TRAVELLIN' SHOES

Busy week as it was time for another "Nerd Night". I have mentioned these in the past as this is when DJs from the radio industry get together to talk jingles, bloopers, donuts, day parts and "throwing forward", all of which - you will have noted by listening to the Best Time of the Day Show - I have not mastered in 33 years at the turntables.

For some unaccountable reason, women seem to be in short supply on these nights out. There are quite a number of women broadcasters and yet they always seem to be washing their hair the night the Nerds sweep into town.

This one was going to be in York and, surprise surprise, was going to be "curated" by a woman!

Had not done any organisation for the do myself other than trying to work out whether to drive or go by train. This was dependent on how the Dark Lady was feeling after her neck operation from a few weeks back. She is in pretty good shape now with most of the pain gone, although her left arm is still a little weak and her voice is still wheezy. Although, in order to keep the peace, I have stopped laughing at it now. (Wow guys I am such a catch!!)

In the end I elected to go by train. This was a rather uncomfortable and horribly expensive mistake. An off-peak walk-up return ticket London to York was an eye-watering £103.

What compounded the felony was the total lack of available seating. So yours truly spent almost three hours sitting on the floor at the blunt end of the train. Every so often having my toes would be run over by the buffet trolley driven by a poor bloke who had to spend his life negotiating luggage, sprawling legs, toddlers left to roam by uncaring parents and some bloke parked grumpily and plumply slap bang in the middle of the trolley turning circle at the blunt end of the train!

Got to York and had a monumental wait for a taxi to take me to the hotel where I was going to meet the rest of the gang. As is usual on these occasions, this is about the time of the day when the "regrets" start to arrive.

"Sorry can't make it after all, there's been a birth/death/illness in the family"

This time, however, there were a few recession based excuses that I can fully understand, particularly when

you take into account the parlous state of the British radio industry these days.

"Sorry can't make it, been told I have to work a double shift/been fired/broke"

Also there was the usual...

"Sorry dog ate my homework" excuses as well.

On this occasion the curator didn't come either (she being a woman, the "she" is a giveaway I think). This

reminded me of a friends 21st birthday when we were students. We arranged to meet in a pub and he never turned up as "he didn't feel like it". So that just left poor Charlie Jordan on the woman front for this Nerd Night. She is used to this stuff by now. Charlie is very highly regarded, not only for her talent and professionalism, but also the fact is she is always great company.

I can still remember working in darkest Yorkshire back in the very early 80's when the bloke in charge of the radio station referred to one of the women staff as "an honorary bloke". Being a PC person (well, I try....."phwooar look at the ti....." STOP IT ALEX) with hindsight it should really have been the other way round as she went on to become a very senior person at the BBC in Ulster and he....disappeared.

It was great to catch up with the usual gang and also see some new faces there, including Jules Bellerby who was a colleague of mine from 25 years back. He tells me he has a picture of us in those days in the attic. All his own hair and teeth (although I was gratified to note it was greying at the temples).

"Where's Julia?" Julia is his wife of many years and also a seasoned broadcaster in her own right.

"She didn't think she was invited."

She was no mug as I recall from the mid 80's. Obviously deciding an evening in front of the TV was infinitely preferable to jingle chat.

Beer, restaurant, then the standard trudge round the city to find the hotel where we could have a few more beers. The restaurant staff sent us the wrong way despite the protestations of my god son Michael, who is training to become an airline pilot, so was a dab hand with the sat nav in his phone.

In the end, Mathew Rudd decided that it was worth a chance dropping into a hotel we were passing to ask. His persuasive, smooth DJ patter reaped the expected dividend and 16 slightly tipsy blokes and one sober woman were invited in to drink beer and talk about donuts, music beds and "throwing forward". Until the bar shut at 2am.

The following morning it was back on the train for 11-ish. This time it was bliss (sort of); a seat (although the table was awash with stale beer and soggy newspapers). Not wishing to stereotype, however, but the train had just come down from Scotland via Newcastle.

Back into London to link up with the Dark Lady in time to jet off to Hemel Hempstead (home of the famous "Box 14" 35mm Kodak, film fans) in order to go to the pub to meet her mate Brian for his 50th Birthday. There was a cracking band and excellent food and a cake in the colours of Queen Park Rangers. (I had that last bit explained to me). Chatted with friends of the Dark Lady old and new. One slight hiccup when a woman asked me what time my show was.

"2 til 5 in the morning?? No-one's listening. Everyone's asleep!" she opined. She was obviously a "light" so had no understanding of the real world. So I let her off. Although mentally I was shovelling earth on her dismembered corpse.

Another late night but a lot of fun and Brian's Dad attempted to explain fly fishing to me.

From what I gather you spend a lot of time out in the cold and drizzle drinking beer and wine and eating sandwiches.

On the subject of fish he said, segueing neatly (ah segues - we are back at Nerd Night again), to the following, when I was dispatched back to the rental flat with my luggage which now had the added bonus of containing two helpings of the DL's famed and excellent fish pie.

When I got back I discovered that there had been some leakage and so my clothes, bag and computer were soaked in fish pie juice.

It's a devil to get cod stains out you know. It also sets up quite a stench. So next time I go to a coffee shop or a library to use their Wi-Fi you will know it's me as I will be the bloke surrounded by cats.

On the Monday it was up to see my Dad, Sister and Brother-in-Law, John. It was his birthday at the beginning of the month so it was a chance to catch up and give him his present: a travellers' wallet. He is retired and my Sister is following suit in the new year, so maybe they will get more time to travel!

Dad, meanwhile, had been busy making stuff in the garage. I am still scarred by the wooden Spirograph he constructed for me when I was eight. At that age you want what all your mates have got. The store-bought stuff. Now I am immensely proud of him for his carpentry talents and wouldn't swap it for anything. Having said that there is a certain "Boy Named Sue" quality about it.

Obviously buoyed by the success of this, more than forty years on he has built a "Harmonograph". This apparently was all the rage in Victorian times. The paper is placed on a moving deck which is operated by a pendulum and the pen is attached to an arm which moves in a different direction via another pendulum.

Now you know where I get it from.

Am away next week as the Dark Lady and I are off to New York for a few days ....I have a few surprises up my sleeve. I shall report back. In the meantime, make Tim Smith as welcome as you always do as he is holding the fort. Supported by Dr Strangelove and his wide variety of hats.

While I am away, if you are pining for my the sound of my manly tones, don't forget you can hear my latest Audioboo, in which Dr. Strangelove puts forward those tricky questions you have asked (such as "what do you watch on the telly?") You can log onto Audioboo by clicking here. With the same login, you can also follow me on Twitter, and get the lowdown on The Adventures of Alex, as and when events happen.

And while I am away keep those suggestions for Listener's Library coming in. As it is the festive season approaching you may want a nice Christmas tune with jingle bells on, or to make a nice Christmas dedication...or to completely hijack the whole thing with some heavy rock anthem or an MC Hammer song. We are a broad church so all suggestions welcome. Visit here to submit your request.

STONES IN THE ROAD

With the Dark Lady happily on the mend, I took time out from nursing duties to....

OK, in truth I did have a long standing arrangement to meet up with my mate, Libido Boy, to go out and paint the town a middle-aged red. As someone said on the show the other morning, "when given a choice of sins, you choose the one that gets you home early". This baffled producer Dr Strangelove, as did another suggestion from you: "You can dress as young as you like but you will be found out by a flight of stairs"! His face was a picture.

Yes friends, it is true that sometimes people’s mouths just drop open as they struggle to comprehend what is going on. Still, he can always beat me with his encyclopaedic knowledge of Madonna, Westlife and Elias and his Zig Zag Jive flutes.

So leaving the DL howling in pain....

OK, she was in some discomfort as the healing process has started and her vertebrae are starting to fuse following the removal of a badly slipped disc in her neck.

Her son Jamie had pointed out (somewhat unhelpfully) that - as it was Halloween - she could go Trick or Treating with him and she wouldn't need any make up as she had a Frankenstein scar on her neck. He will go far that boy. Not sure where but certainly a long way. The scar, by the way, is fading fast; my suggestion of a tattoo by it reading "Cut here" didn't go down that well, though.

Odd as I have seen that tattoo many times on blokes over the years. Never women though. Although I have seen cat paw marks tattooed onto their breasts which must have seemed mildly amusing at the time; thirty years and three children later it may not have seemed such a corker of a wheeze.

DL gave me her blessing and waved a misty-eyed and stoic goodbye as I left to meet L_Boy and she rushed inside to catch X Factor and Strictly, her two guilty pleasure TV thrills.

We had arranged some time ago to go and see Mary Chapin Carpenter. One of the draws was that she was being supported by Tift Merritt who we had seen and enjoyed with Teddy Thompson a year or so back

We had to get to London's Barbican Centre. Being the weekend a lot of the Tube lines are closed for maintenance work, so we decided to walk. We strode out towards the Thames and, after an hour, arrived at the Embankment when I realised that perhaps the Barbican was not really the Festival Hall; I had become confused as we had been to both in the past. So we needed to be.....erm, in fact, some long way further North-East. In truth, not all that far really from our original starting point. Doh!

We were also running out of time as the concert was due to start at 7.30. We needed a cab. Everyone else had the same idea as we wandered fruitlessly round Euston and Kings Cross stations surrounded by young people in fancy dress off to Halloween parties....mainly it would appear by cab!


Then by a supreme stroke of good fortune we found one, leapt in and off we went at breakneck speed (11 mph, this is London - home of the traffic signal and grid lock). Arriving with seconds to spare we threw ourselves out of the taxi, hurtled up the stairs, past a display featuring a De Lorean car for some reason and a smiling usher. Libido Boy was convinced that he said "Hello Alex" when we came in and that he knew me. There was no look of contempt on his face so I doubted that was the case and he must have misheard.

In keeping with our rough, tough, hard men out on the town image we stopped at a concession stand and selected a bag of sucky sweets and arrived at the door just as it slammed shut for the first song by Tift Merritt. We waited and then in we went. We had seats high up in the gods so the figures on stage were in plain view, but with no discernible facial features. Whatever happened to opera glasses that you rented by popping 6d in the slot and removing them from the bracket in front of your seat?

Not sure what has happened to Tift Merritt either but she seemed to have gone all introspective and was given to agonised vocal swoops and mumbling which was a shame as I love her records.

Barbican is a very civilised venue with polite applause, little whooping and - strangely for these times - few people trying to record the gig or take pics with their mobile phones.


The headline act came on and we settled down for some quality music and more sucky sweets. Neither of us had seen her before but we knew her stuff. She didn't disappoint. Great band, wonderful songs brilliantly sung and some interesting and amusing introductions to the tunes, including one about kissing a dog which provoked a resounding "eeeeewwwww" from the refined crowd.

We enjoyed it a lot but it was a somewhat detached performance.

During a quieter song I was aware of the man sitting next to me. Obviously a music journalist who had been taking copious notes, had stopped his frantic scribbling and was snoring gently head back notebook about to slide to the floor.

Wonder what his review read:

"After a cracking start with some old favourites Mary moved onto tracks from her new alb..........................................................................................."

Once the show was over it was town painting time which meant we had to get from The Barbican to Camden in order to cram ourselves into the Elephants Head pub with the bright young fashionistas, all trying to look like Lily Allen, whilst older and eminently more sensible people played Reggae, Ska and Rockabilly on the Wheels of Steel.

First we needed a cab. The streets were thronging with Devils, ghouls, zombies and Draculas. Never realised that Transylvania’s most popular mode of transport was the Hackney carriage!

Plunging a stake through the heart of the nearest…well, we learned that drunken vampires don't move very quickly, we managed to flag a cab and off we went at breakneck speed (between 5 and 11mph due to drunken ghouls flinging themselves in front of the vehicle trying to flag it down, not realising the yellow hire light was unlit)

As we disembarked the driver looked at us smirked and said, "You'll be lucky to get a quiet drink here tonight, Camden's always mad on a Saturday but this being Halloween as well..."


This is the part of the evening we particularly enjoy in true middle-aged fashion. Libido Boy is addicted to crisps and has to have a packet with every pint. So we stand there waiting for a seat to become vacant, guzzling beer and eating crisps as he worries about his salt intake and I worry about my units of alcohol.

He is also very gregarious and will talk to anyone as he is genuinely interested in people. On one occasion he tried his halting Spanish on a Catalan couple who seemed interested in his efforts, albeit nonplussed as they spoke perfect English.

In between sets he struck up a conversation with the woman DJ. Didn't catch her name but she was from San Francisco originally so we knew a few of the same Radio guys out there. She was also an artist who found her most creative period was at night and so listened to the show which was nice to hear.


Then it was swap over time and tall thin DJ came over to chat and we talked music and the radio whilst Libido Boy continued to worry about his salt intake. By this time I had forgotten about my units.


We were satisfied to note that by the time last orders came round at 1.00am we were the only people left; all the Lily Allen and Pete Doherty clones having tottered off to bed...or so we thought. A blow for the stamina of the middle aged man! However we soon realised by the bedlam in the streets outside outside that they were in fact all going off to clubs or parties.

Nothing for it but a burger from our favourite street corner vendor with L-Boy asking for "English Mustard", as usual, from a baffled man whose first language isn't English. He pointed to the two sorts of dressings on offer for his burgers; "red stuff" and "yellow stuff". Two Cheeseburgers with red AND yellow stuff, hang the salt intake!

Then a lonely walk home through the deserted streets with one rock and roll thought in our minds.

"Wonder if there is a bin to discard the wrappers on the way home"

Don't forget to add me to Twitter @alexthedarklord (click here to do so) and also use the same login to hear the latest Audioboo (click here).

Also, still keep your Listener's Library suggestions coming in. As we are approaching Christmas, maybe your favourite Christmas song or - even better - you favourite anti-Christmas song! Or maybe a nice dedication for 'im or 'er indoors, awww. Visit here, I look forward to seeing - and hearing - your suggested records.

18 WHEELS AND A DOZEN ROSES

Sorry for the lack of blog type communication over the last couple of weeks, but I was ministering to the Dark Lady who - having been laid low by a prolapsed disc in her neck - has been in hospital on huge amounts of pain killers until the Doctors decided it was best to operate.

This is not something to be undertaken lightly. You don't really want anyone messing with your spine, especially not in your neck. You can imagine all the horrible thoughts that want through our heads.

Then the night before the op there was the consent form to sign. This listed all the possible complications. These were far worse than the ones our overactive imaginations had already listed.

Up to that point, the care had been spectacular and the staff wonderful. Nothing was too much for them.

The DL was then transferred to another hospital to be prepped for surgery. We were told it could be 8 hours in theatre. So with me telling her as she was in theatre she was the "star", I left them to it and went home and stared at the wall. Four hours later the phone rang and she was back on the ward.

The Neuro Surgeon had done an excellent job. The terrible agonising pain had all but gone. She could wiggle her toes and move her hands and had a small dressing on the front of her neck where they had gone in to remove the disc. However, she had been left with a very wheezy voice which is a cross between Marge Simpson and the old guy from The Dick Emery Show.



Next day, however, things rather deteriorated. We had been aware of someone in a ward nearby who seemed to be channelling the late Senor Wences and his puppet, Pedro. Ironic really, bearing in mind the potential horrors of the operation was a head in a box.


The patient and the nursing staff went through the whole

"OK?"

"S'OK!"

"Alright?"

"S'alright!"

"Bueno!"

"Close a the door pliz"

The surgeon had told her she could go home within 24 hours of the operation. DL felt too wiped out to go so opted to wait a couple of days.

After the umpteenth time, the staff tried to change the dressing and failed to remove the sterile film from it correctly so it wouldn't stick. One time there was even a search to find a wound on her back to dress that didn't even exist.

"Wheres the wound?"

"On my neck"

"No, its not you had spinal surgery...it’s at the back"

"The Surgeon went through the neck"

"Why did he do that?"

"How am I supposed to know? I am not a surgeon!" (followed by a lot of wheezing).

Food was interesting too.

"Onion soup, please"

"There....the pasta you ordered"

"!"

"Cup of tea?"

"Yes, please"

"Here you go"

"That's coffee!"

DL decided to discharge herself 24 hours early fearful for what they would do next.


One thing that was evident was the care and good wishes from you, friends and family.

Barely an hour went by without another bunch of flowers being delivered. At one point I was dispatched to the Nursing station with a large box and told:

"Please take these off us.....we can't manage any more chocolate."


DL loves flowers and said it was like a florists.

I am not so struck due to the overpowering smell and so think…Undertaker!


She is now at home and still has a wheezy voice which is slowly getting better. The pain is there but is nowhere near as bad and hopefully will go completely soon.

She has been very brave and rises more in my esteem everyday.

Life is sort of getting back to normal.



Susan the Finance (Don't hate her, she is not a Banker) and I went off to the Radio 2 Electric Proms last week to see Elton John and Leon Russell. Susan will always be someone who I am indebted to as she introduced me to the DL in the first place.

I wanted to see Leon Russell. She wanted to see Elton and we both wanted to see Rumer and Plan B.

Elton came on and ran through a few of his songs hits and album tracks and introduced Plan B who did a rather strange version of “I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues”. Susan and I looked at each other!

Then it was Leon's turn. We were sitting on the far side of the auditorium from him so all we could see was a shock of white hair and beard, dark glasses and a piano. Some very acceptable noises came out of the speakers but we weren't sure if was actually real; he could have been a dummy.


Rumer came on and did a cracking version of "This Masquerade"

Then it was back to Elton who announced they were going to do the whole of The Union album they have just made; a former Radio 2 Album of the Week. Track by track and in order.

I like the record but it is a bit heavy going listening to 14 songs from a CD which is new and largely unfamiliar.

Susan looked at me and I looked at her.

By the time they got to "Never Too Old (To Hold Somebody)” Track 13, Susan looked at me and I looked at her and we headed for the exit.


After waiting a while longer than normal on the show and with increasing numbers of inquiries from you, Dr Strangelove and I decided it was time to kick off the 2010/11 Truckwriting season.

We opened it up to you and in came the suggestions.....all inventive. Many too rude to broadcast!

Steve the Cabbie came up with the one that we deemed most appropriate:


"WALLOP"


"We're Alex Lesters' lovely overnight people".

You are and I thank you for that. Long may we all continue.

Sightings have already been reported which is excellent thank you.

Wallop away, lovely overnight people!



Don't forget to follow me on Twitter (click here) and, using the same login, you can also hear my Audioboos, sort of like a DVD extra of the show (click here).


Plus, let me play you a song! Think of a song you haven't heard in ages, maybe a rare album track you think we would like to hear or a song that reminds you of a particular time in life, maybe make a dedication, or request a song you just love to sing out loud to, or one that will have us all LOL-ing. Visit here to do so, I look forward to hearing what you come up with.

I WENT DOWN TO ST JAMES INFIRMARY

Been a bit of a mixed week and one that I hope hasn't shown up on the show. In all the years I have been doing this for a living, it has never seemed like a job and has always been a way of lifting my spirits when I was a bit down.

I remember years ago, after a particularly traumatic relationship failure, reading a self-help book which told me that it was like “bereavement" and that it was likely that sleep patterns would be disturbed, so it was probably a good idea to tune into late night radio.

"Er, excuse me," I thought, "What happens if you are the guy doing the late night radio"?

Just over a week ago the Dark Lady damaged her back and has a prolapsed disc in her neck. In other words, she has slipped a disc. She is in terrible pain and has spent the last week doped to the eyeballs in a hospital bed. To give you some idea of what it is like; Women tell you it is like childbirth without the respite between contractions.

To translate that for us blokes with a notoriously low pain threshold; it is like a mild dose of constipation and we know how agonising that is!

No wonder she is on Morphine, poor thing. Despite the agony, she is in remarkably good spirits and I have decided that as she is on the way to becoming a dope fiend; I am going to buy her a beret and a saxophone. We are expecting various calls from the music business asking if she has any to spare.


We now have to wait and find out if the disc will go back in or if she needs surgery. We have been inundated with good wishes and she has had to shoo my mournful face out of the ward on several occasions.
I am sure you have been in the position where someone you love has been hospitalised and has suffered terrible pain. It is the feeling of helplessness which is so difficult to cope with. You just want to "magic it better".

Dr Strangelove, my constantly-cheerful producer and butt of endless jokes on the show, has not escaped unscathed this week suffering an unexpected bereavement. I have suggested he pops up to the hospital so the DL can shoo his mournful face out of the ward as well.

The show is a great solace and thank you for all the daft stuff you are still providing on a daily basis. For this, we are very grateful, and it gives us a lift in the small hours. Sorry there have not been many Tweets over the last week but, as you can imagine, I have been somewhat preoccupied....which of course led to my mournful face being.....etc

On a brighter note…
Last weekend it was my Godparents 60th wedding anniversary.


My Auntie Stephanie and Uncle Norman have been a vital part of my life for ever and they are terrific.

Being of slightly, ahem "mature" years, they have a huge extended family as well as zillions of friends. So it was to Hemel Hempstead in Hertfordshire last Saturday to a school gym where a bash had been laid on. There was a "soft play area" for the children, an amazing buffet and some very amusing speeches. The best part was to witness the high regard in which this couple are held.


My Uncle who has recently celebrated his 90th birthday was up a plum tree with a pruning saw a few days ago, and has played the organ in the same church every Sunday for more than 70 years. Stephanie is the organiser doing so much for the community. They have hardly spent a night apart in all those 60 years. If they ever need a poster boy and girl for marriage, sign this couple up now. They are an inspiration. They have been on the phone to me this week more concerned about the DL than themselves and have cheered me and my mournful face up.


Sunday and it was nice to get to Hastings Old Town once again in order to judge the Classic Car show. I have been doing this for a few years now and it is always a joy, being a bit of a petrolhead. The only slight disappointment has been that I have had to change my act slightly.

Gone are the days of saying, "I remember these...my Grandad had one of these"

This was replaced by "I remember these....my Dad had one of these"

This year to my horror I realised.... "I remember these....I had one of these!"

Don't forget, you can find out what I am upto outside of the show by following me on Twitter, click here. Plus, with that very same login and password you can hear my weekly Audioboo, this is like a "Twitter with noise". To login, click here.

And while we are click-happy, why not submit a song request for Listener's Library? Maybe a dedication to somebody else who is listening, or a song you have never heard on the radio before, a song you haven't heard in years, or a song you think everybody would like to hear. We are a broad church, so submit your suggestion here.

and here is something for the weekend from myself and Dr. Strangelove...

DON'T LAUGH AT ME BECAUSE I'M A FOOL

Been a sad, disappointing and poignant week for a number of reasons this week.

Friday night, the Dark Lady and I went off to the O2 in London's Docklands to see Santana.

As I said on the show and via Twitter, I have been waiting to see them/him since I borrowed my sister’s copy of Abraxas back in the very early 1970's.

Never been to the main bit of the O2 before so was looking forward to it immensely.

You may remember a few years ago (when it was known as the "Millenium Dome") it was branded a white elephant and a waste of taxpayers money and politicians and tabloid newspapers queued up to put the boot in. How things change and now I gather it is the most popular and successful music venue in Europe.

The band were due on stage at 8pm so there was time for eating and a quick drink. Lines of people stretched along the malls between the restaurants and bars. This was not good.

DL has been here loads of time so she knows the drill. "Won't take long, we will be eating in no time" she said, as we joined the throng outside a burger emporium.

My face was obviously telegraphing my feelings as it took on its "petulant child" expression.

You may think this is not a very nice trait; however, to my way of thinking, it explains my youthful good looks!

She was right. I was wrong. Within five minutes we were at our table.


8pm sharp on came the band with minimum fanfare as they immediately created their own.

Drums, Congas. Timbales. The band were a percussionist’s dream. They thundered along and very occasionally - to my untutored ears - we would get a tune we recognised. "Smooth”, “Maria, Maria”, “Black Magic Woman” and "Oye Como Va", which was the highlight of the night for us and it was fascinating to see the audience change from attentive to "grooving" (We are middle-aged don't forget, hence that terminology).

Carlos brought on his fiancée - who is a respected drummer - in order that she should pound out a lengthy solo. That is when the first seeds of doubt began to be sown in my mind. The words "Vanity" and "Self-indulgence" appeared at the front of my brain.

On and on they thundered with extended jams and tracks neither of us recognised. Then disaster struck: Carlos stepped up to the microphone to talk to us!!!!!!!!

I remember him being interviewed on The South Bank Show a few years back by a plainly baffled Melvin Bragg. Simon Mayo had him as a guest last week and said it was like talking in a different language.

Carlos Santana is a superb artist and musician but he talks in 1960's Hippy Californian.

This doesn't play very well with a bloke from Walsall and an electrician’s daughter from Barnet.

Midway through his lengthy treatise on "energy" and "light" and the "Universe" I was reminded of the Frank Zappa track: "Shut Up and Play Yer Guitar".

He did but by that time I am afraid the spell had been well and truly broken, and we as one decided it would be a good idea to "beat the rush" and get the Tube home during the encore.

Entertaining but he could have been so much better.

Then the news broke about Sir Norman Wisdom.


I was immediately transported back to my childhood when my Mum took me to the pictures to see The Early Bird. I have blogged before about the opening sequence when Norman comes down the stairs, stumbles and takes all the wallpaper off with his arm. I am not sure I have ever laughed quite so hard since.

My Mother probably thought I was choking on the odd plastic thingy which was usually supposed to be a whistle in my threepenny "Jamboree Bag".

Norman was King after that for a very long time before I jilted him for the Marx Brothers and The Goon Show.

Sorry Norman, but as a kid the rather sentimental "love interest" thing went over my head. I wanted more falling down which you did so superbly.

We have his films and should be grateful for them. I look forward to a season of them on the TV shortly.

Then one of my old stamping grounds and another part of my childhood went up in flames. I am referring to Hastings Pier.


All my life I have been connected with the town. First through my Grandparents who lived there and - for the last twenty years - so have I.

As a child we would run around the pier and play the slot machines. Among these were sliding penny machines; a tray loaded with coins would move back and forth and, by judicial addition of more coins in theory, some would drop off the edge of the tray and down the chute into my youthful sticky hand. There were table football games, which were works of art with the players leg actually moving to kick the ball and their strip was hand made of what looked like wool. There was rock and candy floss and a speedboat that took passengers for a quick trip up and down the coast. We went on it once and it was terribly exciting and we had a tarpaulin that you hitched over your legs to stop yourself getting too soaked.

In 1966 on the apron at the front of the pier, a Space Age metal building called the "Triadome" was erected containing the recently completed Hastings Embroidery as part of the celebrations for the 900th anniversary of the Battle.

My sister, being three years older, loved the pier as there were bands on and boys! (hopefully of the type Mother had warned her about). The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, The Who and many others appeared there. My friend Clive (who is rather more of a historian than myself) told me that the last appearance with Pink Floyd of Syd Barrett took place in the concert hall at the end of the pier.

It gradually became neglected and tatty and rather sad. I remember one dreary cold winter’s evening in the early 80's walking onto the pier and past one of the Bingo stalls. Half a dozen pensioners sat flicking the plastic shutters across the numbers as they were called as they had a console in front of them rather than a sheet of paper. The first prize was a 2lb bag of sugar or a catering tin of baked beans!

However by then they did have a "What the Butler Saw" machine as a retro exhibit. The answer for you excited teens is: Not a lot really. A woman dancing with a broom in her underwear to be exact.


In its last incarnation before its closure four years ago, as it was deemed unsafe, it was decided to make it a sort of upmarket bazaar with no slots. So in came the shops selling Dream catchers and bits of driftwood and shells, which duplicated the dozens of other shops around town selling Dreamcatchers, bits of driftwood and shells. When this didn't work furious voices demanded that what was needed were slots and the cycle began again.

We have a family picture of my Mum as a rather goofy teen standing on the pier in about 1935. Now part of my family’s history, and part of thousands of other people memories, lies in smoking ruins; ironically, just as it looked like some progress was about to be made towards its restoration.

Before the war Hastings boasted two piers. Now there is the remains of one. It would be criminal to let this one disappear too.


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IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME GETTING FROM THERE TO HERE

At last. Last week I was eventually unthwarted! Something that I had been trying to do and hoping for for a long long time came to fruition. It was.....actually let me tell you about Seal first.

Dark Lady and I went to the BBC to watch Seal perform his hits and tracks from his new album for a Radio 2 In Concert introduced by Jo Whiley. I have seen her many times over the last few months. Always on the stage of the BBC Radio Theatre though. So if I was a marginally stupider person than I am naturally I would assume that she lives behind the stage and from our vantage point is only 3 feet tall.



Seal however is far taller. He was enjoyable despite some rather rambling song introductions that made you wish he would get on it and a fantabulous clunker of a start to a song in which he was singing in a totally different key to the band. He sprung a nice surprise though with an amazing version of "Vienna" which I filched to play on my show a couple of mornings later.

If there was one thing I wish he had thought about was the lighting. I have grumbled about excessive volume produced by pub bands on this blog in the past. You don't need to mic up the drumkit in front of a crowd in a boozer. I checked with the pro's; the BBC sound engineers who told me it wasn't necessary. It was just bands living their "stadium" dreams in front of a crowd of 25 drunks in the Red Lion on a weekend as they fumble their way through some lacklustre AC/DC covers.

Seal as you would expect had a terrific band including a horn section consisting of four blonde women in skimpy black outfits. They could play but it immediately put us in mind of Robert Palmer's "Addicted to Love" video. Bet they thought it too. The sound courtesy of the BBC was perfect but the lights aaauuuggggh the lights!!!!!!!

Time was when going to a gig meant there were a few thunderflashes a bit of smoke, the odd strobe and spotlights. All of which were on stage and illuminated the band. Who had the bright idea of whirling rotating brilliant spots constantly changing colour and shining out into the audience? It was blinding and meant that we were unable to see him half the time as he was in silhouette. I had my eyes jammed shut for much of the performance as did the DL. (I have seen that face before but that is a different story). Alan "Barrowlands" Boyd producer of the Terry Wogan show was sitting next to me and it was annoying him too.

So to the main news.



A couple of years ago you may remember I blogged about a guy called Nick Marley of the Yeoman Light Aircraft Company (to visit the website click here) who had after some badgering got me to fly in his Dynamic microlight. He was insistent that I could learn to fly one despite being a rather poor student and not understanding sums and stuff as I had never passed my Maths 'O' Level.

I flew with him. Quite enjoyed it but went away and thought little more about it. However we are all susceptible to a seed being planted in our minds. I am a bloke as we know that means the answer is always a big fat NO! until somehow it becomes our idea.

Maybe this is why the DL begins every conversation with the words "Diamond encrusted Lamborghini". No idea what she is on about......hmm wonder if that car of hers needs an upgrade?

Months went by and suddenly I began to wonder if at 53 I was too long in the tooth to learn a new skill.

A quick look on the internet and up popped HADAIR run by a bloke called Steve Wilkes (click here to visit the website). He seemed pretty friendly on the phone and was quite reassuring when I voiced that my overriding concern was not to make a smoking crater in the earth and what happens when the engine stops as you can't get out and push it to the side of the road like you can with a car.



I also had to check the bank balance to find out if it was financially beyond me. Whilst not as cheap as sitting on a park bench with a couple of cans of Stella it is not beyond the realms of us mere mortals. As I got into it I noticed that my fellow students and qualified pilots were all normal folk from self employed painter and decorators to salesmen and a lady who worked in a pharmacy.

So at the beginning of February 2009 I took my first tentative steps towards becoming a microlight pilot. Another revelation was that it was all very friendly and totally free from snobbery as I thought aviation was riddled with chaps in crisp short sleeved shirts talking about "the deck"and "fillies". There were quite a number of women flyer's too which was a comfort.

So with some trepidation I drove to Halfpenny Green Airport near Wolverhampton to begin my "training". My first instructor was Les Richardson a tall bloke with glasses who seems to be able to fly anything from Microlights to the bigger stuff when he is not on a huge motorcycle riding around in Tibet. I think he looks at everything with a view "hmm will it fly" be it something with wings or even a cupboard.


Training progressed slowly and at times I got discouraged as I didn't seem to be making any progress. The plane I was learning on a three axis fixed wing with the unfortunate name of an "Ikarus" C42. Manufactured in Germany. (Who said the Germans had no sense of humour)? Was proving a bit of a beast to tame. The C42 is one of the most forgiving and benign aircraft ideal for beginners who are prone to mistakes i.e me!

I lost count of the times I nearly steered us off the runway. Or when we took off we went off sideways. It is a mite disconcerting to hear your instructor shout "whooooaaaaaaaa!!!!" as you leave the ground at a drunken angle and then proceed to fly sideways one wing permanently low as you wrestle with the controls whilst trying to remember to look out of the window, look at the instruments fiddle with the stick and press the rudder pedals with some sort of coordination.

Les rather relieved I think went off on one of his extended Himalayan motorcycle jaunts to recuperate so my training then fell to Steve or "Wilksee" as he likes to be known.

Progress had been slow. All those things to remember and after about half an hour my brain would be waving a flag of surrender from my ear. It continued to be slow as the voice of my new instructor yelled "Whhoooaaaaaaaa!!!!!" as we took off sideways for the umpteenth time.

Then there was the ground school and the exams. Would I be able to do the Meteorology, the Navigation, the Human limitations the Air Law? To my surprise yes. Not always easily. The Navigation I found the hardest. Plotting the "Triangle of Velocity" In other words if you are flying along how to stay on course when the wind is blowing you in a different direction.

Everyone pitched in to help the flying Dunce. Jim, Debs, Steve, John, Alan Voyce as well as Roy and in the control Tower Clive who was effortlessly good humoured and kept his calm as a stammering radio call would come in "India Yankee inbound from the North West"...........er no the North.....er South....well I can see the airfield".

Gradually progress began to be made. My brain didn't seize up and I learned what happens when the engine stops. It seemed to stop a lot too as 90% of the syllabus is geared to safety.


One day in September last year. Having sputtered to a halt outside the Hadair hut and switched the engine off. Wilksee turned to me and said:

"Off you go"

"Where?"

"Solo"

"What me...by myself..now?"

"That is what we usually mean by solo...yes"

So heart in mouth I taxied to the holding point where I radioed the tower.

"Golf India Yankee holding at Alpha 5 ready for departure."

"Line up on the runway" came the reply from Clive.

My mind went blank. What on earth did he mean? I had not heard that expression used before.

We had been chatting the day before and he had said to me. "If you ever have a problem and you don't understand something just ask us in plain English. That is what we are there for".

So in my best Douglas Bader I stammered: "ER Clive I am sorry but I have no idea what you mean"

"Drive your little plane out onto the runway. point it in the right direction with the nose lined up with the white line. Wait there and DON'T TAKE OFF UNTIL I TELL YOU"!

I did I was bidden and then I was off. With only one on board we went off down the runway like a rocket and with 100 metres or so we were in the air climbing fast (and sideways of course). I was up to 600 feet in seemingly seconds turned left. Looked to my left to see the airfield disappearing fast and then my right to check everything was clear and then I noticed something.......

I WAS ALL ALONE UP HERE!


It was a long way down and it was up to me to go once round the block and land back at the starting point. Somehow this happened without mishap despite the words from the tower echoing around the airfield and in my headphones:

"If the gentleman who has just landed would like to taxi the remains of his aircraft to the apron"

I felt like Lindbergh as people crowded round me shaking my hand and congratulating me.


That was a milestone. Once that hurdle has been overcome the training quickens. Including two trips off to other airfields by yourself as a navigation exercise. First one was off down to Shobden in Herefordshire which has a fabulous cafe in a nissen hut. So down I went landed strode confidently into the reception area to pay my landing fee and sign in. They could tell I was a fresh faced novice . Why else would his hands be shaking so much he could hardly hold the pen.

The following day it was off down to Great Malvern and a farm strip. Never landed on grass before.....I did it and when I switched the engine off there was a deathly hush. There was not a soul about. I was surrounded by fields. It occurred to me had I made a smoking crater in the ground no one would have known.

Took off for the return leg brimming with confidence until I opened my mouth to speak to the Airfield to announce my impending arrival.



"Halfpenny Green Information this is erm er this is er a er plane thing er from golf foxtrot sort of yankee thingy erm coming in from the er north east or somewhere". My brain was completely frazzled. No one laughed (that much anyway) as they had all been in the same position themselves so knew how I was feeling.

Progress had slowed somewhat earlier in the year due to sciatica, bad weather and American Adventure 3. So it was a bit of a surprise when Wilksee announced that he was putting me in for the test the other week when I was on holiday.

Hence last weeks blog about being thwarted. The weather didn't play ball.

Last Wednesday it did.

I had done the show gone back to bed. Not slept a wink and then caught the train up to the Midlands. Out to the airfield and a rendezvous with Gordon Faulkner. He is a softly spoken calm man who arrived for the test in his own plane and quickly put me at ease. We went through all the checks and he asked me a few questions and then we taxi'd out to the runway.

"Golf India Yankee holding at zero four ready for departure." I said calmly and confidently.

"Take off at your discretion" came the reply.

"You ready, Gordon?"

"Yes when you are ready, no rush"

"Whhhhooooooaaaaaaaaaa" we chorused as I charged down the runway and took off sideways as I had not allowed for the wind.blowing across the runway. Grate start Alex!

"Halfpenny Green Information this is Golf Charlie Foxtrot India Yankee inbound from the south requesting overhead joining instructions"

"North" sighed Gordon. "You are inbound from the North but don't worry we are nearly there and they can see us.

So an hour and half later we were back on the ground and Gordon was very generously filling the forms out to say that I had passed. There had been some mistakes but most importantly I was deemed safe to fly and to carry a passenger.

I was/am a pilot.


It has taken some time and has been frightening, frustrating, worrying, infuriating and exhilarating. However it has most definitely been worth it.

Not only because I have learned the basics of a new skill but also I have made many new friends along the way.

So thank you Instructors Steve and Les for your endless patience and gritted teeth.

Thank you to everyone at Halfpenny Green who have watched me develop over the last 18 months.





Mitch, Ruth, Jo, Rachel, Lisa, Saad, Tom, loads of people called Steve and Dan. In fact too many to name so apologies if I have missed you out. Without exception everyone has been unfailingly good humoured and encouraging. They have egged me on when I began to have doubts that I was making any progress. They have commiserated when things didn't go according to plan. They have cheered when things did.

The Dark Lady has agreed to be my first passenger. However I am going to take some time to fly around before I risk such a valuable cargo.

So if you are thinking about it, why not go take a trial flight and see if it suits. If I can do it you most certainly can.

"Whhoooooooaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!"

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HOLIDAY ROCK

Staycation time and, with Tim Smith ably holding the fort, it was off to do something that I have been planning since February 2009. I have been working towards this for a very long time it would seem. There have been setbacks and disappointments along the way, as well as great leaps forward at times. Now the moment was nigh. The moment when all my hopes and dreams would become a reality. When all those people who looked at me when I told them of my hopes desires and dreams had smiled sadly and shaken their heads. I had been waiting for years for this and at last it was about to happen.....

First, however, to the Conquest Hospital in Hastings to draw a raffle and present some well-deserved long service certificates to members of the Hospital Radio station who do such sterling work, providing entertainment to the patients.


You may have noticed that Hastings hospital is called the "Conquest". This is not quite the law but I would think there would be little disagreement if it was passed that all municipal buildings, taxi firms and guest houses have to be named after something to do with the Battle of Hastings and William the Conqueror.

Hey, if you have the history flaunt it!

I still recall visiting Howarth, home of the Bronte sisters, where everything had their literary stamp on it. Even down the gift shop that sold "Bronte Biscuits".

So being Hastings, as you would expect, my home town boasts any number of '1066 this', ' Harold that' and 'Senlac' the others. With this in mind I have been trying to put together a portmanteau title that would encapsulate pretty much everything that the history of the town reflects.

So if I was a musician and had my own band, I would bestride the stage as the leader of:

"Harold '1066' Senlac and the Battling Conquerors"

The next day it was off to go and get my dream sorted.

FOILED!

So back home to wait for another opportunity.

THWARTED!

Wednesday came around and the frustration grew. However, a pleasing diversion came in the shape of seeing Barenaked Ladies in concert at the Apollo in London's Hammersmith. I have been going to this venue fairly regularly since it was the Odeon and saw B.B King there in about 1975. Not sure it has had a lick of paint in all that time but it does the job.

The DL wasn't all that aware of BNL'S (they are called this by uberfans, I am informed) work until they launched into "One week" with its tongue twisting lyrics and also the fabulous "If I had a Million Dollars".


A senior BBC executive once said to me: "Alex" (for that is my name). "Women like lyrics"!

DL certainly did. Especially a couple of wonderfully-observed middle-aged raps.

The next day it was back to reality and the pursuit of my long held dream.

STYMIED!

So near and yet so far!!!!!

Still compensation came 24 hours later in the shape of Beth Nielson Chapman with the BBC Concert Orchestra and Aled Jones for Friday Night is Music Night.


We weren't entirely sure if the show was live or pre-recorded as that hadn't been explained too well. The interval came and we heard the interval talk start, some people seemed to be getting their coats to leave. Then they changed their minds and sat back down again.

I bow to no man (other genders are available and most welcome) in my admiration for Beth. Not just the purity of her voice but also her songwriting and performing ability.

She was fabulous and Aled came up trumps when he showed what a good singer he is as he did a duet with her. I just wish I could get the choirboy image out of my head. Aled is a top bloke with a bone-crushing handshake. His treble days long behind him.


Dang…sorry!

The gig was also a hit with Sally (Traffic) Boazeman who was sitting next to us. She too is a huge fan and the songs tugged at her heartstrings as she unashamedly wept all the way through.

I can tell when the DL is particularly taken by a tune as she rests her right hand on the base of her neck and her eyes dampen. First saw this when we went to see Willie Nelson a few months back and he dropped effortlessly into "Georgia on my Mind". I have always found music intensely moving and - being a big old softy - I too can find myself wiping away a tear at times too.

Saturday dawned and we were back on track for the big event.

"STUMPED!"

Sunday then!!!

"CANCELLED"!

All was not lost as it was the Hastings Seafood and Wine festival in the Old town. Local businesses had turned out in force to show their wares and their recipes. Local produce being mainly fish but some Ciders ,beers and wines from the area as well as well as cakes also.

Fat boy paradise and one of the many advantages of living by the sea. The fish is fresh.


When I arrived, the guy running the P.A. announced to all and sundry:

"Alex Lester from BBC Radio 2 will be doing the rounds and trying everything!"

Everything?? I know I am greedy but I am not Mr Creosote!

As an (un)healthy compromise I wandered round looking and sniffing and in the end tried the dishes offered by "The Bridge", a local community project. Delicious and all cooked by the fair hand of the vegetarian chef. Not sure how he decided when the Prawns and the grilled Sardines were ready, but they were perfect. Perhaps he did it by intuition like The Who's Tommy:

"That vegetarian kid sure cooks a mean grilled prawn"!

So that was the staycation. Restful, enjoyable. Yes. Fruitful......well no.

Would the following seven days unthwart me? Would they unfoil me? Would I eventually be unstymied or even Unstumped and Uncancelled???

Will we get to the bottom of this conundrum? Check out next weeks blog for the answer and hopefully better grammar.

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