Black Is The Colour

I go to the Clyde
And I mourn and weep
And satisfied I never can be
And I write her a letter
Just a few short lines
And suffer death
A thousand times.

call me paddy

My oldest, and best friend's da passed away today. He has one brother, but I always considered myself part of the family, so three grown men were holding each other up, and together today in that hospital room. Three grown men crying over the passing of a man we all loved. It'll be a long weekend of grieving and waking and tears and stories and laughter and singing. Back soon.

Fun

I had forgotten how much fun it is to record in a proper studio instead of on the little machine in my den. One of the local football teams are in the final of a national club league (a big thing!) and asked us to record their club song, a reworking of 500 miles by The Proclaimers. The track is currently being mastered by a guy who has previously worked with Bowie, Take That & The Script! There's posh for ya!
It has given us the Bug! Time to get the writing pad out of storage.

(I'll post the finished track when we get a copy.)

I'm listening.

Talk to me people.

Alone Again (Naturally)

I went to my pub of choice last night, alone, to watch the football. Great game. I hardly spoke two words to anyone save the most excellent of barmen, Jimmy. There was a time when I could not do this, spend time on my own in a bar, but I have learned to be quite happy in my own company. Much as I love all my girls, there is a lot to be said for timeout alone. It's my treat to myself, a time when I can, and do, forget the rest of the world for a few hours. It's much cheaper than therapy, and more fun.

I had the most wonderful (whiskey induced) dream. As I was walking home from my pub of choice I called into another pub I rarely frequent. A quiet, old-time bar. My Da was sitting at a table with one of his pals. He was dressed in his 'going out' clothes, grey trousers, white shirt with cravat, and navy blazer. I sat down and his pal left us alone together. We talked for hours, in between drinks. I told him all about my girls, about me, everything, and he listened and smiled and put his hand on my shoulder. A wonderful night. Twenty eight years gone and I still miss him as much today as I did all those years ago. I like to think I connected with his spirit last night, or was it just the Jameson? Whichever, I woke up smiling.