'WELL HERE IT IS MERRY CHRISTMAS'

Been a busy couple of weeks, although there’s still been time for fun. Last ‘Nerd Night of 2008’ saw the usual gang in Leeds, although we did pick up a few stragglers on the way.

We’re thinking of concocting a cruel and unusual punishment for people who swear that they will be at these do's. "Count me in”. “I’m THERE". Then they phone up on the day with the usual lame excuses. I’m not sure, but I think someone tried to claim that the dog had eaten their homework, so they would be unable to make it after all. I expect they had a better offer. We should have confronted and shamed them in the local branch of ‘Spearmint Rhino’ later in the evening. You know who you are!

I think the best idea would be if we all suggested they had a big birthday party, or maybe we were going to honour their contribution to the world of ‘TV and Radio’, and then none of us turn up. That'll larn 'em! A friend of mine had a similar view on his 21st birthday a long time ago. We all arranged to meet in the pub and he never showed. "Didn't feel like it" was his rather feeble excuse.

It also gave me the opportunity to catch up with an old colleague. When I say ‘old’ I’m not sure what she is on but I want some of it. Christa Ackroyd is a legendary figure in Yorkshire having anchored the regional TV current affairs magazine show ‘Look North’ for many years and before that YTV's ‘Calendar’, as I recall. We worked together briefly on a doomed commercial radio station in the early 80's. I was "let go" after 18 months as were most of the management and she assumed command. I’d not set eyes on her for 25 years and yet she looked exactly the same. She must have a picture in the attic a la Dorian Grey.

The evening started in the pub and ended in a hotel bar, which was not the one we were staying in. Ours was a budget jobbie with no such facilities. It was quarter to three in the morning when I turned the light out after another top evening.


Apart from this highlight, much of the last few days has been spent doing Christmas chores. In other words getting gifts and sending cards. I was ahead of myself this year posting the cards, so was able to send them second class, which in these recession hit times saved a few pence.

We’ve abandoned any pretence at ‘surprise’ in our now rather reduced immediate family as we have decided that life is too busy and too short. Everyone says what they would like and we go out and get it. I managed to get everything fairly easily, although the only gift that was proving tricky was mine. A pair of shoes. This is a pull together of birthday and Christmas as I didn't get round to thinking what I wanted last May. So it has been a present ‘rollover’. In the end, my sister sent me a festive bag to pop ‘em in. All I have to do now is to ferry them to her house on the big day and feign surprise and delight when I unwrap them!

My Aunt and I have sent each other identical gift tokens. Now I think I may have made a killing this year as I sent hers second class post and she sent mine first class! It’s the little things you understand.

I am also ‘cheese monitor’. It’s my job to turn up on Christmas morning armed with cheese biscuits and a selection of appropriate dairy goods. As you may remember I was in France a couple of weeks ago. Bought a nice Camembert with a consume by date of 28th December. It is going to be molten in the middle and so ripe that it will have to be left out in the garden.
It has been in the boot of my car since Sunday 21st so on the 24th, as I head up to the Midlands, I will have to be like a dog in a vehicle. Head out of the window tongue flapping in the breeze due to the awful stench.


It has been an interesting and in some ways unusual year which I will refer to in greater detail in my next blog.
It only remains to thank you for all your kind comments and cards and wish you a very Happy Christmas and a solvent New Year

'SEEN ONE. DONE ONE'

Been away for a week so sorry, I have not posted. Spent a really nice week not doing an awful lot and catching up with friends, food and drink which, I think, is a good way to spend a holiday. Went to France for a few days which meant I was suddenly very popular with other friends and work colleagues. A fair number of texts arrived starting with the words: "As you are in France, I just wondered if you could...."

As such, I came back with the car laden with champagne, red wine, cheese and chocolate. None of which was destined for my stomach. Still happy to oblige in these credit crunch times.
It also rained a lot which didn't matter just spent a lot of time indoors watching DVD's.

‘Spiderman 3’

Series 7 of ‘Family Guy’

Series 2 of ‘Curb your Enthusiasm’

‘Deathproof’

‘The Iron Giant’

All of which I enjoyed and....

‘Happy Feet@.... which I didn't!

Also, I only had time to re-acquaint myself with the beginning of ‘Bagdad Café’, which I saw twenty years ago at the cinema, and had forgotten the wonderful haunting opening sequence with the song "Calling you" by Javetta Steele being played over it. So terrific was the tune that when I got back, I dug it out and played it on the show as part of ‘Lester's library’.

Before I went away, I had a chance to visit a venue that I’d not been too before – The Forum in London's Kentish Town, with a friend to see Todd Rundgren.

He is 60 and looks ace. He was very energetic and played a lot of terrific guitar, far more than I expected. It was a cold night, but warmed by a good boozer next door to the theatre. The place was packed with hard core Rundgren fans, including a selection of shaven headed middle aged fat blokes who had started the Xmas celebrations early.

They were uber fans who knew all the tunes. Or maybe they were just overexcited and refreshed? Every time he started a song, they would leap to their feet and scream and shout and applaud wildly. So, the view for us short types sitting down, was always blocked for the opening verse of each track. I did wonder at one point if I should say something but then thought: "a small man and an even tinier woman remonstrating with drunken lairy big blokes?” It seemed a bit of an unequal match, so I decided that seething silence was the best course of action. I did find myself wondering if it was possible to buy a Taser from a nearby hardware shop to ‘zaap’ them into a less exuberant state.

It being a Sunday night meant that I only managed a couple of hours sleep before the show the next morning, so I started with the week a mite bleary eyed. I find that providing I don’t attend too many weekday gigs, ‘Doctor Footlights’ will see me through the next days show, and luckily I can usually go back to bed again by about 7 in the morning to catch up.

I’d forgotten that Monday was ‘going to see the family day’. After the show, I hopped onto a train to the Midlands and, 2 hours later this crazed, wired, jetlagged figure tottered into my dad’s house, babbling nonsense to him, my sister and brother in law, before staggering back to the railway station again. I went to bed earlier than usual and, unsurprisingly, slept very well.

It must be an age thing as I can still remember that as a student I was terrible with late nights so was worn out by about 11pm and then would find it more or less impossible to get out of bed before noon the following day. How things have changed. If I manage 5 hours without waking I am doing well.

Sometimes sleep (and perhaps you find this too), is difficult if you have something on your mind. I had:

The Friday before my holiday, I’d been very kindly invited to present the legendary Radio 2 show, ‘Friday Night it Music Night’, live from the Watford Coliseum by the producer Terry Carter - my old mate from Birmingham. A man with ‘reckless’ obviously written through him, like a stick of Blackpool rock! A man who is ‘Mr Music’, and whom I can wind up very easily by calling him ‘Dr Jazz’, as he’s a walking musical encyclopaedia and long time producer of the much missed Humphrey Lyttleton show.

During the late 80's and early 90s I did quite a lot of concerts for Radio 2. So many in fact that I realised it was a false economy to keep hiring a tuxedo from Moss Bros. So, at the end of one series of shows, I bought an ex-rental evening suit for £30. It was passable and the only blemish was a cigarette burn in the back of the trousers. After proudly hanging it up in my wardrobe I never did another concert. Until now that is. It still fitted although the fag burn hadn't healed.



The show with the BBC Concert Orchestra featured the music of George Fenton who was a name I knew in connection with film scores. It was only when I arrived at the venue and we did a run-through in rehearsal, that I realised what a superstar the man is. ‘Ghandi’, ‘Cry Freedom’, ‘Shadowlands’, ‘Groundhog Day’. The list went on and on. And he’s written a load of TV stuff including ‘Bergerac’. The guy isn't even 60 - how he’s had time to even eat I have no idea as so much music has been pouring out of him. He’s a fine musician as well and he had his own band with him to perform some of the tunes.

The presenters job is to babble in between the pieces, telling the audience in the theatre and at home a bit about the music, and also to give everyone in the band time to turn their music over. Or in George's case, to leg it from the front of the orchestra to the back where he sat with his own group. This is a whole different ball game to what I am used to which is sitting in my comfort zone in the studio in the middle of the night.

First off I had to stand at the front of the 60 piece Concert Orchestra. People could see me. They were within missile hurling distance.

When the music was on I would sit at the side of the auditorium studying my finely honed script very carefully. It’s a far more formal way of doing things than just fooling around as we do with the ‘Best Time of the Day Show’. It reminded me a bit of my time as a TV announcer. Again a different discipline. You had 20 seconds to speak. If you cocked it up you then had 2 hours to sit and seethe at your own inadequacies whilst the film was on.

Surprise, surprise! Somehow it passed of without a hitch. The music was wonderful and a few members of the audience came up to say “Hello” and how much they had enjoyed it. This was far better than the last concert I did, which was from the Golders Green Hippodrome. As I recall, after the show a couple of elderly gentleman collared me. I assumed they wanted to chat to me and to tell me how fantastic I’d been. Possibly they wanted an autograph as well.

"Excuse me mate", said one of them. "Where are the toilets?"

TIS THE SEASON TO BE FUNNY, FA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA

OK so it’s four weeks before Christmas or "Winterval" if you prefer. Already we can see the signs. Ignore all the music in the shops and those horribly smug ads on the TV with members of Take That,Twiggy and that woman with the corkscrew hair that doesn't appear to possess anything to wear other than underwear. We are beginning to reap the rich rewards of people getting festive. This is usually expressed by the adoption of fancy dress.

This is just a way of getting a picture of top producer Andy who along with Simon has to suffer the seemingly endless torment of working with me first thing in the morning. It is a rota thing so whilst one is in the studio staring at me and willing me to burst, the other is in the office rocking slowly back and forth …being counselled by their co-workers.

Whilst I was temporarily filling in the Saturday evening 9-11pm slot for the last three weeks (and thank you for all your kind comments, by the way) Andy was on a credit crunch night out exploring a new "theme" restaurant. His friends had invited him to the opening night of a new Mexican place….it turns out was their place! When Andy and his wife turned up they were handed a hat and a moustache each. For some reason Andy's' wife decided not to be photographed in her sombrero and 'tache.

This prompted a thread on the show as so many things tend to. From what I remember we ended up designing the perfect low budget evening in. Which may or not involve some dressing up. Lets face it - it is what we Brits do best. Panto season will soon be upon us. Up and down the country people who once appeared in "Home and Away" or "TV's Love thy Neighbour" are gearing up for their biggest earner of the last 12 months as "Baron Hardup", "Widow Twanky" or "Wishee Washee".

Having given you a convoluted reason for a rather fine picture, here are two more. Once a year for the last we reckoned five years, the Reverend Andy who you can hear doing "Pause for Thought" on the Sarah Kennedy show and the wonderfully committed volunteers invite me to open the St John’s Church Arts and Crafts Fair. There are a multitude of reasons for this. From my point of view it is a chance to meet some excellent folk and ingest some of the finest sandwiches and cake you will find anywhere. From the good Reverend's perspective it increases the size of his flock by one. He is of a mind that if you turn up to church regularly you are part of his congregation. I turn up once a year so that makes me regular enough for him. That is top thinking!

Whilst I was looking at the stalls I noticed the first sighting of "Antlerwatch" for the 2008 season. Fran Courtney who is a potter, and makes some amazing stuff using leaves as templates, decided to brighten proceedings by donning a pair of fake antlers. It must be stressed here that in reality she would not qualify for "Antlerwatch". We will be posting the rules on the website round about December 8th when the campaign starts in earnest. In a nutshell it is the fallout from office parties which involve drunks wearing flashing antlers weeping or arguing into their mobiles whilst clutching a shoe with a broken heel with the other hand. Although I didn't check her shoes, she had no visible cell phone and was stone cold sober.

Whilst chatting with a number of people I noticed a familiar face in the crowd. "You may not remember me" he said. It is difficult to place some people out of context. "I am your Doctor". Luckily I don't see him very often. The last time being five years ago. We are of similar age so whilst people were glugging coffee and sticky cakes and rich sandwiches, we started chatting about statins and prostate checks. He admitted that he wasn't on statins but perhaps he should be. I wondered how he checked his prostate. Was he a contortionist with maybe a mirror AND a glove? "I get my Doctor to do it" Ah …yes of course! So I may pop by his surgery for a once over at some point. I can assure you of one thing: That is a picture that isn't going to turn up on any website!

Whilst on the subject of campaigns, the 2008/2009 truck-writing season is going very well. I think it is going to be our most successful year to date. In previous years we have, when the dirt on vehicles has softened, encouraged people to write our nonsense slogans to spread the word about the show. In the past we have had "Slap My Top" and "Boloxnia or Bust" which have spawned successful websites. (The links to them are available from my page on the R2 site)

This year we have gone for two. Since a furious listener described me on the Ken Bruce show as a "Swirling cesspool of filth" after a couple of mild remarks about commercially available cocktails (of the type that lead to Antlerwatch so Drinkaware - wow this blog fits together like a jigsaw) it was decided the acronym S.C.O.F would look good on the back of trucks along with "Seek the Dark", we are getting dozens of reports from all over the country. This is most heart-warming so thank you and keep up the good work. We hope to start adding pictures to the Radio 2 website on this theme fairly shortly.

BANG! (Up To Date)

Where was I now....ah yes a couple of weeks behind - sorry about that! Here’s the reason: Too much going on. As you can imagine it’s been an ‘interesting’ few weeks here at Radio 2 which has meant I have had some extra work on with our ‘Best Time Of The Day Show Omnibus’, which has been going out on a Saturday evening. A casualty of this extra show has been the weekend and, on the first Saturday, a Steve Winwood gig which was a shame. However you came out in droves to support the new time slot, so that was a comfort.

Still, I have managed to see the ‘Easy Star All Stars’ at a small club. They were top fun doing their ‘Dub Side of the Moon’ album and tracks from ‘Radiodread’. I think you can tell by the titles what they were up to. They have featured on ‘Lester’s Library’ a few times over the years so it was good to see them live.

The following weekend, Libido Boy made another appearance in London on his way to a hot date, and we found time to go to the Irish Cultural Centre in Hammersmith to catch up with Eleanor McEvoy. She’s an artist who I’ve added to the file ‘Can Do No Wrong’, which is a thread we’re going to try on the show in a future edition. It was just her with her electric and acoustic guitars, her Mandolin and her fiddle and the most wonderful voice. She can raise the hair on the back of your neck. It had all you needed for the perfect venue as well. Stackabye chairs, Formica tables and a bar.

As we left she was signing CD's for her fans in the foyer. She gave L Boy a peck on the cheek and I thought he was going to faint with pleasure.....I got a peck on the cheek and a hug!

A midweek visit to the Royal Albert Hall for a terrific evening watching, or should it be ‘witnessing’, the good Reverend Al Green. The audience lapped it up and he just had to sing the first line of a song and the rest of us filled in the next lines - such is the power of his catalogue. First act I’ve ever seen who had a Red Roses Roadie. He sang and dispensed flowers to the Laydeez, who hugged and kissed him. Now I know why people get into music; it’s for the sex.

Went off to see a friend of mine who, like so many, is suffering from the downturn in the economy. We met in a curious tea shop which she recommended, not only for the quality of the produce, but for its idiosyncratic toilets. Yes, those pods are individual khazi's complete with a mirror mood lighting and music. I had to go. Felt like a kid. Not sure if the music was the same in each one - perhaps they could have changed it depending on the need? Ambient music for prostate trouble and death metal to drown the screams caused by the rigours of constipation!

As we had tea and buns, she told me that because a lot of her freelance work had dried up due to the recession (Which I gather is now official), she had to accept a job which normally she would have run from at great speed. She’s terrified of flying and hasn't been on a plane in 25 years. She is teetotal. She is also very fair skinned, so isn’t a fan of sunlight. However needs must, and so she had to accept the offer to go and do a bit of journalism, writing about a Vineyard in Australia!

Went out for a couple of drinks with friends after work and bumped into New York musician Nell Bryden who had just done a session for Bob Harris. She is top fun and she brought her band with her. Not sure if I mentioned this before, but she had the call to play for the troops in Iraq. I’d sent her a text message whilst she was away and she said it was the weirdest feeling getting a text from the UK, while sitting in a Blackhawk helicopter "Somewhere in the Middle East".

Apparently the gigs went well and the guys in her band were saying that they felt incredibly safe surrounded by soldiers and artillery. One weird quirk which was the opposite of the sign I saw in a bar during the last American Adventure which read no guns in the bar. Out there in the canteen, the sign reads ‘No Gun No Food’, so everyone keeps their weaponry with them at all times. They actually admitted that they felt safer there than they did in Brooklyn.

Friday morning, as the opener to Children in Need Music Marathon, for my final library track I played my contribution to the ‘Bandaged’ CD that the TOGS had organised. It’s a rendition of the Terry Scott classic ‘My Bruvver’. I’d not heard the finished version so listened to it with my ears peeking between my fingers. My Aunt, who is a music teacher, emailed to say that a new career beckons - she always did have a black sense of humour. Although it may be that some studio time needs to be booked so I can ‘re-imagine’ my copy of Decca's ‘The World of Charlie Drake’ (Blue spot for the stereo version. Red spot for the Mono you may recall). I can just hear myself murdering ‘My Boomerang Won't comeback’, ‘Mr Custer’, or maybe even ‘Naughty’ YEST!

Needless to say all this socialising and fun has meant that Blubberwatch has collapsed. Willpower is needed....but it is getting so close to Christmas now.

A Nerdy Night In Manchester

I had warned people when I sat in for Ken Bruce the other week that there was going to be another ‘DJ Fun Nite’. This is where various mates from the radio industry get together, eat and drink far too much and bore for Britain on a wide variety of subjects. They also talk about jingles and try and remember obscure "b" sides from equally obscure singles. One guy is such an idiot savant he can even tell you the colour of the label. Think ‘Rain Man’ with probably more farting. If you ever find yourself in the proximity of us on one of these evenings, flee before the life-force is sucked from you.

I am running approximately two weeks behind on the blog at the moment. This is due to there being a lot going on, so this night out took place on Friday 24th October.

The way it works is that somebody ‘curates’ the evening. Invites go out. A lot of people say they will definitely come. Then the day before - or on the day itself, there’s a stream of phone calls and emails from people saying that they can’t make it!

This one was going to be in Manchester. I’d not been there for years so I decided to drive up from London - stopping in the Midlands on the way to see my Dad, before heading up the M6. Bad mistake on a Friday afternoon. There were no accidents, but the traffic was terrible and it took more than 4 hours to travel 80 odd miles.

Thanks to the masterful Sat-Nav, I found the hotel easily enough but that was where the problems started. It was a modest city centre place with car parking underneath. The building was on stilts, so the spaces were tiny and a nightmare to access. Everyone who turned up that night had a horribly frustrating time inching back and forth until they gave up and left their vehicle half-in and half-out of a space.

By this time I had donned the mantle of my alter ego: ‘The Sweating Curmudgeon’. This is a bit like the Incredible Hulk, but with a worse temper and also probably slightly more odiferous. I stomped into the hotel in order to get some change for the car park as the ticket machine didn't give change. As I recall, an overnight ticket was £7.50. I handed over a tenner took my change and stomped back down the three flights of stairs I think it was a below-ground car park. I then discovered they’d given me ten £1 coins!!! "Boom"!!! Luckily, I found a 50p in my back pocket, which meant that a return trip wasn't necessary.

I checked-in, was given my room key and then discovered that the whole world was staying at this place: seven stories and two lifts of which only one was working – ‘Double Boom’.

Saw everyone gathered in the bar waiting. "Just have a quick shower as I am really feeling grubby.” Got to the room, (Look away now if you are of nervous disposition), clothes off…into the shower. No soap, nor shampoo and just one small towel. ‘Triple Boom’.

The room had obviously been a former crime scene. The door frame was splintered and had been hastily repaired. There was a sofa against one wall without a cushion and on the base there was an ominous stain. I checked the carpet so see if I could see any tracks where the body had been removed. One quick rinse later I was steaming in the bar. (Clothes on).

We had a drink and waited for everyone to arrive before heading out to the restaurant. As we left I noticed a slightly tipsy bloke texting frantically. The restaurant was very good and the mood improved as the drink flowed and the food arrived. I had corned beef hash.

After that we went to a swanky nightclub on the 23rd floor of a hotel and accommodation block in the centre of the city. Our hosts had fixed it so that we had a VIP entry. This meant we swished past a long queue of ‘Lairy blokes’ and ‘WAG wannabees’. Into the express lift and up we went. Lynda Bellingham of ‘Loose Women’ fame was there, although she seemed very well behaved. I’m not a nightclub person but it was very upscale and there were great views of Manchester at night. They also had a clever trick in that the tables were lit from underneath. This meant your cocktail, (Freddie Fudpucker anybody?), looked terrific and so did you.


Friday night, as it was pointed out, was not the night for the ‘WAG wannabees’ as all the footballers were tucked up in bed ready for the match on the morrow. So maybe the ‘Lairy blokes’ we saw earlier were reserve players chatting up the WAG second team. It’s a stereotype, but one that I found funny. When I was in Newcastle before Xmas last year, we noticed that even at 2 o'clock in the morning, a lot of the young women were spectacularly underdressed. The same was true of a lot of the girls we saw in Manchester, with one main difference. They were wearing layers and layers of fake tan and makeup to keep them warm.

At about 1 o'clock we headed back to the hotel where the bar had filled up with a spectacular selection of drunks. One of the bar staff was despatched from time to time to ensure that they were all sitting upright and hadn't given in to the temptation by having a lie down on the banquettes.

The tipsy texting guy was still there but he was now the fantastically drunk haphazardly texting guy. "What is the problem?" Debs, the only woman stupid enough to want to go out with us, asked the bloke with genuine concern in her voice. "My gurfrensh dummmmmmmpt mi" he hicced. "What happened?" "I schleptt wiv hur besht frenn". At this point you could hear any slight sympathy drain from the room like water gurgling down the plug hole!

Ended up in bed about 4am having put the world to rights as far as anyone can recall.

MORE MORE MORE!

In the throws of an enormous gig going at the moment, with a couple more to report on. I’m writing this blog more than a week after the event as so much has been happening that it’s difficult to keep up.

Friday 17th and it was off to see Walter Trout, whose a terrific blues/rock guitar player having been with John Mayall's 'Bluesbreakers’ and John Lee Hooker in his time, before embarking on a solo career.

You know what you’re going to get with a ‘Trout Gig’. A lot - and I mean a LOT, of guitar. If you don't like solo's don't go. His tour t-shirts read on the back "Too many notes…too loud!" Because the whole event is based around his guitar playing you get the distinct impression that the whole set-list is made up on the hoof. We were sitting up to the left of the stage on the balcony so had a great view. However perhaps it’s an age thing, but we were a bit close to the PA so my left ear was whistling after the event, which needed some firm action before the following night. I shall detail this in a moment. Walter is so at home with his instrument he is able to make it "talk". So, for the first time in my life as far as I can recall, a musical instrument has told me to "F%*&" off!"

Betcha can't guess where we went after the show….yup up to Camden and into the pub. Libido boy is on a health kick so he decided he was concerned about his drinking and particularly about the amount of crisps he was eating. He’s never been a smoker so his vice has always been salty snacks. So how was his willpower? "I'll just have a half" he announced when we arrived. Upon seeing the crowd at the bar he changed his order; "better make it a pint as it may take time to get another"………."oh and I think I'd better have a packet of crisps". So much for that iron will.

We found a seat and shortly after a couple of Spanish women and their boyfriends sat down next to us. I could see he was torn. It’s a compulsion.I could see him glancing and knew it was only a matter of time.

It’s not that he wanted to take them home or anything particularly, as they were obviously attached. He just likes talking to woman. Nor, should I add, in any particularly lascivious way. I think it’s similar to his desire for crisps – it’s a habit he’s got into.

Suddenly he snapped and launched into a tirade of slightly halting, but still pretty impressive to my ears…Spanish. They looked marginally taken aback and then they started chatting back. The guys also began taking part, smiling and laughing. There was the odd knitted brow and, by the time they finished their drinks and left, he’d obviously charmed them. I just sat sort of open mouthed. For his job ‘L Boy’ has travelled a lot so he has a smattering of different languages including some Chinese and the odd word in… (this is where as a true Brit I show my ignorance of other countries languages), er the language that they talk in Ethiopia.

Wow! I was impressed and asked him what he had been talking about. "Usual stuff where they came from and what they did” he replied. “They live in London and have been here for a few years. Trouble is they’re from Seville and, as I tend to travel to Barcelona for work, I kept confusing my Spanish with the Catalan…oh and I ruined the whole effect at the end when they left…." "What did you say to them, they did look a bit puzzled?" "Even though they’ve lived here for a while, I wished them a 'Happy Holiday!’”

The next day as the sun was shining, we decided to have a good walk round London which is always fun. So it was off through the park and down to the South Bank of the Thames, then we turned right and headed on past the London Eye with its huge queue. On along the Embankment and past a plaque that I’d never seen before which was a memorial to the victims of CJD and on towards Vauxhall past some impossibly expensive flats.

We wandered in to see how much they cost purely out of idle curiosity and immediately we were pounced on by ravenous sales staff. Anyone would think there was a property downturn. We escaped with our lives…just.

Then it was lunchtime. "I think I would like something light like a salad" said LibidoBoy. We found a café/restaurant. It was Portuguese although he decided that he didn't know enough of the language to attempt a conversation with the people serving. I’m not entirely sure they were Portuguese anyway. We looked at the list up behind the counter scanning for a salad. Then his eyes fell upon a buffet in the corner. Paella. Chicken. Pasta. Various Veg and bits of fish. "I think I'll have the all you can eat buffet", he said. So bang went the salad!

In the evening it was back to the same venue as the previous evening. I’d made preparations. Due to the volume of the previous nights gig, I’d gone and bought us both a pair of earplugs.
So after the largely middle aged male audience for Walter Trout it was a far younger energetic and bigger crowd for Rap artist Roots Manuva.

It was a near sell-out by the looks of it, which meant the top balcony was open. The upshot of this was that it appeared to be raining as beer sloshed from the crowd above as they danced. Being a pompous old git I often opine that it good to experience new forms of music. There are ones that perhaps we glibly write off as "rubbish". Rap is one such example The number of times I’ve heard people trot out wearily, "the c is silent as in rap" ho ho ho! People may not like a musical style but it’s pretty clever what with the samples and the rapid poetry and live it was a lot of fun. It was a home crowd, who were going wild. There is a lot of prejudice surrounding this music.

The audience in my unscientific sample appeared to be fairly evenly split male/female and black/white. So it can be a force for good. Maybe because of the reputation that it has, or perhaps because of the average age of the crowd, before we went in we were frisked fairly comprehensively by security. Searching I assume for weapons. Something that didn't happen the previous night for Walter Trout.

We sat there drenched in beer, smiling beatifically as the kids danced and we listened and tapped our feet to a terrific artist at the top of his game and, thanks to the earplugs, at an acceptable volume.


Stop press: Blubberwatch update: No change. However I have visited a gym just round the corner from the BBC which opens at 06.30 each morning. May sign up, "Think thin for Xmas".

SO MUCH MUSIC, SO LITTLE TIME

After a frankly disappointing ‘Blubberwatch Wacky Weigh-In’ on Thursday morning at 10.30 am, (This is when I appear to be at my lightest), I have only lost a few more ounces. I think drastic action is called for as this plateau is getting annoying. I’m going to have to check out the gym to ‘up’ my calorie burn-rate to see if that helps.

Friday evening, I went down to the Mermaid Theatre in London to catch Glen Campbell who was doing a special gig for Radio 2 as part of "Friday Night is Music Night". His voice was a mite shaky at the start, but his guitar playing was spot on and he soon warmed up. Although after the first few songs he said the same thing each time: "Glad to be here but at my age it is good to be anywhere.” This gag outstayed its welcome after a while.

It reminded me of a terrible train journey from Hastings to London a few years back, which suffered terrible delays, and at each stop the conductor/guard preceded each announcement with the sound of the toilet flushing and said: "Sorry to announce that this service has really gone down the pan". By the time we reached Waterloo East we were ready to flush him headfirst.

Once Glen had got onto more familiar ground with a selection of his hits such as “By the time I get to Phoenix”, "Wichita Lineman", and a wonderful version of my favourite Glen Campbell tune although originally written by Alan Toussaint, "Southern Nights", he was really on the money..superb.

I tried to count the number of musicians on the stage but, by the time I had nearly finished counting, some more would arrive or some would leave. I checked with the producer - Al Booth, after the show and she said the BBC Concert orchestra, along with Glen's band, fielded 56 instrumentalists and singers. I didn't ask her if, as producer, she had to buy the drinks after. If so, that was going to be one expensive round. I did buy her a pint which she thoroughly deserved. From my limited experience with orchestras and musicians you need a whip and a chair to keep them all in the same place, let alone playing the same tune. The results you can judge for yourself on BBC Radio 2, Friday 14th November at 7.30pm

Paul Gambaccini did the introductions. Whenever I meet him I always feel like he has my brain in a vice and is squeezing it like a sponge. He just knows so much. He did a faultless, seemingly off-the-cuff introduction, entirely from memory which was packed with facts and trivia about Glen, the BBC Concert Orchestra and he still even remembered to tell the audience to switch their mobiles off. He’s a nice guy as well. I think I’m suffering from ‘IQ envy’.

Saturday up early and on the train to Hastings to take part in ‘Hastings Week’. This is a lot of fun with loads of events and my small contribution was to judge the ‘Classic Car Show’ in the Old Town. As usual a dazzling array of old cars polished to a higher standard than when they were new. Proud owners stood and beamed, presumably worried about sticky fingered members of the public like me. One sadness was that, rather like the toys you had as a kid, the shifting timeline of "My Dad has a car like that", is now turning into "I had a car like that". No wonder my Teddy Bear looks like it belongs in a museum. Hardly any fur and blind. Although for reasons I am not entirely sure - as they are lost in the mists of time….wearing a dress!

The award went to Pauline Preston and her 1930 Chevrolet. She was living the part dressed in period clothes including a dead fox stole. On the back seat was an old U.S Newspaper reporting the ‘Wall Street Crash’, which seemed remarkably prescient.

Then back on the train in time to meet Libido Boy, who was on his way down from the Midlands, for a Saturday night gig at the Royal Festival Hall on the South Bank of the Thames. This was going to be a tribute to Nico the German singer and songwriter who died twenty years ago. She’d been part of The Velvet Underground and Andy Warhol’s clique of "Superstars" – all of whom were famous for fifteen minutes. However, her fame, lasted a good deal longer. The tribute was curated by fellow ‘Velvet’ member John Cale.

It was an intense, dark and brooding evening. A host of singers and musicians appeared -some I recognised, most I didn't. John Cale tick, Peter Murphy - former lead singer with Bauhaus tick, James Dean Bradfield from the Manic Street Preachers tick - erm is that a Guillemot? A lot more came and went. LB nudged me in the ribs and said: "I don't recognise any of these songs". He was the big Nico fan. It was strange and thrilling all at the same time. I’ve never been to a concert like it. Everything had a dark motif as befits the music but no-one was introduced.


After the interval when the drinks had kicked in, the same artists came out for ‘round two’. This time the audience started shouting; "Who are you?" when performers took the stage. Suddenly it was over, and they were gone. We both enjoyed it as it was unlike anything we had witnessed before and it’s nice to go and hear things that you’re not familiar with as it broadens the mind.

It was then time to hit the town. We ended up in Camden once again, where the bars stay open late. It’s always exciting with scores of people milling around obviously having a good time and there’s a strong ‘police presence’ so we never feel threatened by the throng. We had a drink in one pub where we noticed that we were the oldest people there and we then saw a rather nice look place that wasn't too crowded. The doorman stopped us and said: "Its £4 to come in". "What do we get for that?" we asked. "We stay open ‘til 3am and we are a gay bar" he offered. Two smallish slightly camp middle aged men looked at each other, (us), and decided against, just as two spectacularly beautiful women waltzed in. "But but…..the er….oh erm its not exclusively er.. blokes is it the notion of er… gay". We slunk off into the night two straw-chewing, unsophisticated, provincial hicks.