Tag Archives: ashley hutchings

Tuesday 17th September 2019 – I’M HARD-PRESSED …

… to remember what it was that I did today. I must have done something or other I suppose, so I’ll have to dig deep.

One thing that I do know is that it should have been an early night, but totally destroyed by a wicked attack of cramp just as I was going to bed. And that was really my lot unfortunately as far as that was concerned.

But I did end up going to sleep eventually – at least until about 05:30 when I was awakened by yet another bad attack of cramp.

Somewhere during the night though I must have been in some kind of consciousness because there’s an entry on the dictaphone – 00:02:05 of it too and I would ordinarily listen to it to see where I was and who I was with, but I’m listening to some Hawkwind right now.

What is exciting about this album – or, rather, the original digital track – is that due to “contractual difficulties”, the tracks featuring lyrics and vocals by sci-fi writer Michael Moorcock (who I particularly enjoyed whenever he fronted Hawkwind) were omitted from the original vinyl album. But on the digital master tapes they are all there in all their glory.

On a rare night off from work, I saw this concert at the Free Trade Hall in Hanley. This was live Hawkwind at its finest and I remember being totally overwhelmed by it all.

As usual, I took the girls to school and then went shopping for a few things. And to my mailbox out on the River du Chute road to see if Strider’s licence tags had arrived. And I was in luck too. So they are on his licence plate and we are all legal. Insurance, safety and licence. What more could any vehicle require?

Up at the shop I hung around for a while, handling a few of the customers (I’m funny that way) then at lunchtime I came back home. A few things to do, some packing to organise, a shower to clean myself up, some lunch, and then I made a curry.

Par-boiled some potatoes and carrots and while they were doing, I fried some onions in olive oil with cumin, coriander and turmeric. When they had browned I added the garlic and mixed it all round.

Once that was looking nice, I added some mushrooms and peppers and had them thoroughly fried. And then tipped in the par-boiled potatoes and carrots. Add some coconut milk and a vegan stock cube, and leave it to simmer for 15 minutes. Finally some bulghour to thicken it out.

Up at the shop I loitered around again.

But here’s a thing. The car fairy has been to visit.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall the ancient 1-tonne Ford with the big aluminium body that has been laid up at the garage since 2000 without turning a wheel since.

Well, today it mysteriously disappeared as if by magic and it’s miraculously turned up here back at the house. I wonder how that happened.

My curry went down really well tonight. Our little visitor left the table with a wiped-clean plate and told me that it was the best meal that she had eaten here.

Mind you, I’m not sure whether that says more about the curry or more about the rest of the meals that I have cooked while she’s been here.

This evening I’ve been downloading again. First off is Every Which Way. That’s an album by a group of musicians put together by Brian Davison, the former drummer in The Nice. Rare as hen’s teeth and my album is totally worn out after a frenetic spell in the late 1970s and early 1980s. A couple of tracks on there are really good.

The second download though breaks a habit of a recent lifetime in that I don’t actually own the album. But it appeared on the list right after the previous one above and I heard it by accident. And it so impressed me that I downloaded it and I’ll find a CD or a vinyl in early course.

I’m sure that very few – if any – people reading this post will have heard of Gay and Terry Woods. They were a couple of Irish folk singers who were invited into the first incarnation of Steeleye Span by Ashley Hutchings. Although they performed on the album “Hark The Village Wait” they didn’t stick around and for a brief period performed as a duo with various eclectic musicians.

It’s all just a faint glimmer in the back of my mind from 1971 and I hadn’t really any idea that they had released an album. But here it is, in all its glory.

This evening I finished off the lemon swirl vegan mousse, performed a computer back-up and I’m ready to hit the road tomorrow.

But part of the back-up involved the dictaphone files and I had a listen to the famous recording – all 00:08:02 of it – of the nightmare that I had the other night. And I’m astonished by the depth of emotion that I spat out. Like I said at the time, I thought that I had put all of that behind me a long time ago.

But apparently not. And that fills me with dismay. Who knows what other demons are lurking in the shadows waiting to be unleashed? That’s the bit that’s filling me full of dread for the future.

But then, as Alfred Whitehead once famously wrote, “It is the business of the future to be dangerous”.

Saturday 10th March 2018 – BRAIN OF BRITAIN STRIKES AGAIN!

Halfway down the stairs on my way out for this evening’s football when I suddenly realised that I had forgotten my camera. So I had to nip back to fetch it.

I was halfway down the steps into town when I realised that I had forgotten to go to Caliburn to pick up my mug to go with the coffee that I had made in the flask, and I had to work my evil wiles on the girl in the bakery where there is a coffee machine. She would only give me some plastic beakers, not the insulated ones. But then I suppose, I was lucky that I had remembered the thermos flask.

Halfway up the steep hill, stopping to divest myself of my jacket because it was quite a warm evening, I mused that the camera wasn’t all that important because I could use the camera on the telephone to take the photos that I wanted.

And it was at this point that I realised that I had forgotten the phone too.

cité des sports granville manche normandy franceTo rub it in, there was a handball match taking place at the Sports Centre tonight and the cafeteria was open, so I didn’t need the flask (or the beakers) either.

But then it’s always like that with me, as regular readers of this rubbish will realise.

But it was a beautiful night for football – fairly warm, not much wind and for once, it wasn’t raining. And doesn’t that make a change from these last few days?

football cite des sports fc trois rivierss us granville manche normandy franceTonight’s opponents were FC Trois Rivieres – not from Québec but from Canisy in the outskirts of St Lô.

And if ever there were two points thrown needlessly away by a team in need of a victory it was tonight, that’s for sure.

I reckon that Granville had about 75% of the possession and they were one goal up early on in the game. It took Trois Rivieères 31 minutes (I timed it) to get into the Granville penalty area.

And when they did, they scored a goal out of nothing. One of those shots that hits a defender’s boot and could go anywhere. This particular one looped up and over the keeper’s head and although he got both hands to the ball it spun out if his grasp and into the net.

It didn’t take long for Granville to restore their lead but then we had another calamity in the Granville defence. A back-pass under pressure to the keeper who decided to pass it out to another defender instead of clearing his lines upfield or out of play for a throw-in.

Of course, the inevitable happened and the ball out was intercepted by an attacker who slotted it into the empty net.

After that, Granville ran out of steam and couldn’t make their possession count for anything.

Highlight of the match had to the the Trois Rivières manager who, having loudly cried for a yellow card to be given to the Granville n°7 a short while earlier, becoming furiously upset when the Granville manager cried for a yellow card to be given to a Trois Rivières player. You can’t make up a story like that, can you?

We had yet another Sleep of the Dead last night, and I spent much of it in a cosy little menage à deux with TOTGA. She didn’t get away last night, not ‘arf she didn’t. Unfortunately it never reached the stage that made a celebrity out of the legendary inmate of a monastery in Bohemia (mind you, nothing can do that these days) but it was certainly a night with a difference.
And later on, I was in the Houses of Parliament interrogating the Chancellor of the Exchequer, leading him a nice merry dance down a mazy little path until he has committed himself unequivocally, and then announcing that there was a mistake in his figures, he was a billion Pounds short in his calculations, and what was he going to do now – to which, having committed himself unequivocally to his position, he had no answer.

After breakfast and a shower, and a machine-load of washing, I set out for the shops. We did the usual round of LIDL, NOZ and LeClerc and I bought nothing of any excitement except in LeClerc.

Several of you will recall that I keep a bright yellow rain jacket with removable fleece lining in Caliburn. But when I went to live in Leuven it made a dramatic reappearance on the streets seeing as I hadn’t anticipated being there in the winter and so didn’t have a winer jacket.

But it’s old, dirty and as much as I might try, it won’t come up clean at all. It’s OK for being round and about doing things but not really for being anywhere important.

And in LeClerc they had a much more respectable bright yellow rain jacket. No fleece lining but there was a size XL so I can wear an ordinary fleece underneath. It was expensive for what it was, but it’ll be better for travelling about in the Spring and Summer.

Back here I had a little … errr … relax before lunch and then this afternoon with fiddling about with the new hi-fi that I bought the other week (and with which I’m even more impressed than with my galvanised steel dustbin) I could pick up the live football commentary on the BBC – although they seemed to be more interested in what was happening underneath the Directors’ Box at the Olympic Stadium than on the football pitch at St James’s Park.

In a change from the usual Saturday procedures, I had the bass guitar out too. I’ve had Liege And Lief – one of the best albums ever recorded, going round n an endless loop for the last few days, and suddenly the bass line to Crazy Man Michael, one of the best songs ever written, leapt into the front of my mind.

And so I sat down for half an hour and picked it out. And chapeau to Ashley Hutchings because it’s not easy.

Back home from the football through the deserted streets of Granville and 114% of my daily activity, I had the last of my tinned English curries. Tinned food for the next I don’t-Know-How-Long will have to be something different, like the champignons à la Grècque or the spicy beans that I can pick up in Belgium.

And here’s a thing.

A told you about how nice the weather had been today. Today is the first day in 2018 where I’ve not had the heat on in the apartment.