Saturday, 11 July 2020

We wake up, we go out, smoke a fag, put it out



Timeslip moment once more...

We've surfaced from Waterworld into the midst of 1995 again - the year of Princess Diana's "there were three people in this marriage" Panorama interview, the Bosnian War, Oasis vs Blur, Nick Leeson and the collapse of Barings Bank, GoldenEye, Windows 95, Steve Fossett, Jacques Chirac, the Sarin gas attack on the Tokyo subway, assassination of Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, Gangsta's Paradise, the conviction of Rose West (and the suicide in prison of Fred West) for the murder of ten women and girls, Russian war in Chechnya, Leah Betts, Muriel's Wedding, Louis Farrakhan, the Schengen Agreement, The Madness of King George, Hugh Grant's arrest with a prostitute, Eduard Shevardnadze, Robbie Williams leaving Take That, Timothy McVeigh and the Oklahoma City bombing, Clueless, OJ Simpson found not guilty of murder, "Mr Darcy", the docking of Space Shuttle Atlantis with the Russian Mir space station, and Pocahontas; the year Dua Lipa, Gigi Hadid, the World Trade Organization (WTO), Timothée Chalamet, Hollyoaks, Troye Sivan, Mumbai (formerly Bombay) and the Sony PlayStation were born; and Kenny Everett, Ginger Rogers, Lana Turner, Donald Pleasence, Peter Cook, Dean Martin, Elizabeth Montgomery, Paul Eddington, Harold Wilson, Sir Michael Hordern, Ida Lupino, Doug McClure, Gerald Durrell, Larry Grayson, James Herriot, Sir Robert Stephens, Burl Ives and Sir Kingsley Amis all died.

In the headlines in July twenty-five years hence: the Srebrenica massacre of of more than 8,000 Bosnian civilians by Serbian forces horrified the world, PM John Major's gamble with calling an election to face-down his critics paid off as he was re-elected leader of the Conservative Party, the world held its breath over the stand-off between the West and Saddam Hussein over Iraqi disarmament, and the massive Hindu temple in Neasden was formally opened; in the ascendant was Aung San Suu Kyi, who was freed from house arrest in Burma, but we bade a fond farewell to the dilettante poet Sir Stephen Spender. In our cinemas: First Knight; Batman Forever; Congo. On telly: Gaytime TV; Stars in Their Eyes; Arthur C. Clarke's Mysterious Universe; and the ill-fated L!VE TV (with its "News Bunny", "Topless Darts and "Lunchbox Volleyball") was launched.

And in our charts a quarter of a century ago (gulp)? Outhere Brothers were at #1 with Boom Boom Boom, and also present and correct were a clutch of - ahem - less-than-inspiring artists including Diana King, Robson & Jerome, Reeves & Mortimer and Shaggy, as well as boyband MN8, Techno combo Clock and the legendary Edwyn Collins...

...and this one!


We are young
We run green
Keep our teeth nice and clean
See our friends, see the sights
Feel alright

We wake up, we go out
Smoke a fag, put it out
See our friends, see the sights
Feel alright

Are we like you?
I can't be sure
Of the scene as she turns
We are strange in our worlds

But we are young, we get by
Can't go mad, ain't got time
Sleep around if we like
But we're alright

Got some cash
Bought some wheels
Took it out
'Cross the fields
Lost control, hit a wall
But we're alright

Are we like you?
I can't be sure
Of the scene, as she turns
We are strange in our worlds

But we are young
We run green
Keep our teeth nice and clean
See our friends, see the sights
Feel alright


Twenty-five years? Where did they go?

Friday, 10 July 2020

Jelly time!


A buffet!

Yay! Another weekend beckons and, after one of the wettest, most miserable weeks in ages, the sun is shining. It won't last, but at least it makes the view out of the window a bit nicer.

Speaking of lovely things, darling Jason Orange [the "quiet one" formerly of Take That; centre of pic above] blows out fifty candles on his cake today [gulp!].

That gives us a perfect excuse to get the party started by wallowing in the lithe semi-naked gyrations [they knew their market!] of the UK's most successful (and pretty) boyband, at the very beginning of their triumphal career - and Thank Disco (Jelly?) It's Friday!!


No need to ask me - do what you want!"

Oh, OK then. I will.

Have a good weekend, peeps!

Thursday, 9 July 2020

And me in a suit - well, it just wasn't me



Another bizarrely mismatched selection of notables were born on this day, not least David Hockney, Tom Hanks, Dame Barbara Cartland, Mervyn Peake, Jim Kerr of Simple Minds, Sir Edward Heath, Paul Merton, Courtney Love, Richard Roundtree, Brian Dennehy, Dame Judi's late husband Michael Williams, OJ Simpson, Bon Scott of AC/DC, Kelly McGillis, Lee Hazlewood...

...and our beloved Patron Saint Marc Almond!

Here, by way of a celebration, is one of his more recent (and sadly overlooked by the ungrateful buying public) numbers, the lyrics for which I think are most appropriate:


I've got a redwood heart
Searching for love
I'm not so different to you
I yearn for another
But it's always a stolen romance
But a quick game of chance
A fly by night dance
Or a fling with a criminal lover
So you can give me your red roses
They'll all go straight in the trash can

I live my own life
I'll go my own way
And nothing you say will make me change my mind
I'll sing my own song
I'll bang my own drum
And everyday I'll leave all my worries behind
Leave your name on the door and say goodbye

I've learned how to dance alone
Not to answer the phone
I always make sure I'm just out of reach
Friends ask me to clubs, to parties, to bars
But I'm never around
I just like a nice cup of tea or a walk on the beach
So you can give me your phone number
But be sure I'll never call you

I live my own life
I'll go my own way
And nothing you say will make me change my mind
I'll sing my own song
I'll bang my own drum
And every day I'll leave all my worries behind
Leave your name on the door and say goodbye


...and, of course, another little something from - gulp - 38 years ago!
[I don't even need to post the lyrics to this one - anyone worth their salt knows this song word-for-word already...]


Happy birthday, dear Marc!

Peter Mark Sinclair "Marc" Almond, OBE (born 9th July 1957)

Wednesday, 8 July 2020

A price worth paying


Experts have insisted the current lockdown on the UK music scene must continue to prevent a resurgence of awful rubbish which could spread globally.

Despite anxiety about the economic damage caused by the closure of music venues, analysts say it is a price worth paying until a vaccine is developed to prevent upcoming musicians playing total shite.

Professor Henry Brubaker of the Institute for Studies said: “We have to recognise the danger that some unlikely, lowest common denominator mediocrity could go viral thanks to the irresponsible attitudes of some music fans.

“Ed Sheeran started playing gigs in Norwich in 2008. With an effective system of local lockdown he could have been stopped from reaching London and the devastating effects of ‘Galway Girl’ would have been prevented altogether.

“Similarly, if suppressed at an early stage we could have avoided Coldplay. Unfortunately it was allowed to flourish unchecked, reaching America and mutating via Gwyneth Paltrow, before going on to spread throughout the world.

“We must be certain that such devastation can never happen again before the British music scene is allowed to resume.”
The Daily Mash

Of course.

Tuesday, 7 July 2020

Fantastic, indeed



After four months of hell, I finally managed to get my hair cut. Hoorah!

Here's an appropriate song from a very appropriately-named band...


Deep joy.

Monday, 6 July 2020

I try to run and then I hit the heart brake



Grrr - another weekend over. Too soon, too soon...

Never mind, eh? As we gleefully (ahem) enter week sixteen of working from home, on this Tacky Music Monday I have discovered for your delectation, dear reader, an artiste truly deserving of that nomenclature...

Born Isabelle Morizet, Mademoiselle Karen Cheryl (for it is she) was possibly French television's answer to the hyper-energetic (American) Italian Heather Parisi. Certainly, the cheesy safety-gays-heavy dance routines and the dead-behind-the-eyes smile seem eerily familiar:


Phew. That woke me up!

Have a good week, dear reader.

Sunday, 5 July 2020

Ich bin ein Vamp


I still haven't managed to get my hair cut

It's been another weird day, weather-wise - quite a lot of sunshine, but the gales have been so strong we thought another of the horrid weed trees over the back from us was going to come down. Unfortunately it's still standing, blocking out the mid-afternoon light.

Hey ho, between us we managed to get a few jobs done in the garden, as is our wont, so all is not lost. Here's some "Sunday music" to round the day off nicely, courtesy of a lady who we've managed to miss, more's the pity, each time she's appeared in London [maybe next time, eh?] - Melbourne's finest, Melissa Madden Gray aka Meow Meow!

First up, here she is with one of our "house bands" here at Dolores Delargo Towers, Pink Martini:


And, in case anyone were in any doubt about her reputation...


Faboo!

Meow Meow website

Saturday, 4 July 2020

Been a long time, been a long time now, I'll get to you somehow



Over the pond, our ungrateful former colony is celebrating (after a fashion, given the pandemic) its armed rebellion. Over here, we have a rather more British moment to celebrate - for yesterday, one of the most influential men in the world of popular music turned 60 years old!

Vince Clarke (for it is he) was the founder member of three of our (and the UK's) favourite chart-topping bands, Depeche Mode, Yazoo and Erasure - so, by way of a celebration, how about a choon from each of them? I think we should...







[Although this worldwide hit was intended for their second album You and Me Both (but was actually released as a standalone single instead), my fave Yazoo LP remains Upstairs at Eric's - see my blog post about that from 2012]




[Read my post about their concert at The Roundhouse in Camden in 2011]

The man is, quite simply, a genius.

Many happy returns, Mr Vince Clarke (born Vincent John Martin, 3rd July 1960)

Friday, 3 July 2020

Joho, Joho. Apparently.



It might have been a short week, but it was a particularly annoying one, and I am rather glad it's coming to its conclusion. The skanky weather hasn't exactly helped - but at least we did take delivery of a new (and rather imposing) new garden bench, which we (eventually) managed to put together yesterday and is now proudly dominating the garden, shrugging off the rain. [I'll post pictures in due course, if ever the weather eases up...]

Never mind the storms, we have end-of-week parties to plan [virtual ones, of course - we're not even going to contemplate venturing to any pub or similar, despite the much-vaunted "lockdown easing" that is supposed to happen this weekend; although I may try and get my hair cut if the queue isn't around the block]!

I think I might just sling on an old gold lamé jumpsuit, grab a curtain tie-back off the bay windows of the local Turkish restaurant for a headband, and boogie on down with Mr Richie Weeks and his hyperactive chums...

...and Thank Disco It's Friday!


Have a good weekend, peeps!

Thursday, 2 July 2020

By the bins round the back of Lidl


Your guide to becoming a billionaire by doing fuck all, by Kim Kardashian
What's the secret to becoming obscenely rich, apart from being born already rich and knowing lots of other rich people? Here are my tips.

Do a sex tape
Making a highly personal sex tape that gets ‘accidentally’ released is a great way to get yourself into the public consciousness, because everyone is essentially a massive pervert. It helps if you can tape yourself having sex somewhere fancy, like a luxury resort, rather than by the bins round the back of Lidl.

Have a loopy family
Most people have loopy families, but to be like me yours needs to be both totally batshit and so desperate to be on the television that they will literally punch you in the face. Do loads of inane spin-offs about going on holiday, but remember that Miami is way more glamorous than Bournemouth.

Get a twattish husband
If you want to get so well-known throughout the world that your bum is famous independently of the rest of your body, it helps to have a husband who is so far up his own arse that it’s surprising his isn’t massive too.

Give your children silly names
This trick has been popular with celebrities for many years because, really, what are children other than extensions of the brand? No one thought we’d actually saddle our child with the ridiculous name North West, but we did.

Exist in a time of hideously superficial celebrity culture
I wouldn’t be rich and famous for doing fuck all if people weren’t so excited about strangers on the internet having massive arses, so the joke is on all of you.
The Daily Mash

Of course.

Wednesday, 1 July 2020

Un grand baiser d'eternite





Icon, inspiration, spokeswoman for a generation, Patron Saint, one of the most photogenic, most instantly-recognised stars to emerge from the era known as "New Wave" that followed the Punk explosion, Miss Debbie Harry is seventy-five years old today!

Isn't that the most terrifying concept?

As I have recounted many, many times over the thirteen-year history of this blog, I worshipped Debbie Harry as a teen. I bought everything the band ever did, right up until they went "weird" with The Hunter album [their last for fifteen years, as it turned out], and followed the great lady's career avidly for many years.

She was most definitely one of my all-time influences, who made me who I am today...

...and here (for me at least) is how it all started:


Facts:
  • Debbie Harry is naturally a redhead.
  • Her birth parents gave her up for adoption when their relationship broke up and her father went back to his wife and family.
  • As a child, she fantasised that her real mother was Marilyn Monroe.
  • It was while working as a "Playboy Bunny" that Debbie first met Chris Stein, with whom she was to have an enduring relationship, both personal and professional; as co-founders of the band that became Blondie.
  • The Ramones landed their first show by opening for Blondie (before they were Blondie) at CBGBs in New York.
  • Patti Smith resented Debbie Harry's early success so much she apparently tried to poach several of her Blondie band-members.
  • Fashion designer Stephen Sprouse began his career making Debs' stage costumes in the '70s and early 80s; he was her downstairs neighbour at the time.
  • She was the first choice for the role of "Pris" in Blade Runner, but the part eventually went to Daryl Hannah.
  • Blondie's song for the Bond film for Your Eyes Only was turned down, and the title number went to Sheena Easton.
  • Giorgio Moroder originally wanted to give Call Me to Stevie Nicks, but she was unable to record it for contractual reasons.
  • Debbie's solo hit French Kissin’ in the USA was written by Chuck Lorre, writer, director and producer of US sitcoms such as Cybill, Two and a Half Men and The Big Bang Theory.
  • In 2012 a group of photographers took her picture in New York, believing her to be Lindsay Lohan - she was 66 at the time; Lohan was just 25.

Many, many happy returns, Deborah Ann Harry (born Angela Trimble, 1st July 1945)

Tuesday, 30 June 2020

Monday, 29 June 2020

It's OK, apparently


Our Tower Lilies ("On Stage") in the extensive gardens here at Dolores Delargo Towers always open for Pride...

I do love short weeks - I am off again today, as I had booked a long weekend for what would have been "Gay Xmas". I might normally have been pottering in the garden and basking in the sunshine, but unfortunately we have 35-mile-an-hour gales battering everything at the moment, so basically all I am doing is picking up pieces of broken fuchsia and trying to stabilise things with canes, for fear we might lose any more blooms.

Hey ho.

It is, as always, however, a Tacky Music Monday - so lets chivvy things along with another bizarre and obscure act from our beloved Netherlands [we still don't know if we're going to get there for our usual August pilgrimage, but it seems unlikely]. Make sure you learn all the moves, dear reader...


I'm definitely eyeing up one of those pink flared jumpsuits.

Have a good week, dear reader.

Sunday, 28 June 2020

Lest we forget


“We insist on gathering in plain sight every year because for 2,000 years we were told to be invisible. This is the 50th calendar year in which we’ve walked the walk in London. We who were there in 1971 and 1972 walk now on behalf of our contemporaries who are too unwell, locked-down or far away, to join us. Many have already gone to LGBT+ heaven. And we walk in honour of the young who are fighting in every country around the world. We think of LGBTs in Hong Kong, Poland, Chechnya, Brazil and Indonesia, who seek the dignities that ought not be denied to anyone.” - Andrew Lumsden, GLF founder member.
Veterans of the original Gay Liberation Front, led by our hero Peter Tatchell, marched the Gay Pride route to mark 50 years of gay rights marches in the UK yesterday. I only wish I had known about it in advance; I would have gone along to support them.

Peter Tatchell Foundation

Saturday, 27 June 2020

It's Gay Xmas...



...and I still can't decide which "look" to go for!

Yes, I know the whole bloody shebang is cancelled, but a girl can dream. It's probably just as well we're not all congregating in the centre of town, dressed to the nines (pandemic or no pandemic), as after a week of searing temperatures, it's pissing down out there.

Our gang is congregating much more safely and comfortably via Zoom this evening, so to get us in the mood, a few of our anthems to remind us of what we're missing, methinks.

It's traditional:


It's - erm...


It's a classic:


HAPPY GAY PRIDE!!

Enjoy - whatever you do and however you do it...

Friday, 26 June 2020

But that's the way that I was born to be



Darlings! Reasons to be cheerful:
  • It's Gay Xmas Eve! - even if we have no Pride march nor parties to go to, other than via Zoom.
  • It's payday - even if the prospect of a return to shopping in Primark at the moment still seems weird, and somehow slightly scary...
  • We have the ultimate, most magisterial gay icon and Patron Saint here at Dolores Delargo Towers, Dame Shirley Bassey to lead us into the celebrations - as only she knows how [even if her audience in this clip doesn't]!
All the more reason to Thank Disco It's Gay Pride Friday!


Funny how a lonely day can make a person say:
What good is my life?
Funny how a breaking heart can make me start to say:
What good is my life?
Funny how I often seem to think I'll never find a dream
In my life
Till I look around and see, this great big world is part of me
And my life
This is my life
Today, tomorrow, love will come and find me
But that's the way that I was born to be
This is me
This is me

This is my life
And I don't give a damn for lost emotions
I've such a lot of love I've got to give
Let me live
Let me live

Sometime when I feel afraid, I think of what a mess I've made
Of my life
Crying over my mistakes, forgetting all the breaks I've had
In my life
I was put on earth to be, a part of this great world is me
And my life
Guess I'll just add up the score, and count the things I'm grateful for
In my life
This is my life
Today, tomorrow, love will come and find me
But that's the way that I was born to be
This is me
This is me

This is my life
And I don't give a damn for lost emotions
I've such a lot of love I've got to give
Let me live
Let me live

This is my life
This is my life
This is my life!


Amen to that.

Have a faboo sparkling weekend, dear reader!

Thursday, 25 June 2020

Getting Down With Ye Whippersnappers


Ye Olde Medieval Rave

According to The Guardian, a new phenomenon is sweeping the interwebs, thanks to some very cool kids - "Bardcore"!

This witty epithet was applied to the trend, after one clever bastard out there decided to take a "melody by a popular Beat combo, M'Lud" a dance choon and see how it would sound on Medieval instruments. I didn't even know the original of this, but the result is rather impressive:


One proper musician even used real instruments rather than a synthesiser on his reinterpretation of (another song I'd never heard before) a heavy metal hit:


Stepping into more familiar territory, however, I was rather taken by this one...


Verily, a merrie gaudeamus!

So, who's going to be the first to whop their lute out and have a go..?

Wednesday, 24 June 2020

Not the 'Healing Field'


A man with tickets for this year’s Glastonbury has been brought to his knees by an incredible, overwhelming wave of relief.

Tom Booker of Manchester glanced at the calendar, realised he should have been setting off for the festival tomorrow and was staggered by the sheer joy of not having to.

He said: “If not for the pandemic, I’d be in a tent tomorrow night. And every night until next Tuesday. Surrounded by dickheads and caked in my own filth. And now I’m not.

“Who was on this year? Kendrick Lamar, I’d have had to watch that. And Taylor Swift, even though by Sunday night all I’d really want to be doing is sitting in my car, imagining I’m in traffic, leaving.

“God, the drugs I’d have to take. The surprising art-house cabaret I’d have had to stumble upon. The pleasure I’d have had to feign. All gone.

“Instead I get to stay at home, sit in the sun in my own garden, urinate in my own clean porcelain toilet, pour myself cold drinks from my own fridge and not have to watch sunrise from anywhere, least of all the 'Healing Field'.

“Watch it on the telly? Bollocks I will.”
The Daily Mash

Of course.

[The BBC's going overboard this weekend with something called "The Glastonbury Experience". I expect that means people will be encouraged to sit in their gardens, stoned, listening to muffled speakers half a mile away, eating nasty vegan dishes and shitting in a bush.]

Tuesday, 23 June 2020

Earworms, again...


Gawd only knows what's going on here, but I could sit and watch it all day

SUNSHINE!!!

The weather out there is glorious - it's predicted to hit 30C tomorrow - and I'm trapped indoors [except for frequent fag breaks, of course] dealing with dull council business. Oh, for a decent Lottery win....

Never mind, eh? I'm in the mood for some music - so how about a soupçon of choons that have caught my ear of late?

First up, a little number that I picked not because the singer is trans [pertinent in this countdown week to Gay/LGBT Pride], and certainly not because of her vocal - ahem - talents, but because... it made me smile [and lord knows, we need a bit of that!]:


Next - a REAL treat! It's the new single from everyone's favourite campsters, Erasure!


Here's a band who sound remarkably like Talking Heads, with a naughtily-titled song (a position with which some of us may be familiar)...


...more sunshine and happiness, courtesy of Mr Sparro and the oddest selection of "safety gays" in the business:


...and, finally - "take it to the mutha-fucking dance floor!"


Enjoy - and as ever, let me know what you think, dear reader.

Monday, 22 June 2020

Now you can leave*


Gay icons!

Here we go again - week fourteen, and counting. As per usual in the UK, the weekend wasn't the best of weather (on Saturday it was grey and showery; yesterday was warm but not consistently sunny), but during this week, while I am trapped in the front room, it's forecast to be blazing sunshine and up to 30C! Sigh. At least it's a short week pour moi as I booked a long weekend either side of what would have been Gay Pride, so I get a chance of at least one day of sunbathing before next weekend turns to shit again...

Hey ho. To cheer, us up, here's yet another "treat" from our beloved España to shake the cobwebs out and get us - ahem - raring to go for work.

Not so much a Tacky Music Monday but a bit of a mind-fuck...


Dusty must have been thrilled.

Have a good week, dear reader!

[* Ahora te puedes marchar = "Now you can leave" in Spanish.]

Sunday, 21 June 2020

At first I was afraid, I was petrified


A selection of six of our Fuchsia collection on display here at Dolores Delargo Towers

After a beautiful - if patchy - day in the garden, it has dawned upon me that at this point in the year I would normally commence a countdown to the pinnacle of our "season", the extravaganza that is Gay Pride (aka "Gay Xmas"). However, like everything else in our lives, it's not happening this year. Sob, sob!

Never mind, let's pretend, shall we?

To start the ball rolling - in the hands of our "house band" the faboo Postmodern Jukebox, the "mother of all gay anthems" takes a whole new aspect...


Go on now, go. Walk out the door
Just turn around now 'cause you're not welcome anymore
Weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye?
Did you think I'd crumble?
Did you think I'd lay down and die?

Oh, no, not I
I will survive
Oh, as long as I know how to love I know I'll stay alive
I've got all my life to live
I've got all my love to give
And I'll survive
I will survive, hey, hey


Still a song for our times, methinks.

Saturday, 20 June 2020

Some people call it a one night stand, but we can call it paradise







Not only are the celebrations [after a fashion - it's not a particularly sunny day out there] afoot for Mid-Summer [peculiarly enough it's not actually Midsummer's Day, a date designated by the church, but the Mid-Summer solstice, but I digress...], but it's also the birthday today of another mixed bag of notables - including Olympia Dukakis, Errol Flynn, Nicole Kidman, Wendy Craig, Brian Wilson, Stephen Frears, Jacques Offenbach, John Goodman, Lillian Hellman, Martin Landau, Anne Murray, Mickie Most and Dolores "LaLa" Brooks of The Crystals, and...

...the lovely John Taylor of Duran Duran - who is (gulp) 60 years old!

I had such a massive crush on him when I was in my teens - I can almost smell the used tissues from here...

Apparently Mr Taylor has had a bit of a bad year, having spent some time in recovery after catching COVID-19, so we wish him the very best of health - while we wallow in one of the Durannies' most summery hits, featuring a shirtless Mr Taylor at his cutest:


You saw me standing by the wall
Corner of the main street
And the lights are flashing on your window sill
All alone ain't much fun
So you're looking for the thrill
And you know just what it takes and where to go

Don't say a prayer for me now
Save it 'til the morning after
No, don't say a prayer for me now
Save it 'til the morning after

Feel the breeze deep on the inside
Look you down into your well
If you can, you'll see the world in all his fire
Take a chance
Like all dreamers can't find another way
You don't have to dream it all, just live a day

Don't say a prayer for me now
Save it 'til the morning after
No, don't say a prayer for me now
Save it 'til the morning after
Save it 'til the morning after
Save it 'til the morning after

Pretty looking road
Try to hold the rising floods that fill my skin
Don't ask me why I'll keep my promise
Melt the ice
And you wanted to dance so I asked you to dance
But fear is in your soul
Some people call it a one night stand
But we can call it paradise

Don't say a prayer for me now
Save it 'til the morning after
No, don't say a prayer for me now
Save it 'til the morning after
Save it 'til the morning after
Save it 'til the morning after
Save it 'til the morning after
Save it 'til the morning after


Many happy returns, Nigel John Taylor (born 20th June 1960)

Friday, 19 June 2020

Come on and...

Click to embiggen

Thank gawd, another tiresome week of working out of our living-room is drawing tortuously to its close, and for that I am very glad.

It is Midsummer this weekend, so we'd better make the most of it - the nights start drawing in again next week! Fingers crossed, after a rather wet couple of days, we see enough sunshine to enjoy it...

To get ourselves into the party spirit, we are well overdue another visit to the fabulous stack-heeled, flared-trousered, big-haired, big-collared, big everything-ed world of the Soul Train dance line; so let's join the queue - and Thank Disco It's Friday!


You heard the ladies - DANCE!

Have a good weekend, dear reader.

Thursday, 18 June 2020

'Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away





And so farewell, then Dame Vera Lynn, aged 103 - the last living embodiment of that "Wartime Spirit" that binds this plucky nation together in times of crisis.

Indeed, her "anthem" became somewhat of a morale-booster throughout this current coronavirus lockdown...


If there's not a state funeral, there'll be Hell to pay!

RIP, Dame Vera Margaret Lynn CH DBE OStJ (née Welch; 20th March 1917 – 18th June 2020)

See my tribute to Dame Vera on the occasion of her 100th