hendon. So followed the signs for a mile or so and I arrived to see a fibreglass Spitfire and Hurricane and a couple of boats. Is that all there is I thought? There were two large hangers and the all important sign: ‘Admission free’. I needed no more prompting. Entering the first building there were planes everywhere from different parts of the world and different theatres of war.


Quite a lot of interactive stuff too. So elbowing the kids aside, it is holiday time after all, and there was a diverse crowd in. I decided to have a go at being an air traffic controller. How hard could it be? Answer: Extremely. I had three goes trying to safely land a 747 and a Lear Jet. They were low on fuel. Who to get in first? I won't spoil it for you. Suffice to say I have the utmost respect for ATC be they at a tiny provincial aerodrome or Heathrow. The pressure must be indescribable. I have heard, and don't know if this is true, that they need to take 20 minutes out of every hour to have a rest in case their brains get scrambled.

Meanwhile back at the virtual airport with me in charge. By now I would expect the flames to have died down, the next of kin to have been informed and work to have started clearing the wreckage of three planes. Hundreds died and for that I can only say I am sorry; I wasn't up to the task.!

As you will know from previous blogs and listening to the show, I love reggae and a bit of a coup last week when ASWAD, (described by the MC as "The Mighty ASWAD", and I am certainly not going to disagree), hit town. They were doing a special showcase of tracks from their new album ‘City Lock’. They did explain that as it was lunchtime, they were outside of their comfort zone as they were night-owls as most musicians have to be. They may have made more than 20 albums over the years but they still have an infectious enthusiasm. They put out a single a couple of months ago which was a cover of a Howard Jones hit ‘What Is Love?’ Frankly it was disappointing, so it never made it onto the show as part of ‘Lester's Library.’


The new single ‘Calling’ is a whole lot better and a real return to form. However so fazed were they by the fact it was a lunchtime gig, they couldn't remember which of the two songs they were about to perform was in fact the single, so they introduced the wrong one.

They had thoughtfully laid on Caribbean food which looked fab, but due to "Blubber watch" I passed on it.

I know Blubberwatch has become a bit of a joke and a broken record, but I’m honestly sure that I’ve now cracked it by looking at my diet a whole lot more carefully and walking around 20 miles per week. I am extremely fortunate in that my working hours (yeah right that's work!), means that by the time I’ve had a sleep there are a couple of days a week when I don't go into the office later so I can spend them out in the fresh air.

Over the past month I have shed a stone and am now the lightest I’ve been for two years…. although I do need to lose another stone at least, before I reach roughly my target weight.

Having said that there are two concerns: 1) I don't want to end up looking like Nigel Lawson. You may remember he lost a colossal amount of weight and forever after he’s looked like a balloon you find behind the settee two weeks after the party.

2) According to many websites and manuals with a frame my size and a body my height, I should in fact weigh slightly less than air.

There are many unrealistic graphs out there making us feel inadequate. When I visited my doctor a couple of months ago for a routine health check he commented that I was: "Overweight but not obese" and " an average drinker" Woo hoo doubles...no singles all round!

Walking from the Radio 2 studios to Charing Cross station the other morning to get the train home to Hastings, I noticed this dragon nailed to a wall near the entrance to Chinatown. It’s a great part of the city with some fabulous places to eat and also some of them are still open in the wee small hours of the morning.

Later that day as I walked back from the station, I could hear the sound of cymbals and drums. Looking up the street I saw a crowd enthralled by a dragon doing the Chinese version of ‘The Hucklebuck’ .However I wondered if various cultures get heartily sick of some of their national symbols. Particularly the noisy ones.

Part of the British reserve is the desire for quiet. Not for us the firing of guns into the air in celebration: no dragons, no drums. So if you are British and have a headache you know that there is little that can disturb your peace on a day of celebration.......hang on I forgot the Morris Men!

I'M WALKIN'

Being rather narrow and bound by routine, once I decide on a course of action it can be very difficult to dissuade me from a chosen path. That pun aside (I loathe puns) I had enjoyed the walking on holiday so much despite the blisters and the obvious health benefits that it seemed like a good idea to carry on.

There is much to be said for working during the night as it means the days are your own.

Caught the tube down to Canary Wharf and decided to have a saunter through London's Docklands and to see how far I got. The added bonus was that the day was reasonably fine. Not too hot and any showers were small and sporadic.

Rain is not a big problem. Never sure why we Brits worry about it so much. To listen to some of my colleagues you would think a small shower was the beginning of the flood and the whole nation was going to be found somewhere in the mid Atlantic clinging to a log. Also we forget one of the very basic principles of evolution. (If you are Creationist substitute "God’s will" here). We humans are basically waterproof. Once we get wet we soon dry out again. So off I trudged and walked all the way to Poplar and round the Isle of Dogs back opposite the Millennium Dome and continued mile after mile through miles of new build with even newer graffiti and friendly welcoming signage, eventually finding my way to Westminster. By the time I heaved myself onto the Underground I reckon that with my usual stroll back through the park I had completed about 14 miles.

The following day dawned hot and I felt like I needed to get to grip with the upper reaches of the tidal Thames so this time I caught the tube to Hammersmith, scene of many a concert at the Apollo (formerly the Odeon) as well as the fabulous Irish Cultural Centre.

Found the Thames path and off I went crossing the river at Barnes Bridge. All the place names were evocative of the Boat Race and had me thinking back to my childhood when we had to support Cambridge as my Dad had been a student there although probably as a spotty Herbert teen I had supported Oxford in a futile attempt to get a rise out of my parents. Without success. "The Surrey Water...Mortlake". It was a really hot day and passing me in the opposite direction strolled Rula Lenska. I toyed with the idea of giving her my autograph but she was with a bloke and I would imagine she could hold her own so I scurried past. Reached the point where the Grand Union Canal joins the river by means of a lock not far from Kew, and turned back.

As I crossed the bridge back onto the north bank I noticed a settlement on some waste land. A shanty town was in the making on land earmarked for development. The recession seemed to be working its evil magic in that people had been onto the streets but at the same time building work hadn't commenced due to the economic circumstances. The inhabitants appeared to be a tribe of dewy eyed idealists as a rainbow banner read: "Be the change you wish to see. The land is yours". There was also a smaller banner which read: "Topsoil needed". Which I concluded meant: "We are trying to expand our empire" or failing that: "The land we got ain't very good and we want yours which is better".

By the time I had hauled myself into a pub back in Hammersmith steaming gently in the heat another 12 or so miles had passed beneath my weary feet.


Thursday was a take it easy type of day. I am still trying to find a new watch, however there are so many that the more I see the less certain I am. With me a timepiece is for life not just for Christmas. My last one lasted 22 years. I am currently using my schoolboy one which is 39 years old and gains two minutes a day. This is no real problem I suppose unless you have had a watch that is always accurate pretty much to the second. Then (back to the top "folks") it can upset the routine. Well, certainly the carefully crafted fur lined rut I have dug for myself over the years. (Animal rights activists please note this is "fun" fur and no animals were harmed during the typing of this sentence.) So a gentle stroll through Regents Park and taking the long way round I found there was a lot more to it than I realised. Normally hurrying through it using the same paths every day, it is larger than I realised with some wonderfully laid out flowerbeds and even more ponds, water loving birds and hence more guano than is possible to walk round. At one point in one of their wilder sections I happened upon what at first glance was another settlement. Although on closer examination it turned out to be an art project. Whoever it was had had the bright idea of building some ace tree houses. As exhibition spaces. They were under construction so not sure what sort of art is going to be installed when they are complete, nor for how long.

Reminded me of my one night in a partially finished tree house as a Wolf Cub. It was about ten feet up in a yew tree. By partially finished I mean no sides, no roof and not a lot of deck either. You don't get a lot of sleep thinking if you turn over you are going to plummet to the ground. Still had that happened to any of the members of our "six" we would all have been fast tracked to our first aid badge.

Talking of art, as you know if you are regular to this blog and the show, I am a sucker of cartoons be they printed or animation. So I am a regular visitor to the Cartoon Gallery in London's Little Russell Street. Next time you are in London go visit. I was there just before Xmas for the Giles retrospective. This time it was for an exhibition of the work of the wonderful Rowland Emett. He was the genius who invented the machines for Chitty Chitty Bang Bang including the car. The centre piece of the display was his "Moonlander" which was made from old bicycles and included such inspired touches as a motorised dustpan and brush to collect samples. It seemed familiar and then I realised that back in 1981 when I worked in Leeds it had been on display in the Merrion Centre there. I found myself having a lengthy discussion with one of the volunteers of the merits of Emett v W. Heath Robinson. Pretentious moi? By the time I made it new watchless back to the flat I reckon the feet had clocked up another 8 or ten miles.

Friday and the day dawned. Dread in my heart, I boarded the train for Hull. I first visited when I worked as a boy broadcaster for the BBC back in 1979. Back then the city was grimy, run down and smelled of fish. It also had the best burger bar I think I have ever visited which revelled in the name "Mmmmm Yankeeburger!" They were my staple diet. Hull like Birmingham and so many other cities has been redeveloped. The docks are now filled in or swanky marinas and the warehouses are upmarket young people’s apartments. All this in many ways is an improvement. However in others I think it tears the character out of a place.

Why though was there dread in my heart? Why, it was Nerd Night again. The time when DJ's from around the country get together and talk broadcasting, eat and drink too much and actually have a rather fine time. I had "curated" the last one in London. This time it was Thorngumbald resident DJ Matthew Rudd who had sorted this one. He and his long suffering wife Helen kindly invited myself, Martin Emery from Tower FM and his girlfriend Debs to stay at their house rather than needing to book into the likes of the "Tokyo Love Hotel" as in previous visits.

Debra likes to come along to these events to remind herself what Dorks blokes can be. It is like a psychiatrist observing a group session through a two way mirror. We all met in a pub next door to the restaurant and within seconds someone’s mobile rang. It was the "Good Morning Britain" theme tune. I had visions of the boozer being filled with the sounds of mobiles playing "Nationwide", "Noggin the Nog" "Radio Tees 257 News" and the opening theme from Severn Sound’s jingle package that Kath Baxter composed and produced back in 1984.

We or rather Hull ran out of steam about 1am after several gallons of beer and a slap up feed. I have noticed that "Blubberwatch" - which is back on again with a vengeance after losing a stone in a month - has slowed again. Lost a pound this week. Not sure why things have been grinding to a halt in the weight loss department. Although I was sent this picture taken about 1.15am which may have some bearing on the above.

THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE INDIFFERENT

Seems ages since I hit the town for any live music. As you know if you have read any of these blogs I have a passion for it. Although often times the artist you really want to see doesn't do your favourite song or in the case of a friend of mine who went to see Bob Dylan and Chris Rea they fiddled with the arrangements so that the songs didn't sound like they had hoped.
It is the artist’s prerogative I suppose- but to rejig the audience’s favourites does seem a little rash, if those are the tunes they we know and love. Still I have no idea how I would feel if I had to perform "Does your chewing gum lose its flavour on the bed post overnight" every evening for 40 years!

Monday evening and it was out to see Lucinda Williams. Or as my mate "Pino" says: (She is half Filipino) "Another of your ropey old country and western Muppets". She doesn't understand as she is into dance music.

Lucinda comes from the end of the spectrum which I gather is called "Alt-Country". Not sure what this means. As you know I don't have a lot of time for music journalists however I think what the NME/Smash Hits crowd mean is that it is country music that they deem cool enough for them to be allowed to be seen listening to. The rest being just rubbish for the masses (that means us I think.)

From the moment she hit the stage there was trouble. Her body language screamed "I don't want to be here". A couple of numbers in she launched a tirade against the audience and our flash photography. "I am not an F"£$$%%^*ng fashion plate!" Then she told us she was on edge and this was not helping. Couple of false starts and then another tirade against the winking LED's as by now everyone had stopped using their camera phone flash. Incidentally I took my picture without the flash in case she reads this and suddenly turns up at my door and yells abuse through the letterbox. To be frank as much as I admire her as an artist and have a number of her albums, I was so tense waiting for the next outburst that I left after an hour.

Friend of mine "The Scottish whirlwind" phoned. So called because she is always rushing around doing stuff and she had managed to grab a couple of tickets for Booker T of MG's fame and did I want to go. I dare not refuse because she is a nanny and so like her charges you have to do as you are bidden. Plus I wanted to see the man responsible for Green Onions and Time is Tight. So it was off to the Bush Hall which is a tiny standing up type venue where I saw Dan Reed and Tony Joe White recently. Support act was Florence Rawlinson, a Mike Batt protege. (He was in the foyer sporting a very unusual hair colour). As I described her on the show when I played her single she reminds me of Joanna Lumley meets Joss Stone. She is 20 and looks great with a good voice and band. Whether that translates into sales time will tell. A middle aged bloke tottered up to me and asked "what was the name of the singer who killed herself?......I am trying to tell my companion that she was the only white singer who was any good". A little sweeping I thought but still. "Janis Joplin" "That's the one". When Booker T hit the stage he returned and said "Who's this again?." "Jimmy Smith" I chortled.

A lot of swirling Hammond has passed under the bridge since the "hits" and whilst he and the band were very enjoyable, trouble was it was sweltering in there. We were beginning to feel a bit faint and I was sweating more than Sydney Greenstreet in the "Maltese Falcon". After about half an hour of instrumentals that we didn't recognise even though he and the band got a nice groove going, a few numbers after "Green Onions", the "Whirlwind" declared that she needed some "Vocals" and so we went round the corner to the pub.

Friday and after a few weeks doing what he does Libido Boy put in an appearance. We walked from my flat to the Thames embankment and then all the way to the Tower of London where we got the river bus down to the Millennium Dome.

The river looked wonderful and there were a number of old barges plying up and down. Plus we got to see the bridge open.

Martina McBride, despite being a massive star in the states, was over and playing the smaller venue within a venue the "O2 Indigo". We had been promised a chance to say a quick hello to her before the gig. With typical American efficiency and paranoia, there were any number of burly security staff and special stickers with "Meet and Greet" and our names on.

Along with other fan club members we were ushered backstage where we made slightly awkward small talk for a few seconds and had our photographs taken with a rather bewildered looking Martina before being ushered out again. What was good to see was the audience was made up of all ages which is a positive sign. Country is no longer for the elderly.

She seemed very nice and although the meeting was brief I did manage to tell her about you and the show and how I had done the U.S. trips and brought back a load of her stuff and other similarly mainstream country and had played it on the programme to a largely positive reaction and how that the UK is beginning to embrace the genre again hence her visit 14 years on from the first one and how her latest album was the Radio 2 album of the week and that country had suffered with a cheesy image in Britain because of those old standards like "Rose Garden". All this information tumbled out. She looked even more bewildered at this point. I had also decided to make her feel at home by going dressed as an American tourist as you can tell from the photo.

She was excellent doing not only her own stuff but also terrific covers of "Over the Rainbow" and "Hit me with your Best Stuff" which demonstrated what a great voice she has but also she slipped in a couple of "standards": "Help me make it through the night." and er..."Rose Garden"!