Here’s the second part of three from the prologue to ‘The Monsters We Became or Fell For.’ Part three on the way. Thanks for listening.
Dear John, Alfie the Dog and Big Mama Thornton
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Big Mama Thornton and Alfie.
‘Hound Dog’ stuck on a loop in my head the other day, playing with Alfie – my Mum’s Cocker Spaniel. Turns out that although Elvis has the best known version, the song was first recorded by one Big Mama Thornton. I realise it was stars like Elvis that took the African-American blues to the cracker masses but until recently getting into Lightin’ Hopkins was as far as I crawled out of my lily-white honky box; and I’ve been missing out on so much. Continue reading “Dear John, Alfie the Dog and Big Mama Thornton”
Poppy is a Cat Who Loves Shoes
My girlfriend has a cat whose name is Poppy.
Poppy likes me. Poppy loves my shoes. Poppy doesn’t care about politics, sex or foreign conflicts. She will only drink water from the tap in the bath.
All hail Poppy.
I wish I had a tail. That’d be great, can you imagine it?
Miaow.
Proof of Life, Wine Guide and a Video for Katie and Shaun
It’s been over a month since I posted anything here and even though I have nothing I feel comfortable sharing with you I still feel it polite to show a little love to whoever reads these things as it can’t all be people stumbling upon this site by mistake. It’s not that we don’t love you, we’re just so busy. Continue reading “Proof of Life, Wine Guide and a Video for Katie and Shaun”
Graham Coxon at the Liquid Room, Edinburgh.
7PM Monday 16th April 2012.
Graham Coxon hasn’t had a drink in ten years; I’m itchy and twitching after ten minutes stood in the queue outside the Liquid Room; waiting for the purple doors to open; wishing I new someone, anyone in this town that could sell me drugs.
He’s in town to promote his new album, A+E; here’s me from the future – as far as this tale is concerned – with a few words about it:
Continue reading “Graham Coxon at the Liquid Room, Edinburgh.”
A Haunted House and Falling off the Danish Bandwagon
So it turns out that the squirrels that scamper around the bounding bunnies to the refrain of robins and mischievous magpies (sorry) are the descendants of the very rodents my great grandmother enjoyed watching before she died.
Yep, call it coincidence or providence, but this old hospital I’ve moved into is where my mother’s nan spent her final months. She passed away metres from where I type these words. Continue reading “A Haunted House and Falling off the Danish Bandwagon”
The Monsters We Turn Into or Marry
It’s been a while – how’ve you been? I’ve missed you. David? Sorry I forgot your birthday. Love, etc.
Those of you who read my hilarious, insightful and downright sexy posts on twitter and facebook will have got the gist of what’s been going on dayn sayf so forgive any repetition.
My Nan passed away peacefully – well, as peacefully as you can, struggling with pain and confusion, surrounded by powerless ‘strangers’, your conciousness rattling around a stubborn husk – and her ashes are now interred in the grave of my Grandfather.
Father Paul’s eulogy was uplifting and pure of heart – a real comfort for us and an experience with the church without parallel for me (I went to a Roman Catholic school in my teens.) If you’ll forgive me for opening the homophobia door, his awesomeness is proof positive that gays should not only be allowed in the church, but that they should be running the fucking show. Continue reading “The Monsters We Turn Into or Marry”
Radio Friendly Unit Shifter
Tuesday just gone was my second assault on the airwaves. It went well.
Things are getting more and more hands-on and my nervous jabbering is beginning to be mistaken for a growing competence that would lend itself to its own show. The persons in charge want to push out new programming and they also want to start having pre-recorded weekend shows rather than just an automatic playlist (there’s no security then so unfortunately we can’t do live broadcasts.) Continue reading “Radio Friendly Unit Shifter”
Dem Po-leece
I thought it was drunks at first, a taxi perhaps. Voices, stern and grizzly, infused with the humour of sleep deprivation and a moral reasoning to back up the hard quality that comes from not being touched enough by mummy – or too much by daddy.
CHRIS PARLETT 