Tuesday, 7 May 2013

walk my way

did I hear you call me brother?
did I hear you say
all we have is one another?
won't you walk my way?

roll on silver lining roll along
back on the streets where we belong

An interesting few weeks . . .

Nothing quite as drastic as February half term but busy, busy, busy. According to our management, OFSTED are in the car park and about to enter the building any moment. Honest. But that's been going on for weeks now. Mind you, Mrs Dave is so busy she hardly ever gets home. I'm thinking of parking Harvey in the car park, let her live there and have done with it.

Still, what can I tell you? Oh yes, an amazing Martin Simpson gig last Monday at the Colchester Arts Theatre. However, I have never been at a gig before where the act has to leave because his "body has rejected something I've taken in". Several false starts and a fair amount of time spent calling god on the great white telephone still lead to a wonderful few hours (with breaks) of fine guitar wizardry and poignant songs. Happy 60th birthday, Mr S and I look forward to Cambridge Folk Festival in the summer.

Mrs Dave and I travelled down to Wales on Friday evening with some friends to join a larger group of like-minded fellow travellers. A fine time was had by all generally, although those damned bottles of Talisker catch you out, don't they? We climbed Cadair Idris on Saturday which ended up a scramble up a very steep incline in a howling wind. After all the hard work the Blind Watchmaker opened the curtains briefly through sheer vanity to show us the most glorious sight of the west coast of Wales and its beautiful beaches. Oh that's why we spent all that time crawling up there on hands and knees.

The pub at the foot of the mountain had the best beer I've tasted for years - Butty Bach (Martyn?) - which was a fruity mouthful that slipped down very easily. Too easily. Later as 28 of us sat around a (very) primitive bunkhouse. We ate chicken curry, drank that Talisker and sang old campfire songs. Sunday was gentler. A quiet walk down a closed rail track (an early Beeching closure - 1964) towards the coast and a virtually Temperance* town still created a thirst. Back to the bunkhouse, then to drink whatever was available. A lovely part of Wales but not a great sleeping experience. We live and learn.

After a farewell to friends old and new, we travelled back home via the old home town to drop off some friends and back to reality. This really was a way of recharging batteries and reminding ourselves what life is really all about.

Oh, and I had left my phone at home (by accident) but between Friday evening and Monday evening, not a single call or text. There wasn't any service down there anyway. As I've said before, the phone has become so much more than simply a phone - a camera for a start. So, no photos of the fantastic scenery. I saw a jay, though!

Right, back on your heads then (surely everyone knows the joke?). Work as usual and then the weekend. Mrs Dave is doing the Moon Walk again this weekend, so if anyone fancies sponsoring her . . ?

*Possibly

6 comments:

Mike C. said...

Ha! "Calling God on the great white telephone"... Not heard that one before. Though I did watch (or maybe "help" is a better word) my daughter do precisely that a couple of weeks ago. Vodka...

Mike

Dave Leeke said...

Was it a birthday or other special event? A vodka hangover must be as bad as a tequila one.

I only ever had one on tequila (I've never had a taste for vodka)and it certainly cured me. Dreadful stuff.

I filled a bath with vomit and woke up the next morning and bought a goat. But that's another story . . .

Mike C. said...

No, no special occasion, just a radical miscalculation on the learning curve...

My own worst experience was getting utterly incapable on ouzo on the (then) remote Greek island of Ios. My subsequent one-sided all-nite conversation with God left me with a residual and ineradicable aniseed taint in my nostrils and throat for several days.

Mike

zythophile said...

Can't remember if I've had Butty Bach or not ...

I remember being put right off port when I was about 18 after over-consumption - took years before I could stand a sniff of the stuff again.

Mind, I can't stand ouzo even without ever having got drunk on it. Aniseed is one of those tastes I have never liked, as is peppermint.

Martyn

eeyorn said...

Mr Simpson did a wonderfully haunting track on the Folk Show this week, based on a Redcar legend. I think it brought a tear or 2 from many of the radio audience. Think it'll still be there on the iPlayer thingy.

I confess I've overdone it on many occasions, with the result that Woods Navy Rum and good cognac amongst others are now no-go areas.
I'm glad to say I can still appreciate a wee dram of good malt on the odd occasion. Oh, and my stepson is half-Mexican, so I have come to enjoy the delights of Jose Cuervo with him, and its certainly got the potential of becoming another no-go area :)

Dave Leeke said...

Apropos of nothing in particular . . . I have noticed that Adnams are now selling something called "Spirit of Broadside" which appears to be a "complex spirit packed full of wonderful spice aromas. The final spirit has whisky aromas . . ." Er, so now they're selling some sort of left overs from the beer process. I know Guinness have done it for years (Marmite) but can we now really sell any old crap?

Answers on a postcard. Please address them to Michael Gove . . .