Wednesday 11th April

April 12, 2012

Its approaching 2AM and I only got in from London an hour ago after attending a rather wonderful concert at Café Oto, so I am afraid tonight’s post is to be a brief one as I have to be up for work tomorrow. Today began extremely frustrating, several hours were spent trying to fit new parts to my ailing car before my (far more mechanical than I) brother and myself gave up and instead decided to listen to Derek and Clive recordings. The gig this evening was inspiring however, and I wrote a good few notes on it so a review should be forthcoming easily tomorrow. Both sets, John Butcher solo and the duo of John Tilbury and Marcus Schmickler were excellent, with the latter actually verging on something quite memorably so. In the meantime, go click on the little advert down there on the left and take a look at the poster I made using Sarah Hughes’ lovely drawing to advertise a concert coming up soon in Oxford. Its still three weeks away, so if you live anywhere close to Oxford you have plenty of time to plan your visit! The concert takes place in Oxford’s finest independent bookshop as well, so come early and go browsing. A better post tomorrow then, and tonight’s photo is a detail of the washing up I did yesterday.

Comments (2)

  • Dan Warburton

    April 14, 2012 at 7:32 am

    Clive: I tell you one thing I can’t stand.
    Derek: Tell me.
    Clive: About Russia, is the dead bodies in your hotel room.
    Derek: Oh, Blimey, yeah.
    Clive: Because I booked into, you know, a second class hotel, second class hotel, two stars. And, er, I asked, er, room service, erm, you know, for a light meal because I was going sight seeing the next morning. And I said I’d like some chips and, er, steak, medium rare and,er, banana fritter, you know, and this bloke come up to the room and frankly it wasn’t what I ordered. He brought up, er, three thousand dissidents.
    Derek: Oh, God.
    Clive: With their testicles attached to electrodes. And I said call this fucking room service? Not room service, I said. I asked for chips, steak and banana fritters. I get three thousand fucking dissidents on a tray.
    Derek: What are they trying to pull, eh? They think we’re cunts.
    Clive: I said, if you’re expecting a tip, mate, if you’re expecting a tip, you can get the fuck out of my hotel room.
    Derek: Yeah.
    Clive: Anyway, they just dumped them down on the floor. All these dissidents. I got talking to them, some nice blokes, actually. There’s Sergia, er, Wolankov. Sergia Wolankov.
    Derek: Oh, Wolankov, yeah.
    Clive: He wrote some poetry, he wrote the poem saying, er, the Soviet Union is a khazi, Mr Breznev is a cunt, and, er, er, I want my freedom, you see. And he published that in a dissident newspaper.
    Derek: I’d rather be room seviced than in prison.
    Clive: I’ll say one thing for Russia, the health service is tremendous.
    Derek: Oh, yeah.
    Clive: As soon as you’re ill, they kill you.

  • Richard Pinnell

    April 14, 2012 at 11:04 pm

    That comment gave me the horn…

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