Tag Archives: music

Doorstop bereavin’

It’s no secret that we love living in south Devon. Now its autumn and we have a bit more time on our hands we’ve been getting out a bit more.  One thing I’ve noticed on our travels is that so many of the business names are so similar.

Salt Rock, Rock Salt, Rock Fish, Salt Water, Wierd Fish, On the Rocks, all names that have been carefully picked to conjure up images of the coast, the seaside, fresh fish, fantastic food, holidays, sailing and generally how good life is on the coast.

Trouble is they are all so similar that they all run together in my mind.

Can I recommend a good restaurant? Yeah. Try Rock Water er….I mean Salty Fish Water.  Eh? Oh no.  I mean Weird Cod Rocks. Or do I mean Rock Fish Balls or maybe Water Salt?

Come on guys. Come up with something a bit more memorable!


Did I mention that Lashes and I have joined a choir? No? Wow! You must be the only people in the world who don’t know.

We are LOVING it.

One of the songs we are learning at the moment is ‘Don’t Stop Believin’.  Every week about fifty of us traipse up to the local village hall to warble away like little (and not so little ) rocking songbirds.

One of the choir members is a really lovely Chines lady who just beams all the way through the evening. She’s a delight to be around. Or so I thought. She sits in the alto section where Lashes sits. I sit in the soprano section so I’m never really near her when she’s singing.

Last week as we left the choir lashes glowered at me and announced that she wouldn’t be sitting near the Chinese woman again.

“She puts me right off.”
“Why’s that then? I thought she was lovely.”
“She is but her accent is so strong and her voice so loud I can’t tune her out.”

It turns out that this lovely lady booms out her own version of the lyrics:

‘Doorstop bereavin…hode on to a fee-ee-eeri-i-i-n’
street rife peepoh…ohhhhh-ohhh-OOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!…

Strangers waitin’ up a’ dow’ a’ bourevar..shadows searching i’ a’ niiiiiiigh’

Bless her, I liked her even more when I discovered this.  I’m not going to be sitting near her anytine soon though.

Just as a Saturday treat, here is the original  version:

Manly Barrilow

Manly Barrilow seems to be popping up on our screens a lot lately. Boofuls and I were catching up on some of last weeks tv after we got home from Devon last night. Sure enough, halfway through the Jonathan Ross show, up popped Manly shamelessly promoting his latest album in which he sings songs with dead people.

Now I don’t want to be cruel here but really, Manly, lay off the plastic surgery and/or botox, you’re starting to look plasticised. Obviously I’m not the only one to notice.

Jonathan Ross, in his usual discreet way asked Manly if he’s indulged in a spot of er…enhancement which was vehemently denied. “No, this is just how I look at seventy.”

Oh really?

Clearly Philip Schofield didn’t believe him, if the evidence of his rolling eyes and incredulous expression are to be believed, and quite frankly, Manly, I don’t believe you either. You should be careful about telling porky’s like that, you’ll end up with a great big, long schnoz. Oh no, wait, too late!

A funeral direct friend of ours made the comment that Manly looked like he’d been embalmed. Ha! That’s a good trick, pre death embalmment to preserve your failing looks. I’m sure there’d be a market for it. Maybe there already is and Manly is one of the first people to partake of the treatment.

He hasn’t lost his ability to sing though, unlike some stars of the seventies who have been trotted out for our entertainment recently he did manage to get through a short song without wheezing and puffing all the way through.

I heard him on the radio as well yesterday. He was singing a song that used to be one of my favourites but I can never join in because it just sounds ridiculous if an  English person tries to sing it.  Mnay a karaoke artist would do well to recognise that fact.

Anyway, It goes a bit like this,  join in when you recognise it.

Oh you know I caren’t smile without you

I caren’t smile without you

I caren’t laugh and I caren’t sing

I’m finding it hard to do anything

Because I feel sed when you’re sed

I feel gled when you’re gled

If you only noo

Whad I’m going through

I just kent smiiiiiiiile without you.

Y’see, English people singing American style just doesn’t work. It sounds and feels ridiculous. I just doesn’t work in an English accent either. Oh well, best keep away from that particular Manly song.

Some songs just won’t cross the pond.


Obituary Column

It’s turning into a bloody obituary column, this blog.

This morning I heard that a friend from school has died. One of the nicest lads I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.

Sleep well, Bully. He wasn’t a bully, just in case you are wondering. That was his nickname. If ever a name didn’t suit a person this was it. He didn’t have an aggressive bone in his body.

I’m posting one of my favourite pieces of music in honour of Bully. It’s the Bizet’s Pearl Fisher’s Duet sung by Jussi Bjorling and Robert Merrill

Enjoy it just because it’s wonderful.


Happy Turdday!!

Me and Poochie have been our for  a longish walk on the moors this afternoon. It struck me halfway through our walk how stupid it is  that I’m so careful to take  a poo bag with me and make sure that the dog doesn’t sully  the countryside when we’re picking our way through a veritable carpet of assorted animal poo. It was almost impossible to se the grass for the poo.

There was sheep poo, horse poo, rabbit poo, cow poo and unidentifiable poo, not that I make it a mission to identify different types of poo, you understand, it’s just that some are so  instantly identifiable.   Every species of fauna within a 50 mile radius must have had a meeting and passed (haha  passed!!) an order designating  this part of the moors a  lavatory.  So,  how come that any type of poo is acceptable except dog poo?

Dog poo, disgusting as it is,  is no more disgusting than any other kind of poo. However  any dog poo must be bagged up and carried away in order not to contaminate an area it’s impossible to walk through without getting sh**ted up to the kneecaps  courtesy of all the livestock in the area.  Am I  missing something?

Yes, yes, yes, I know, as Boofuls so kindly pointed,  out there is the issue of canine toxocara. I KNOW!!!   I just chose to ignore it for the purposes of  this post. No need to write in and tell me!!!!


I’ve been trying out my new Nike trainer thingy that attaches to the laces of your trainers, or in my case, boots, and feeds information back to the phone about sitance travelled, speed, calories consumed. Brilliant. Or so you’d think.  Yesterday it decided I’d walked .44 of a kilometre in 1 hour and 9 minutes. I probably could have done that on my knees. By my reckoning I’d done about 4 miles.

Today, having set it to miles, it said I’d done .22 of a mile in 55 minutes.   Hhhmm, I know it’s hard to estimate distances but I could have sworn I’d done more than that, even while wading through poo.   It keeps wanting to calibrate itself to those measurements but of course I don’t want to use that as a yardstick. I thought it would be a case of set it up and it would just work, why is nothing ever straightforward? Sigh.

It gives an option of having music on to ‘work out’ to, I didn’t realise how much I enjoy the quiet of the country side until I had music assailing my lugholes every step of the way.  God, how times have changed. At one time I’d have loved being able to go everywhere with non stop music at my fingertips. A sign of maturity – or just of becoming an old fart? You decide.

Virtual Choir

I found this while I was blog surfing and waiting for my one o’clock appointment to show up (1,30 now – still no show).
Composer/conductor Eric Whitacre has created a virtual choir. He videotaped himself conducting, then asked singers to record themselves singing and  then send it on to him. He then merged their voices and videos electronically. The end result is the amazing recording above – 185 singers making exquisitely beautiful music together.

You can be part of Whitacre’s next virtual choir performance – no auditions are necessary, according to info on his facebook page, where he states he wants to compose an original piece and assemble a choir of hundreds, even thousands.  Watch for the announcement, either on his facebook or youtube pages, then make and send in your recording.

Source:  The Blog that Ate Manhattan

See what you think. It made go all gosebumpy.