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Post by maddogfagin on May 24, 2012 17:12:53 GMT
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Post by maddogfagin on Jun 6, 2012 18:16:55 GMT
The second of Gerald's blogs on the official site: www.j-tull.com/news/bostockblog.htmlincluding . . . There are suggestions that I might have to rent a car and drive him on some journeys but local promoters will hopefully take care of that. His wife, Shona, drives on the US tours and does all the daily tour accounting on the road. Scary woman by all accounts. Bumped into her once (literally) in the Waitrose car park at Clutterbury Retail Park. Trolleys locked in mortal combat in the fruit and veggie aisle. Admonishing me with a cluster of fresh asparagus, she trundled off muttering something about "stupid old men shopping alone...." while shaking a mane of dark hair in apparent disapproval. I - who have had to defer on many occasion to Madame Speaker - had to swallow this bitter pill of emasculation and retreat to the men's toiletries aisle to nurse my wounds. Again, all-too-literally, as her trolley had damned near taken my thumbnail off at the root. Scary woman....
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Post by steelmonkey on Jun 6, 2012 18:52:29 GMT
Great stuff....ian's hitting on all pistons these days...long may he write, play, sing, joke, interview, etc etc....the Colonel Parrit stuff is equal to the Python era he admires and the stuff he's spitting up in interviews is insightful and articulate not to mention resolute and optimist. Our job is to hope this is the begining of a sustained second or third wind not a flicker before the fade !
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Post by maddogfagin on Jun 7, 2012 17:45:15 GMT
Great stuff....ian's hitting on all pistons these days...long may he write, play, sing, joke, interview, etc etc....the Colonel Parrit stuff is equal to the Python era he admires and the stuff he's spitting up in interviews is insightful and articulate not to mention resolute and optimist. Our job is to hope this is the begining of a sustained second or third wind not a flicker before the fade ! Sort of coincides with the dumping of the "greatest hits" concerts of the previous few years and the new music with TAAB2. Think even IA must have been getting fed up with playing the same old stuff every night. I can see where Martin Barre was coming from when he went off to do his own thing with "New Day".
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Post by maddogfagin on Jun 17, 2012 9:38:48 GMT
Gerald's blog #3 at www.j-tull.com/news/bostockblog.htmlIncluding The engaging young Ryan O'Donnell is finding his feat, both on and off stage, and settling in nicely. The audience seem to really like him and he has the theatrical skills to carry off a difficult task. Somewhere between acolyte and anderson's younger self, he manages the trick of being his own man while mimicking the ancient master and taking on the odd vocal line or prancing step. He has some set pieces to sing on his own while Anderson plays the flute motifs and interludes and they trade story-line character in other parts. It certainly brings alive the parts of the arrangements of the original Thick album impossible to recreate without the extra stage presence of the new boy.
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Post by bunkerfan on Jun 17, 2012 11:50:25 GMT
Gerald's blog #3 at www.j-tull.com/news/bostockblog.htmlIncluding The engaging young Ryan O'Donnell is finding his feat, both on and off stage, and settling in nicely. The audience seem to really like him and he has the theatrical skills to carry off a difficult task. Somewhere between acolyte and anderson's younger self, he manages the trick of being his own man while mimicking the ancient master and taking on the odd vocal line or prancing step. He has some set pieces to sing on his own while Anderson plays the flute motifs and interludes and they trade story-line character in other parts. It certainly brings alive the parts of the arrangements of the original Thick album impossible to recreate without the extra stage presence of the new boy. The introduction of Ryan has been a master stroke. My opinion is that this is the way forward for Ian to continue playing live. By allowing another person to take on more and more of the vocals gives Ian the chance to play flute which, for me gives us fans hope of many years of great music to come. Roll on TAAB3
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Post by steelmonkey on Jun 17, 2012 18:21:03 GMT
We might have to start a 'Yay Ryan' thread as i just posted similar raves for him on another thread. great minds think alike. It's great how we can all ( Ian includes) pretend it's simply a solution for times when the original song requires flute and vocals rather than the dirty truth....Ian needs singing help !
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Post by bunkerfan on Jun 18, 2012 6:32:02 GMT
We might have to start a 'Yay Ryan' thread as i just posted similar raves for him on another thread. great minds think alike. It's great how we can all ( Ian includes) pretend it's simply a solution for times when the original song requires flute and vocals rather than the dirty truth....Ian needs singing help ! Yeah, I saw your post after I posted mine or I would have posted it there instead. Maybe we should have a Ryan O Donnell thread after all. PS. How many times can you use the word post when you post your post to answer someone else's post?
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Post by steelmonkey on Jun 18, 2012 16:26:41 GMT
Gerald's blog is a nice way for Ian to be distant/private as well as revealing and engaging at the same time. The honesty,insight and respect for fans he shows with 'tricks' like Gerald's blog and the self-interviews are yet MORE proof that Ian Anderson is in a class of his own as a performer, artist and all around mensch...not to mention tour manager and publicist...yeah, other folks have titles and job descriptions and salaries and surely make important contributions and exhibit their own talents and capabilities and hard work ( Shona,James, Anne Leighton, Tom Lynch)...but the Locomotive is Ian and a fine one he is. 2012 will join 1968, 1973 and 1987 as banner years for Jethro Tull.
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Post by maddogfagin on Jul 10, 2012 17:25:52 GMT
Blog #4 now up on the official site www.j-tull.com/news/bostockblog.html"I took to the 101 district of town with the "Jazz Trio" - Messrs. Goodier, O'Hara and Hammond, who tend to gravitate towards the delights of coffee houses, museums and art galleries. We sat in a few funky coffee places where local musicians often entertain in the evenings, pretending not to notice the local Icelandic lassies in their short summer dresses exposing pale moonlit knees and ankles quite unused to the long hours of June sun. They pretended (much more convincingly) not to notice us either. Made a damn good job of it, in fact."
"Mr A went off with with wife and bairn to the West of the island to visit a glacier and shoot a few minutes of video for Icelandic Television who will broadcast the concert later with some interviews and other material."
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Post by maddogfagin on Jul 23, 2012 7:45:03 GMT
Gerald's latest blog GB TAKES TO THE ROAD! Part 5 - Czech Castle and Spainwww.j-tull.com/news/bostockblog.html"Organised some tickets and passes for Anderson's old pal, Christopher Riley - originally pink Strat-playing rhythm guitarist of Johnny Breeze And The Atlantics - a Blackpool band who played at the youth clubs and bars around the time of Anderson's original musical beat group venture, The Blades, back in 1966.
The Blades were soon to become The John Evan Smash, when C. Riley joined as guitarist briefly and helped form the band's early departure from the local pop scene into Blues and Jazz. Mr Riley is now officially retired and has lived in Spain for the last 15 years, recently taking up the flute, as he told me. Came across this splendid historical site listing the various bands, clubs, agents etc of the Northern Music scene of the early 60s.
www.manchesterbeat.com/groups/johnnybreezeatlantics/johnnybreeze.php"
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Post by maddogfagin on Aug 14, 2012 7:56:38 GMT
His latest blog: GB TAKES TO THE ROAD! Part 7 - Breton Madness and Norwegian Odysseywww.j-tull.com/news/bostockblog.htmlNow comes the welcome Summer break for band and crew when all disperse to their various sojourns to be cosseted and kissed by the balmy breezes of August. Not bloody likely, as the weather forecast for the UK in the next week or so seems to promise more rain and cold temperatures after a couple of days of uplifting warmth last week. Some of the band lads are heading off on camping or walking holidays with family. Some crew have the odd gig to do serving different masters while IA and wife celebrate the bald old coot's 65th birthday on a Rhine cruise ship. A bit odd since we have been up and down the Rhine several times in the last weeks while on tour but Anderson seems to like Germany and life on the river. It was the Danube last year, apparently. The Yangtse next? Or a punt on the Cam?
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Post by nonrabbit on Aug 27, 2012 17:54:33 GMT
Latest; Bridges Over The River Rhine (The cruise) www.facebook.com/pages/Gerald-Bostock/305718789470676They're getting even funnier as the year progresses ;D "....And so, on to Amsterdam, sightly shabby but heady port city of dreams, nightmares and randy sailor nights. ..." "...Oh, well - pack the bags again and pray to the Greek God Stelios (who once ruled over Easyjet) to bring us safely to Krakow. ..."
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gongsi
Prentice Jack
Posts: 30
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Post by gongsi on Aug 29, 2012 3:47:25 GMT
very good.
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Post by maddogfagin on Oct 5, 2012 7:51:25 GMT
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Post by maddogfagin on Oct 22, 2012 9:39:14 GMT
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Post by maddogfagin on Dec 3, 2012 8:20:11 GMT
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Post by steelmonkey on Dec 3, 2012 18:54:15 GMT
I really like the blogs....a teeny bit discouraged that this one didn't have any solid mention of return to USA in 2013....I'm scared that the 2013 dates might not be full scale brick 1 and 2 again....there is always the danger and recent year's trend of outside venues in the summer which sellout or nearly selllout in the 4-6 thousand range taking the place of the 1800-2500 seat indoor range that would more likely guarantee full production of Bricks( and continued Ryan participation )...oh well...more nights spent awake worrying about Tull plans...it's a way of life by now...
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Post by maddogfagin on Dec 15, 2012 8:35:51 GMT
Latest blog from GB www.j-tull.com/news/bostockblog.htmlNorwegian Wood, wouldn't he? - Part 12"A group of us ex-politicos are to get together, I can now announce, to set up a cross-party platform for Hard Rock in the shape of (first suggestion as to band name only) The Commoners - who will self-pen a few ditties as well plunder the back catalogue of a some old-school worthies. Not Jethro Tull material (a bit too - well - complicated) but more like Iron Maiden, AC/DC and Meatloaf if we can find a good enough singer. As Cyril Smith is no longer with us and, anyway, not exactly in favour with those he is said to abused, we may have to find a skinny guy with a fat-suit. Nigel Lawson?
And no - T. Blair need nor apply. Even if his wife Sherry-Cherry would let him. He is a Fender man through and through and we will have nothing of that jangly, twangy, nonsense here: what I have purchased are (eat your hearts out mealy-mouthed Fender-noodlers) a 1967-style Goodson Lee Spall, (made lovingly by a small hand in Korea) finished in distressed sunburst, and fitted with twin Grunt Afterburner Mk II humbuckers set for the heart of the nun.... Marshall stack with vintage Black Dwarf 12" titanium-coned speakers. A Tube-Sim Obliterator Pre-amp with digital multi-FX and a MySnake 20' graphite core, ruggedised guitar lead with the platinum-plated jacks. A donkey-leather strap edged in badger fur and guitar picks made from recycled endangered sea-turtle shell."And Further On"PS: Anyone got a well-thumbed copy of Bert Weedon's "Play In A Day"? C major looks straightforward enough but Bb7th seems to invite a seriously dislocated pinky."
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Post by steelmonkey on Dec 15, 2012 16:35:57 GMT
I wonder what's up...Is Ian (or james, who might be the blog author) dropping hints about the next project...a hard rock band featuring ex-politician Gerald's personna somehow? Something's on the Move....but what?
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Post by nonrabbit on Jan 27, 2013 10:42:41 GMT
THE BOSTOCK DIARIES CHAPTER 13 A New Beginning Well - Christmas and New Year came and went. Just about quickly enough. While the Anderson tribe went about their saintly business of redecorating the cathedrals and churches of the realm, The Old Bag and I took a little trip to a Cotswold countryside Spa Hotel, "The Snootery", to enjoy a long weekend of self-indulgence in the wet and soggy surroundings of the park. We had newly-built off-lying cottage accommodation booked but, due to lack of other guests and the inclement weather, were upgraded to the bridal suite in the main building. Just as well as the December Atlantic depressions were so atrocious we hardly left the hotel. TOB had some Spa beauty treatments in the vain hope, I imagine, that I might wish to take fuller advantage of the marital bed. Skin peels and hot, waxy oil dripping out of every pore, however, are not likely to get this old engine started.
Home again to the Rectory where, being on low ground, we were subjected to three feet of water in the cellar and a small lake where the driveway used to be. Wettest December since records began, they said at the Met Office. Smugly and with n apology whatsoever. Half of the countryside was under water around St Cleve and the roads impassable for days on end. Tried in vain twice to get to the Clutterburuy Waitrose to do the Christmas food-shopping but ended up with a frantic last-minute dash for the last turkey in town two days before the big day. A bottle of 12 year old Talisker single malt and some own-brand cooking brandy for TOB rounded off the £200 or so it cost to stock up for the the next week, given that we had to at least appear sociable with the neighbours. Archie Parritt invited us over for his customary drinks and supper-do at Cruddock Hall and even had the pool heated and available for the last guests to take a wild late-night dip, so we heard. Not being exactly mad about Bunga-Bunga-style revelry, TOB insisted we leave early and try three-in-a-bed with old Silvio back at our place instead. Just kidding. Actually, he could have helped me out that night as it happened.... Heads down and wait for it all to go away. That's my idea of Christmas and the New Year. TV was rubbish. How many times do we have to watch "Love Actually" to find out if Keira Knightly ever gets it off with the best man (who bears a striking similarity to Sheriff Rick Grimes in "The Walking Dead").
And so to January with real snow and real Winter promise! I spent a happy afternoon in the Old Library bookshop with Matt Bunter and his collection of marvellous tomes of all sorts. Historical romances. Politically incorrect Victorian extravaganzas and..... a very interesting, if flawed, unpublished manuscript by Ernest T. Parritt, local amateur historian and grandfather of the present Lord Archie and, who, it turns out, had a curious penchant for historical observation and a bit of fortune-telling to boot.
Apparently he wrote this in 1928 in the drawing room at Cruddock Hall during a hideous early Winter. Unable to venture out to shoot pheasant or seduce the local lassies at the Turnpike Inn, he whiled away six long weeks penning a yarn of ancient history of the British Isles laced with juicy predictions of things to come.
Matt and I were both enthralled and amused by his well-intended scholarly meanderings and so I took it home to draw some inspiration for ideas for lyrics for the band I am putting together in my age of febrile middle age crisis. In a mere few weeks, The Commoners will have a debut gig to a few old buddies from the back benches in a tavern in darkest Westminster and I hope I can achieve a level of competence by then in the art of axe-bashing, or whatever you call it.
Young Florian Opahle has promised to come over from Munchen to offer a bit of guitar tuition and performance guidance if I bestow upon Easyjet the princely sum of £45 each way plus a ride from Gatwick.
TOB will have her work cut out to feed him as he is an enthusiastic eater. A sausage man and pie enthusiast, he will find little to sustain him at Waitrose now that haggis season has closed after Burns night. Happily, the Dirty Duck has a Bavarian Night scheduled in early March so perhaps he will find sweet solace in the palest of white sausage, suckling pig-knuckle or blood-soaked varieties of Kronfleischküche in his communication with the recently departed. Enough to conjure a stiffy from a necromancer. Fist of pork with mustard and lashings of lardy excess will one day send young Opahle heavenward on a fluffy cloud of self-loathing. "Serves the bugger flippin' right," as half-veggie Anderson might say. Lord Anfield (Woodsy) called the other day and asked me if we might take gentlemen's lunch at a favourite Bangladeshi haunt in Brick Lane. Methinks he has darker motives. Could it be he sees a place for an old dog in shadow cabinet meetings? Shadow Minister with seriously-mislaid portfolio?
Mr Ed may, or may not, know about this blatant attempt to seduce the old dog from its cozy kennel but I rather fancy the Sag Prawn with the Tarka Dal and a couple of fat Naan breads. In for a penny, in for the full quid. Bugger me stiff with a red-hot poker, but I think I might take up his hospitality. I would offer to pay, of course, but exalted High-Labour toffs have to show off a bit. Pick up the tab and slap backs. Show they are not above wining and dining the lowly and the lost. Over and Out. GB signing off.
PS: Pass the Immodium, there's a good chap.
;D
"TV was rubbish. How many times do we have to watch "Love Actually" to find out if Keira Knightly ever gets it off with the best man (who bears a striking similarity to Sheriff Rick Grimes in "The Walking Dead").
Perhaps a hint?
"......penning a yarn of ancient history of the British Isles laced with juicy predictions of things to come.
Matt and I were both enthralled and amused by his well-intended scholarly meanderings and so I took it home to draw some inspiration for ideas for lyrics for the band I am putting together......."
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Post by maddogfagin on Mar 10, 2013 7:44:16 GMT
The Bostock DiariesSticking Some Pins in the Sphere for Barbados Postcard Days - Part 14 www.j-tull.com/news/bostockblog.html"I, having had the temerity to bring a small travel guitar, loaned by Flo the Axe-man of evil repute, spent a few lazy mornings honing some songs and lyrics for the new project. I seriously think I might be getting the hang of this. I have downloaded, at vast expense, a computer audio-recording programme called Logic Express which promises to bring me closer to the consummate song-writing and recording experience. My rather slow Mac laptop, of some vintage, threatens to grind to a backward halt from time to time but there is a duty-free shop in Bridgetown, so I am told, that will grace my middle-aged palm and back-pack with a shiny new Macbook Air. 8Gb of RAM and a 500 Gb solid state drive. Whatever they might be. Might be worth a thought."
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Post by steelmonkey on Mar 10, 2013 22:31:48 GMT
'Something's On The Move' never liked that song...like the idea, right now!
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Post by nonrabbit on Mar 13, 2013 21:37:18 GMT
Well Gerald must be spending a heck of a lot of time with Mr A - he's even started to pick up some of the Scottish lingo
Also he seems to be indicating that as well as the new album he will fill Michael Winner's shoes and be a food critic ;D
The Bostock DiariesChapter 14 Well - I have been a busy body. Busy, busy, that is - not necessarily a mere pain in the veritable sagbutt. Unless, of course, you happen to be The Old Bag. She has hardly stopped complaining these last four weeks. We had a windfall: the lottery provided a chance intervention by British Airways, who had decided, in their infinite wisdom, that I should be upgraded to a Silver Card and given a few thousand extra air-miles after all the travelling last year with Anderson and his wayward tribe. So - at incredibly short notice - we embarked on a foolish vacation week to sultry Barbados where a lacklustre Winter season had provided for a substantial last-minute discount at a rather nice West Coast paradise including rental car and a flight with Premium Economy ticket.
And, off we went, having had barely time to pack a Y-fronted underpant or fresh buttock-clefting knicker. Baggy shorts and sunscreen. Sandals and brown socks. Knotted hankie and native-repellent. Of course, I'm kidding there. Awfully nice chaps the Bajans. Smiley and always game for a laugh at the expense of the Germans and the Yanks.
Been to B'dos a couple of times before, of course. Once for a "business meeting" involving cricket, courtesy of the Party bosses. And once for an incredibly dirty weekend with The Young Bag, back then when she was filled with zest and go. Saucy minx. I have the polaroids, still. Want to see them? I'll bet you do. I'll bet you do. We checked in at the Coral Reef Club, to a basic but cheerfully furnished garden room. Still luxurious compared to the South Coast cheap-and-cheerfuls. Far from the beach but mercifully peaceful and were met at check-in by the house staff who remembered they had hosted Anderson, Wife and family on an occasion or two. How they made the connection, I can't imagine, but The O'Hara family who own and run the place seem to know everything.
Splendid and relaxing was the prospect of a week in Paradise, even without Phil Collins. Until the worst thing imaginable happened.
TOB picked up a nasty gastro-bug from the road-side shack along the way which she insisted on visiting, having heard that it was full of inglorious ex-pats and undesirables. Just because Michael Winner might have supped there without gastric consequence says little, given that the man must have had a cast-iron constitution to repel the additions un-lovingly bestowed upon his critical palate and reputation as the world's legendary gastronomic snob and critic by many a rancoured chef and maitre D. Whether in retribution for a malicious review or in mere anticipation of the same.
So, a few nights of projectile vomiting and moaning of the third kind ensued. I dined alone at the Coral Reef restaurant - deliciously and relentlessly. His Royal Lowness, Fatasapig, I became known to the waiters and water carriers.
Other couples and families shunned the solo male weirdo with the iPad and the sandals-and-socks ensemble. An O'Hara - forget the first name - offered a night-cap in the bar but TOB wouldn't hear of me having so much as a half-way decent time in her sickly absence. Supping on the occasional milk and scrambled egg she whinged, moaned and regurgitated into her self-pitying madness. No TV to soothe the pain. And, since she has yet to master the delights of the internet and email, there was little for her to do except sit on the balcony, within a fast quick twenty feet of the lavvy-loo and pray for salvation in the form of sunshine, warmth and an empty bowel. I, having had the temerity to bring a small travel guitar, loaned by Flo the Axe-man of evil repute, spent a few lazy mornings honing some songs and lyrics for the new project. I seriously think I might be getting the hang of this. I have downloaded, at vast expense, a computer audio-recording programme called Logic Express which promises to bring me closer to the consummate song-writing and recording experience. My rather slow Mac laptop, of some vintage, threatens to grind to a backward halt from time to time but there is a duty-free shop in Bridgetown, so I am told, that will grace my middle-aged palm and back-pack with a shiny new Macbook Air. 8Gb of RAM and a 500 Gb solid state drive. Whatever they might be. Might be worth a thought.
And then, TOB can then learn to wrestle with the old Macbook Neanderthal. Given to me by a grateful department, little-known in government circles, The Resources And Deployment Committee. A think tank, assembled from cross-party academics and intellectuals, barnstorming the longer-term potential actions of the Treasury. Fat lot of notice G. Brown ever took of us, I have to say. Lunched and blethered his way through a few meetings and findings and then went his own way with the advice only of The Few. Democracy starts and ends down Westminster Way.
But all over, all too soon for me, although TOB couldn't wait to board the BA flight home and forget the whole sordid and painful business. But the negative eating experience was not yet over... The catering (boarded in Barbados, I was informed) included Salmon Gravlax and Tenderloin Fillet of beef. Which we both duly ordered, TOB having decided that the plumbing was back on line and ready for solids. And solids was what we got. The Gravlax, which should have a translucent marinated appearance must have been in the freezer for months. Opaque and tasteless save for a fishy tang and leathery texture. Pacific species fish it was, so much less succulent and rich in Omega 3 oils than Atlantic Salmon. I know about these things, having been on the receiving end of a lecture or two from his flutey nibs, the ex-Salmon Farmer.
But the beef was the thing to write home about - and to BA Customer Relations Department about too! Impossible to cut let alone chew. TOB and I had to give up after one attempted mouthful each. Better chew on a pair of soon-to-be-retired British Army desert boots than make the futile attempt to derive nourishment and sustenance from the Barbadian Tenderloin Fillet of Boot.
The cheese plate, grasped as late salvation since no alternative main meal was offered, had no cutlery, no crackers or biscuits - just a small piece of Cheddar and a few grapes. And this was Business Class! My advice is take your own left-overs doggy-bag from the excellent Coral Reef kitchen and avoid the BA dinner altogether. Until they shake up their catering supplier and teach the rules of culinary acceptability. And Michael Winner was grumpy? I am the man to take his place! Big shoes to fill in the late Winner's grump department? Fill? I might well have eaten them, in preference to the aforementioned BTF-of-B. So I penned a letter of complaint to BA on my return. See if they reply.
Ah, well - Spring is in the air in West England. Lambs are lambing. Daffodils are daffing. And TOB is TOBbing.... Back on the Fois Gras and the Pork Belly casserole. Iron constitution, that woman. As a rule. Last seen in Hunter Wellies and Barbour Jacket, picking up road-kill on the Clutterbury Southern Bypass. Two badgers, disassembled pheasant and what appeared to be a small deer - Muntjac I am told - all to grace the Sunday lunch table in due course. After they have hung in the larder for a couple months no doubt. She really is taking this country living a bit too seriously.
Me, I'm off the the Dirty Duck for a pint of Old Nobble and a kangaroo cutlet. Food you can trust.
Over and Out. GB signing off. PS: Anyone got a Romanian or Bulgarian phrase-book? We're going to need them.
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Post by JTull 007 on Mar 14, 2013 1:06:53 GMT
"I, having had the temerity to bring a small travel guitar, loaned by Flo the Axe-man of evil repute, spent a few lazy mornings honing some songs and lyrics for the new project."
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Post by nonrabbit on Oct 26, 2013 17:42:33 GMT
Latest offerings from yon auld Mr B Part 16 Just a wee deoch an’ doris, just a wee drap, that’s a’…… So sang Harry Lauder back in the early part of the 20th century. Lauding the sublime companionship through drink of the fellow man or woman. But, most likely, man. Extolling the virtues of the fruits of the humble sprouting barley grain and and peaty burn that tumbles recklessly through the heathers and the in-bye down to the salty loch where mackerel boats once moored deck to deck. Now, roused by song and Scottish culture, I ramble, happy as a thistle down the aisles of Clutterbury Waitrose in search of the whisky shelves. Spying the seductive single malt labelling of the Talisker, I slip two bottles into the trolley in the hope that The Old Bag will not notice them carelessly, yet cunningly concealed beneath the bags of frozen spinach, peas, rice portions of the Waitrose Essential budget varieties. Otherwise she will be claiming one as her own as soon as we unload back at Bostock Towers. Stick to the bloody G&T, woman, why don’t you? I have been writing various bits and bobs during the last three months as Summer finally fizzled and the gloom of Autumnal dark descended on the vale of St Cleve. My biography claims a decent portion of my writing hours. The rest is spent on various chores for Labour HQ where the trials and tribs of one Miliband the younger require the odd speech tweak and re-write. Policy documents to refine. Fluffy half-attacks on the office of Our Dave. And all of this from the goodness of my idealogical heart. I was hoping for a modest expense account at the Cinnamon Club or at last a Lordship at some point but that Woodsy of Anfield, Shad-Cab-Min-Without, seems to have blocked the bestowing of that noble office as some petty and spiteful riposte following a jokey moment of loose pen and pencil in a recent blog of mine. Intellectual tosser. And Lord Bostock Of Cleve has a ring of upwardly-mobile working class splendour, does it not? Just a little? Just a miserly smidgeon, at least? My final reworkings of the lyrics for the new IA album are due, he tells me, on his return from the USA as rehearsals begin at the end of November. I have little idea of the tunes although he did send some music demos to help focus my efforts a few months back. But hearing from various band members how often he is likely to change his tune – quite literally – and the keys and tempos to boot, it hardly seems worth it to take too much to heart. Anyway, the poetic juices flow so much better when unhampered by base melody and the dissonant jangle of all-too-clever harmony. Words and sentence create their own momentum and sing their way skyward to higher meaning. Paragraphs divide and conquer. Colons and apostrophes, commas, bold font and italics inform through breath, pause and accent. And, bless: the errant but eminently useful dash ( – ) can work its magic too. Dash and damn – but it’s a fine addition to the arsenal. Hyphenate the hy-men. Paraphrase the paradiddle. Conjucate the verbiose. Fancy a game of footer? Skittles at the Duck? Arm-wrestle a ten-year-old? Slag off Our Dave or Cleggie-boy? Nigel the F-word. Honestly – does he think we are ready for a Prime Minister named Nigel? Come to think of it, isn’t that awfully earnest O’Bama, the Chicago Shamrock, turning out to be a real disappointment. I think I shall just call him Bo’B in my biographical meanderings. Ever, Bostock. Angry as Hell, and something of a clever bugger. See below for the full version of Wee Deoch an’ Doris. Wee Deoch an Doris There’s a good old Scottish custom that has stood the test o’time,
It’s a custom that’s been carried out in every land and clime.
When brother Scots are gathered, it’s aye the usual thing,
Just before we say good night, we fill our cups and sing… Chorus
Just a wee deoch an doris, just a wee drop, that’s all.
Just a wee deoch an doris afore ye gang awa.
There’s a wee wifie waitin’ in a wee but an ben.
If you can say, “It’s a braw bricht moonlicht nicht”,
Then yer a’richt, ye ken. Now I like a man that is a man; a man that’s straight and fair.
The kind of man that will and can, in all things do his share.
Och, I like a man a jolly man, the kind of man, you know,
The chap that slaps your back and says, “Jock, just before ye go…” Chorus Meaning of unusual words:
deoch an doris = Gaelic for a drink at the door, a last farewell drink.
Aye = always.
But and ben = a two-roomed cottage.
Ken = know. Thought I was the only one turning more Scottish the older I got
Here's Harry
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Post by maddogfagin on Oct 27, 2013 9:08:10 GMT
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Post by nonrabbit on Oct 27, 2013 10:09:13 GMT
Yes it's been spotted on the site too. " Is that uncle John or was it his brother, Nigel? ..." witter witter
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Post by JTull 007 on Mar 22, 2023 0:58:02 GMT
By Onj LechaosGerald "Little Milton" Bostock was the eight-year-old pictured on the front of the original StCleve Chronicles. His disqualification from a poetry competition is the focus of the main story in the paper. Having initially won the contest with the poem Thick As A Brick, he was then removed because of the poem´s offensive nature and his own psychological instability. Of course, all of this was fictional. It was child model Andre C Le Breton who played the role of Bostock 40 years ago. He went on to model for various clothes catalogues, before making a complete change in his choice of career. He ran his own recording studio, where he produced and engineered sessions for bands, most of which were demos. As he himself says: "Nothing too grand".
But the main thrust of his studio involvement came in working on his own music. But if you´re hoping that his connection to Jethro Tull led him into progressive rock, then that´s not the case. "These days it´s pretty weird underground German sounding trance, blends of light and dark electronic noise, really", he says. London based, Le Breton works under the banner of Le chAos fActorY, and if you want to check out any of his works then go to www.myspace.com/lechaosfactory. We can also reveal that Ian Anderson tried to track down Le Breton, with the idea of having him on the front of the new StCleve Chronicle. However, at the time he was in remission from cancer and wasn´t well enough to get involved with TAAB2. But at least we now know that Gerald Bostock is alive and well, albeit rather older! .
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