Don't Forget The Fruit Gums, Mum

Are these still going? I have a feeling they might be actually. Unlike many of the sweets I enjoyed as a child.

Some of them just changed name - like Marathon becoming the slightly disturbing Snickers, or Opal Fruits (didn't like them - they used to make my mouth water...) becoming Starburst. A snazzier name it may be but Opal Fruits described them better and even after however many years it's been I can still remember the song...

"Opal Fruits made to make your mouth water
Fresh with the tang of citrus
Four refreshing fruit flavours
Orange, Lemon, Lime, Strawberry..."

Ooh ah... Come on now, admit it... how many of you were singing along? How many people can sing the Starburst song??? Is there even a Starburst song?

And whatever happened to Spangles, Tiffin, sweet cigarettes and a stick of licorice in a quarter pound of kay-li? Or Space Dust from the 1970s - now that was a surprise, the first time I tried it!

Anyway, Fruit Gums! Remember the satisfaction when your teeth finally met in the middle of one?

The Night Has 1000 Eyes

Always a good one to belt out towards the end of a night on stage, I've been putting guitars and bass on Bobby Vee's hit The Night Has 1000 Eyes this afternoon.

That makes it 15 songs finished, one still needing guitars and 2 or 3 more to start for the new album. One of those will be the song that we sang at the funeral the other week to fulfil a promise, although it is a wonderful song anyway, very emotional and a little unusual for us in that it's not a well-known song.

We've not yet decided whether to put a solo one from me on the album. The three albums we've done so far have all featured a solo track - Great Balls of Fire on the first, Fleetwood Mac's Need Your Love So Bad on the Kites album and the relatively unknown I Try To Think About Elvis on the last one.

So the album is moving closer bit by bit... I bet you're fed up of me saying that, aren't you...?

Remember, Remember the 6th of November...

When I was a kid it was always foggy the day after bonfire night. All that smoke heading up into the atmosphere the night before just bounced back off the clouds and hung about for most of the day on the 6th.

And of course by "fog" I mean "fog" - not a little bit of haze like you get these days. Crumbs, the warning lights come on the M6 nowadays if you can't see Carlisle from Birmingham!

By fog I mean hold your hand up in front of your face and wonder where it is... Anyone under the age of forty will think I'm joking when I say that but we know, don't we?

The day after Bommy Night before smokeless zones, before global warming, before getting out of the way of a pensioner in a wheelchair meant having to run, was guaranteed to be a day of thick, blinding fog. A thick mist was not being able to see the houses on the other side of the street. Fog was not being able to see your own garden wall. A pea-souper was the hand in front of the face job.

I can still remember the smell and the taste of it... Bits of soot and grit between the teeth... A yellowy cast to it. Motorists leaning out of their side windows, trying to see the white line in the middle of the road, banging heads as they passed each other... All of them with plastic yellow filters stuck on their headlights because a yellow beam cut through the fog slightly (ie slightly) more than a white beam which caused more flare.

Anyway, I was in Newcastle yesterday and came home mostly after dark, thanks to a horrendous queue on the A1M going south. I saw one or two fireworks but not a single bonfire in 140 miles.

I had planned on going straight home but it took me so long (4 hours!) I stopped in Kirkby Steven where there is an excellent chippy restaurant. The plate was overflowing with gravy and mushy peas (hence my shirt, sorry Fran...) and it was unbelievably good!

After all the rain we've had, perhaps people were waiting for the weekend to have their bonfires. Or perhaps, this year, Guy Fawkes has had a reprieve...

Spiral - Unsupergroup

I think I've now finished going through all the slides in my collection and putting them through the scanner. At least, all of my own. There are some of a great-uncle's still to go through but they are mostly scenics of Switzerland dating from the 1950s, with only a few of people I know.

But then as I was coming towards the last few slides, this turned up.

It shows me aged 18 or 19 and the band that I was in at the time - Spiral. It was taken at a time when band members of famous bands were starting to break away and form new bands which were dubbed supergroups. So amongst ourselves we used to refer to ourselves as Spiral - unsupergroup! From left to right are: me, Ian 'Oz' Rostron, who was Best Man at my wedding to Fran, John 'Johnny' Briggs and Gill Lovett.

Gill went off to Wrexham to university and we carried on as a threesome for a while until I got married and moved to Blackpool. They were good times. We didn't play nearly as many gigs as I do these days with Creeping Bentgrass but we used to spend most evenings together, rehearsing or writing and arranging new songs. Ian and Johnny were the songwriters. I contributed one or two but it was never my strong point.

Here we are in 1973 on stage, topping the bill at a memorable gig. I remember it particularly for a guitar string breaking and bizarrely whipping up to gash my cheek. We finished the song with blood running down my face and the other bands afterwards were amazed that we hadn't stopped. "You must be professional?" one bloke said to us. Ah... if only...

Happy days!

As the Sun Sets on Film Photography...

Back in 1998 I started experimenting with digital cameras. At the time they took a very unsharp photo at 640x480 pixel format and I used to halve that to 320x240 and sharpen it as best I could.

The photos here were taken at Fleetwood on the evening of 29 August 1998. What digital cameras did, that was very tricky with conventional film cameras, was to deal with low light situations like this with no fuss whatsoever.

With film you had to use a light meter, either on the camera or off, which would have over-compensated for the sky and reflection on the water here.

And then when light levels got really low you had to suck your finger, stick it in the air... and decide how much extra exposure to give depending on what type of film you were using, because they didn't cope that well with really low light levels. Colour casts, lots of grain and flare from any light source were common.

I was impressed when I got these back home and onto the computer. The problem was the small size. I have a few years' worth of photos that will forever be no more than 320x240.

This one shows the light from the Pharos Lighthouse - "Top Light" as the locals call it. The lighthouse system at Fleetwood had a tall lighthouse - seen here - and a smaller one on the sea front. Boats approaching Fleetwood in the dark lined them up, one above the other and then knew they were in the deep water channel.

It's moved a little apparently, but they left the lighthouses where they were anyway...

Looking at these again makes me want to go and sit in the car on Fleetwood sea front, waiting for an opportunity like this to present itself to my more modern digital SLR camera! One day...

Best Overall Photograph

A bit of good news yesterday when I found one of my photos had won Best Overall Photograph in a photo competition at work.

This was the first such competition organised by the University of Northumbria and I suspect there may be more entries next time... But, having said that, I don't want you to get the impression that it was the best out of only three entries or anything! There were some excellent photos on display in the foyer of Northumbria's Ellison Building in Newcastle and I'd not have liked to have been the judge!

I like to think of myself as a serious photographer so it's perhaps a little embarrassing to have to admit that this was taken on my phone! It shows the Tyne Bridge silhouetted against the sunset and was taken as I crossed the river on the Millenium Bridge.

Thanks to Northumbria University and their judge for excellent taste and to Janette Hillicks for wielding the camera to take my photo with my photo for the photo ...er... at the top of the page!

Thanks also to Northumbria for the Boots gift voucher that was the prize. Miss Franny has now given me a list of things to buy with it... She has allowed me to spend some of it on myself too! The list includes razor blades...

Large view of the winning photo at Flickr (click "All Sizes")

Aughton Institute

Last night we played the Aughton Institute. With Bob we were back to a trio for the night.

And what a great night it was too. The organiser had started out by apologising that the audience would be smaller than normal because of half term, but there were plenty of folks there and we had a great night, with a few request, a full dance floor and a return invitation for 13 March next year!

So any of you in that area know where to find us next year!

Farewell to a Young Friend

We said goodbye to a young friend yesterday. Christian was only 24 and had been severely disabled all of his life. Unable to talk, to move independantly or even to eat easily because of a problem with swallowing, yet with a huge IQ that made his problems so much more a frustration.

His gift was in showing people how much reserve they had, how much patience and fortitude and capacity for love.

We got to know Christian and his sister Hollie, who suffers from the same syndrome a few years ago when we were asked to play a garden party for their birthday celebrations. We have played several such parties and have got to know many in the family. Indeed, we were always treated as family, rather than as paid entertainers and it has been a pleasure and privilege to go and entertain them at those events.

It introduced us to such things as wheelchair dancing, as Hollie and Christian have many friends from schools and care centres who are less fortunate than the majority of us.

We were immensely touched to be asked to sing at Christian's funeral and we found the service very moving. Christian's parents are two of the nicest people you could ever hope to meet and our thoughts were and are with them and the rest of the family last week and onwards.

Rest In Peace, Christian

It's Monday, It's Plymouth

It's the start of a new week and I'm in Plymouth. Not an easy place to get to from Blackpool either by car or train, so I'm afraid I added a bit to my carbon hoofprint and came down by plane from Manchester.

It meant a very early start to the morning but then again both the train and car would have meant that and by flying down I was in my hotel by lunchtime and able to get on with some work this afternoon.

Tonight I've been out briefly to walk around the Barbican area and found it a place full of all sorts of restaurants and interesting shops and galleries. There's a marina full of boats - all deserted of course! It can't be long before any would-be invader has to parachute in as the country will soon be ringed with marinas without a break and, as none of the boats ever move, the invading army would have to sail back and say "Sorry - we couldn't find anywhere to park..."

I was up not long after 5 o'clock, so I'm knackered! I settled for a plain simple fish and chips, choosing a chip shop and cafe that had a steady stream of locals queueing up and it was a good choice. I can recommend the Barbican Fish Bar.

And now I'm going to kick off my shoes and lie back on the bed with my book, waiting for Clive to get here. If I don't fall asleep, we'll grab a pint or two before we head for our beds. Then we have two days of running Project Management workshops at the university to come.

Happy Birthday Jeannie!

Last night was Jeannie's 60th Birthday Party. The band played (with Bob on stage with us). Fran did the catering - and picked up so many compliments for the wonderful buffet spread she put on.

It was a very busy and very full day but all the effort over the past few weeks came together to good effect and it was a brilliant night that seemed over almost as soon as we started! Jeannie's birthday is during the coming week, but we chose the weekend for the party to ensure as many people could come as possible - mainly me I think at the moment!

There's a few more celebratory events to come this week. Jeannie and Fran are going off for the day on Tuesday for an all-day pampering at a local beauty salon. David and I were turned down as the staff said they had to have a fighting chance... Couldn't understand that...

Then at the end of the week we're taking a couple of days off work to have a meal and perhaps fit in a trip out somewhere. On Saturday the band have a club date in Ormskirk.

Today we have been unloading the cars - last night we were so knackered that we left everything in the car. Although Fran just wanted one bag out of the back seat. This was so crowded I opened the door very carefully as it was around 1:30 in the morning. Unfortunately whilst I caught the bag that wanted to fall out, it didn't much matter as it was upside down... A large Quality Street tin, which had cup cakes or something in it, fell out with the loudest crash I've ever heard and trundled off down the once-silent street! Sorry neighbours...

Back in the Capital

Wherever I end up in all my travels for work, and that's a lot of places, I hardly ever get the chance to see anything of them. Waking up in a Travel Inn you know you're in a Travel Inn because they all look the same. But is it Nottingham? Cardiff? Edinburgh? But there's just something about London that makes me want to get out and walk miles. Too many miles.

I normally stay in the Tavistock - an art deco ground floor and a few staff who have got to know me over the years. But to eat I always trot (stroll/crawl...) out of the door and down to Leicester Square to see if there's a premiere about to happen or anyone famous knocking about, or just to soak up a bit of atmosphere.

There's so much close by. The Waterstones on the corner of Trafalgar Square is open late enough for a mooch and there's the pillock-of-the-hour on the fourth plinth at the moment too... Standing still whilst painted as a statue has always struck me as a moronic way to earn a living and the result of too many students allowed to choose theatrical studies as a main course, when we need engineers, entrepreneurs and (desperately) people who can think of things we can make that the rest of the world might want to buy. We need living statues like we need our eyeballs pecked out by crows...

Anyway, far too often these London walks leave me with sore feet. So last night I decided to hail a cab and return to the hotel in a slightly easier manner. I ended up with one of those brilliantly witty London cab drivers, who kept me entertained throughout the journey. He told me how his son was a water polo player of county standard. His wife was from Serbia and whilst on a visit there, their son had been invited to play with a Serbian water polo team. The lad's verdict was that not a single member of his county team would stand a chance of getting onto that team. They trained 6 nights a week for 3 hours, warming up by swimming at a pace for a full hour.

That's dedication to the exclusion of any other pursuits and an acceptance of pain of endurance that does away with what most of us would term "fun".

Then we got onto the subject of cab drivers and their knowledge and he told me tongue-in-cheek how it was all for the good of the public and not for financial gain.
"We're a service for the good of the people, Sir, we don't do this for the remuneration..."

"Ah good," I said, "because I've got no money..."

"Ah well, Sir..." he said with a slight sigh, "You can f**k off and walk then..."

Confessions of a Studio Photographer

My very first job - as opposed to collecting football pools whilst still at college - was as a photographer, working in a small studio in a northern mill town.

I was 19. I'd been interested in photography for years, had bought all the relevant magazines on subscription and, as most teenagers would be, was easily self-persuaded that life as a professional photographer would be either hob-nobbing with the rich and famous, or an endless succession of naked or near-naked females parading in front of my lens, from which every now and then I would have to wipe the steam...

It was nothing like that. For a start, the studio owner, who was incredibly handsome and well coiffured, had a monopoly on the naked and near-naked females - and an incredible method for persuading even the reluctant ones that they should be... "Brought a change of clothes? Oh... well never mind we'll do some bare-shoulders shots..."

For seconds, as the junior of the establishment, my job was mainly being up to my elbows in foul-smelling chemicals and in either near or total pitch darkness, developing films and printing black and white prints by the hundred. Most of these were incredibly boring passport photos, interspersed with head and shoulders portraits of the town's new but large immigrant population, destined to be sent back to relatives overseas and once in a while something that made me perk up (sorry for the choice of words) and smile!

When the owner went out doing weddings or other work I was allowed into the studio to take passport photos or to make appointments for portraits. Only if it was a rush job was I allowed to take the photos myself. However, one Saturday afternoon an asian gentleman came in, adamant that he needed photos taken and delivered as soon as possible.

All went well until he started to strip off his clothes... "Er... what sort of photos did you have in mind?" I stammered, looking slightly aghast at the trouser belt being unbuckled.

It turned out he was a wrestler - it was very popular on Saturday afternoon TV at the time and he was wanting promotional photos. He had on his wrestling tunic underneath his clothes. I was very relieved at that.

Later that day when the owner came back and asked with a grin; "So did you get anyone's clothes off then?" I was able to look back at him, calmly and coolly, and nod sagely...