Rox

They were supposed to be dumplings, but I put plain flour instead of self-raising.

Thank you to Stu Jones for sending Sleeping Dogs Lie by The Chefs. Will have to get our skates on and sort out the greatest hits (ha ha) CD. I know what the cover will look like in my mind's eye, yellow and blue.
And thank you Punkdaddy for sending me the Punkdaddy and Dick Damage CD- haven't listened yet because of all the travelling this week but I will do and will write a little thing about it. Life is like fag-ash- you can blow it away.
I found Baby Don't Bogie and Steven Was A Mod tucked away in my computer files- both by Smeggy and the Cheesey Bits, Smeg's band before he joined King Kurt. There were two Daves in it, one on bass and one on guitar, and Bruv on guitar and Bernie on tartan drums. Bernie was a Ted and an actor (funny, not the only Brighton band to have a Ted drummer), and very moody, as I recall. Smeg (or Gary, as I know him) always wore an orange jumper. His father was a long-distance lorry driver who had agoraphobia and knitted Aran jumpers. He knitted a couple of Aran cardies for Bruv when he married Jenny, one each.
One of their best songs was
Elvis had a heart attack, hip hip hip hoo ray ray ray
Elvis had a heart attack and now he's gone a way way way
He ate too many skinny French fries...
Can't remember the rest.
It was much better than Elvis is Dead by Peter and the Test Tube Babies, which was a dirge by comparison. Peter used to stand at the front of the crowd at Joby and the Hooligans gigs like a disciple wearing a yellow hard-hat like the one Joby wore (except Joby's was white). He really liked Joby a lot.
I just had to delete something there, about what happened when Joby went to the pub and the landlord refused to serve him 'cos he had a safety pin though his nose. I'm sure Joby remembers the punishment he inflicted on the pub.
What a rambling evening I'm having. There's nothing on TV at the moment; I am sulking because I lost so many songs on my mobile and I'm trying to remember them. I like that programme about the choir man and the boys school. It reminds me a lot of what I do sometimes. I keep wanting to join in and then I realise I'm in the kitchen eating a banana and not there in the school hall with the smell of sweaty feet and a hundred yukky sweaty schoolboys.
I haven't got a London gig till May; I think I will ask Les if I can play at Northern Celts. I wonder when Tom gets back from New York? I want to hear the finished mixes of the album and send it off to Rob at Voiceprint. I'm thinking aloud now. I've got a new felt pen that's a nice shade of grey, sort of airforce blue. I wish I had some chocolate, Lindt milk chocolate from the fridge or a Snickers.
You know, if you make Magnum Classics very very cold indeed, the chocolate doesn't fall off when you eat them?