14th March 2002

I was off up to Liverpool Wednesday to watch the Reds take on the Toons of
Geordieland (That's Newcastle). We won and it was probably the best game
of footy I have seen at Anfield this season. I nearly had my body clock
ruined by the floodlight failure five minutes before kick off. I should
explain: I had about three pints before the game and usually get in to my
seat about five minutes before kick off which gives me forty-five minutes
to hang on until my next toilet visit and the delayed kick off due to the
light failure meant that this forty-five minutes was now going to be an
hour and a quarter so I had to disturb everyone in my row twice in the
space of two minutes. This may seem like small potatoes to most of you but
there is nothing worse than having to answer nature's call during the
match especially when there are about fifty people between you and the
exit steps. Anyway enough of the waterworks, let's move on. I did a little
sparking job for Francis B at a doctors surgery in Hackney and had to go
back there on Sunday for about two hours so I decided to take Taylor with
me and let him help fetching tools etc. I hadn't bargained for the dodgy
wiring I found in the ceiling and the two hours stretched to eight. I was
well pissed off but had to laugh when Taylor asked enquiringly "Dad, if
you have to work longer does that mean you get paid more??" to which I
replied "Yes" to which he countered "Does that mean I get paid more??".
Almost as sharp as his old man. We eventualy got the things working but
unfortunately the lights blew again the next day and I had to return today
to get them back on again which I managed (hopefully!!). On Monday I spent
a few hours just listening to all my multi-tracks to check everything was
in order for the digital transfer the next day and it was all sounding
quite vibing and ready for Timbo. On Tuesday I went to see my mate Martin
at his new studio in Islington because he was going to transfer all my
tapes into audio files so I can take them down to Wales for mixing next
week. I arrived at about eight and Martin did the last CD at 5.45am which
meant I went to bed just as the birds got up. While I was there I was
fortunate enough to listen to his new speakers which sounded well good. He
has just installed a 5.1 surround system so next time I pop down there I
will bring a few DVD's so I can check out the full vibe. I have promised
to lend him my Sopranos box set to help him while away the soldering
hours. The picture above is Mart in his domain. He will be gald I didn't
wait until five in the morning to take a close up when his eyeballs were
distinctly red and being propped up by a couple of Swan Vesta's. Spent
last night with my mate Tony Sherick watching the Reds on tv. They were
playing Barcelona in the Chumps League and drew 0-0 (again). The words
"couldn't score in a brothel" kepp coming to mind but are dismissed with
thought of Sami Hyypia lifting the big one at Hampden in May (very very
very slim chance of that happening, probaly about the same odds as me
winning the next pop idol!!!). Highlight of the evening was Duck in BBq
sauce washed down with a very cold Heineken Export. I will be in the chat
this week at 10pm but not next week because I will be in Wales and not
sure if I can get to a computer. I will be back with new wise words next
week with tales of castles, curries, mixes and Buckley's Dark. I bet you
can't wait. Le Grande Fromage approaches the final hurdle.
4th March.
Well it has been another mad week again this week. I apologise for not
making the chat but I am currently in the middle of my broken phone period
which happens about once every year in my house. We have lived in this
house for five years and at least once a year the phone goes down for a
few days becasue of work being carried out somewhere in the street
outside. This time they tell me that they are changing the green box
outside and this has taken them over a week which means the mobile phones
have been getting caned in this house. So what is BT's loss has turned
into Orange's gain. Hopefully it will be working by Thursday in time for
the chat. I cannot wait to collect all those un-read mails that will take
me a year to download once my phone is working again. On the positive side
it means I have a legitimate excuse for being late in replying to all my
mails. No doubt that by the time you have read the story below I will be
receiving more mail wishing my dad well so I will get my thanks in first
becasue I know you are a very caring bunch and your kind thoughts and
words are always appreciated.
You may wonder why there is a picture of me with my old man sitting in a
hospital bed?? Well let me tell you this tale of woe. Since my mother died
last year my old man has really been through it. First he was diagnosed as
having TB in his wrist which is a very rare form of TB. It is a strain of
African Tuberculosis which he traced back to being bit on the hand by a
mosquito about six years ago whilst on holiday in Norfolk (obviously the
mosquito had a broken compass!?!) His hand really swelled up and he was
put on some pills which didn't improve it very much so he was taken in for
an op and they removed this lump out of his hand and put him on these
strong anti-biotics. The TB anti-biotics are very strong and made him feel
very unwell. Added to this he got an infection in a saliva gland which
made the side of his face swell up and made it difficult to eat. Last week
while Claire was up in Liverpool she thought that he should be in hospital
becasue he had lost a stone and looked very dehydrated. She took him to
Fazakerley hospital and they arrived at two in the afternoon. Claire had
to leave him at 3.40 IN THE MORNING and he still hadn't been seen. He was
eventually seen at eight the next morning after spending the night on a
trolley in A&E and was told that he would have to go home because he
wasn't deemed ill enough to get a bed. I got a call on Wednesday night
from my aunt who was at the house and was very concerned at his physical
and mental condition so I headed up to Liverpool the next morning to see
if I could do anything. I contacted his GP who has really let him down
over the last few weeks and it was as plain as the nose on your face that
he needed to be in hospital. I went to see his GP on Friday morning who
told me that he would give me a letter to take to the hospital to try and
get him admitted but basically he was only doing this to keep me quiet and
get me and my missus off his back. I felt very confident confronting the
doctor because my mate Paul, who is also a GP at a different practice, had
been to see him before I went to see the GP and said there was no doubt
that he should be in hospital. So I go home from the surgery and wait for
an ambulance to take him back to Fazakerley Hospital. We arrived at three
and at five we asked a nurse how long it was going to be before he was
seen and we were told that the person who was at the head of my dad's
queue had been waiting since 10.30 that morning. I had had enough and my
old man had certainly had enough following his experience the previous
week. We had decided that before we went in to the hospital that if he
hadn't been seen by 8pm then I would put him in the car and drive him down
to London and try and get him into the hospital where Claire works. We
decided to leave the hospital at 5.30 and were told that we would have to
discharge my dad which was quite ironic considering he hadn't even been
seen. To add insult to injury the signing of the discharge form had to be
witnessed by a doctor who came out and countersigned the form. It is
amazing that you can't get to see a doctor for love nor money but if they
have to cover themselves with a signature then you can get one in two
minutes. My dad told him that I was going to take him home to London and
the doctor said to him "Well if you feel rough during the journey makes
sure you son takes you to a hospital on route". Does that take the fucking
biscuit or what!?!?! I wrapped him up in a sleeping bag and dropped the
seat and set off at high speed down the motorway and came very close to
breaking my record (left the house in Liverpool at 8.00pm and arrived in
London at 10.40!!). I was really hoping that I would get pulled by the
police on the motorway becasue I had a legitiamte excuse for excessive
speed and was looking forward to telling the coppers I was on a mercy
mission!!! The next day Claire was at work and managed to get him seen by
a doctor and he is now in hospital and feeling a lot better about his
situation which is a releif for everyone concerned. The only drawback now
is that the phone is going every ten minutes because people want to find
out how he is. If your phone is broken then BT will divert all your calls
to a mobile which would be great except the mobile reception in our house
is shite and people who call must think they are having a conversation
with Norman Collier ( for our non-British readers he is a comedian who has
been around for years and his only two gags are talking and pretending
that the microphone lead is broken and impersonating a chicken, a quality
act I think you will agree). This whole experience has left me thinking
that it is about time my family and I had some private healthcare??
On the music front I am nearly done. I have two vocals to compile and "Le
Grande Fromage" will be ready for the mixer. I had Lesley Anne in the
studio doing some backing vocals for me and considering it was her first
time in the studio she did very well and added a little bit of fairy dust
to "The Honeymoon's Over" and "Ruby Blue". I hope to do these before
heading off to Liverpool for the big game against Newcastle on Wednesday
which, if past encounters are anything to go by, should be a great game.
Keep it here.