Monday, 13 July 2009

A Sad Day for Blogdom

It is with a heavy heart that I have learned that my old mucker and internet comrade, Mystic Veg, has decided to hang up his trowel and retire from writing his blog.

For more than two years, Mystic has charmed us with his tales from the allotments of Lincolnshire. Ever since his first post at the end of May 2007, his ready wit and droll humour has brought a half-smile to my lips on many an occasion. We've not always seen eye to eye, but I've come to respect his esoteric take on life, and will miss logging on to read his vegetable-based stories.

Let's hope that, like Alan Milburn, his retirement is only ever temporary, and that the attractions of spending more time with his family soon pall. There'll be a space on the world wide web waiting for him when he does return, I am sure.

Sunday, 12 July 2009

Durham Miners' Gala 2009

Courtesy of the wonders of modern technology, here's a clip of a video taken at yesterday's Miners' Gala in Durham.

Don't ask me how it got here - that's all down to Jasper's wizardry with the computer.

Friday, 10 July 2009

The Big Meeting

Only 24 Hours to Salsa. That's right. Saturday, 11 July 2009 will see Bill tootling up the M62 and A1(M), on what has now become my annual pilgrimage to Durham City. Destination: the Miners' Gala - or Durham Big Meeting, as it's fondly known in the area.

I'll be waving at 70's Teen and Crofty as I make my journey, as I pass close to both of them en route to the north east.

Truth be told, there won't be a lot of salsa (although one or two of the brass bands can get quite inventive in their repertoire). But there'll be lots of fun to be had, and lots of memories to be stirred, as you can see from my previous postings on the topic. I'll keep you posted.

Sunday, 5 July 2009

I Took This

Freshly-back from gardening duties in Bergerac, it was a relaxed and tanned Bill Blunt who travelled last Sunday to the Lancashire County Cricket ground in Old Trafford to watch popular musical ensemble Take That play their final concert in Manchester.

Lest my readers think I have always harboured a love of boy bands, I should explain that I was redeeming my part in a bargain that had involved my current squeeze going to see Bob Dylan when he played in Liverpool earlier this year. I'd like to pretend that I got the better of the deal, but I'm almost embarrassed to say that I thoroughly enjoyed my outing last weekend. The Liverpool Echo Arena is a wonderful venue, but it can't compare to Old Trafford on a balmy Sunday evening, with a light breeze cooling the summer sun. And Bob Dylan's performance (though adequate) paled into insignificance beside the four showmen who turned out in Manchester.

Take That never really appeared on my musical radar before, so I was surprised how easy it was to join in the sing-along, since their songs had managed to penetrate my subconscious without me being exactly aware of it.

As a cub reporter, I learned early to distinguish between my ultimates, my penultimates and my ante-penultimates. But I can't quite work out what comes after something that's already been touted as the Ultimate Tour. Whatever it was, I was there: not a zimmer frame in sight. And it wasn't half bad.