LET IT SNOW LET IT SNOW LET IT SNOW

First off a Happy new year to you! Hope you had an excellent Xmas to boot.

All was well in the Lester household with the added bonus of the Dark Lady this year meant that there were double celebrations. This also meant double the amount of food and drink as well as double the amount of travelling. That was leavened by double the amount of presents. Poor Santa had his work cut out believe me.

Finished the show on the Friday and then it was dashing through the snow to an isolated barn conversion in the Costwolds where the DL and her family were holed up.

I had been warned that there was a quarter of a mile of farm track with a deep deep ditch down one side of the roadway and it was v v icy.



I turned off the main road and very gingerly drove along the glassy surface at approximately four MPH. All was going extremely well I thought and I was toying with the idea of contacting Top Gear to suggest myself as a replacement for the Stig when unbeknown to me the ridge of snow in the middle of the track was gradually building up beneath the front of my car.

Suddenly without any warning the car slewed off the road. To my immense relief it decided to take the non ditch route and I came to rest in a foot of snow blocking the track

A farmer appeared with a shovel and kindly dug me out while everyone else fussed around me.
I was mortified as I thought I had been so careful. Still a glass of wine later and equilibrium was restored.


Then the eating started and on it went. Interspersed with Festive TV. Not watched Xmas telly in years. In fact probably not since my Mum died in 2002. She always liked to watch the Queen whilst the rest of us fretted as we didn't get the big presents til after her Maj had finished. Friend of mine had an elderly aunt who liked to watch the Monarch speak "I just like to see what she is wearing" was her annual mantra.

So a number of films came and went usually of the heartwarming and life affirming type which had me removing specks of imaginary dust from my eye. (Note to self if "It's a Wonderful Life" is ever shown make excuses and leave as the resulting waterworks will unman you in the eyes of the children.

Then we had a choice between Top Gear and Strictly. The blokes were outvoted so we had to sit through Brucie, standard TV blonde woman and a selection of people some of whom I recognised many of whom I didn't stamping and posturing with rictus grins (Vince Cable being the exception as the Dancing Grinch) as they tottered around to wild applause.

Wild applause seems to be the default mechanism if anyone does anything these days which is deemed to be "exciting". June Brown got wild applause for being alive and reasonably mobile. Ronni Ancona got wild applause for wearing a big frock and being lifted up making it billow. There were some singers and when the front four of them stood up they received such an ovation I thought the audience were going to need the emergency services. Its a dancing programme movement is part of the deal! We thought John Barrowman winning was a bit of a fix as he was bound to be able to hoof as he is a West End musical star. Its his job after all to sing and dance. That is what they do!

Christmas day and it was up with the lark. 5am due to excited children and me who doesn't sleep much past that time at the best of times these days.

DL loves the season and had spent hours wrapping a lot of tiny gifts for stockings. Chocolate, smellies and a hamburger shaped kitchen timer. My big gift from her was a fabulous duffle coat. I have not had one of these with toggles since I was a kid. She had got the size just right apart from the fact that I have very short arms. So in full Paddington Bear mode I can't see my hands. A trip to the tailors is going to fix that shortly.


Due to the romantic gift of a Magimix for her birthday it was with some trepidation that she opened hers to find a camera. She only has one in her phone and as I pointed out she is going to need a good one so she can take the wedding pics so we don't have to hire a bone fide photographer on the big day.

Full of a big cooked breakfast (It was the 25th December its the law). I set off for Birmingham through the frozen lanes with the temperature nudging -14C to visit my sister and Brother in Law. My Dad and I make up a foursome for Xmas lunch. So more gifts, my annual gin and tonic and another excellent turkey dinner. We had the same crackers as the night before so I was able to guess the terrible jokes and snaffle the weird plastic shapeless thing which I think is supposed to be a whistle.

After we sat and talked and I showed my holiday snaps of New York which caused my Dad to promptly fall asleep.



Mid evening and with the temp nudging a balmy -7C I headed back to the barn just in time for some more food.

New Years Eve and we are not as fussed with this celebration as with Xmas so on a whim we decided to head off to France for the weekend. Getting a place on the train through the Channel tunnel was no big deal but the trains were full on the way back so we managed to get the last cabin on the Ferry to Portsmouth.

France was deserted although the supermarket on New Years Eve (the day is called La Sainte-Sylvestre apparently) resembles Xmas Eve here in the UK as everyone is out stripping the shelves bare of anything edible or that may be edible at a pinch. New Years weekend the only things open were filling stations and the bakery as a nation cannot exist without croissants.

We bought a load of DVD's, lit the fire, some candles and burned chestnuts. I would like to say we cooked or roasted them but in the gloom it was difficult to tell if they were done or not.

We managed to last until 9pm English time 10pm French before collapsing into bed and sleeping for ten hours. The following night we took a similar route but slept badly. Think this may have been due to a surfeit of cheese. Not sure it says anything about it in the Bible but if God had meant us to sleep soundly he would not have invented so many different varieties and also pâté!

Monday came and it was the show for me as usual but the DL still had another day off. I had planned a surprise which I managed to keep a secret until we made it into the auditorium

The game was given away by the music stands on the stage which bore the legend: "The Glenn Miller Orchestra".

Although it is effectively a band performing under licence from the Glenn Miller estate and playing under the baton of UK bandleading legend Ray McVay the music is timeless and the musicianship faultless. I defy you not to feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention during Moonlight Serenade as June Allyson's did in the "Glenn Miller Story" when he discovered "the sound".

We had good seats two rows back in the stalls just to the right of centre which meant that we were a bit trumpet and trombone heavy but it was a terrific afternoon. Yes, due to the age of the audience the gig started at 3pm and we were back on the street again at 5.30. However there were some younger people there proving that good music will always find an audience.

The second half opened with the orchestra having changed into the military uniforms of the wartime army airforce band. This got us thinking as we watched the various ranks file onto the bandstand. How did they arrive at the various ranks; length of service? Difficulty of instrument? Did they get promoted for good playing? Did Ray bust someone to private for playing a bum note? As it was wartime, were there spies in the camp perhaps feeding arrangement secrets to the Benny Goodman Orchestra?

As well as the well loved instrumentals and newer material "Millerised" there were the "Moonlight Serenaders" with their wonderful close harmonies as well as solo spots. To liven things up there was frenzied jitterbugging from the four piece dance troupe the "Jiving Lindy Hoppers". They were pure showbiz dahlings. They were all teeth and tinsel as they pranced and mugged to the back of the auditorium. Two rows back it was just plane scary and with the guys flinging the girls in short skirts all over the place I was beginning to suffer from gussett overload at one point so concentrated on my choc ice.

As you will know from the blog about the Beth Nielsen Chapman gig early last year the DL and I are terrible gigglers. So when the wonderful Jan Messeder took to the stage to sing a selection of Vera Lynn favourites she had made yet another costume change. This time she was in a long salmon/flesh coloured satin number. Unfortunately she was wearing matching over the elbow long gloves. This gave the impression she had been in a fearful accident and had suffered severe injuries leading to her being fitted with prosthetic arms. DL and I looked at each other and we were off. It was like being in the church choir again when someone farted during the sermon. I hope she didn't notice two purple faced weeping snorting people two rows back tears rolling down their faces as she crooned her way through "The White Cliffs of Dover".
A great way to end a terrific couple of weeks of festivities.

As far as 2011 is concerned and the show. Dr Strangelove the producer is currently away being "re-educated" by the BBC so a variety of top people have been drafted in to try and keep order.

Namely Paul "Constant Shaving" Raffaelli the most hirsute man in showbusiness and Simon Tester who you may recall is trying to develop a taste for Rugby. Not for playing but being a spectator. In the year since he left the show to work with Claudia Winkleman on the Radio 2 Arts show he has signed up to the Harlequins website but not go any further than that. Still, like Whiskey and "the one" it may take some time to get there but it is worth the wait in the end.

Here's wishing you all that you would wish yourself for 2011

BIG EYED BEANS FROM VENUS

Been a musical week in some ways, incorporating nuptials and Xmas shopping…

Weekend before last, DL and I set off to find a wedding venue. We wanted somewhere quiet, rustic and low key so have been scouting around various towns and villages which have a selection of pubs which may or may not be able to do weddings and civil ceremonies.

We also wanted somewhere that would not break the bank.

With that in mind we crossed Westminster Abbey and Skibo Castle off our list.

We have found somewhere that fits the bill and are now going to book it. Can't tell you where or the date as we are still in negotiations with the Beano, Razzle and Rust and Corrosion Gazette as to who gets the rights to our bash.

It has also been an opportunity to do a little shopping. With a slightly bigger extended family than last year this means more gifts. There is the DL's Mum for instance. Need to create a good impression there so joke shop fart powder or a whoopee cushion is a non-starter.

There are two children who deserve something, although I could threaten to turn into "Victorian Stepfather" and give them a lump of coal or maybe a nut and an orange.

Whilst we were looking through an antique kitchenware shop in Rye (many of the items I possessed myself, handed down from parents and grandparents) we heard a rumbling of drums and the explosions of fireworks outside. This, frankly, is better than the rumbling for drums and explosions of fireworks inside.



There appeared to be some kind of parade going on in the gathering darkness. Earlier we had seen various people in Victorian dress wandering about and the odd bod of carol singers. Lots of stalls selling chesnuts and mulled wine. I was driving so no nuts for me!

We watched as local schoolchildren and adults marched past banging drums and leading a couple of rather small bewildered looking reindeer. Then came Santa on his sleigh. He is no mug, this Santa guy, and has learned stuff from helicopter technology for - as well as skids on his vehicle - he had wheels.

They rumbled and drummed by and we went back home to meet some friends in the pub.


All week I have been telling you that I am about to do the blog and the Christmas cards. However, other things have got in the way such as people turning up unexpectedly for coffee or a rip snorting rock and roll visit to my accountant. However, this is now Saturday when I am typing this and the cards are still not written.


DL and I went off to Abbey Rd studio's scene of such musical triumphs as the Beatles, Elgar, Star Wars, Charlie Drake and my winning contribution to last year’s Children in Need single.

This time it was a live broadcast of a concert by KT Tunstall.


I quite like her without being an enormous fan, but one of the many privileges of this job is getting to go see artists at special events like this.

DL was more of a fan but she was as astounded - as was I - by the sheer musicianship.

KT has been doing a lot of touring and as a result her band were a very tight unit, which was just as well as there were quite a number of songs that relied on percussion and vocal loops and delays, so it as fascinating to witness her and them building the song from nothing. It was also a testament to the BBC engineers and the sound guys that it all went like clockwork and not a beat was missed.

Hour later I was back in bed for a short night before Friday’s Shoe.

Friday lunchtime and no Christmas cards being written as I had been invited to the Music Publishers association lunch. This involved about 800 people wedging themselves into the Hilton in London's Park Lane to blow up balloons and heckle the speakers, and also to chow down on turkey with all the trimmings. This is a lot of fun. Speaker this year was comic, Marcus Brigstock, who unfortunately started with the same gag that Hugh Dennis did last year:

"Anyone from Norfolk here???"

"yes"

"Gimme six!"

He espied Culture Secretary, Ed Vaizey, in the audience and so gave him a lot of stick. This went down pretty well with everyone (except Ed Vaizey, I would imagine). Still, it is a British national pastime. No matter what your political affiliation it is nice to put the boot into MPs at every possible opportunity. Likewise if you are a politician you should expect this and take it in good part. Lets face it, with the odd horrible exception we Brits would rather throw the occasional egg or shout insults at our elected representatives rather than shoot them or blow them up.


The lunch finished with a rousing reworking of “The 12 Days of Christmas”. We were all given things to blow and shake along. Reminded me of band lessons at kindergarten.

By that time the weather was beginning to close in so it was a rush to the train to Hastings before the trains to Hastings were halted due to "wrong type of snow".

It still took half an hour longer to arrive and by the time I did the news was just startling to circulate that Captain Beefheart had died.


I was instantly transported back to the time I saw him at Birmingham Town Hall as a 16 year-old. Supported by Foghat, as I recall. His music was/is strange yet compelling and has featured on the show from time to time over the years. It was with a certain sadness that I opened the big box of concert tickets that all music fans (nerds) keep to remind them of memorable gigs they have seen.

Hang on.....I saw him twice!

DECK THE HALLS

After the excitement of last week’s blog and the proposal, which was luckily accepted by the Dark Lady, can I start by saying we are both very touched by all your kind messages and your good wishes.

As far as the logistics are concerned, we are thinking of setting a date at the tail end of next year, probably early December. We are going for low key.

This is a mutual decision and not one suggested by myself in an attempt to save money.

Since we met, the DL has weaned me off buying the cheapest packets and tinned goods at the supermarket without going crazy and feasting on Panda Caviar with endangered double-organic chocolate pudding to follow.

She has a point. A cup of tea now seems to taste better in our house and "ACME Tuna flakes" are probably better suited as cat food. In fact some years ago when I lived on the Blue Pig - my canal boat on the cut in Birmingham - I used to buy 24 cans of the aforementioned tuna flakes at a time and on one occasion a woman sailed past with an identical selection and stated "I've got my cat food" whilst I thought "I've got MY food".


Low key means that the His and Hers thrones a la Beckhams are out. As is the hiring of a Scottish castle like Madonna. However, a mild and only partially serious suggestion of a quick trip to Las Vegas and a quickie Elvis jobbie met with a flat refusal.

So there will be something in between although for the moment we are not fixating on it.

OK and Hello magazine have been very quiet as well, so we think it is unlikely that we will be able to offset the cost with a massive advance from a glossy magazine.

My mate Matthew Rudd of Nerd Night fame suggested we did a Johnny Vegas and sell the pics to VIZ for the princely sum of a pound or maybe some other magazine that doesn't usually print wedding pics.

Right back into the show and life after getting back from New York and we hit the snow.

Had intended to head off to Hastings leave the car there and travel back by train. Luckily last winter’s memory has not faded of a similar attempt. Slipping and sliding down the A21 past abandoned cars and then upon reaching the railway station seeing the word "Delayed" on the indicator boards. What the train people actually meant was "Cancelled". In fact at the end of the day no trains had run at all. This is where memory fails, but I think we were herded onto coaches and taken to Tonbridge Wells where we were left for hours in the freezing cold as no trains arrived until we were herded onto another coach to take us up to Tunbridge where we eventually managed to find a chuff-chuff that actually was able to move.


If we are starting to have these winters again on a regular basis after decades of mild ones hopefully public transport will take this into account and make plans accordingly.

Relatives of mine who relocated to the beautiful North Yorkshire countryside are now thinking of moving again as they have been snowed in for days for the last two years. Last week there was five feet of snow drifting up against their garage door. So heaven knows how you must be suffering further north than them.


As we are heading at a dizzying pace towards Christmas I have been out buying and wrapping gifts for the DL, her children and my family.


I actually enjoy the process of deciding and sourcing gifts for people. I have read that it is about giving the person something they would like rather than giving them something you think they ought to have or just.... something.

We know that petrol station gifts don't cut it. Clothes are tricky unless it is something that the person really likes and admires. It is a minefield in case it is perceived as an attempt to "smarten someone up". A tweet came in last week suggesting that as I was getting married that perhaps I should cut my hair short and shave off my beard.

I don't understand the logic as if I did that I wouldn't be the person the DL knows. It was she who suggested I kept the beard which I grew on American Adventure 3 last summer and anything that gets out of the daily chore of shaving at 01.00am is good with me.

You may as well say to someone: "You know George, I think I would prefer it if you changed your name to Darryl. I think it suits you better"!

Am now ahead of the game, although I can feel a little smugness and inertia beginning to kick in. I have bought gifts for my family and the DL and her daughter, Ella. Although not got anything for her son Jamie yet.

(Jamie don't worry you are not going to be "the little boy that Santa Claus forgot”. However, you can forget the Bugatti Veyron for two excellent reasons: 1) I am nowhere near rich enough for a car like that. 2) You are not old enough to drive for another 6 years so it would just gather dust out in the street).


All is needed now is that last couple of presents. All the others have been wrapped.

Then it is the annual cheese run as every year; since my Mother died, my Sister and Brother-in-law have taken over Christmas Day duties which they are brilliant at.

My sister does the food. My Brother-in-Law, John, does the washing up (although they now have a dishwasher so his duties may be lighter this year). My Dad brings the wine, and I over-cater in the cheese and biscuits department.

I am having a two-centre holiday this year as I will be with the DL and her family Christmas morning, then my Sister and Brother-in-law for the day, and then back to the DL place for the evening and more eats.

Remember Henry Kissinger? The politician who invented "shuttle diplomacy" back in the70's?

This is the festive version which is frankly a lot more fun, although it does involve some travelling, but hopefully far less arguing and stress.


Now all I need to do is the Xmas cards.


Don't forget you can follow me on Twitter, just click here, and - using the same login - you can hear me on Audioboo by clicking here?

START SPREADING THE NEWS

With the sounds of Frank fading in my ears, I hot-footed it to...Hastings; it was time to do my usual short but cheerful speech (Charity yak 12A, speech watchers) at St Johns Church in St Leonards-on-Sea Craft and Art Fayre. They have a lot of willing volunteers and a load of stalls all selling a variety of stuff, much of it made by the talented hands of those present.

The big draw for greedy old me is the cake. They have some of the best refreshments in town and this year I decided that I would forsake breakfast so I could pack more in. This I did and then wobbled out of the church in the direction of the car and headed for Heathrow Airport.

I arrived about ten minutes ahead of the Dark Lady. We were off to New York for a week and I had planned some, er, "surprises"!

Surprise one for both of us was how empty the plane was. This was great news for us economy travellers as there was more room to stretch out.

We arrived about 8pm and - unlike previous trips to the US - negotiated immigration relatively simply and quickly. Unlike the two hours it took to get out of Los Angeles airport for "American Adventure 2" in 2008.

Chatty cab driver into Manhattan and the most wonderful view of the city at night, as well as showing us the "spaceships" that featured in Men in Black, which were towers constructed for the World’s Fair in 1939-40.

To save money we had rented an apartment. It was brilliantly placed just of 6th Avenue in Midtown so it was walking distance to all the sights.

Sunday late morning and surprise number one:

Walking down the street and the DL spotted the Harlem Gospel Choir soul food brunch on offer at B.B King's.

"Wow wouldn't that be just brilliant?” she squeaked.....a fraction of second before I produced the tickets from my coat.It was fabulous as both of us love Gospel Music without having any particular belief. There was a whole lot of testifyin' going on and it was done as a church service in many ways, with lots of people yelling "Amen" and a lot of hands being waved. Each member of the ensemble took a solo spot, talked a bit about themselves and sang - and wow did they sing.

I must admit as a middle-aged Briton, as you are stuffing yourself with chicken wings and grits, it is a bit of a shock to hear someone yell from the stage:

"I lost my kids, my house. I was homeless. I was addicted to Crack for ten years until the Lord saved me"!

"Er, fancy another drink, dear"?

"Mmm, yes I'll have some Or...' I TELL YA I WAS A CRACK WHORE!!!"

"Shall I wait until this number is over?”

"Yes, probably wise"

"I WAS WITHOUT HOPE...IN THE GUTTER...AN ADDICT"

Surprise number one had been a result.

Later that evening I suggested we get the subway to the Lower West Side to find a bar.

The City Winery was hosting an evening with the Veteran Jazz pianist and songwriter, Mose Allison, whose music I have adored for years. A man who may be in his 80's but who has always been effortlessly cool.

I had bought the tickets a couple of months earlier and since I got them the evening had been upgraded to a "celebration of his work" with a load of special guests.

When we arrived at the venue- an old warehouse with large picture windows along its front - the soundcheck was still going on and so we were not allowed in.

Peering through the window, the Dark Lady suddenly said...

"That looks like Elvis Costello"!

It was. He along with Jolie Holland a wonderful singer called Lea Delaria and a number of other musicians sang a load of Mose Allison songs before the great man took to the stage.

His voice isn't what it was but he is still a mesmerising performer.

Surprise number two had been a result.

We spent the next day walking around Manhattan and doing a little light shopping, as well as strolling the length of the High Line, an abandoned overhead railway line which is now a linear park with terrific views. The weather was cool and clear and the sun shone. We were having a fantastic time.

One of our favourite places is Grand Central Station as it is such an iconic building and we have seen it featured in so many films over the years.

I suggested we pop down to Penn Station to have a look at that and see if it was as spectacular.

During American Adventure 3 last summer, we had spent a lot of time in bars watching the basketball and got quite into it. The Secret Squirrel had been at work....

"Oh look, it’s Madison Square Garden" purred the Dark Lady as we emerged from the subway.

"Shall we go take a look"?

With a lightning movement that would have unnerved Billy the Kid, I drew two tickets from my jacket: The New York Knicks v the Charlotte Bobcats.

The whole exercise was not only entertaining but baffling in equal measure.

From what we could gather they run around a lot whilst overhead screens tell us to cheer and show pictures of celebrities in the crowd drinking beer. There was also a message saying “drunken behaviour and profanity will not be tolerated”. Imagine that at a football match. Profanity is the only language spoken at Premiership level, I gather.

Nathan Followill of Kings of Leon was present at this game.

The scores seem to stay level for much of the time. Play stops frequently for the players to go off the court and be replaced by cheer leaders or small children who have mini basketball games and other competitions. Every play is repeated on the screens and is sponsored by someone. The screens often meant that I missed what was going on as I was watching the replay. There were also small screens around the court with 24 seconds marked on them, which we discovered later was something to do with the amount of time that was allowed in possession or something. This appeared to be to ensure that the audience didn't get bored.

By the time the final minute came around the scores were level. The crowd were then brought to a carefully engineered frenzy by a plethora of organ jingles and slogans flashed on the screen.

"Make some noise"

"Go Knicks"

"Eat more fruit"

(I made that last one up)

Not sure if fruit was ever on the menu. There was beer and pretzels and hot dogs. I had bought a "foot long"....well in fact in the end we bought two. Not that I am greedy but the first had been blasted from my hand by someone who resembled "Ugly Betty"; in her rush to take her seat she swiped it from my hand with a carrier bag. Didn't apologise and used the napkin to wipe the mess off her seat as if it was my fault it was messy. We think she had some learning difficulties so we didn't pursue it and the DL, realising my bottom lip was starting to wobble, hurried off to get another foot long.

By the final minute we were on the edge of our seats and eventually the Knicks won 107 points to 110.

Surprise number three...result.

Following day we decided to take a trip round Manhattan by ferry. The Dark Lady has an unerring sense of direction whereas I have no idea where I am going most of the time and, even on the final morning, turned the wrong way coming out of our apartment block.

She wanted to get a better idea of how New York was put together and what better way than with a three-hour cruise with the Circle Line Ferry company. We cruised down the Hudson and for three hours the guide gave us a spectacular and often screamingly camp commentary. We came back armed with facts. My favourites were the origin of "sugar" as Jazz slang; “sugar” meaning money, hence Duke Ellington and his contemporaries lived in an affluent area that got to be known as "Sugar Hill". The other, which explained the gridlock and the curious multi-storey car stacking devices on parking lots, was that a million cars stream into Manhattan daily finding only 500,000 parking spaces. And this in a nation that loves its guns!!

Surprise number 4 took place the following evening when I told her we were going to take a stroll downtown and I knew exactly where I was going, so to "stick close by me" as I turned uptown for several blocks before realising my mistake and turned back the way we came, until we arrived outside Radio City Music Hall. Another iconic building which I had visited in 2008 when I had seen Steve Miller and Joe Cocker there.

This time of the year it’s the Christmas Show with the famous Rockettes. With - by now - practiced ease, I whipped two tickets from my pocket and we joined the queue. What a queue it was. The crush was such that with people trying to collect tickets and others trying to buy tickets and everyone trying to get in we missed the opening of the show. I asked one of the ushers if we could get in any quicker as we would miss the start and was told:

"Get in line, they're queuing too".

She gave me a "don't mess with me" look. So I didn't.

It is billed as “spectacular” and it was. Amazing dance routines with the Parade of the Wooden soldiers being our favourite. You can see some of the routines on YouTube. With the aid of back projection we were treated to the sight of hundreds of tap dancing Santas. Frankly, that is worth the price of the trip alone. It was utterly wonderful and we loved it right down to the two organists that emerged either side of the stalls to play us out. Not one but two. The Americans don't do things by halves.

Surprise number four. Result.

Thanksgiving arrived and with it the Macy's Parade, watched by around three million people along its route. It is famous for its inflatables and marching bands and it goes on for hours. We found a vantage point on a rock at Columbus Circle and stood, getting increasingly uncomfortable clinging onto a tree as the parade passed. SuperMario, Spiderman, Spongebob Squarepants, The Pilsbury Doughboy, Shrek, Kung Fu Panda, Scooby Doo, a globe, various balls from assorted sports and many more were hauled past. No dramas this year apparently. However, in the past some of the inflatables have gone rogue and crashed into lamposts and had to be shot at and stomped down to prevent injuries.


We both love Diners so the day before we left we decided to visit the Carnegie Deli which is famous for the size of its portions. Everyone who enters leaves with a doggy bag. We were no exception. DL decided on the "Reuben" open sandwich (which was turkey topped with cheese) with a side order of pickle. It looked like a human head under a cheese blanket arrived with an allotment of dill.

I "plumped" - as they say in magazine and newspaper food columns - for the "Woody Allen", which was half corned beef and half pastrami. We also ordered fries but luckily the waiter forgot them.


The sandwiches contained a pound of meat apiece.

In the evening, in a vain attempt to walk off some of the damage, we found ourselves in an Irish bar on West 50th Street called Emmett O'Lunney's. As we sat at the bar a woman who later introduced herself as Heather and was in the military, said to the DL

"Your are gorgeous. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen" then added

"I'm not gay or anything"

She then turned to me and said:

"You are quite beautiful too...if only you would cut your hair and shave your beard off"

She was very drunk. Although I had to agree with her on the first part.

We bought her a drink and she bought us a T-Shirt each.

The flight home wasn't until Saturday night so we wandered around Manhattan and the DL went and had her nails done as I did a little more light shopping.

I suggested we wandered down to Bryant Park, one of our favourite haunts having discovered it a little oasis of calm in the centre of Manhattan on our previous trip.

This time there was a skating rink in place and a load of little shops selling all sorts of Christmassy stuff like candles and decorations.

We sat and watched the skaters for a while. DL loves to skate but is not fully recovered from her neck operation so was advised against it. Relief for me as I can't skate so would have had to watch from the side lines. It was cold so she went and got us a hot drink each.

When she sat down I pounced. Whipping a small box from my inside pocket in a manoeuvre that would have made Paul Daniels proud I asked…

"Will you marry me"?

She just managed to blurt out a startled "yes" before bursting in to tears and pouring coffee down the front of her coat. Just as well I hadn't asked her in an Italian restaurant, they would have had to hose the poor girl down!

Surprise number 5. Result!!!

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.