Tonight my 'er got an award at school. Yes I know I was amazed as the next person.
Don't get me wrong 'er is not a bad kid but has the 'er attitude off to a 'T' just now (& I am sorry but the influence of USA teen programmes has a lot to answer for, the head wobble and 'whatever' lights the blue touch paper with me) & it is taking much resolve not to put an ad in the national (no not local) press 'Free to a Good Home'
Anyhow tonight the prize wasn't bronze, nor silver and no not gold either ........ it was PLATINUM!! ( well blow me down)
When the 'er was asked 'why are you getting such an award?' ... the reply was 'coz I am good thats why!!!'
Nothing like being sure of yourself hey??
As my 'er sat with the top peers of the year in the assembly hall the pride started to well up in my heart. The 'ers name was called and the award was received with a handshake and an embarrassed smile.
The lump in my throat was huge and the tear in my eye was just sitting there ready to flood forth like a burst dam. I applauded modestly, as were my strict instructions (from 'er) but inside I was whistling, cheering and jumping for joy for all my worth.
It was a moment akin to that sack race... a proud mum loving every minute, every image of her child's life.
As we walked to the car I said 'Oh so well done darling, I am so proud!'
The reply was ' well that is the last time I am doing good at school, that was so embarrassing, I nearly died and Mr. ****** had such a sweaty handshake, it was gross'
BANG.... back to reality of living with an 'er .....but at least I am forewarned that maybe the first and last time I am invited to an awards evening
Monday, 23 July 2007
Friday, 20 July 2007
What is Friendship?
An interesting concept indeed. We all have friends whether real or in 21st C living ..merely virtual.
Over the years I have seen friends come and go. Some I am sorry to have lost were special but on reflection they were there for a specific time and relationships can out grow their owners ocassionally.
I am fortunate I have a good selection of friends, both male and female, and as we have grown we have scattered around the country and the globe. Some, alas, have become increasingly 'virtual' and our only contact seems to be via the internet these days. I wonder sometimes without this invention would we have made more effort to see each other?
My circle of friends have always had their different functions... there are the very chosen few (& when I say chosen... it means just that) who know absolutely EVERYTHING about me, those who have shared my brightest joys, my passions, my deepest darkest sadness's and also my wildest dreams - I class them as lifetime friends
There are others that have tread with me through life who know the happier, positive, optimistic, great laugh me that may be legion (and I have chosen to hold back on other stuff that does not fit with them, their life's make up, background and their perception of how life is.... I tried the honest approach once with one who knew me briefly, but obviously not well enough because it back fired... one of those 'you should have kept your mouth shut ' moments!!!), then there are others who have stood by me at vital times and have passed through.
It does facinate me to observe life, friendship, personal interaction and analyse how they develop.
For what ever reason friends touch your soul, whether it be for a specific time or reason, a season or for your entire lifetime, each one should be cherished as they have contributed to who you are now. Each one has had something valuable to give and I hope along the way I have reciprocated equally.
Friends mould who we are, we recognise who to call on at various times in our lives and we must count ourselves lucky that we have such allies in life.
Over the years I have seen friends come and go. Some I am sorry to have lost were special but on reflection they were there for a specific time and relationships can out grow their owners ocassionally.
I am fortunate I have a good selection of friends, both male and female, and as we have grown we have scattered around the country and the globe. Some, alas, have become increasingly 'virtual' and our only contact seems to be via the internet these days. I wonder sometimes without this invention would we have made more effort to see each other?
My circle of friends have always had their different functions... there are the very chosen few (& when I say chosen... it means just that) who know absolutely EVERYTHING about me, those who have shared my brightest joys, my passions, my deepest darkest sadness's and also my wildest dreams - I class them as lifetime friends
There are others that have tread with me through life who know the happier, positive, optimistic, great laugh me that may be legion (and I have chosen to hold back on other stuff that does not fit with them, their life's make up, background and their perception of how life is.... I tried the honest approach once with one who knew me briefly, but obviously not well enough because it back fired... one of those 'you should have kept your mouth shut ' moments!!!), then there are others who have stood by me at vital times and have passed through.
It does facinate me to observe life, friendship, personal interaction and analyse how they develop.
For what ever reason friends touch your soul, whether it be for a specific time or reason, a season or for your entire lifetime, each one should be cherished as they have contributed to who you are now. Each one has had something valuable to give and I hope along the way I have reciprocated equally.
Friends mould who we are, we recognise who to call on at various times in our lives and we must count ourselves lucky that we have such allies in life.
Wednesday, 18 July 2007
School Sports Day
A realisation of 20th Century meets 21st Century!
In my day (oh how old does that make me sound) I was an athlete, played every sport going, practised 3 nights a week whether it be netball, rounders or athletics. So come school sports day I was ready for any competitor. My spikes were ready along with my kit the night before.
Today was my 'ers Sports Day (I call the teenager 'er' as that is the extent of the language of a teen 'like er whatever!'). I had established that the 'er' was competing only in the relay... what no 100 meters, no long jump, no hurdles?
This morning consisted of a mither , upon waking, of 'where is my black velour tracksuit and the top we got in Matalan yesterday?' ' I need my Shocks not my K-Swiss as my Shocks are better for running in '
The 'er' then came down stairs ready for school. I glanced round, and then took a double take!!
'Have you got hair extensions in?' I exclaimed!
'Yes & ?' came the reply
'But you are doing sports day?' I said
'Yes I know Mum, I have my hair tied up, so what is the problem? Don't fuss!'
I also noticed the spray tan had been applied along with full makeup and the nails had been French manicured......................
To add insult to injury, coming from a once really sporty school kid.... a mate of 'er' called round and said ' I would rather do Maths all day than do Sports Day!'
I gingerly asked why and said how much I had enjoyed sport at school
The reply was ' oh no way, how can you do that with everyone watching, it is soooo embarrassing?'
That was never a thought in my head at 'er' years, I wanted to compete and do my best...... so I apologise here and now that I and other parents have bred more Paris Hiltons to populate the world.
In my day (oh how old does that make me sound) I was an athlete, played every sport going, practised 3 nights a week whether it be netball, rounders or athletics. So come school sports day I was ready for any competitor. My spikes were ready along with my kit the night before.
Today was my 'ers Sports Day (I call the teenager 'er' as that is the extent of the language of a teen 'like er whatever!'). I had established that the 'er' was competing only in the relay... what no 100 meters, no long jump, no hurdles?
This morning consisted of a mither , upon waking, of 'where is my black velour tracksuit and the top we got in Matalan yesterday?' ' I need my Shocks not my K-Swiss as my Shocks are better for running in '
The 'er' then came down stairs ready for school. I glanced round, and then took a double take!!
'Have you got hair extensions in?' I exclaimed!
'Yes & ?' came the reply
'But you are doing sports day?' I said
'Yes I know Mum, I have my hair tied up, so what is the problem? Don't fuss!'
I also noticed the spray tan had been applied along with full makeup and the nails had been French manicured......................
To add insult to injury, coming from a once really sporty school kid.... a mate of 'er' called round and said ' I would rather do Maths all day than do Sports Day!'
I gingerly asked why and said how much I had enjoyed sport at school
The reply was ' oh no way, how can you do that with everyone watching, it is soooo embarrassing?'
That was never a thought in my head at 'er' years, I wanted to compete and do my best...... so I apologise here and now that I and other parents have bred more Paris Hiltons to populate the world.
And gone are the beautiful days were the child would be in the sack race, face glowing and smiling with pride as Mum watched and cheered and the child would give it their all!!
Tuesday, 17 July 2007
Old True Thoughts/ Words of Wisdom
I have just been surfing blogs (whilst waiting for tea to cook) and nipped in to see how my old mate LT was getting on with her granddad's story (F.A.I.).
She is tracking his life through from 1884 to his death in the 60's.
Currently she is in 'thinking mode' and I have just read her interlude, which is extracts from an old book published in 1892 called 'A Millions Book of Laughter'. The book has a selection of (bad) jokes, recipes, useless (but fascinating facts) and some food for thought.
In this interlude there are a couple of very profound, true words from a time so different to now but would equally apply if we gave them some space in our lives.
This really has made me think
The greatest pleasure of life is love, the greatest treasure is contentment, the greatest luxury is health, the greatest comfort is sleep, and the best medicine is a true friend
In this mad, whirling, selfish, materialistic world these simple truths are all we need. No more searching for the Holy Grail, it is already here within us.
LT has kindly e mailed me some through for inclusion into Random Place.
We often speak about being settled in life; we might as well speak of anchoring in the midst of the Atlantic Ocean
Sincerity is to speak as we think, do as we pretend and profess, to perform and make good what we promise, and really to be what we would seem and appear to be.
Eloquence consists in feeling a truth yourself, and in making those who hear you feel it.
It has been said there are but two things worth living for - to do what is worthy of being written; and to write what is worthy of being done.
Eat slowly and you will not over eat
The best thing to give your enemy is forgiveness: to your opponent, tolerance; to a friend, your heart; to your child, a good example; to a father, deference; to your mother, conduct that will make her proud of you; to yourself, respect; too all men, charity.
Thank you LT for allowing me to use them
She is tracking his life through from 1884 to his death in the 60's.
Currently she is in 'thinking mode' and I have just read her interlude, which is extracts from an old book published in 1892 called 'A Millions Book of Laughter'. The book has a selection of (bad) jokes, recipes, useless (but fascinating facts) and some food for thought.
In this interlude there are a couple of very profound, true words from a time so different to now but would equally apply if we gave them some space in our lives.
This really has made me think
The greatest pleasure of life is love, the greatest treasure is contentment, the greatest luxury is health, the greatest comfort is sleep, and the best medicine is a true friend
In this mad, whirling, selfish, materialistic world these simple truths are all we need. No more searching for the Holy Grail, it is already here within us.
LT has kindly e mailed me some through for inclusion into Random Place.
We often speak about being settled in life; we might as well speak of anchoring in the midst of the Atlantic Ocean
Sincerity is to speak as we think, do as we pretend and profess, to perform and make good what we promise, and really to be what we would seem and appear to be.
Eloquence consists in feeling a truth yourself, and in making those who hear you feel it.
It has been said there are but two things worth living for - to do what is worthy of being written; and to write what is worthy of being done.
Eat slowly and you will not over eat
The best thing to give your enemy is forgiveness: to your opponent, tolerance; to a friend, your heart; to your child, a good example; to a father, deference; to your mother, conduct that will make her proud of you; to yourself, respect; too all men, charity.
Thank you LT for allowing me to use them
Sunday, 15 July 2007
Handy Hint
Quite often when we plan a little weekend trip away we may take some small bottles of beer, lager or the like for our enjoyment and relaxation but upon unpacking we find with horror that we have failed to pack the bottle opener. I found myself in this very same awful situation this weekend.
But don't distress the tops can be gently teased off with a handcuff key
But don't distress the tops can be gently teased off with a handcuff key
Another (random) Place
This is a great place to have a random place of mind ....... Crosby beach, near Liverpool.
Here stand 100 statues which are cast from the artists own image... Anthony Gormley
They span 3km of coast line and wander 1 km off into the Mersey.
My first attempt to meet with these guys was in earlier this year when Sunny came up for a girlie weekend...... the wind was blowing a severe gale and the tide was, how should I say, so high our hair do's got rather more than we had bargained for, the water was lashing wildly over the promenade. As large as these statues are you would be hard pressed to see a hair on their head (ok they don't have hair!)
My second attempt, however, was alot more successful, the tide was on its way out on a strange sunny/rainy/sunny evening.
The statues are tremendous... so Sunny these are for you
Here stand 100 statues which are cast from the artists own image... Anthony Gormley
They span 3km of coast line and wander 1 km off into the Mersey.
My first attempt to meet with these guys was in earlier this year when Sunny came up for a girlie weekend...... the wind was blowing a severe gale and the tide was, how should I say, so high our hair do's got rather more than we had bargained for, the water was lashing wildly over the promenade. As large as these statues are you would be hard pressed to see a hair on their head (ok they don't have hair!)
My second attempt, however, was alot more successful, the tide was on its way out on a strange sunny/rainy/sunny evening.
The statues are tremendous... so Sunny these are for you
What do you call a Gormley statue with a seagull on his head ??
Senetti 'v' Stylish Slug
Oh what joy to see the Senetti smiling at me
Happy and bright for only I and chosen friends to see
Never a frown from these happy faces
A favourite of mine bought from far away places
Happy and bright for only I and chosen friends to see
Never a frown from these happy faces
A favourite of mine bought from far away places
But then the rains came for days on end
I couldn't get out much to tend my friend
But never fear for someone gave them a hug
That loveable rogue, the 14cm, black, Stylish Slug
I couldn't get out much to tend my friend
But never fear for someone gave them a hug
That loveable rogue, the 14cm, black, Stylish Slug
Opening of a Sensory Garden
Despite the rain, a crowd turned out to witness the opening if a 'sensory garden'.
The beds were well stocked with heavily perfumed sweet smelling flowers.
The garden was perfectly placed beside inside a walled garden, protected from the winds.
The only snag was that it was also on a a grassy slope.
So the crowd of well wishers, viewed one poor sod, who tried in vain to push a partially sighted lady, in a wheelchair up to smell the flowers. And of course got stuck on the hill on a muddy grass slope....and had to be rescued.
Oh dear............................
Not sure if the camera crew from the local newspaper photographed that bit of the 'grand' opening.
10/10 for the nice thought and gesture.
3/10 for the planning and design.
We may have evolved in some ways - but maybe not in common sense.
The beds were well stocked with heavily perfumed sweet smelling flowers.
The garden was perfectly placed beside inside a walled garden, protected from the winds.
The only snag was that it was also on a a grassy slope.
So the crowd of well wishers, viewed one poor sod, who tried in vain to push a partially sighted lady, in a wheelchair up to smell the flowers. And of course got stuck on the hill on a muddy grass slope....and had to be rescued.
Oh dear............................
Not sure if the camera crew from the local newspaper photographed that bit of the 'grand' opening.
10/10 for the nice thought and gesture.
3/10 for the planning and design.
We may have evolved in some ways - but maybe not in common sense.
Saturday, 14 July 2007
Stylish Slug
A long deep inky black slug sauntered across a garden path.
This slug was at least 14cm long, and may well qualify as the longest slug in the kingdom.
But what set this beastie apart from the rest, was a carefully placed flower sitting on its body.
You couldn't but help admire its style.
This slug was at least 14cm long, and may well qualify as the longest slug in the kingdom.
But what set this beastie apart from the rest, was a carefully placed flower sitting on its body.
You couldn't but help admire its style.
Friday, 13 July 2007
Way Hey 'tis Summer
As I switched off my PC after surfing for the last half hour of work I distinctly had that TGF feeling after a week of meetings for meeting sake (nothing new there I guess).
Exiting my office with my trusty brolly friend erect I decided to not take my usual route to the railway station but to take a more covered track. Normally a great idea but was met with steps 3 inches deep in water. Not discouraged (as it is Friday and the weekend) I carried on.
As I stepped out of the covered area, old trusty brolly was beaten by a rather harsh gust of wind, try as he might he could not fight it (it was a brave well fought battle I can tell you) he turned inside out, upside down and all about, but died a death and I am afraid to say he is now RIP in a council bin some 100 yards from Deansgate Station. ( a few minutes thought for a trusted guardian who tried to looked after me in this great British summer!)
Noticed the time and had to do that oh so embarrassing ‘girlie run’ sans brolly, with handbag & M&S purchase flaying plus high heels tottering and skidding in order to catch my train. Thankfully, yes. I made it.
It’s rush hour and oh my there are seats available how unusual?
I sat myself down in a seat that could house a family of 3… result and got out my book for a melt down read!
Why were the seats free? Because the rain was p…p…p…pouring in through the train roof… what an advertisement for being Green and using public transport. Too proud/embarrassed to get up and move I endured a shower for the 15 minute journey (although I did manage to sit at a weird angle where the rain just missed me , looking like some poor soul with a serious piles problem)… I guess it amused the other passengers though! I may well be source for their enjoyment as they tell their friends tonight about ‘this mad woman that fell for the ‘wet seat’ on the train’.
Got off the train and descended the stairs to the subway, oh joy another 3 inches of water on every step.
Managed to get home dragging my legs flip flapping with jeans weighing 3 tonnes on each leg, soddened to the knee (thank god I have strong thighs!), plus my nether regions that were looking like I needed incontinence pants.
Ah finally I am home! Quick change out of the saturated shoes, jeans, jacket et al (and why did I even bother this morning with the GHDs?)… let the dog out into the back garden…… and lo and behold….Oh wow a gift from wherever something what I have always wanted ……..a pond in my garden.
Must get some Koi Carp tomorrow
Well it is Friday 13th
Exiting my office with my trusty brolly friend erect I decided to not take my usual route to the railway station but to take a more covered track. Normally a great idea but was met with steps 3 inches deep in water. Not discouraged (as it is Friday and the weekend) I carried on.
As I stepped out of the covered area, old trusty brolly was beaten by a rather harsh gust of wind, try as he might he could not fight it (it was a brave well fought battle I can tell you) he turned inside out, upside down and all about, but died a death and I am afraid to say he is now RIP in a council bin some 100 yards from Deansgate Station. ( a few minutes thought for a trusted guardian who tried to looked after me in this great British summer!)
Noticed the time and had to do that oh so embarrassing ‘girlie run’ sans brolly, with handbag & M&S purchase flaying plus high heels tottering and skidding in order to catch my train. Thankfully, yes. I made it.
It’s rush hour and oh my there are seats available how unusual?
I sat myself down in a seat that could house a family of 3… result and got out my book for a melt down read!
Why were the seats free? Because the rain was p…p…p…pouring in through the train roof… what an advertisement for being Green and using public transport. Too proud/embarrassed to get up and move I endured a shower for the 15 minute journey (although I did manage to sit at a weird angle where the rain just missed me , looking like some poor soul with a serious piles problem)… I guess it amused the other passengers though! I may well be source for their enjoyment as they tell their friends tonight about ‘this mad woman that fell for the ‘wet seat’ on the train’.
Got off the train and descended the stairs to the subway, oh joy another 3 inches of water on every step.
Managed to get home dragging my legs flip flapping with jeans weighing 3 tonnes on each leg, soddened to the knee (thank god I have strong thighs!), plus my nether regions that were looking like I needed incontinence pants.
Ah finally I am home! Quick change out of the saturated shoes, jeans, jacket et al (and why did I even bother this morning with the GHDs?)… let the dog out into the back garden…… and lo and behold….Oh wow a gift from wherever something what I have always wanted ……..a pond in my garden.
Must get some Koi Carp tomorrow
Well it is Friday 13th
Thursday, 12 July 2007
Mackrel Skies
Did anyone notice the 'mackrel' sky tonight?
Its a sky to be viewed in the wilderness, where electricity is vague.
In the 'olden days' ie. medieval times, the belief was that life underwater mirrored what was above water. So many things were named from earth creatures , ie seahorse, dogfish, catfish....
Maybe in uncharted times, the sky also mirrored the earth, and hence earth names were given....mackrel skies.
And talking of sky stuff, no one really knows where all the astrology signage and information originated...it wasn't astonomers....
But isn't life today lacking somewhat in inspiration, when scientists name a new planets with a number.
Its a sky to be viewed in the wilderness, where electricity is vague.
In the 'olden days' ie. medieval times, the belief was that life underwater mirrored what was above water. So many things were named from earth creatures , ie seahorse, dogfish, catfish....
Maybe in uncharted times, the sky also mirrored the earth, and hence earth names were given....mackrel skies.
And talking of sky stuff, no one really knows where all the astrology signage and information originated...it wasn't astonomers....
But isn't life today lacking somewhat in inspiration, when scientists name a new planets with a number.
An Evening to Remember
Manchester International Festival is currently in full swing and I had the foresight weeks and weeks ago to buy tickets for a performance being held at the Museum of Science and Industry.
Thank goodness for email as the kind organizers of the Festival sent me a reminder that I had indeed bought tickets.
Last week I had the absolute pleasure and delight to see The Pianist.
A live production of Wladyslaw Szpiliman’s harrowing story of German occupation in Warsaw during WWII staged by Neil Bartlett.
The setting was tremendous, the dark, dusty 1830’s warehouse within the Science Museum's site. On entering the warehouse we were ushered up the stairs in semi-darkness by staff with torches. The stage was not raised but in the middle of the seating at ground level and the only prop consisted of a marvelous grand piano standing proud under a spotlight no more than 13 feet from the front seated audience.
We were a small intimate audience of maybe 90 people.
Much polite chatter echoed around the warehouse as we waited for the performance to begin. Above the chatter harsh rain could be heard beating down on the roof of the warehouse that added to feeling of being somewhere totally alien, somewhere quite awesome outside of our modern, 21st century rat race lives.
Suddenly there was a deathly hush and the two performers entered one by one in the dark illuminated only by a subtle footlight that showed the particles of dust that lay in the air.
Firstly Peter Guinness, narrator, dresses in black slowly, silently walked to the piano and around it. Then Mikhail Rudy similarly walked slowly on set and seated himself at the piano. You could have heard a pin drop despite the steady relentless rain outside.
During the 90-minute performance, Peter Guinness became Szpiliman; his delivery was superb, his timing and execution of the story was breath taking. He walked around the ‘stage’ at one time standing so close to where I was seated I could have touched him.
The casting, in my book, was precisely right.
The narration was timely separated by the wonderful music of Chopin and Szpiliman’s own compositions unfalteringly played by Mikhail Rudy.
During the performance I took a time to watch the audience seated opposite me. Everyone, without exception, was rooted to their seats and hanging on every word spoken and every note played. I too was transfixed.
I have seen many theatre productions over the years, musicals (of many varieties), Shakespeare, ballet and so on, but this performance has to be the most unusual, awe inspiring, thought provoking piece of theatre I have ever seen. I would not have missed it for the world. I believe this may have been the first time the performance had been delivered in English and my utmost respect is extended to Neil Bartlett and his team for their professional interpretation of this most haunting account of Szpiliman’s survival. Thank you.
The performance ends on Sunday (as does the festival). If you are fortunate to be in Manchester and fortunate enough to get tickets I would strongly recommend you go. If you have tickets already…. I guarantee you will not be disappointed.
Thank goodness for email as the kind organizers of the Festival sent me a reminder that I had indeed bought tickets.
Last week I had the absolute pleasure and delight to see The Pianist.
A live production of Wladyslaw Szpiliman’s harrowing story of German occupation in Warsaw during WWII staged by Neil Bartlett.
The setting was tremendous, the dark, dusty 1830’s warehouse within the Science Museum's site. On entering the warehouse we were ushered up the stairs in semi-darkness by staff with torches. The stage was not raised but in the middle of the seating at ground level and the only prop consisted of a marvelous grand piano standing proud under a spotlight no more than 13 feet from the front seated audience.
We were a small intimate audience of maybe 90 people.
Much polite chatter echoed around the warehouse as we waited for the performance to begin. Above the chatter harsh rain could be heard beating down on the roof of the warehouse that added to feeling of being somewhere totally alien, somewhere quite awesome outside of our modern, 21st century rat race lives.
Suddenly there was a deathly hush and the two performers entered one by one in the dark illuminated only by a subtle footlight that showed the particles of dust that lay in the air.
Firstly Peter Guinness, narrator, dresses in black slowly, silently walked to the piano and around it. Then Mikhail Rudy similarly walked slowly on set and seated himself at the piano. You could have heard a pin drop despite the steady relentless rain outside.
During the 90-minute performance, Peter Guinness became Szpiliman; his delivery was superb, his timing and execution of the story was breath taking. He walked around the ‘stage’ at one time standing so close to where I was seated I could have touched him.
The casting, in my book, was precisely right.
The narration was timely separated by the wonderful music of Chopin and Szpiliman’s own compositions unfalteringly played by Mikhail Rudy.
During the performance I took a time to watch the audience seated opposite me. Everyone, without exception, was rooted to their seats and hanging on every word spoken and every note played. I too was transfixed.
I have seen many theatre productions over the years, musicals (of many varieties), Shakespeare, ballet and so on, but this performance has to be the most unusual, awe inspiring, thought provoking piece of theatre I have ever seen. I would not have missed it for the world. I believe this may have been the first time the performance had been delivered in English and my utmost respect is extended to Neil Bartlett and his team for their professional interpretation of this most haunting account of Szpiliman’s survival. Thank you.
The performance ends on Sunday (as does the festival). If you are fortunate to be in Manchester and fortunate enough to get tickets I would strongly recommend you go. If you have tickets already…. I guarantee you will not be disappointed.
Tuesday, 10 July 2007
Poetry Meets Music
I was introduced today to this exceptionally unique adventure that has joined together the written word with music. It is a collaboration of Scottish writers, poets, singers & bands supported by the Scottish Arts Council. It's all about turning poetry into music!
Chemikal Underground took over the recording of the album in 2006.
As it says in the documentary..... 'there were no rules' an interesting concept and how it has achieved such greatness in turning the poetry and writing into a different media of interpretation to voice and music... I will speak no more just click onto Ballads of the Book .... sit back and enjoy (and you will enjoy!)
Chemikal Underground took over the recording of the album in 2006.
As it says in the documentary..... 'there were no rules' an interesting concept and how it has achieved such greatness in turning the poetry and writing into a different media of interpretation to voice and music... I will speak no more just click onto Ballads of the Book .... sit back and enjoy (and you will enjoy!)
Monday, 9 July 2007
& so they came by 3 at a time
Friday........ huge nail in back tyre (thankfully post hurtling down the motorway)
Saturday ......... slates blown off roof in our British summer (no paddling pool in loft)
Monday.......... car decides to pick a fight with big, iron gates (Gates 1 - Car 0)
So on the bright side, I am not in ITU, I have no ceilings to repair and hey the car should know better & Phew!! That over at least I am now safe for a while!
Saturday ......... slates blown off roof in our British summer (no paddling pool in loft)
Monday.......... car decides to pick a fight with big, iron gates (Gates 1 - Car 0)
So on the bright side, I am not in ITU, I have no ceilings to repair and hey the car should know better & Phew!! That over at least I am now safe for a while!
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