Off To Swanage

1 Gueules 134 de l'Ere Pataphysique

Pixie and I are off to the lovely south coast of England for a couple of days, to rest and take in some sea-air. We'll be back on Sunday - so see you then!

Oh yeah, in more R.A.W. news - his "Cosmic Meme-orial" has been set for February 18th in Santa Cruz, CA. The details are all posted at his blog - if'n you need them. I won't be able to make it, due to financial reasons. It would be nice to have a Euro/UK mem-orial for those of us who can't make it to Santa Cruz. We'll see...

Anyway, enjoy the weekend , kids

Farewell, Mr. Wilson

Robert Anton Wilson (1932-2007>Infinitee)

I checked over at the blog this morning, as I've habitually been doing for the past month--only to be shocked/unshocked (as someone posted in the comments I found there) that one of my few remaining heroes on the planet, Robert Anton Wilson, had departed this life yesterday, January 11th (Gregorian). Synchronicitous as he was, he departed on the same day that Dr. Albert Hoffman, discoverer and synthesizer of LSD, turned 101. Wilson had been in hospice care since last summer, due to the worsening of his post-polio condition that had afflicted him for a large part of his life. I, like a lot of other Wilson-heads who visited his blog, suspected that the end may be near--but we willed the good Dr. Wilson to stay just a little while longer so he could post more of his thoughts. He did do just a couple for us and then left gracefully.

Almost all of my teachers, gurus and heroes are now gone: Leary, Hicks, Lennon, Harrison, Barrett, McKenna and to a lesser extent, Hunter S. Thompson and Ken Kesey. All gone. Sure, Dr. Christopher S. Hyatt is still on the planet..and George Carlin and Brian Eno and Robert Fripp as well--and I still respect and like those guys. Wilson was, to me anyway, a cut above a lot of 'em. His cutting humour was always used in a gentle way--rather than just as a tool to belittle--even when used against C.S.I.C.O.P. (his "nemesis") and fundie religious types. He also made such topics as quantum mechanics and other mathematics-based theories readable, at least to someone like myself who never really "got" maths. In fact, he made them seem downright interesting and made me want to read more about them. Still haven't got round to that yet, but I intend to. He introduced me to Zen parables, Aleister Crowley (my brother got into Crowley before I was into Wilson, but I wasn't intersted then) and other magick, the Sirius mystery, the Illuminati and other conspiracy theories, futurism and immortality strategies, "maybe logic", E-prime and many many more things that would take a whole post to list. Suffice to say, the man blew my mind wide open.

My association with the good Dr. Wilson started in summer 1994 (I can't remember if it was the 'dog days'*). I was friends with a girl who worked in a used book shop in Manchester, Conn. I would go and visit her and hang out at the shop for a few hours, on my days off from the dreaded retail gig I had back then. The guy who owned the shop seemed mellow enough and he was generally out doing whatever he did while out, but she did caution me that while he was in the shop, it wouldn't be cool if I hung around chatting, even if the place was nearly empty. One day while I was there, he walked in--so I quickly made a bee-line to the sci-fi/fantasy section and began to scan the spines to pass the time until he left again. After checking out a few titles, I found a book whose front cover looked like this:

As a self-styled psychedelic maven, I was immediately intrigued by the artwork. I noticed the book was "Part 2" and wondered how many installments the series had. I searched the shelves near where I had found that one and came up with Parts 1 & 3, both with the same trippy graphics, though with different pictures. I thought about only buying the first installment and then, if I liked it enough, going back for the others. They weren't expensive, though, and I figured I could sell them as a set if I didn't like them. I'm really really glad I took the lot--of course, it took me some time to get into it. If you've never read the Illuminatus! trilogy, it's a bit of a whirlwind of plot strands and a large cast of characters. Oh yeah, the 'omniscient narrator' changes..a lot...sometimes almost in mid-sentence or paragraph. Wilson and Robert Shea, Wilson's creative collaborator at the time and friend since their late 60s days as editors of the Playboy Forum, wanted to take the post-modern novel into the quantum age (though perhaps James Joyce got there first with Finnegans Wake). The shifts in narration represent the viewpoints of the different characters in their scenes..it takes a bit of adjustment--but once you're there--you definitely enjoy the ride. Their other objective was to blur fantasy and 'reality' so much that after a while, the two 'halves' become meaningless. They parodied all of the common conspiracy theories of both right and left wing thinking..and oh yeah, there's plenty of sex, drugs and rock and roll, too.

I had to read it at least two times to even grasp a part of what was going on, never mind all of the clues and jokes and mystic secrets being shared by these two psychedelic jesters. I've since read it another couple of times..and even after reading most of R.A.W.'s other work, I've yet to get down to the real depths of the trilogy. It blew open my head even more than my few acid trips had. A mind-bender of a book..or books, that is..or seems to be.. I was never the same, and thank Eris for that!!

I started trying to find more Wilson tomes, and found Cosmic Trigger - Volume I and one volume of the Historical Illuminauts Chronicles--called The Widow's Son (sadly, I found out that the other two were out-of-print at the time). Another search came up with the Schrodinger's Cat trilogy and Masks Of The Illuminati. I devoured them all--except for "The Widow's Son", which I held off on, hoping for reprints of the other two. On a trip to Madison, Wisconsin in June 1997, I found The New Inquisition**, Historical Illuminatus Chronicles--Vol. 1: The Earth Will Shake and Cosmic Trigger - Vol.2. I found 'em at Avol's, a hip local used bookshop and I was elated to add them to my collection. Prometheus Rising and Right Where You Are Sitting Now were procured a little while later, as they were reprinted by New Falcon Publications by then. In 1998, Everything Is Under Control was published and I immediately bought it. At the time, I also found a couple of books by a Bob Frissell, called Something In This Book Is True and Nothing In This Book Is True, But That's Exactly How Things Are. I thought by the titles that there would be some Wilsonian mind-boggles contained in them--but while some of the material was interesting, they didn't have the same insightful, funny tone to them as ol' Uncle Bob's stuff does. It shows you how tough it seems to be to get that balance correct and R.A.W. nailed it every time.

It took some time for R.A.W.'s concepts to penetrate my dogmas and learned behaviours..and they're still filtering in. He helped me wake up from my 'Roman Catholic coma', as I like to call my religious training. I had questioned my family's Republican, conservative slant before I read R.A.W.'s stuff, but his writing gave me courage to really strike out on my own and not be cowed by peer pressure to conform. I probably won't ever grasp all of his ideas--even after finishing all of the exercises in Prometheus Rising and Quantum Psychology. I've started the ones in "Prometheus..", but I'm only up to Chapter 3--you do have to work at these things to find out what is going on. One thing the good Doctor insisted on with his brain-change regimen is you have to actually do the work to get the results. Reading about it just isn't good enough.

Time passed...I changed apartments, jobs & work-mates, even sets of friends...and finally nations. In 2001 (Gregorian), I entered my own version of 'Chapel Perilous' for a short time. Ironically I had started reading 'Finnegans Wake' at that moment. I came out on the other side, with the help of R.A.W. and Terence McKenna's words--and I came out of it more agnostic than ever. It's happened two other times since and once again--I've come out of it agnostic as I possibly could be. As I've said, he didn't just turn me on to the "Wake"--he got me interested in classical music more than anyone. I started listening to Beethoven, Bach and Mozart with a much more open mind than I had previously. I really enjoy Beethoven's 9th Symphony now--just through the power of Wilson's words--and of course, Ludwig van's even more powerful music.

In 2002, the Holy Grail of Wilson material arrived in the form of the Maybe Logic: The Lives And Ideas Of Robert Anton Wilson DVD. It contains 30 years of interviews (short segments, of course--otherwise it would have been a 10-disc set), footage from his stand-up comedy shows/lectures and 'talking head' segments with Douglas Rushkoff, Tom Robbins and Paul Krassner, among others. The version I have contains a bonus disc which has R.A.W. explaining Leary's 8-circuit model corresponding to days of the week and a 1978 cable-access program in which he discusses symbiology in episodes of The Prisoner. There's lots of other stuff, too--but I'll let you check it out, if you decide to get it. The 'icing on the cake', as it were, is a "TSAR" card, included in the DVD case, instructing the bearer to "like what you like, enjoy what you enjoy and don't take crap from anyone". Words to live by, kids. T.S.O.G. - The Thing That Ate The Constitution, railing against George W. Idiot's takeover of the government, overbearing political correctness, X-tian fundies and his worsening illness, was released shortly after.

In the meantime, R.A.W.'s post-polio condition was getting worse with every year. I was hoping he had at least another ten years to live. The "Historical Illuminatus Chronicles" were finally re-published in 2003, so I was able to score the final 'chapter', Nature's God. He had an official website set up, with random thoughts, jokes and poetry--which I visited often. There was a teaser chapter at the end of "T.S.O.G.", about his upcoming project, Tale Of The Tribe, which was expected to be published in 2005. I was pscyhed for it--but the release deadline came and went and the book never appeared. I figured he was editing and revamping it, but instead a book called E-Mail To The Universe was published. It was a collection of essays spanning Wilson's entire career--it was also R.A.W.'s final book. Perhaps "Tale Of The Tribe" will see a posthumous release...I certainly hope so. I think it will be a fitting close to his legacy. In 2006, a DVD of his surreal play, Wilhiem Reich In Hell, came out via Deepleaf Productions (they were responsible for the "Maybe Logic" DVD)--based on R.A.W.'s book of the same name, which was first published in 1986. I still don't own it, but I intend to buy it soon. An audiobook of "The Earth Will Shake" was also out toward the end of the year. His blog appeared in December 2006 and I was glad to see him in the blogosphere.

The year wasn't all kind to Wilson, though, as he had a couple of bad falls over the summer and ended up in hospital for a long time. He was released into hospice care in the autumn, but didn't have enough money to cover the medical costs. An internet appeal went out and he was able to make the bills for a little while and it turned out that's all he needed. I should mention the internet death hoax in 1994, when it went around chat rooms that he had passed away. The man himself joked about it in Cosmic Trigger - Vol. 3: My Life After Death (see, it's even in the title). This time, I'm afraid, it doesn't seem to be a hoax. I've seriously learned more from this man than any male member of my family, any member of my family. You can call me a fanboy dork, but I feel like I sorta knew him from his writing and interviews. His writings have affected me more than any other author's and I am sad to see him go. I only hope he is resting in peace and I hope that if there "is" such a thing as an "afterlife"--I get to sit with him amd Leary and McKenna and thank each for all they taught me, but especially Robert Anton Wilson. 23 Skidoo! Fnord! All Hail Eris! All Hail Discordia!

*In-joke for the Wilson-heads. You have to read "Cosmic Trigger" to 'get' it.

**it's a copy signed by Wilson. It says "To Jeff, Live long and prosper. Robert Anton Wilson". I often thought of playing a Discordian joke by showing someone I didn't know the book and saying that I was 'Jeff' and saying that my actual name is a nickname. Never did it, tho.

Happy Gregorian New Year

It's now 2007--what a crazy year '06 was, huh? We do seem to be cursed with living in interesting times. Here's to hoping '07 will be a bit more peaceful, a bit less stupid--and that we won't lose too many more music legends. Sheesh, I mean in 2006 we lost Syd Barrett, Arthur Lee and James Brown--big tragedies all. My cat Sorcha left the planet as well...R.I.P. to them. Oh yeah, Saddam Hussein has been executed, in what seems to be part calculated P.R. move and part old-stylee justice. I don't know if it was the 'right thing' and I don't think his death will slow down the insurgency in Iraq at all, at all--but it's done now. Ol' Goddamn Insane has been buried in the village where he grew up.

Pixie and I spent New Year's Eve watching the Mighty Boosh Live DVD that she received for X-Mas (from myself and Santee Claws). I drank some Bailey's (in honour of Old Greg) and a bit of Ardbeg Scottish whisky after--a nice combination, actually. We watched the countdown on the Jools Holland show and then fell asleep a little while later. The usual, in other words.

On a positive note, Robert Anton Wilson is still around and blogging and I'm happy and healthy--as are most of my family and friends (though here's to wishing that Singing Bear will recover from his recent illness soon). Back to nursing my (slight) hangover. See you soon.

R.I.P. Sorcha The Pretty Kitty

4 Home - 39 p.r.S.P.

Aloicious has informed us via e-mail that my cat Sorcha had to be put down a couple of days ago. She apparently was in such a state that both the animal control "expert" and the veterinarian, whom he had gone to for advice, both agreed that it seemed to be the best course of action. This seems very very sad to me and I will miss her lots.

Sorcha was adopted by myself, my room-mate Clyde* and my two sisters when we shared an apartment in Manchester, Conn in 1998/'99. One of my sisters' pet budgie had passed away during one of the severe winter cold snaps. She was distraught and wanted a new pet right away. My other sister enthusiastically signed on to the plan, but I was a bit hesitant--knowing that both had active social lives and probably wouldn't be around much past the initial adoption to feed and clean up after the animals.

Well, one day, they rushed off to the animal shelter--and suddenly we were the owners of not one, but two little kittens. One we called Astral and the other one, who promptly hid underneath the refridgerator--so much so that we had to tilt the 'fridge back to set her loose--I called "Sorcha" (which is Irish Gaelic for 'Sarah', I think). No particular reason, I just thought it was a cool name. She had a really beautiful coat, tortoise-shell black on her back, all-white underneath and raccoon-like black stripes all the way down her tail. She also had these piercing green eyes which shone out, especially in the dark. The two got on well, and even curled up next to each other to sleep.

We started to notice that while Sorcha began to grow, Astral wasn't. She also began to eat less and less. My sister and Clyde brought Astral to the vet and they were told that she had a genetic liver disease and wouldn't live too much longer, even with acostly operation designed to fight the disease. With heavy hearts, we decided to have her put down. One of my sisters interpreted it as a sign of some sort--but I just thought that Astral seemed to be unlucky, poor thing. Sorcha ended up becoming "my" cat on default, when, as I had suspected--nobody else seemed to have the time to care for her. I think she also bonded to me, because I was the one who had fed her and cleaned her litterbox from the beginning.

Eventually, both sisters elected to leave the apartment, for different reasons--and it was far too expensive for Clyde and I to stay there. We tried to rope in some possible room-mates, as the pad was really nice and we didn't want to leave. In the end we moved out into a smaller place just down the road--and Sorcha moved with us. She never the most sociable cat and when we would have visitors or parties, she would dart into my bedroom to hide until the commotion had settled. She did actually let my friend Cathy pet her one night while Cathy was visiting--a rare occurance indeed. I tired of living with Clyde over the course of the year-lease--he had been my room-mate for four years at that point and while I tried to be patient with him, he just seemed to me to be irresponsible with money and just a mess most of the time. Once again, the race for another room-mate was on--and again, it didn't pan out, so regrettably, I moved back into my folks' house in East Hartford. On the day we were leaving the apartment, we had almost finished packing everything into the moving van--when I noticed Sorcha was missing. Thinking that she had run out while we had the front door propped open, we searched out in the snow (it was January) and ice for over an hour. I really thought she had gone and became very upset--only to find that she had been hiding underneath my folded-up comforter. It was such a relief to find her, as I knew she wouldn't survive outside--being an indoor cat her whole life.

That year (2001 Gregorian), I moved three different times. I stayed at my folks' place for a few months, then moved into the attic space of a house in Hartford for the summer. That proved to be not to my liking and I moved out in a hurry in September, following some drastic events (September 11th being just one of them--it's a whole other story). I stayed at my sister and her boyfirends' apartment for a couple of weeks, then stayed with a co-worker, who's fiancee was generous enough to invite me to stay at their house for a bit. They lived in Ellington, about 20 minutes away from East Hartford, and it was nice to stay there and get my head together for a while--until his relatives needed a place to stay for Thanksgiving. It was back to the folks' for me, for the next three years, in fact.

Sorcha was a trooper though all of the moving--and adjusted to each new place quite quickly. In the house in Hartford, she was often my only companion. The parking there was almost non-existant, which left a lot of visitors hesitant to stop by. I spent the summer in the stifling heat, reading Terence McKenna books, watching taped episodes of Six Feet Under and listening to Cocteau Twins albums--waiting for it to get cool enough at night to fall asleep and watching Sorcha "chase" birds while she was looking out of the window. At my work-mate's house--she mainly had to stay in the guest room, where I was staying, because of their Great Dane, Ava. The same situation confronted her at the folks'--with their pit bull and Alsatian/Labrador cross both trying to play with her/chase her around the house. I remember a funny moment when Xena (the pit) got a bit too close and received a well-timed clip on the nose from Sorcha. It was great, too, because my father kept insisting on "his dogs" superiority to her.

Pixie and I "got together" officially in 2003 and I was considering moving over to the UK to be with her. My biggest move yet and naturally, I wanted to bring Sorcha along yet again. The main stumbling block to taking her over was Herbie, Pixie's black Labrador. We knew that Herbie and Sorcha wouldn't mix--so the solution seemed to be to either find someone in England who could take Sorcha in while Herb was still around (he's 11 now)--or see if someone in Conn. could take her in. We couldn't find anyone here and our options in Conn. dried up fairly quickly. Aloicious agreed to take Sorcha in for a while, because he thought that he would only have her for a year, tops. Well, a year turned into two...and almost three. Apparently, her behaviour deteriorated over time and she seemed to become a nuisance, urinating on his clothes and futon. He sent me several e-mails stating that we either take her away from him or he would take her to a shelter. Eventually I had to agree to have her brought to a shelter--but Aloicious was even having trouble booking her into one. That was the last I heard before this latest message.

I suppose I feel like I let her down in a way--that I should have tried harder to get her a temporary home here--but there was also the cost of the flight and for the quarantine. There are also the stringent Defra pet importing rules that would need to be followed and she still had nowhere to stay here, even after the six-month quarantine. I also knew that she only would have a limited amount of time to stay with my brother. It was agonising not being able to do anything but sit and wait. I suppose it was probably for the best in the end, especially if her mental state had deteriorated to the point where the only option was to put her down. I'll miss you, Sorcha and I hope you're free and happy now.

*name changed for the sheer hell of it

Cross-posted at Demon Squad Local #77

Log Cabin Home In The Shire

21 Demeter - 85 p.s.U.

It's an official six months since we began this here blog. It's the Winter Solstice for this Gregorian year. There wasn't much sunlight to be seen anyway, as most of England has been gripped in a chilly fog for the past couple of days--making the shortest day of the year seem even shorter.

Pixie and I have been getting ready for the annual Yuletide celebrations--going through the usual rigamarole, shopping for gifts (made slightly easier by IntraWeb purchasing), writing out cards and sending them...and drinking mead (for me) and mulled wine (for her).

Mighty cheers out to Singing Bear for the small pack of groovy CDs he sent--especially the Load Of Old Bollocks mix disc--a compendium of guilty pleasures ranging from Chicory Tip (dig that synth line!) to Barry White and even Golden Earring's Radar Love (with that ultra-catchy bass riff)..rock on, brother!

Another round of "Thank You"s go out to all of our friends and family who sent cards and gifts. It's nice to know that you're being thought of, even when you're downloading Samla Mammas Manna and Wigwam albums and can't be arsed to even shoot off a quick e-mail to say "Hello". It means a lot to us.

I discovered a very cool thing last week. It looks like Robert Anton Wilson has started up a blog. He's still recovering from his illness and has some time to post. You can check it out here--I've been frequenting there quite a bit lately, just to check to see when Bob drops a new post. Some members of the Maybe Logic Academy (founded mostly by R.A.W.himself) have started up a blog as well (ed. note - It actually started last year - I've just been slow to catch on--as usual). You kinda have to have some knowledge of Wilson's books and interests to "get" the posts--but it's a hoot nonetheless. The M.L.A. blog, called Only Maybe, can be found here.

...and finally--it's a Yuletide message from ol' Aloicious P. McGinnis himself--to all of you:

"I wish you all very Merry (Happy) Christmas, and a Happy New Year. FelizNavidad, Buono Natale, Joyeux Noel, frohe Weihnachten ! I hope that in the New Year that you achieve the goals you have set for yourself, and that you get to spend as much time as you want with your families and friends. Enjoy the Holidays, and the New Year brings new challenges and new goals for you all !!! Cheers"

Amen. Happy Solstice Everyone!

Vashti Bunyan/Goldrush - The Zodiac, Oxford - December 9, 2006 (Greg.)

19 Azar - Year 1385

Our first gig at the Zodiac since it was sold to the Carling (tm) chain last month, featured a couple of hometown heroes.

Vashti Bunyan, the underground psych-folkie who was briefly part of the Incredible String Band's late-60s commune, is originally from Oxford. She released one largely-ignored (at the time) record, Just Another Diamond Day, in 1970--and then disappeared for twenty-odd years. The album was 're-discovered' by nu-folk vanguards Devendra Banhart, Joanna Newsom and The Coco Rosie--who started name-dropping Bunyan and even got her to perform a few 'comeback' shows. This led to her long-belated follow-up to "Diamond Day", Lookaftering (featuring Banhart and Newsom)--which was released last year. This would be her first Oxford gig since the mid-60s. Goldrush have been Oxford scenesters for awhile now and have had some UK-wide attention. They are also founders of local label, Truck Records, which puts on a nice festival every summertime--sorta the indie-kids' version of Cropredy. They've always been O-town runners-up to Supergrass and Radiohead--and it seems they should be more well-known than they are. They seem a bit of a mix between The Flaming Lips, Mercury Rev and Neil Young--with lead singer/rhythm guitarist Robin Bennett's vocals sounding more than a little like the Lips' Wayne Coyne, which ain't a bad thing, to me anyway. Apparently, a while back, his vocals owed a debt to Super Furry Animals mainman Gruff Rhys.

The first sign of "meet the new boss" came when Pixie's handbag was searched as we were entering the venue. She said that only happened once before--and I've never seen it happen since I've been attending gigs with her there. A real W.T.F.???!! moment happened as we entered the upper hall. There were four or five tables set up, with flowers and candles--as if we were in a bleedin' restaurant!! Some punters were already sitting at the tables--and people in front of the tables were sitting on the grubby floor so as not to block the view. I hope this development was only for this gig, in anticipation of an older crowd--otherwise it will seem a shame and may cause a 'haves and have-nots' feeling amongst the crowds. Oh yeah--hope you didn't enjoy Boddington's ale that much--'cos it's gone and been replaced with Carling brand.

KTB, a Truck-sponsored act were up first--and I wasn't too impressed. It was that same-ol'-same-ol' folkie singer-songwriter stuff you've heard so many times before, only it's done much better by people like Eliza Carthy, Kate Rusby and a million others you can think of. The lead singer even finished the set with a song with "willow tree" in the title--seriously, that should be banned from use as it seems to be a painful English folk cliche to me. The back-up vocals were handled by a couple of her mates--who were reading the lyrics from a notebook--and this is meant to be KTB's 'new single'..right. The Epstein were up next and their set was more enjoyable--though it seems Carling hasn't invested in a new sound system--'cos the mix still sounds shit for a louder band. The Epstein play a country/indie-rock synthesis similar to Goldrush's and it easy to see why they made the bill. They even have a guy playing electric banjo--I was hoping he was going to bust into some sort of Hendrix-inspired feedbacked banjo solo...but no. Still, we were treated to a quick set and apparently, it was the drummer's final gig with the group and I suspect he's of Russian descent because they finished with him vocalizing a Russian waltz--one of the guitarists oom-pah-ing away on a melodica.

Vashti took the stage after a 20-minute intermission, to the raucous applause of the crowd. She was joined by her 4-piece backing band, including a cello player and violin player. She can still hit all the notes perfectly--and she exuded a shy stage presence with her hippie-dippy charm intact. The "hits" were out of the way early in the set--with Just Another Diamond Day and her psych-folk gem Winter Is Blue following each other as the second and third tunes she played. A couple of newer ones were next, from "Lookaftering"--then another from "Diamond Day"--and that was all. She scurried offstage, smiling and looking like she enjoyed herself, basking in the applause.

Goldrush appeared after a few minutes and fired off a short preview set of all-new material from their forthcoming new one, The Heart Is The Place (due out in February, according to Robin). Going by what I heard, the Rev and Lips influence seems quite strong--though on one of the tunes, they managed to rock out a Neil Young-esque jam for the coda. Robin announced the song I'm Not A Machine as his "Woody Guthrie tune" and 24 definitely had a Mercury Rev-like sombre feel to it. There was also an unintentionally funny moment as John Bennett's keyboard stand collapsed and he finished the tune kneeling on the stage, sheepishly looking over at the rest of the group. Robin said "How come that didn't happen during Vashti Bunyan?" Karma, dude....just joking....maybe. They finished with just John and Robin, playing a semi-acoustic tune.

It was then announced that Vashti would be back on stage with her two friends, Jenny Lewis and Angela Strange. They performed in the early-to-mid 60s as The Three Of Us. The three duly filed out, took their seats and performed a close-harmony folk set that included Bunyan's early songwriting efforts and a cover of the Everly Brothers' Dream. This time Goldrush were their backing band and they did a nice job--playing with subtlety and grace--it was perfect for the trio's material. If only the crowd were quieter--especially during "Dream"--I almost thought I was at Brookes Uni., with the loud, annoying student crowds.

A good gig, and despite the (relatively small) annoyances--one worthy of attendance, especially for the chance to see another 60s survivor like Bunyan. The fact that she was so reclusive for so long makes it even more poignant. Hopefully she'll want to play some more shows, based on the positive response she received from the crows.

We may have to go back to see Goldrush, if they play an album launch show in February. Let's hope they've got a better keyboard stand next time.

RIP Alan 'Fluff' Freeman

I've just heard the news that the venerable DJ, Alan 'Fluff' Freeman has passed away. One of the original BBC Radio One DJs, Fluff was best known for being the voice of the Top 30 or 40 (depending which year it was) 'countdown' where he was prone to using his well known catchphrases 'pop pickers' and 'not 'alf!'. Fluff's Sunday evening chart show was a must for all pop fans back in the 70's when the charts really meant something and a single had to sell around a million to reach number one.

If he is most famous for all things 'top 30' there was another, groovier side to Fluff. In the 70's, someone decided that it would be cool to give him his own 'rock' show on Saturday afternoons, where Fluff could play the stuff he really loved. So it would be that I would find myself glued to the radio on most Saturdays, come rain or shine, listening to the likes of ELP (his faves), Yes, Deep Purple, VdGG, Genesis and all sorts of other wonders for a whole three hours! A true education for a great-coated teenager back then. This was pretty revolutionary programming. The funny thing was, Freeman still did stints on the weekday 'housewives' afternoon slots where he would sneak in some real rockers. On a number of occasions I recall hearing the likes of Purple rocking the old dears to pieces. Well done, Fluff!

Fluff was also the true inspiration behind Harry Enfield's Dave Nice (I believe that's the Enfield one). Don't let anyone ever tell you it has anything to do with that prize creep, Simon Bates. RIP Fluff. Let's rock! Not 'alf!!

Down In The Digital Flood

25 As - Year 169 Pataphysical

I haven't been posting much here either lately--mostly due to being busy doing other things and also a bit of "lack of inspiration". The busy part comes down to our long-awaited upgrade to broadband (Yee-Haw!)--we finally bit the bullet and signed up about six weeks ago. Since then, I have been a virtual kid-in-a-candy-store, downloading rare and out-of-print prog stuff from MP3 Sale and fromSoulseek. I did attempt to go "legit" with Napster, but the sign-up process failed, and I ended up being charged for the fee without being able to log in--I had my money refunded, but I decided not to try again. I've also d/l'ed Azureus, the bit-torrent client, for use at The Trader's Den, but I haven't figured out how to increase the upload speed--so until I do, I can't use it much--lest I be labelled a "leech" and get booted from the site. I did manage to grab Yes' show from Colston Hall in Bristol from May 1975 and I will be passing a copy to Singing Bear--as that lucky bastard was actually there. I've also d/l'ed records from Klaus Schulze, some Tangerine Dream boots--mainly from '74 to '77, Dzyan, Finch, Heldon and the Voice Of Eye/Life Garden collaboration, The Hungry Void - Volumes One and Two--and there'll be lots more (fingers crossed that the RIAA won't be able to shut MP3 Sale down for a while yet).

I talked with Aloicious P. McGinnis last night and everything seems O.K. with the fam. He says that he's been running around like the proverbial "chicken missing it's head" and has has zero time to post. Hopefully he'll have more time in a little while.

Robert Altman, one of the last real cool film directors, has left the planet. His finest achievement will probably always be M*A*S*H, the anti-war film set in the Korean conflict, but released at the height of the debacle in Vietnam--that in itself took balls of stainless steel. It also launched the careers of Donald Sutherland and Elliott Gould, who played the proto-hippie, anti-establishment surgeons, 'Hawkeye' Pierce and 'Trapper John' McIntyre. Also featured, in a strong performance, was Robert Duvall, as self-righteous X-tian patriot, Frank Burns...and of course, Sally Kellerman as "Hot Lips" Houlihan, who shared Burns' respect for 'the rules' and God-fearing patriotism. The film was made into a TV show (ironically, Altman started out as a television director) and it's biting anti-war/anti-establishment humour was dumbed-down and Burns' character was transformed into a simpering wimp, played by Larry Linville. Alan Alda is now more-remembered for the Hawkeye role than Sutherland. Such seems to be the way. Altman continued on, releasing 'tiny epic', large-cast films throughout the 70s. I did see most of Nashville, but to be honest--I started watching it somewhere past the beginning and so I couldn't grasp what was going on. He flopped with Popeye in 1980 (though I thought it was genius casting Shelley Duvall as Olive Oyl)--but bounced back with the acclaimed Tanner '88 series on HBO (way before Tim Robbins' Bob Roberts film), which chronicled the U.S. presidential election goings-on, much like an American version of Yes, Prime Minister. His Hollywood satire The Player also brought him back to the forefront, as did Short Cuts, which I didn't like as much as I thought I would--still, a unique film for '93..before all the Tarantino clones would sweep cinemas. He endured a few more flops, such as Dr. T. And The Women--which I did see and didn't really like at all--too much preening Richard Gere--but came back again with Gosford Park, an excellent English murder mystery, featuring Stephen Fry as the bumbling inspector investigating the case--and the great performances from Helen Mirren, Maggie Smith and Emily Watson. Altman was also a long-time pot-smoker--and didn't hide that fact. His maverick style will be missed. R.I.P. Robert.

There was the whole ex-Russian spy poison plot, too. I guess in the age of "The War On Terrah", some folks got nostalgic for some good ol' Cold War cloak-n-dagger stuff. Just in time for the new James Bond flick, too. Hmmmmm.....

Last--but certainly not least--I received an e-mail from Antares at Magick River. Here's the bulk of it:

Aloha all, I just received the following message to the world UFO community from A.J. Guevard who is the editor of Brazil's UFO Magazine. In it he announces the prediction of a Brazilian spiritual teacher and contactee, Jan Val Eliam, that extraterrestrial contact will occur some time between November 16, 2006 and April 30, 2007. What got my attention was the manner in which he described extraterrestrials showing up and ending the Cosmic Watergate:

"It will involve many huge spacecrafts that will be seen by everybody all over the world. The sighting will last only a couple of hours and the ETs will not perform any direct contact with the governments, but only with selected people here and there". Freitas also claims that the UFOs will be seen and largely registered by media, in such a way that the sighting will be undeniable by any means. "They will go away after a few hours but will be back after some months, and repeat it over and over, until we are prepared for their landing".

The above contact scenario matches in my opinion the optimal way for extraterrestrials to end the prolonged UFO/ET coverup by minimizing societal disruption and potential governmental opposition. Guevard maintains a neutral position on Eliam's prediction and describes the great controversy it has generated in Brazil. Guevard is one of Brazil's most competent UFO researchers so his neutrality suggests that one should not simply dismiss Eliam's prediction. While there have been many predictions of extraterrestrials showing up in mass landings, we should pay special attention to the method described by Eliam's prediction which is pretty close to how it will eventually occur. This prediction is something to definitely keep in mind over the months ahead.

Aloha,
Michael Salla, PhD

I suppose most will either dismiss that as rubbish, or completely believe every word. Either way, I suppose it depends on Game Rules. That is, if you play by the believer/non-believer UFO game--the rules seem to be: 1) All "UFO"s 'are' alien spacecraft and 2) the 'Space Brothers' really do/do not exist. I'm staying agnostic, as much as I try to do these days. Maybe it'll happen--maybe it won't. If it does, then it'll seem that all of the UFO/contactees will be vindicated...if it doesn't, then Guevard will just seem like the kook that all the non-believers think he is anwyay. As for the believers, they'll just think he got his timing wrong--and keep waiting for the Space Brothers to appear.

Neil Young : Living With War

Apologies to my colleagues here at Blog Is Not......I haven't posted in an age and what I have posted has been pretty ephemeral. Apologies too, of course, to our legions of readers out there in Blogland. Anyway, I'm not really going to make it up to you right now because I only have time for a rapid-fire, guerilla style post but I just want to say how much I love Neil Young's most recent album. I know this one came out some months ago and it has taken me a long time to get to it but I'm glad I have. Neil makes a lot of albums and in recent years some have been a little hit and miss but Living With War really does hit the spot. For this album Young is back in 'Godfather of Grunge' (yuck!) mode, really cranking up the amps and hitting some very dirty chords. The reason for his burning passion? Seems he's wound up a little about the 'Iraq Debacle' and twisted minds in the White House. Lets be generous to Neil and forget that he once, around the time of 'back to the land' album, Old Ways, came out as a born-again Reaganite. We've all made mistakes, Neil, and you've certainly made up for it now! Every track reminds one of his glory days with Crazy Horse, from opener 'After The Garden', through the storming rage of 'Shock and Awe', the anger of 'Let's Impeach The President' to the penultimate 'Roger and Out'. The album closes, much like The Deer Hunter, with a wonderfully ironic 'America The Beautiful, except of course, he does think that America is beautiful but it's been hi-jacked by the Neo-Cons who have dragged it into the depths of the cess-pit.

Some might say that Young makes it seem all too simple and that global politics is far too complicated to be analysed on rock and roll album but really it IS that simple. Killing people is terrible; sending people to fight in an unjust and illegal war is terrible; politicians lying to the electorate is terrible; the establishment using the 'War On Terror' as an excuse to spy on the public and lock people up for years on end without charge is terrible; fraudulent elections are terrible...I don't need to go on. Neil Young has taken the temperature of the Western world and found that it is gravely sick. Best protest album in a very long time.

The TSOG's House Of Cards Crumbles??

12 Tula - 1927 Saka era

The mid-term elections in the States happened last week--essentially a battle for the Congress (I can't remember if local state elections are involved also).

It seems that the TSOG (the Tsarist Occupation Government) took a bit of a beating at the polls--and George W. Moron crouched down with his tail lodged between his fore legs, hind legs and ears. He tried to joke about the situation, but, as usual, fluffed his lines.

Another consequence of the backlash is that Donald Rumsfeld, "architect" (if that's how you can describe the action) of the Iraq invasion and seemingly every inch a cartoon villain, was forced to step down from his post. Was it a "brave soldier taking his punishment" or "the rats deserting the sinking ship"...or maybe both?

So the Democrats have control of the Congress for the first time in 12 years--hoop-dee-doo. I don't think it's gonna be all "sunshine, lollipops and cotton candy" now. The Democrats have proved themselves to be the other side of the same coin time and again, full of the same professional politician class that makes up the Republicans. Still, it was nice to see any sort of humbling of the TSOG--especially over it's botched invasion and woeful domestic policies.

Meanwhile, back at the Baghdad ranch--Rummy's ol' buddy, Saddam Hussein, looks set to wear a rope necktie. There was a lot of talk about capital punishment and sovereign nations' right to choose their own methods of law. I still think that if the git was assassinated 3 years ago--it woulda saved a whole lot of aggrevation and bloodshed--but that's only my humble opinion. I don't agree with the death penalty--but then, a lot of Goddamn Insane's victims prolly didn't either--it's a tough call to make.

So The Smirking Chimp officially becomes a lame duck--it'll be interesting to see what happens in two years. In another, sorta related but maybe not way--I agree with Elton John in his view of organised religion. I don't like much of his music (well, anything after 1976 seems to be pretty much AOR twaddle to me)--but I think he's right on when it comes to this topic.

Happy Samhain and the Pepper Calendar

16 Wandering - 39 p.r.S.P.

For about five or six years now, I have been marking the Celtic new year's eve--also called Samhain (pronounced 'Sow-in'--like the pig, not sowing seeds)--mainly to remind myself that "reality" isn't just contained in an X-tian/Gregorian matrix. Not all new years start on January 1st--in fact, only the Gregorian new year does. I did get a small inkling of this when I was younger, because I would see footage of Chinese New Year celebrations and those took place in February (Gregorian)--if I'm recalling correctly, which seemed strange to me at the time because they didn't mark their new year in January "like everyone else".

I only really became aware of calendar differences after reading this piece by Robert Anton Wilson (it appears in one of his books--maybe Cosmic Trigger III--I can't remember which one at the moment, but I read it there before I read it in an on-line form). It hits home the idea of how your "reality" is shaped by others' ideas of timekeeping and imposed "order" on universe.

I've been asked by Pixie and Singing Bear about "those weird numbers" and words above each of my posts. I've taken R.A.W.'s advice as an exercise (yeah, I'm ripping him off a bit) and I'm heading each of my posts with a date from a different calendar, whether it's the Hebrew, Islamic, Discordian or Thelemic (Aleister Crowley's calendar), even the Mayan 'Long Count' calendar. I've also developed my own system, based partly on Ezra Pound's calendar, which uses the publication of James Joyce's Ulysses in 1921 (Gregorian) as it's 'Year Zero' start. My system is based on the 1967 album by The Beatles, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. The record seems to be the high (no pun intended...maybe)-water mark of the fabled "Summer Of Love" to me. It was released on June 1, 1967--so that becomes the Year Zero date. Each month has 33 days (from the original album turntable speed of 33 and 1/3 r.p.m.)--making a total of 11 months and 363 days in a year.

The month names are:
Month 1 - "Pepper"
Month 2 - "Shears"
Month 3 - "Lucy"
Month 4 - "Change"
Month 5 - "Wandering"
Month 6 - "Home"
Month 7 - "Kite"
Month 8 - "Wight"
Month 9 - "Rita"
Month 10 - "Tea"
Month 11 - "Dream"

As you may have guessed--the names come from either words in the title of the tunes, or part of the lyrics in each tune (barring "Within You Without You" and "Sgt. Pepper's (reprise)"--I couldn't do much with those two). I haven't come up with any weekday names yet--so the days are just numbers, such as: 3 Lucy, 10 Dream, etc. The year is shown as "p.r.S.P."--meaning 'post-release Sgt. Pepper's'. It's been a fun exercise to throw off the shackles of Pope Gregory's reality-tunnel, even if I lapse back into his concensus "reality" for work hours and social occasions.

Speaking of the good Dr. Wilson--he had a couple of bad falls over the summer, due to the worsening of his post-polio condition. He has been in care since and is slowly recovering. Since the U.S. still (and probably never will) has no national health-care system, R.A.W.'s medical bills went through the roof. Douglas Rushkoff, another ontological guerilla and friend of Wilson, put out an on-line appeal and the Wilson-heads responded in droves. After seeing R.A.W.'s grateful 'thank you' to his fans at his website, I wanted to give a bit back to the man who's inspired me greatly with his writing--so I made a donation as well. If you're a Wilson-head and want to help the man out, you can make a donation by going to PayPal and sending it to R.A.W.'s account: olgaceline@gmail.com

Enjoy your Hallow's Eve.

Forgotten Heroes of Pop (An Occasional Series)

Here's the first of occasional strolls down my memory tunnel to the (best?) forgotten heroes of 'pop'. Winnners of this week's Bear Award For Peak Pop Perfection In Groovy Hats goes to THE RUBETTES, who hit the UK 'charts' back in January 1974 with the awesome 'Sugar Baby Love'.

Sugar baby love, sugar baby love
I didn't make to make you blue
Sugar baby love, sugar baby love
I didn't mean to hurt you

All lovers make, make the same mistakes, yes they do
Yes, all lovers make, make the same mistakes as me and you

Sugar baby love, sugar baby love
I didn't make to make you blue
Sugar baby love, sugar baby love
I didn't mean to hurt you

People take my advice
If you love someone
Don't think twice

Love you baby love, sugar baby love
Love her anyway, love her everyday

As can be seen (I hope!) from the image above, they were a sartorially hyper-cool bunch of chaps. They appeared on 'Top of The Pops' many times during the mid-70's but none of their subsequent appearances could ever match that very first time when singer/strummer, Alan Williams, mimed the first high-pitched wails that open their seminal hit record. Interestingly, it is an established fact that Williams himself never actually 'sang' those histrionic, trouser-squeezing, vocals on the record; it was some anonymous backing singer type. Still, us Rubettes fans will never let that bother us, as 'Sugar Baby Love' is an incredidble slice of mid-period Brit-Pop that has rarely been bettered by any. Coming on like a rocknroll revivalist meeting mixed by Joe Meek, 'SBL' is a must for any self respecting popular music obsessive. After this the 'Rubes' went into steady decline and can now be seen at a workingmen's club near you.

Buy the album and sample tunes here at Amazon UK. (sorry links don't seem to work but please check the song out if you don't know it!)

Bob Dylan and John Lennon, stoned in a London cab

This IS quite funny. From 'Eat The Document' but sadly cuts out before Dylan puked up.

Video Posts

Oh yeah, the Fiona Apple video wasn't funny, was it?! In fact it wasn't even a particularly good video! I quite like her, myself, but what I really liked more was the discovery that I could post videos here. Maybe better ones to come?

Random Musical Thoughts

Prickle-Prickle, Bureaucracy 70 - Year Of Our Lady Of Discord 3172

Pixie and I are going to reorganise the massive CD collection, which has led me to wonder about a few things:

1979 (Gregorian): I'm not sure (as always, there's room for doubt)--but was this a pretty shit year for music? I mean, for pop & rock, as I do claim ignorance of what was happening in classical music or world music or jazz (though Miles Davis was still in 'retirement'--so it was prolly a pretty shit year for jazz, too) or folk and country. Seriously, the airwaves seemed to be ruled by corporate-rock behemoths (Boston, Journey, Styx) and a few 70s dinosaurs were still lumbering around (Kiss, Ted Nugent). Progressive rock was nearly gone (the "big 4" were just about done--King Crimson and E.L.P. had already split and Genesis and Yes were already making pop crossover sounds), punk (as a revolutionary musical force) was on it's last legs. Pink Floyd issued their Roger Waters-led overblown ode to a depressed rich rock-star, The Wall, and a generation of white-trash miscreants received a call-to-arms with the "we don't need no education" line (and yeah, I did that whole "carrying the boom box through the halls on the last day of school, blasting 'Another Brick In The Wall - Part 2" thing also, so I'm poking fun at myself here, too). Fleetwood Mac went the Floyds one better and spent an unprecedented (at the time) 8 months in the studio creating (under the guidance of guitarist/singer Lindsey Buckingham--I suppose the rest of 'em were too coked-out to object) the hugely over-rated Tusk double-album. Like "The Wall", there are a few good tracks sprinkled in amongst the chaff--but I haven't bothered to listen to it in 15 years. There were the young up-starts--but when was the last time you listened to Regatta De Blanc, or Candy-O? I thought so. Even Kate Bush's Lionheart seems like a holding pattern album. I suppose the New York scene was still thriving and Talking Heads and Blondie were making pretty good records at this time. Overall, though..was 1979 crap?

Here's a few good records from '79 that I can think of:

Wire - 154
Steve Hillage - Rainbow Dome Musick
Public Image Ltd. - Metal Box
Tangerine Dream - Force Majeure
The Clash - London Calling (I know - a perennial list-maker's favourite - but it is a good record)
Talking Heads - Fear Of Music
Robert Fripp - Exposure
Throbbing Gristle - 20 Jazz Funk Greats

Not very definitive, I suppose--but you see what I mean.

What Happened To Bob Seger?: Man, in the early 80s, this guy was ubiquitous. I remember once in 1982, I think the local radio station played that Night Moves (or whatever it's called) song all day--no other songs, just that one. It certainly seemed that way. And that was the poppier, 'Top-40' station. If you turned to the rock stations, ya got Mainstreet, Kathmandu, Betty Lou's Gettin' Out Tonight, Ramblin' Gamblin' Man..and that warhorse, Old Time Rock And Roll, which, if I hear it now--makes me want to claw my ears off of my head and choke 'The Seeg' with them. I mostly blame Tom Cruise and that stupid scene in that film where he dances around in his tighty-whiteys with a tie wrapped around his head, or something. Because of that, the song became an anthem for overweight, white, inbred idiots who would request the song everywhere (weddings, bars, dances), then go into spastic movements that they would refer to as 'dancing'. I know it's not really The Seeg's fault--but he did write the damn tune. It's tough to believe just how popular the guy was then, given that he seems to have virtually disappeared now. I mean, he was giving Bruce Springsteen a chase for the "classic all-'Murican boy" crown. I suppose his career was given a shot in the arm when Metallica covered his whiny rock-star-on-the-road dirge Turn The Page (yeah, Seeg--it's tough making all the bread and getting all that head, but y'know--someone's gotta do it..it's a good thing you've stepped into the fray and taken some for the team). Ford, or Chevy (does it matter?) also used his last big radio hit, Like A Rock (from 1986), for their truck ad campaign...for oh, about 200 years now. I feel a bit sorry for him, despite all of that--'cos once the greying 70s generation are shuffled into the nursing homes of the future--it seems that The Seeg's tunes will follow them there and stay--it doesn't seem to bode well for a Bob Seger revival. That's O.K., The Seeg is somewhere, still workin' on his night moves...

Ursine Celebrations

Without wanting to seem utterly self obsessed, this post is here to mark my birthday, which occured a few days ago. Similarly, without wanting to seem too full of self pity, I'll make the following observations:

I've become an age that is kind of neither here nor there ( although one always seems to be becoming more 'there' as the years pass! ). What I mean to say is...it's just a middling, non-descript age. I'll leave it at that.

I've been in rather ropey health lately and this clouded the occasion a little. having said that, on the day, I was okay. The night before, I'd been chucking my guts up but I was blessed on the day itself.

As a consequence of the above, the day passed tather quietly.

My presents (bless the Bear family!) consisted of CDs and I'm suffering from one of my occasional bouts of semi-deafness!! D'oh!

So, having made these observations, it still must be said that ANY birthday HAS to be something to celebrate, so here's to me!

Anyway, today I went out and treated myself to a bunch of things by way of further celebration (terribly materialistic of me but I hope I may be forgiven). I bought a lovely little four CD set of Woody Guthtie songs. 99 tracks for £14. Yes, I have them all already on vinyl but it was time to take Woody into the new century. Great little collection. I also nabbed Johnny Cash's American 3: Solitary Man for a mere fiver. On top of this, I managed to get myself a wonderful poetry collection called The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry, which is a massive tome that has poems/writing by the likes of Jack Micheline, Alan Kaufman, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Lenny Bruce, Gregory Corso, Ginsberg, Kathy Acker and many others (including Jim Morrison and Tupac but I'll probably skip those pages!). It's pretty awesome stuff. Not ALL great but well worth spending time on.

Thanks to all my family and friends for their love and thoughts. I love you all and once I'm feeling better I'll be bugging the hell out of you all one way or another again!

Here's To Hoping...

12 Mehr - Year 1385

..'Cos something is happening, and you don't know what it is...do you, Mr. Bush.

Would You Like Some Brain Cells With That, Ma'am?

51 Beamtennherrschaft - Year 6006

Probably old internet news by now, but....I found this over at LDopa. It's an hilarious 911 call in which a disgruntled nincompoop attempts to get the police involved when the Burger King she's at won't serve her from the drive-thru window, as it is being cleaned--of course, she never thought to just park her (I'm imagining) gigantor SUV and walk into the restaurant. Some people really seem to have no clue sometimes.

Courtesy of YouTube, you can listen to the exchange here. It'll provide hours of entertainment.

(Thanks to LDopa and The Consumerist for the link to YouTube)

Happy Autumn Equinox

21 Athene - 85 p.s.U.

It's that time of year again, summer has faded and the cooler air is due. The weather outside today doesn't seem very late-September, however--it actually feels like mid-August. I think the months chose a role-reversal this year. Good news for the sun-worshippers.

To help ring in the equinox, a couple of links:

The first being the annual recipients of the Stupid Awards--doled out to those people and quotes who furthered the cause of stupidity throughout this year. Surprisingly, The Smirking Chimp, George W. Butthead didn't win "Stupidest Man Of The Year" (though he has my vote). You can check the awards out here.

For those who are waiting for the flood of spiders to invade their home to "get out of the cold"--here's a page debunking several arachnid myths.

Enjoy!

Back From The "Jurassic Coast"

24 Elul - Year 5766

Pixie and I arrived back from holiday on Friday afternoon--and it's back to work tomorrow--but first, a quick holiday recap.

We traveled down the M5 most of the way into deepest, darkest Devon--ending up in Sidmouth, a lovely seaside town. The beach is a must for Pixie, so onto the pebbles we went. After a bit of "paddling" (that's wading to us Yanks) near the shore and exploring various rock pools (it was low tide when we arrived)--it was time to stock up on food for the week and get to the cottage.

The cottage was very cozy and actually bigger than our house. The village it's in, Tipton St. John (which does sound like a character in Spinal Tap, as Singing Bear pointed out), is one of those tiny English places that couldn't possibly be anywhere else. One or two pubs, one post office, a school and homes built into the sides of hills--I hate to use the word 'quaint', but if the postcard-view fits....

Lyme Regis and Charmouth are worth a visit, if you ever are in that area. They're both seaside communities with fossil-strewn beaches--some of the most concentrated collections of prehistoric bones and imprints in the world. Visitors are welcome to comb the beaches for interesting finds, though there are plenty of shops open if you don't score a dino bone or ammonite shell imprint and still want a souvenir. Pixie and I had beginner's luck with us and each found a stone with an ammonite print--although mine seems to be made of some sort of metal, which may not make it an authentic Triassic item. It does have that spiral shape, so I kept it anyway.

A trip to Exeter, the largest town in that area and home to Exeter University, was next. We visited the cathedral and looked around at some of the shops. I was keen to find a funky little indie record shop, it being a college town and all--but the only one we stopped in was very small and the prices seemed a bit steep to me. There was a Music Zone shop, which was having a sale--so I picked up a couple of Tangerine Dream re-issues and a Strawbs disc. Pixie's folks kindly let us poach their National Trust membership cards for the week and we decided to check out Killerton Manor House & Gardens in a place called Broadclyst. Killerton is one of those regal 18th century houses, all huge portraits on the walls and antique furniture in every room. The house is nice (with a special display of ladies' evening wear from the 1800's through the 1970s) and the gardens are well-manicured and extensive, but I was glad we didn't have to pay admission, as it didn't seem worth the price charged for entrance to me.

Our final full day was spent in Exmouth, yet another seaside town (I'm sensing a pattern here). We decided to go on one of those tourist-y sea cruises. This one was called the "Jurassic Coast Tour" and went from Exmouth, up the coast to Sidmouth, and back. I was a bit unsettled by the rocking of the craft, but I got used to it after a while. We passed by a Royal Marines shooting range and you could hear the pops and clacks of the guns. The captain joked over the tannoy that only four passengers had been shot since he had been piloting. I found the tour interesting, especially when we were given a closer look at "sea stacks", towers of rock that are free-standing, due to being eroded away from the mainland--also a peregrine falcon nest, created in a nook high in one of the cliff-faces. Having some time left in the day, we headed to a town called Beer, to explore the old quarry caves there. You aren't allowed to brave the caves alone--so we joined a tour group already in progress, with our hard-hats on. An older woman served as our tour guide and I had a chuckly moment when I thought of the League Of Gentlemen episode featuring a cave tour guide with a deadpan voice. The quarry itself seemed fascinating to me, with the methods of extracting the stone and the graffiti on the walls, placed there by workers over the years. The cold down there made the tour a bit uncomfortable--but soon it was done and we were back in the late afternoon sunshine. Pixie's trusty Kensington 100 Rover nearly didn't make it out of the town, with all of the steep hill roads about.

Our nights were spent at the Golden Lion pub, in Tipton. There's a crew of regulars, you know 'em from every small-town pub. One guy we called "Crossword Guy", due to his constant quizzing of staff and his friends about words to fit his puzzle. Another sounded a lot like Ian McKellen, so he was called "Gandalf". There were a few others, but we lumped them in as "The Crew", as they didn't stand out as much as the aforementioned two. We also enjoyed a nice meal there on Wednesday night--we started with garlic mushrooms and for mains, I had lemon sole (not de-boned, unfortunately) and Pixie had veggie enchiladas--I finished with a chocolate-orange tart and Pixie had some ice cream. We'd recommend the Golden Lion, if you happen to be there.

As with all holidays, this one ended much too soon.