Gigging

This Blog has been a long time coming, but a few of you have been enquiring as to why i have been achy.

Dorchester, my home own is a small place, not much happens. Its predominantly elderly, and has the nightlife of a cemetary, but every now and then something interesting happens... I was hoping to get you some actual pictures of the melee that happened last Monday (bank Holiday), but as ever something goes wrong, and so they will have to stay on my phone for a little while. The concert held in our roman ampitheatre was totally free and attended by some 1000 people all bringing their picnics and dancing shoea.

There were 6 bands in all, but I shall only mention two, first my unbelievably talented friends Nina and Ben who play fiddle as good as any pro in the band Jigsaw, and the astounding Joey the Lips.

I had a girlfriend who used to enjoy going to a village pub once a month to watch the folk jamming sessions there. The band The Sydling Stompers would organise the variety of different acts that would sing a song or two, before passing on the baton. The stompers were basically a family, consisting of Mum Lynnes, Dad John and son and daughter, Ben and Nina, Ben was already a huge talent when i first saw him aged 15, but Nina was th star in the making, aged 9 she would sing like a bird and her fiddling was nearly as good as her older brother already.

Now some 20 years later, both have had their successes, but are thankfully both in the local area playing in Bens band Jigsaw, and they are fantastic. I could wax lyrical about them but I really dont need to, firstly because you will probably never see them, and two cos there are few things more dull than people going on and on about how great their musical friends are.

So I shall move quickly on to Joey the Lips

They play Blues, rhythm and blues and soul, and they are fantastic. I had never heard of them before, but they blew me and all 1000 people away. We danced the entire set of Soul classics, and sang til our hearts were content. My personal highlights were 'Love Shack' and the karaoke version of 'Dont Stop Me Now', I say karaoke version, because they didnt sing it, we did! The entire crowd. They didnt sing a note. A new step in concerts, pick any song the crowd might know, and just play backing, whilst your audience sings as badly and as loudly as they could possibly want.

I had no voice, and I felt like someone had borrowed my legs to practice riverdancing with their irish friends.

I had a fab time.

Nuff said.

Fun and Olympic Games

I cant help but be astounded at the variety of sports offered by the olympics in China this week. As always you get to see some sports you never watch at any time of your life, such as Dressage (of which I still dont understand) and the Points Cycling. I sat there for half an hour watching them go round and round the track getting excited, and without a clue as to what was going on.

In a moment of madness my flattie and I pondered where these sports originated. Some are obvious, like the marathon. As messengers from the kings and Emperors of history were sent to the front lines of major battles to inform their armies as to tactics...  It does seem a shame that some of those origins are not better adhered to. In those days the marathon runners would have to avoid arrows and spears thrown at them, perhaps a more traditional version of the sport could include the crowd throwing wet sponges and rotten tomatoes.

Likewise the javelin, or spear throwing makes perfect sense, although i have always felt there should be targets out there to hit, but what about some of the vaguer sports.

Krispin and I had a little think. Take the triple jump. Obviously seeing how far you can jump is a legitamate sport, but what on earth is the triple jump about? When in life do we Hop, Skip and Jump in such a rediculous manner... Here's my theory... Have you ever been on a beach on a really hot day when the sand is burning hot? Yes, I am convinced, the triple jump is a modern olympic version of going from the towel to the sea without burning the soles of your feet.

The shot put, seems like another strange one. Now some would say it comes from rock throwing as shown in the movie 'Braveheart' and maybe thats true, but as Mel Gibson in a kilt clearly showed, throwing big rocks at people is never going to be that effective. Instead I think its far more likely the sport developed in the 1600's. Imagine a ship being circled by pirates, and all the cannonballs are on one side! Cannonbal throwing would be useful then.

The discus also seems a little weird, but with a little thought, we figured this ancient sport clearly owes alot to bad cooking! Perhaps disgruntled greeks, tired of fighting on the frontline would would fling lumps of stale mouldy bread at their enemies rather than eat it themselves. Its just a thought.

Krispin suggested that the pole vault was some strange siege weapon, for knights to storm castles, but somehow I can imagine a knigt with chainmail, sword and shield running up to a castle wall with a dirty great pole.

Any ideas on that please let me know. Actually, if you have any other ideas, say about Badminton, or synchronised diving please let me know, and what the hell is the parrallel bars about... When did anyone need to do that!

Myfriend Angela believes we should develop these sports for the winter games too, perhaps instead of the 100 meter dash they have in the summer games, we should have a 100 meter stop, all the atheletes on a giant catapult, fired from a starting gate on the ice! I love it. Or you could have the 400 meter speed skate hurdling! Genius sport! That would be hilarious! As it is I spend half the winter olympics in tears of laughter. Why would any sane person go down a bobsleigh track on a tea tray!

I do like the idea of turning summer sports to winter sports though, I would love to see Womens Snow Volleyball, or Ice Weightlifting. Once again thoughts welcome.

The Worlds Greatest Olympian?

Firstly, I just want to say what a fantastic job the chinese did on the opening of the olympics. Full of colour and spectacle. I hate openings, but this one was truly stunning.

A huge well done to Michael Phelps for winning yet another gold medal and becoming the winner of the most gold medals in the history of the olympics. He is without doubt a phenomenal athelete and deserves every accolade... every accolade that is except greatest ever olympian.

Now I'm not saying he is, or he isnt, he certainly has a very very good claim on it, but I think he's not there yet. Lets be honest, in the top 100 of the most olympic medal winners, there are a lot of Swimmers. Could it be that the are more opportunities to win olympic golds?

Let me just put forward a few issues I have and mention a few other names for consideration.

Just to show that I am not being anti-american in this, lets start with Carl Lewis... winner of 9 golds and 1 silver medal. The 100m, 200m, 4x100m and long jump equalling Jesse Owens record in 1936. He then did the same thing again 4 years later. Breaking world records in all 8 competitions. After a hiccough in 92, he went on to win his final two medals in 96. This is a fantastic tally in a very difficult event

And what about the russian Gymnast Larissa Latynina, 9 gold medals, 5 silver medals and 4 bronze medals across three olympic games. She never entered a competition that she did not win a medal in, and still hold the record of most medals won.

Then theres the italian Edoardo Mangiarotti. In 2003, the IOC (International Olympic Committee) awarded him with a Platinum Wreath, with a document which stated that: Edoardo Mangiarotti's total of 39 medals (6 olympic golds, 5 slivers and 2 bronzes), in Olympic & World Fencing Championships not only earns him the distinction of being the greatest Fencer in that sport's history, but also distinguishes him as the most decorated athlete in ALL Olympic Sports in the history of the Olympics.

What about German canoer Brigit Fischer, winner of 8 gold medals in the K1, K2 and K4 events. The first in 1980, and despite retiring in 2001 she went on to win her last in 2004. She would have won more except for the eastern bloc boycott of 1984.

Or perhaps a nod should go to Bjorn Daehlie, winner of 8 gold medals and 4 silver medals in the extremely hard cross country skiing event during 92' to '98 (to be fair there were 3 olympic events here), this is a most impressive tally in an endurance event.

I'm a brit though, and I cant help but add our own hero Steven Redgrave, 5 gold medals in 5 consecutive olympic games from '84 to 2000. Unlike other sporting events such as swimming or running, fencing or gymnastic, rowing is not a well supported event. It doesnt have 37 different medal winning opportunities. Its one race, one chance. And Redgrave was at the top of the sport for a fantastic 16years. And If you have ever tried rowing yourself, you will know that its an absolute killer of an endurance event.

I am really pleased that once again we have a fantastic olympian in Michael Phelps, and if he is still getting golds in 8 years time, I will concur that he is in fact the greatest olympian so far. Just not yet.

Talk about luck

Once again I can tell you I have had a second disaster free week! Yay!

And despite my bad luck taking me from one nightmare to the next so far this year, I have to tell you that my luck is still not as bad as some. I am not refering to the guy who lost his leg in a lawn bowling accident, or the lady who has her back put out slipping on the hoover lead. I am refering to my good friend Rae.

Now not many people have had such a constantly bad run of luck, its hard to know where to start if truth be told, but I met Rae about 5 years ago. She knew i had finished my job at the clothes warehouse and offered me her taxi to run on the days she wasnt. I accepted and became a cabbie to the stars.

About 3months after that i bought my first cab and ran it happily for about 2 years. Rae however did not.

She was driving the xantia to town, and found a suitable parking spot. She turned off the engine, the suspension went down (as they do in citroens) and the bonnet crumpled. She tells me she watched the whole thing in slow motion. A bit like a monster trying to get out of a steal cage, think 'Resident Evil', his pistol thingy finally made it free.

Not undaunted, she decided to go for bust. She bought two cars, a Mondeo which she kindly leant to a friend, for a small weekly fee, and a London Black Cab (£16K from Cabs Direct, an HP firm)

Clearly Cab Direct had not looked at the vehicle, as it was filthy inside when she received it, the ashtray hadn't even been emptied. She had the vehicle a full two weeks before the automatic gearbox went whilst picking up a customer. Fortunately for her the customers were too drunk to notice the 15mile journey took them 30 minutes.

After complaining to the firm, she recieved a 7 seater. Now they had at least taken the trouble to clean this one, and fit a number of repairs before giving her the vehicle, including the Cam belt. They didnt change the Water Pump however, which when it went tore right through the Cam belt, which in turn ripped through the engine. When the AA repair man turned up, she said either your cam belts gone, or your car swallowed a cat!

Well, naturally with all this bad luck and with Cabs Direct demanding their money she reclaimed the Mondeo, only to discover an electrical fault. £600 later and no-one had a clue as to what it was. At that point she gave up the ghost and declared herself bankrupt, no longer able to sue Cabs Direct for their mess ups... well she could but she wont get a penny from it. All this was just 2 weeks after her last payment on the vehicle

She then started working for a taxi-cab firm in town, borrowing a Xsara. This is an extremely unprofitable thing to do, as instead of paying a one-off charge, you hand 50% of all your earnings to the cab firm. That one broke down at Bournemouth Airport with passengers waiting to go home. It went to the doctors and the car and the cab firm have never been seen since.

Now, today she tells me she has had an accident involving a Milk tanker. The lanes in our countryside are tight , and whilst no-one was at fault, Raes car looks like being a write off, the amount of damage to the Milk tanker... nothing!

I should take solice that no matter how bad my luck can get, I will never have as much bad luck as Rae has had in the last 5 years.

The real lesson to us all though, is that despite this terrible run, she still smiles and laughs everyday. And can still take me from being depressed to being in hysterics in 5 seconds flat. I'm so sorry for you mate, but thank you for being my friend.

The Great British Breakfast

Imagine a plate of food served up to you at 8am, with the sun steaming through the whispy clouds.

Rashers of sizzling bacon, plump sausages, fried tomates, beans, eggs sunny side up, potato croquets or has browns if you will, mushrooms in butter, fried bread, toast on a side plate, a hot steaming cup of coffee and some fruit juice. A Full English breakfast. They say the entire british empire was nurtured by this hearty meal, everyday during its 300 year reign.

To you and I in this enlightened world, we may see it as a coronary waiting to happen, and would recommend 30 minutes on a stairmaster. However, in the days of the british raj this was not an option. Instead they used to hunt lions so thats nice.

As I sat in the cafe at Gatwick Airport, on the grubby seats and sugared table waiting for my Egg and Bacon toasty, I watched the esteemed group of various gentlemen that patronised the 'Greasy Spoon', and my thoughts went back to this image of 18th century Bristol filled with sailors looking to gather new booty from the Americas.

The sandwich finally arrived, and the only way to describe it was dissapppointing The bacon was limp and gristly, the egg yolk was congealed, and the barely toasted toast, was dry and stale as if the penicillin had only just been scraped off. There was no sign of butter or mayonnaise, tomatoes or lettuce. The coffee was weak and sourly burnt my lips with its insipid taste. I have no idea how many bacteria resided in the china chips.

Thats when it occured to me that Britain really is a nation of shopkeepers, and they dont go to work on a hearty, traditional full english at all, but instead go to work on a diet of shrivelled up sausages, rancid eggs, and a tomato so mushy that they'd give Halle Berry a run for best oscar acceptance.

Thank god I ate my cornflakes before i went.

The small businessmen and manual workers however, devoured every last morsel down to the final crumbs of buttered bread, as they sat and chatted with bonhomie and jus de vive.

Clearly I will never be a millionaire in Britain... for a start they're clearly all too French!