Back to life, back to rea..... Nah, sod that!

So what have I been up to since we last spoke? Well, lots of this for a start:

And a shed load of gigs. For instance Polkadodge:

and Catfish And The Bottlemen:

Which was at The Leadmill where I lost my sole. Left boot. Spent a good two hours shopping in Sheffield the next day. Had a Father Ted moment in Debenhams before finding a shop that had the foresight to sell size 13 boots. Then off for a trek round Grindleford where I met this fella:

My main assumption from most of this is that I need a camera or a better phone. And then we get to last night which found me in Leeds to see Middleman. We're gonna get a bit crickety now so you may wanna go back to playing candy crush. Hotel I booked backed onto Headingley Cricket Ground, a thus:

Not a great view but that is Mecca for me. There's prettier grounds, Worcester, Chesterfield, Cheltenham for example and there's more impressive grounds, Lords and The Oval but Headingley is where I spent a lot of my youth. More of that later.

Middleman were on fire and pretty much destroyed The Brudenell Social Club. Plus they were delighted to see me and promptly put me on the guest list and we all know I love a good guest list! They just need to get some bigger t-shirts. We better have the obligatory pic:

Post gig I wandered drunken and happy back to the hotel. Past Headingley. Imagine my surprise to see the gates open so off I went. Now I've been drunk at Headingley many times but not at 1am. I'd got halfway round the ground before a security gourd, GOURD? Oh man I so wish security gourds existed! Before a security guard caught up with me. I cant repeat his opening gambit, not in a family blog. Childhood memories I said to the guy not even born when Geoff Boycott retired.  He was left unmoved when I pointed out the spot where the great man asked me to carry his bag, or where Wayne Wendell Daniel (the lesser of the legendary West Indies pace attack of the 70s/80s) refused to sign my autograph book citing he needed mental preparation before hitting me on the head with a copy of Razzle, or the seat I was sat in when Graham Gooch lofted a mighty six straight into my hands that I dropped into the bloke next to me's beer, or where I was stood at a West Indies/Australia world cup game wearing a Windies rosette and Clive Lloyd walked past and called me the whitest West Indian he'd ever seen. And as we walked down the path where Ian Botham politely asked me to get the f**k out of his way once I gave up my protestations. Shame 'cos I've a load more of em! Took this pic tho :-)

I shall return!

Laters

SS

:-(

Just a quickie.

So I've left this:

Moved back to this:

Cancelled this:

But I'm buggered if I'm cancelling this:

!!

SS

Under A Crooked Spire

A thus:

Well this is long overdue. 21st Jan and first blog of the year just isn't good enough. So what have I been up to you ask? Well getting confused by a floodlight, hopefully saving a fish, visiting a garden centre to look at cake, applying for jobs, touching the above church and exploring Chesterfield.

Applying for jobs is the crucial one there. 99% of job applications are done online so after a morning applying for jobs my brain is mush and I just end up staring at the laptop screen, dribbling slightly and trying to remember my words. Thought I'd make a concerted effort today though.

Still no luck on the job front which is becoming a worry 'cos I've booked a wedding here:

and a honeymoon here:

I'll stop showing off.

I've never really visited Chesterfield before. This is a lie. The Recreation Ground, Saltergate is the football ground I've visited most after Belle Vue and The Keepmoat and I've spent many a happy afternoon at the cricket ground in Queen's Park (the 2nd most beautiful cricket ground in the country) but I've never really visited the town before. Oh except The Pomegranate Theatre on a school trip to see Henry V part two. It may have been part one. It also may have been Henry IV. Ask your mum Bex, she might remember. Let's clarify this. I've never wandered round Chesterfield town centre before. I have now and there's some awesome pubs selling awesome real ale that made me drunk enough to want to touch the church. I've no idea why. Ask Ian. He's the one who came over to get drunk with me and touch the church.

Having seen Rovers play at Chesterfield's old ground I believe 9 times I've yet to visit their new ground though I've seen it loads now. Like most new grounds it looks functional but dull. It did confuse me one day though when I could only see 3 floodlights. On closer inspection it would seem that The Proact Stadium has done away with needing a steeplejack to change lightbulbs and just bend the whole pylon down. No doubt inspired by the spire.

And yes you did read the word's garden centre in that first paragraph. Hate the places. I'm sure it's not the case but I seem to remember every other Sunday as a child being dragged to a garden centre, normally the gone but not missed Pennells. The every other other Sundays were spent at camping shops. Again this is probably not true. My overall recollection of garden centres is liking the smell and the stone hedgehogs but on the whole being ridiculously bored. Even the time my mum bought me a cactus I was still bored. The cactus was named Spike and used to hang things on. This time though the lovely Tracey and I had gone to look at cake, specifically wedding cake. An odd thing for a garden centre to sell but I guess it cant all be fountains and plastic gnomes these days. They also sell fish. Whilst there out of the corner of my eye I saw a fish, don't ask me what make of fish, plummet from the top of it's tank to the bottom were it lay on it's side appearing to gasp for breath, which I know can't have been the case. It did seem to have a 'I can't do this any more' look on it's face. I reported it to some youth with a net who rescued it and said he'd quarantine it. For quarantine read flush.

That's about it really. I need to follow up the interest I've had from Elastic Radio, the local community station. I'm sure they'd welcome some Katy Perry free shows!

Does anyone else wish they had opposable thumbs on their insteps?

Laters

SS

Old Long Sime 31/12/13

So that time of year again. As those that know me know I'm not a huge fan of New Year's Eve. So many people seem to wax on about a fresh start and then wake up on the first day of the year with their head wedged in the u-bend, their phone in the fridge and their clothes in a shredder.

Anyway, happy New Wednesday for tomorrow. If you really feel that something's so wrong in your life that you need a fresh start then just do it. You don't need a specific date. Saying that I've just got engaged to the Lovely Tracey and am moving to Chesterfield in the New Year but that's just a coincidence!

(Quick footnote in the middle of the blog. Obviously as I've mentioned before a footnote should be at the foot of the blog. Looking at the size of this blog it's probably more of a chestnote. If it was summer it'd be a roasting chestnote. I'm gonna shut up and get back to the point. Had the best meal of my life at The Van Dyk Hotel in Chesterfield on Saturday night, finally knocking the Paris restaurant from 1991 off the top spot, and in between the beef bourguinon and stilton Tracey accepted my stuttering proposal. Insanely happy are the words I'm looking for here).

Back to the blog.

Auld Lang Syne!? Really. Let's look at that. I made need google translate for this.

'Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind.'

So, in effect, let's celebrate someone I've forgot all about and not only forgot all about but no-one else remembers them either otherwise they'd have reminded me. Raise a glass to absent friends but not someone you have no idea about!

And one more little rant. Saw a thing on facebook saying it's not only a new year but a new moon tonight. Double celebration!! Get bent. But apparently this is a very rare event. Not happened for 19 years!! Given the planet is 4.5 billion years old 19 years is bloody frequent!

Rant over.

Treated myself to some new boots yesterday. I'm not happy with that sentence. First off as a Yorkshireman it just dunt scan rate. Tret misen to some new booits yesterday. That's a bit better. But it wasn't really a treat. I needed new boots. I'm a bloke. I have 3 forms of footwear. Shoes for best, trainers and boots. The boots had developed a hole hence the need for new boots. Did the usual shopping tactics. Found boot shop, found boots, bought boots, went home. Sadly on getting home I found there were two left boots in the box. Maybe the shop assistant had seen me play football at some point and thought I had two left feet. Back to shop, located right boot and home.

Anyway, enough for this year. Go careful tonight. Next blog will probably be from under a crooked spire.

Laters

SS

.

Bar Handbag.

Dea-tráthnóna!

Good to have the Irish on board.

Train travel again. A train should never do an emergency stop but the one I was on last week did. I like my trains to slow gently to a halt before leaving me stranded. This one just slammed the brakes on though. And then we got the announcement that we'd stopped due to a fault on the unit. Unit? Really?

So that was that then. Stuck in the middle of nowhere til they worked out what to do with us. Or so I thought. But no. Almost immediately the train set off, and I might add at some pace. This was even more worrying. A faulty unit careering through the wilds of South Yorkshire with apparently not a care in the world. I was anticipating being derailed at any point and landing next to half a fox. The fact that arriving in Donny necessitated another emergency stop made my relief to get off even greater. I gave a passing thought to the poor souls left on the train heading to Scunny but then again they were off to Scunny. They deserve all they get.

Quick think. Do I know anyone in Scunny? Bugger. Yes. Sorry Fiona.

So it's that time of year again. I've mentioned before that everyone should have to work a bar for two weeks of their life. Bar staff would get so much more respect that way. I've re-evaluated that. Everyone should work a bar over Christmas and New Year.

Quick quiz. A bar is long enough for 5 people to stand at. The queue is about 5 deep at the bar. You're at the back of the queue. Basic maths says there's 25 people waiting before you. Do you:

A: Wait patiently and hope you get served in turn. (Good bar staff will always try to serve in turn but it's not always that easy).

or

B: Make your way to the serving hatch at the side of the bar, lean through and kick the barman who's already serving someone and yell 'I'm next.'?

Yes that happened to me on 'Mad Friday'. People forget the power bar staff wield. I, politely, told the 'kicker' he'd get served when it was his turn. twenty minutes later I deemed it to be his turn and, still politely, told him that kicking me was unacceptable and that he wouldn't be getting served in this pub now or for that matter ever again. Actually I wasn't that polite. I'm not gonna lie to you, I hope I ruined his day.

And can we stop calling it Mad Friday. It just encourages people.

So with all that in mind I've had 25 years, give or take, of that kind of behaviour so I don't think I'm gonna miss the pub game too much when I leave. On that note my leaving do is at The Leopard on Jan 5th. Feel free to come say hi/bye.

I made the mistake of attempting to Christmas shop yesterday. Last Saturday before Christmas. What an idiot. The lovely Tracey mentioned needing a handbag. I'm a bloke. What do I know about handbags? So I got her something useless, impractical and pointless instead. Obviously I can't divulge what just yet. This morning saw me wrapping presents. I'm hopeless at it. It basically looks like I've thrown wrapping paper and sellotape at a box and miraculously some of it stuck. I should say that anyone who gets a gift from me also gets some of my hair in there too. I'm generous like that.

Anyway, probably my last web log before Christmas so have a good one, stay safe and be nice to those poor sods who have to work all over Christmas!

Laters

SS

This Is An Ex-Sausage. Thursday 12/12/2013

Short blog, my mind's elsewhere, but I thought a blog was necessary.

I'd like to think over the last year or so we've got close so feel free to share personal moments in my life with you.

This morning I had, what I believe is known as, a minor operation. Without going into too much detail I've had a couple of tubes snipped. It wasn't too bad. I was, so to speak, comfortably numb.

What was more alarming was the build up. The diagrams they show you of the 'procedure' do resemble stills from a low budget gore film and whoever modelled for the diagrams is a very developed chap. Hope the surgeon doesn't expect us all to look like that otherwise this morning he'd have been very disappointed.

And of course every bugger just happens to know 'someone' with a horror story about the snip. I was praying they all knew the same person.

The only painful bit is the two needles, er, either side. The snipping itself just feels like lots of tugging. That possibly makes it sound better than it actually is. Also a bit odd is the nurse's hairdresser spiel. Although she didn't end with the 'Something for the weekend?' line.

It is a bit like a visit to the dentist. The anticipation is far worse than the event itself and you come out all smiley thinking that was easy.

And then the anaesthetic wears off.

As Weller once sang, 'Lights going out and a kick in the balls.'

Laters

SS

I Have No Idea Of A Title Now! Saturday 07/12/13

For Neil Cope after a conversation in The Woolpack toilet about lack of blog.

I've just seen an old english sheepdog crossing the road with what can only be described as saddle bags. All his owner had in his hand was the dog's lead. I thought this worthy of a mention so figured I may as well blog.

Do I miss doing the show? Well of course. The Cocteau Twins' Pearly-dewdrops' Drops has just come on random play on The Leopard jukebox and I immediately reached for pen and paper thinking I must play that on Monday's show then realised I don't have a show. D'oh! Still I'm enjoying the lie-ins in a warm Chesterfield bed more than I'm missing the show. Wish I'd done that Springsteen special before I left though.

I've spent a lot of time on trains recently. Yesterday was particularly spectacular. Due to the adverse weather conditions it took an hour and ten minutes to get from Meadowhell to Doncaster. This included 40 minutes parked, there's no other word for it, in Hexthorpe next to half a fox. That made pleasant viewing.

Obviously time on trains means time at stations. Advertisements at stations are like none I see anywhere else. Adverts for books I get. Something to while away the journey instead of looking for the other half of a fox. Although once you're on the platform waiting for your train it's a bit late to go book shopping. At Chesterfield station there's a lot of adverts for The Samaritans. Is advert the right word there? Not sure what that says about Chesterfield. Personally I hate leaving the place so it kinda makes sense.

At Sheffield station God's put quite a few billboards up. If God needs to advertise then he really is in trouble. And I'd worry for someone who sees a poster saying 'invite God into your heart' and thinks, 'Oh, OK then.'

So Samaritans and God. What does that say about train travel in this country? I'll be honest it's my 2nd favourite mode of transport after flying but you cant fly from Donny to Chesterfield.

OK, I'm off to email someone about how wanting 213 slices of a particular ham is excessive for a band rider.

Laters

SS

Playlist

:-(