Crossword 4 #2

Scores on the doors:

Odette: 28 answers
Everyone else: Nothing

Odette, you got 34 across and 1 down wrong.



Across:
1. 70's album by The Faces (5,1,4,6)
8. "---- the DJ" - Morissey rant (4)
10. Popular video game (7)
13. Set of five horizontal lines and four spaces used in musical notation (5)
14. A drunk (3)
20. To inform in advance (6)
23. Graeme, former Goodie (6)
26. A short glug (3)
29. Unit of measurement (3)
32. Compliment (6)
34. Therefore (4)
36. The self, according to Freud (3)
38. Very pleased (6)
40. Residue (3)
41. Unique object or event (3-3)
42. Period of involvement (5)
48. Regret (3)
50. Pigment (5)
57. Mexican dish (4)

Down:
1. Drug law enforcement professional (4)
2. Second planet of the solar system (5)
3. Past (3)
4. Employ (3)
5. Males (3)
7. Not this (4)
9. Jerry Lee Lewis song (5,5,2,4)
10. Window gunk (5)
11. Man's skirt (4)
12. Hospital department (3,4,3,6)
15. Quite bad (4)
19. Let go (7)
24. Bitten (6)
27. Coddles (7)
31. Kind (31)
39. "Electric ----land", Jimi Hendrix album (4)
43. Anger (3)
44. Long hole (6)
46. "---- on Earth", Attenborough classic (4)
49. Boredom (5)
51. Top (4)
54. Conflict (3)

Crossword 4

Here we go then. Usual rules - post your answers in batches, person who gets the most right gets kudos from all the others. Nothing else.

I'll post the updated grid and the remaining clues every day or so, along with the leader board (assuming we have enough readers for more than one soul to have a go). It's customary for me (NOT a professional crossword compiler) to make cockups, miss off clues, miscount letters etc. If you see any errors and think it might help make things clearer, then feel free to keep your bloody trap shut.

Oh aye, the clues:

Across:
1. 70's album by The Faces (5,1,4,6)
8. "---- the DJ" - Morissey rant (4)
10. Popular video game (7)
12. Colour of unbleached linen (4)
13. Set of five horizontal lines and four spaces used in musical notation (5)
14. A drunk (3)
15. A deer - a female deer (3)
16. Film starring Bo Derek (3)
18. "He's ----- than a snake's arse", old chinese proverb (5)
20. To inform in advance (6)
22. Tides do this, half the time (3)
23. Graeme, former Goodie (6)
25. Bucket (4)
26. A short glug (3)
28. Sound of a lion (4)
29. Unit of measurement (3)
30. Man's quiche (3,3)
32. Compliment (6)
33. Sleep (3)
34. Therefore (4)
36. The self, according to Freud (3)
37. Way out (4)
38. Very pleased (6)
40. Residue (3)
41. Unique object or event (3-3)
42. Period of involvement (5)
45. Snake-like fish (3)
47. A beam of sunlight (3)
48. Regret (3)
50. Pigment (5)
52. Olfactory organ (4)
54. Moves in an aimless fashion (7)
57. Mexican dish (4)
58. Proudest man at a wedding (6,2,3,5)

Down:
1. Drug law enforcement professional (4)
2. Second planet of the solar system (5)
3. Past (3)
4. Employ (3)
5. Males (3)
6. ------ Comics, home of Spiderman and others (6)
7. Not this (4)
9. Jerry Lee Lewis song (5,5,2,4)
10. Window gunk (5)
11. Man's skirt (4)
12. Hospital department (3,4,3,6)
13. Female pig (3)
15. Quite bad (4)
17. Sciatic ones are a nuisance (6)
19. Let go (7)
21. Distant (3)
23. "------ is the word", Frankie Valley, circa 1978 (6)
24. Bitten (6)
25. American writer (3)
27. Coddles (7)
31. Kind (6)
32. Animal in a house (3)
35. Have possession of (3)
39. "Electric ----land", Jimi Hendrix album (4)
41. Shreks (5)
43. Anger (3)
44. Long hole (6)
46. "---- on Earth", Attenborough classic (4)
49. Boredom (5)
51. Top (4)
53. Footwear (4)
54. Conflict (3)
55. Goes between "co" and "uk" (3)
56. Type of grass (3)

Just a warning...

There's a crossword brewing. Just so's you know....

Midsummer Weekend

A weekend of enjoyment, pure and at times not so simple.

It began on thursday evening with the long awaited opening of Wifey's exhibition in Bolton. That went very well, but being the elected driver I wasn't able to get into the swing of things quite as well as some. I got very grumpy at her for drinking too quickly - after all, it's me who nurses her through those 'special' hangovers that last 36 hours. My back began to play up late on, and to top it off by the time we left, Macdonalds was the only option for food. Yuck.

Sandy posing. A new profile pic methinks.

Odette in bio-suit ready to look at Maggie's installation.

Aftermath - well someone had to finish the wine.

Saturday night we went to Deb & Bengt's place for a midsummer party, Swedish style. The herrings and potatoes were delicious, as was the company, and I got to set off a lantern into the beautiful night sky. Never done that, always wanted to. I also managed to fall off the edge of the tiered garden while nonchalantly wandering round the bonfire, curse my dodgy vision. My only excuse is drunkenness, but you can add in a healthy dose of incompetence if you wish. No harm done by the way, thanks for asking.

Went to Shakespeare in the Park on Sunday, took picnic and chairs, had a great time. I've never seen the play and don't remember the story from school, but the programme had a nice synopsis which helped a lot. The travelling troupe of eight actors (Globe Theatre Company - check them out) were very talented and the stage was apparently a replica from the Bard himself's travelling days. The costumes were based around the twenties as far as I can see. There was some Charleston-style dancing anyway. I loved the Puck character, but was told by wifey to stop looking as he/she/it was done up in fetching spangly hotpants and stockings and suspenders. Most distracting. Here's a pic:

Puck and co - most decorative.

In other news, it's Lyn's birthday today. Here she is, being simultaneously delighted and delightful at midsummer..

Happy birthday missus, hope you like the card, and the doggerel.

Later, taters

Pogues Gallery

Jeez, is that a Sun headline or what? I should be a tabloid journalist. Nah, too interested in the truth.

Anyway, as promised here is the evidence that New Mills can be ugly - very ugly. There's also a fish-inspired video. If you see any of these people on the street, don't offer them a drink.

Gangs of New Mills - the Fish Fingers:

Shazza, aka 'Fish Eyes" - can be extremely dangerous if provoked. Approach with caution, unless carrying Bacardi.

Russell, aka "Fish Head". Has been known to rat on the others, publish embarrassing personal stories etc. Open to bribery to prevent further disclosures.

Stewart, aka "Something Fishy". Gang minstrel, also part-time cobbler.

Odette, aka "Fish Breath". Occasional member of an alternative gang with their own language. Can be understood if persuaded to speak slowly.

Martin, aka "Fishtail". Gang mechanic. If you want it, he can fix it for you. Recently experiencing a poor run of form but expected to bounce back soon.

Lyn, aka "Fish Net". Token ginger floosy. A danger mostly to herself. Not a bad cook.

Lucy, aka "Fish Lips". Demon cyclist and partner-in--crime of Martin "Fishtail".

Fish Fingers in repose. Avoid contact if possible.

In other news, on the same night as the above gurning, there was a strange bloke wandering around the pub doing this:

In other news, I had an hour to spare in Crosby while the afore-mentioned tyre was fitted. I took the opportunity to have a look at the statues on the beach. Very interesting. Here's me with Anthony Gormley:

News of impending... news

I have access to photos of a drink-fuellled gurning competition which will probably only amuse the people who were involved in it, but that won't stop me posting it. What IS stopping me posting it is that yet again I've lost my USB doofer for getting files off the phone and onto the PC. New one is on order and normal service will be resumed asap.

Hello odd Lauren. Please take your clogs off and make yourself comfortable.

In other news, the motorbike has one new tyre and I have 93 less pounds than I had last week. New motorbike tyres are wonderful things - the release agent seeps out of them for the first few miles so you basically carry around your own personal diesel spill. Highly dangerous, and many a young hot-head has come to grief yards from the tyre shop. Fortunately I fit into neither category. By the way, thanks Martin, for the use of your garage and your arms.

In other news, I've cycled to work today. 62 mins, average 25.7 kph. Thanks Odette for your seat-positioning advice. A couple of inches forward and my back never twinged once. Luxury. Mind you, I'm now so upright on the bike, I look like I'm going shopping. Ah well, the price of comfort.

Ah well, photos to follow soon.

Laters

Tap Dancing

I was working away in the office yesterday, as usual diggin' the choons in my earphones, when I was tapped on the shoulder. I doffed the earphones and found to my shame that everybody in the office was looking at me and laughing. One of them was on the phone with people on the floor below, and they were complaining about the tap dancing. I was a victim of my habit of drumming along with my feet, and the ancient wooden floors in this converted mill. I was mortified, and now I'm being careful not to let my feet start a-tapping. I don't know how long it will last.

Stopped half way home yesterday after a couple of scary moments on 't motorbike. It was handling very badly on bends, weaving around horribly. I pulled into a garage, checked the tyre pressures - 12 psi in the back. Hmm, that'll be the problem then. On inspection I found this little blighter was to blame..
A nail I could live with, but a screw? Ridiculous. I wondered what the strange rhythmic clicking sound was.

Apparently the tyre manufacturers frown upon repairing tyres, but at £150 a pop for a new one, I think I'll risk their disapproval. This all means I'm on the pushbike till further notice. Had my first go this morning - I reckoned it would take an hour, but got slightly lost in Stockport and took an accidental 3-mile detour. I was never a good orienteer. I ended up taking 91 minutes and arrived to find everyone worrying that I'd gone under a bus. I'll find a more direct route and work on the time. Actually it was a lovely morning for a ride, but that won't always be true, will it?

Oops, just discovered my feet were tapping. Damn you, Phantom Band.

Laters.

New Mills Parade and Stuff

Some photo's from the parade on saturday:

Market Street was packed with kids waiting to collect Swizzles...

The rock band in the big truck started playing 20 minutes before the parade began moving, and they were parked right outside our house. Lyn took it badly.

Nice truck, shame about the brewery...

The local stretched-limo company sent a gigantic pink Hummer and a couple of bar girls (Out of shot), to add a touch of slightly seedy glamour.

Second squeeze - me and Odette catch some rays.

All in all a good day was had. As usual, copious amounts of Swizzles sweets were chucked into the crowd by the participants, ensuring the rapt attention of all the kids in town. Jeez I haven't been hit on the head by that many boiled sweets since watching the Tour de France.

Between the parade itself and the imminent England game, the town was quite lively all day. The "Crispy Cod" even ran out of chips, and the party atmosphere continued until about 35 minutes into the match, when a certain shot went in...

In other news, Lyn's assessment day is today and preparations have been intense. We'll probably have a sigh-of-relief celebration tonight - assuming the assessment is positive, of course!

Summit talks - or at least top-of-the-staris talks. This was after Lyn, with days to go before assessment, discoverd wrinkles in her expensively mounted images. I resorted to taking photo's and left the trauma counselling to Maggie.

In other news, a nice walk round Kinder Reservoir happened on Sunday, for Stewart's birthday. Eight walked, eleven ate and drank at the Sportsman in Hayfield. It was a lovely day despite the light rain. Countless times as we walked in the beautiful Derbyshire hills I was reminded that this is what I came home for. Perfect climate, beautiful countryside within walking distance from my front door, good friends and a decent pie and pint at the end of the day.

More news to follow, when the results are in. Laters.

My Spine (and Obama's lack of one)

It's kinked. But we think it's temporary. However, the leg-length (I'd guess a bit less than a centimetre) issue that was the root cause is long-term and needs treatment. Otherwise I'll continue to have problems as long as I keep hopping, skipping and jumping. I'm waiting for an appointment with a bloke in Buxton who's an expert on musculo-skeletal problems. Doc also noted that the muscles in my lower back are much bigger on the right side - this probably means they are in spasm due to the pain, which pulls the spine into a kinked shape. That's why I have to take the pills - the theory is if there's no pain the spasm will go away. Anyone good at massages?

But enough about me, what about this thing with BP and Obama? The blame game, played out on a huge scale, with people missing the point all over the place in their haste to hold on to the moral high ground, and in Obama's case, some opportunistic tub-thumping. How can one bloke, however verbally careless, be held responsible for this? Whatever caused the explosion will be brought to light, and the series of unfortunate decisions that led up to it will be examined, and procedures will be put in place that reduce the likelihood of a repeat. That much is obvious. The cleanup is also obvious and BP will have to pay for it, but these are side-issues. What's happening to stop the oil? What's happening to clean the beaches and estuaries? How much cooperation between agencies is there? Thse are the real questions. The heads of these agencies should be telling the people of Louisiana/Florida what they are doing about it, not issuing sound bites about how "Someone will pay for this". Suing BP won't help the heffing shrimp population will it? The worst of it is, the shrimp farmers are lapping up all the litigation-speak. Their society is so twisted, they think that's the right way to go about things - in a disaster situation, the primary goal of all concerned is not to fix the problem and get on with it, but to hunt down the culprit and screw him for all he owns. Gah, I despair. People's ability to miss the point so criminally makes me want to be from another planet.

My next blog will be from Pluto. If you don't like it, sue me.

The Wait Goes On

Just found out that my drums, together with the rest of my stuff, haven't even left Thailand yet. Damn these cheap options. I've just taken delivery of a 1963 edition of the classic drummer's instruction pamphlet "Drumming Techniques for Snare Drummers", originally printed in 1935. Loads of routines to improve technique, and I have nothing to practice on except a pillow. I despair.

Isn't this a lovely summer we're having? I was just unwrapping myself this morning after the ride to work (gingerly - my back is groaning) and having uncharitable thoughts about the English weather, when I suddenly had a flashback to Bangkok, where it was impossible to walk the 200 metres to work without sweating profusely. Which is worse? Bangkok every time.

Anyone got world cup fever yet? I had it, but two paracetamol and a hot bath sorted it out. I drew South Africa in the sweep at work, which should please the lodger. Prizes for winners, runners up and booby prize for most goals conceded... which one will I be most likely to win? Only joking Odette, I'm sure they will have a good run. England, on the other hand, will probably lose to the USA, struggle to get through the group stage and exit in unlucky fashion at the semi final stage, with yet another poor sap missing a penalty. What is it about Englishmen and penalties? Killer instinct missing? More like two left feet. Here at work they are all limbering up for the beer-and-telly-fest by playing the "Air Horn" app on their iPhones. Gosh, if I didn't like iPhones before, I sure hate them now. Apparently if you shake the phone the horn plays for longer. Please don't try it at home, apple fans. Speshly you, wife.

I'm off to restore a backup. Yes, I'm actually working. Isn't life wonderful?

Some ramblings

Well met, fellow traveller, and sod you too..

I was trundling along the A56 coming out of Salford (some say the best thing to come out of Salford, ho ho) yesterday, when a red Hyosung 650 roared past me. For those who don't know or care, I ride a yellow Hyosung 650, and there aren't many around. The bloke stopped at the next lights, I pulled up alongside. Normally when two bikes are at the lights there's a nod or a grunt exchanged, a bit like saying "good morning" to total strangers when going to the village shop. It's a recognition of membership in society. Car drivers don't do it, because they are in fact permanently indoors, indeed they are in their own little living rooms watching the road go by on telly. This detachment explains some of their dick-headed behaviour. Car drivers are bemused by bikers acknowledging each other, but I ask you - who's normal here? Anyway, I digress. The bloke on the red Hyosung blanked me completely. He roared off and I sheepishly followed, feeling a bit rejected. I doggedly pulled up alongside him at the next lights and deliberately engaged the chap in conversation. He was pleasant enough, but I felt like there was something missing. Finally he jumped and said "Bloody hell, you're on a Hyosung!". He was instantly more friendly and we discussed the bike's merits, comparing notes on breakdown costs and the perils of cheap and cheerful motorcycling. It's a rare biker that doesn't even look at other bikes, let alone check what make they are. Anyway we parted good friends, and if I see him again on the A56 I will, of course, blank him completely.

Physical jerks

I got such a cob on with this bad back, that I dipped out (see what I did there?) on swimming yesterday. Consequently I will go at lunchtime today and swim my little heart out. It's all I can do on doctors orders. I hope I get referred to a Physio tomorrow, this is killing me. Exercise has been a lifelong habit, and I worry that I've worn out some major parts, pushing an imperfect geometry so hard for 30 years. The "Fitness freak" label is one I accept gladly, but the reasons for all the exercising is not as obvious as you might expect. Some say vanity is the main reason (must keep in shape!), others talk about endorphin addiction. My take on it is, I spend my working life on projects that often last for months, with no sense of closure. It can be difficult at the end of a working week, to feel a sense of achievement when all I've done is make a few blog updates and fill in a timesheet. When I go for a bike ride, or a game of squash, or even a run or a swim, there's a beginning and an end, and something always gets done.

Art

Wifey's under severe stress, with only one weekend left before her third year assessment. She's working basically 16 hours a day. This is the point at which I start to get equally stressed, as she tries out new ideas on me, which seem to completely contradict the ideas she's been working on for the last three months. This business of engineers living with artists is extremely strange. How can you spend three months working so hard on a piece of art, then do something completely different with hours to spare before the deadline? Answer; it's not about the original idea, it's about the process. Weird, mind-expanding stuff. She normally gets good marks so it must be working. Now where did I leave those beta blockers?

Details of the exhibition, which is basically Lyn's third year efforts, and those of two of her colleagues, open to the public for four weekends (thur/fri/sat), are at www.neoartists.co.uk - the title of the show is "Farrago" and it's happening at 28 Corporation Street in Bolton. The dates are shown as 25th June to 24th July, but I believe it finishes on the 17th July. I have to say, the quality of the woodwork, the lighting and the electronics are faultless. I suppose the art's ok too. By the way, if you're used to thinking of her as a painter, be prepared for a sudden left turn.

Laters.

Halfords VS Decathlon? Vive La France.

By contrast with a lot (most?) of British people, I have no problem with good things coming from France. After all, I came from there myself for three and a half years. Lovely people, lovely place. There, an Englishman said good things about France. Anyway, there I was splashing around Stockport on the motorbike, in full rain gear on a typical English summer's day, looking for the Halfords "Superstore". When I finally found it, I was confronted with a run-down, peeling facade, a scrappy pot-holed car park and windows so dirty I couldn't even tell if the place was open or not. This wasn't helped by the "Wickes DIY Superstore" on the same car park, which could also do with a lick of paint. It looks a bit like a second-world-war hangar.

Halfords vs Decathlon - how proud are you?

I went into Halfords with several items in mind, for my latest project, which is getting my road bike running. All I needed was some brake and gear cables and handlebar tape. Exactly the sort of stuff you'd expect to find in Halfords, right? Wrong. I struggled to find the items I needed and ended up "Choosing" Shimano cables (road bike is all Campagnolo) that could be made to fit, and could I find handlebar tape? No I couldn't. Could I even get to talk to an attendant? No I couldn't. It's not tlike the place was busy - I don't think they have many customers, apart from the odd spotty baseball-cap-on-sideways 18 year old, looking for stick-on accessories for his 1100cc Corsa, when in fact he'd be better off spending his money on proper trousers. Anyway, after playing hide-and-seek with the one disinterested attendant on show (a diminutive youth with a ginger ponytail, daft earrings and a gitty goatee), and eventually finding him disiterestedly selling a chid's bike to a woman who obviously wanted him to know more than he did about bikes, I dumped the Shimano kit and flounced out. I was beginning to overheat in my rain gear, and I knew there was "Un magasin Decathlon" two miles away. Here's the French connection, see? I parked in about ten acres of space, waltzed in, found two makes of cables for road bikes (I picked the cheap French brand) and seven different colours and two different compounds of hadlebar tape. In two minutes I had exactly what I needed, and to boot, If I'd looked even slightly bewildered, one of the eight or nine attendants that walked past would have been on hand to help. As it says in the title, vive la France.

I now have a working road bike. All I need now is a working spine. Damned thing is hurting as much as ever, now that I've stopped the pills. Mind you, I slept right through last night for the first time since starting taking Diclofenac. I reckon it gives me bad dreams. One night I dreamed horribly about an angry bear. Wonder who that represents? Oops, I'll get a slap for that. Yes, I do have another appointment with the doctor, and yes, I'll drone on about it here as soon as the next episode unfolds. (Probably quicker than my back, guffaw)

While we're on biking, I hear through the fine-art grapevine that one of our blog followers, my esteemed former colleague and fellow finely-tuned athlete Keith, has lost three front teeth and gained twelve stitches in his top lip (not a good exchange, I'd have thought) in a mountain biking accident. I can only guess at how much that must have hurt. Keith, Keith, could you not get your hands in front of you in time? Get well soon, and post a comment to let us know how you're doing. I once broke my two little fingers on my way over the handlebars of a mountain bike, in my haste to get my hands to the ground before my face. It was December, and so cold I didn't even begin to feel pain until I got home and thawed out. Now I can't hold drumsticks properly - but at least I can still eat corn on the cob, ha!

More later, mes petits pois. Au revoir, chamois letheur, etc etc.

Grumpy

This cheered me up.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/8339647.stm

Wife, take note, and stop moaning at me all the time. Hang on a minute.....

Carp in the Park, and Owls

We went to Queens Park in Bolton on Sunday to see Carp in the Park - no, not a rock band - it's a big fish on legs, which is designed with removable wooden scales that are painted by children in the area. It's a project by Lyn's friend Maggie (see photo), commissioned by the local council as part of a sclupture trail being built in the park. It went very well, and by 2 in the afternoon all the scales had been painted and were laid out to dry. The fish will eventually be installed on an island in the stream that runs through the park.

While we were basking in the glory of the fish, I noticed the stall next door had a fantastic collection of birds of prey, including to my lasting delight, a Eurasian eagle owl. I talked to the nice lady whose husband was flying the birds around, and apparently nobody gets to touch the larger birds in case they get angry and snip off the odd finger. However I was allowed to hold "Circle", a small female tawny owl. I was beside myself, grinning like an idiot... I have always loved owls. Oscar the eagle owl was immense and regal and sat on his perch ignoring everyone. Apparently keeping these birds is not very easy so my dream of owning one is still in the future - possibly when I retire.

My photographic skills were at an all-time low so all I got were some blurred shots of "Dupe" the Bengal eagle owl being flown around. I got one good one of him about to land on the bloke's glove...
One of the birds, a 9-week-old barn own ("Fred" - extremely cute) had flown up into a tree and wasn't coming down despite all the tasty morcels the guy offered it. I think it wasn't sure about the crowds, and probably came down later. Hope so anyway.

Plug for the bird sanctuary: http://cuerdenbirdsofprey.com

There was also a bloke discovering large reptiles trapped in logs..

All in all, a good day was had. This is what we want eh? Who needs elephants and sword-swinging tai chi? Not me.

Laters

Happy Discovery

I found a shower at work. I could weep with happiness.

It's in the cellar and It's almost imposible to get to, because it gets used as storage space, but the security guard, Stan (when you're on first name terms with security you know you've arrived) who showed me the room promised to do some shifting around.

For those wondering why this is good, it means I can cycle to work whenever I choose to, and not have to sit at my desk smelling of sweat. This makes a big difference to my physical wellbeing, which in turn puts me in a much better mood.

While we're on mood, my missus told me this morning that there are more and more things that irritate me as I get older. Effectively this means I'm a grumpy old man. I got to thinking about that. I don't think my personality has changed per se, but the list of things I will moan about is growing. This is to be human. We identify things that irritate us, and without the youthful confidence that anything can be fixed, we're left with talking about it to whoever will listen. Also, over a span of years, trends become visible. For instance the trend towards a "Compensation culture", which I see as a minifestation of the naiive desire to find someone to blame when a bad thing happens. A person who's only had a few years of adult life cannot possibly be aware of the trend, so assumes that it's always been that way. It must be normal, and so on it goes. The depressing thing is that there will never be a trend in the other direction while there's money to be made. The inevitable effect is an erosion of morals. "I fell over and therefore I deserve money" is a statement which would have caused laughter ten years ago, but now it describes a real attitude. Scary.

I'd welcome some discussion on the subject. I think it's important to discuss these things, because if we don't, our attitudes become more and more radical. Being made aware of other people's points of view is the essence of society, normalisation being the desirable outcome. That's not to say that everyone needs to think the same things, but an awareness of other realities surely helps us live harmoniously. I say this on the day when thousands of people in Cumbria are coming to terms with yesterday's gun rampage, wondering what went so badly wrong in that man's life, and just maybe looking for someone to blame...

Nice Sound

Fairly old now, but this one always gives me goosebumps..
Editors - Open Your Arms
Nothing more to say, really.

Laters.

Derbyshire Open Arts

The bank holiday weekend went by in a flash. Notable events:

• Cluedo and Pictionary at new mate Sharon's place
• Buying art in New Nills
• Bike ride to Chapel

Had a lovely time in Sharon's on Saturday, drinking eating and playing Cluedo, which I loved but isn't to everybody's taste, and Pictionary, which reminded me that a) I can't draw for toffee and b) my missus is brilliant at it. Lots of jolly japes, wizard weezes and general mathem. I won't go into detail but a cetain naff Europe-based pop music competition will never be the same again. It's a while since I saw someone nearly throw up from laughing, so thank you Martin.

Derbyshire Open Arts is a festival where artists all over Derbyshire who want to have their carpets ruined, play host to other artists who don't, and their houses remain open for the three days as temporary galleries. Lots of art gets bought and lots of tea/coffee/plonk gets drinked. Wifey has been known to take part, but this year she's so busy with Uni she hasn't really produced much showable stuff so didn't bother. However we toook some time out on Monday afternoon to visit two houses in New Mills. I loved one particular drawing of a street scene in New Mills so much that I had to buy it. No idea where I'll hang it, or the very nice but slightly erotic life-drawing by the same artist (Clare Allan - www.clareallandrawings.blogspot.com), but they are lovely items to own. I was just too late to get the original of the street scene (damned red spot) so had to settle for a print (3/50), but I got the original of the life drawing, ha!

That reminds me, I'm thinking of attending life-drawing classes. Watch this space for news and bad sketches.

Later that day, and no doubt buoyed by caffeine, I decided I'm tired of this bad back and I'm going to ignore the damned thing and take exercise anyway. I dusted off the trusty MTB and trundled round my usual route to Chapel, over to Hayfield and home. All road, no mud, about 20 km. My back hardly complained at all, and the old lungs and legs felt much better for it. I slept well ast night, that's for sure. Not sure I'm brave enough to pick up the squash racket just yet, I might give it another week or so. Swimming at lunch time is a good habit I've managed to get into, so overall the flab is being kept at bay.

There's a certain amount of local unrest about this building:

..which is being buit at the back of some shops in New Mills. I can't remember what it's for, but they have a lot of work to do if it's not going to be an eyesore in the town. Maybe some creative cladding. It's an area where planning permission rules are fairly stringent, so nobody can quite believe what's happening. There are dark mutterings of brown envelopes....

Here's a blurred picture of an artist at work...
It's a rare and elusive moment so I make no apologies. The fruits of this labour (and the suspected cause of my bad back - 11 extremely heavy doors) can be seen from June 24th to July 17th in Bolton town centre, and if you're at all artistically minded I recommentd a visit. There are three artists running the show, which is called "Farrago". Get along there, or miss something wonderful.

Still awaiting the arrival of my stuff from Bangkok. That means I'm still drumless and quite bereft. Reduced to practising on pillows, the shame of it.

Later taters.