The first and most likely story seemed that someone put it there at my last gig while my attention was elsewhere. A little strange, but then what would you do with it if you found yourself holding such a thing? If this is the case, I’m wondering if it was someone I know, and whether their intentions were playful or malevolent?

Next the voodoo option occurred to me. A week or so after Easter I took a tumble on my bike and injured my knee. Could this severed limb be part of a fiendish spell that brought about my distress? Who could foster such urges toward me?

I then got to thinking about who or what might have been playing my mandolin while I wasn’t looking. I enjoyed the mental picture of a group of birds picking some bluegrass tunes, hanging out with a jug of liquor, raising hell. Still it would take one hell of a drunken brawl to explain why one of them might have left most of their leg behind.

A lot of questions and no answers. Now I have the bizarre thing and must decide what to do with it! I don’t want to dispose of it just yet as I might never then know how it came to be where I found it. But I don’t want to keep it indefinitely. I don’t like it. There is something creepy about it.

Well, I never asked for a boring life.

Originating post: the claw of doom

How blessed we parents are! Over the years I have heard all kinds of reasons put forward for not having children….’the world is overcrowded’…..’we haven’t the money’…..’its downright irresponsible’….’I don’t think I’m ready’…’my work will suffer’….’its not for everyone’….and so on. If you are lucky enough to become a parent, in an instant, all these things become utterly meaningless.

I recall, in the flush of fresh parenthood, wanting to persuade everyone to make babies of their own. How insensitive and foolish this was. We are all blessed in different ways. Years ago, with the great Mumbo Gumbo, I recorded a song that light heartedly addressed this.

The saddest thing in our world is orphaned or unwanted children. If you have the means, please consider supporting SOS Children’s Villages, perhaps the most effective international organisation today caring worldwide for abandoned children. Johnny Cash, Angelina Jolie, and Nelson Mandela are just some of the distinguished believers in the SOS Children’s Villages mission.

Originating post: make babies

This has to be the last word in senseless, prejudiced generalisation. The hoody is a very practical, affordable, modern garment. Large numbers of teenage boys wear them. Some of these boys find themselves going through an antisocial phase. Duh! Teenage boys have found it hard to stomach society ever since there’s been a society. Does this mean that anyone who wears a hoody should be treated as a dangerous criminal? Most of these ‘disaffected youth’ also wear trousers, have teeth, and sleep with their eyes closed. Are these characteristics we should view with more suspicion?

I have seen middle aged white people on a New York subway, cringe in fear when a group of black school children boarded the train. Was it because they were children, or because they go to school, or because they were black, do you think? This ‘hoody’ nonsense is the same brand of lunacy.

I’d like to see some of our public figures appear in hoodies, as an identifying gesture. Were Gordon Brown, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Prince Philip, and say, Anne Widdecombe to be photographed wearing hoodies and loitering beside a cash machine, wouldn’t this send out a consoling message to all the fraught and concerned citizens trembling in the suburbs?

Or perhaps enforced hoody-wearing could be used as some kind of punishment. I’d like to start at the top. For crimes against humanity, and gross misuse of power, lets begin with Tony Blair, George Bush Jr. and Simon Cowell. I envisage a UN Special Services squad kidnapping all three of them and throwing them out of the back of a van in downtown Lagos, wearing nothing but boxer shorts and a pink hoody.

Originating post: whats in a hoody?

Why does this still affect me? Its not that I want to rush out and buy all this crap, but rather that I feel guilty because I don’t want to. The arch winks and sly grins of a high sheen cast of glamour cats and kittens, would have me give in to their blandishments and START SPENDING MONEY!!

I have lived with this contradictory attitude for years. Like millions, I know perfectly well that the origins of Christmas have nothing to do with money, yet each year I wind up spending more than I can afford. Which means that the commercial pressure on us all works on me whether I like it or not.

What irks so many of us is how early the campaign begins. By the end of October it is in full swing.

How refreshing it would be if we could contrive to ban all mention of the impending feast till, say, December 15. No gift buying, no plans, no advertising, and no preparation of any kind. This would free us up to have a last minute, chaotic, spontaneous good time of our own devising. The best parties often happen this way. Sadly the forces of commerce, overwhelming as they are, would never go for it.

Years ago I used to do all my shopping on Christmas Eve. It was exciting, hair-raising and a party in itself. Might I humbly suggest that any number of us can quite happily resist all this profit seeking hoo-ha, and keep what little money we have firmly in our pockets. If enough people did it, we could bring the greedy bastards to their knees.

To usurp Nancy Reagan’s famous slogan, “Just Say No!”

Originating post: just say no

Julien Gaudeau, a spokesman for the militant nationalist group Reseau de Resistance du Quebec which organised the protest, said: ”The prince is important as a symbol of power given by the blood. We don’t want this kind of symbol in Quebec, more than 80% of the population in Quebec is opposed to the monarchy.”

While Charles has doubtless enjoyed his privileged life within the monarchy, and has loyally kept up his end of the bargain, I wonder whether in private he doesn’t entertain serious doubts about the British monarchy’s continued relevance. And I wonder what his sons think…

For the moment, anti monarchist sentiments in England are muted, and enough people remain fond of them and what they represent for us to resignedly tolerate them. Like an irascible old maiden aunt, for better or worse we are lumbered with them. Whatever we think of them, they are the ENGLISH Royal Family!

Elsewhere it is a different story. When I was a teenager, the British Empire was even then having a hard time accepting its demise. I’m 60 now. Why anywhere other than England would want Elizabeth II’s head on their bank notes or postage stamps I cant imagine.

Just as Britain is forced to accept a reduced role in international affairs, so too should the Royal Family reconsider its position. If they were to quietly and gracefully withdraw their patronage from the likes of Canada and Australia, rather than wait till they are summarily booted out, they would garner a lot more respect.

Originating post: sorry prince charlie

We have got used to a constant soundtrack in our lives. Until recently, while working my way through the daily list of tasks, I have either had the radio on,  tuned to Radio 4 and its endless chatter, Radio 2 and its saccharine music and talk, or occasionally Radio 3 for a little classical respite; or I have had music from my collection on the turntable. My attention would drift in and out of whatever noise was being delivered, but this didnt seem to matter. I blithely imagined I derived some comfort , or even company, from the sound.

I have now taken to giving silence a try.

At first I felt deprived, as I fidgeted my way through the endless quiet moments. Surely this will end soon, I reasoned. I was uncomfortable, and less able to concentrate. Eventually I would give in and turn on one or other sound delivery system. A sense of relief would wash over me, as my familiar behaviour patterns resurfaced.

However, I continued with my experiments in quiet, and I found myself slowly changing. The periods of self imposed silence grew longer, as I got more used to it. I discovered that in fact my concentration was much improved, and the activity of my fevered brain became less fevered, as its need to fight for attention diminished. Thoughts entered my mind more clearly, one at a time, rather than tripping over each other in a rush to be included.

This revelation is quietly(!), but radically changing me. I am not advocating the life of a Trappist monk, though I begin to understand more the appeal of such a commitment. But in our modern world, there is so much noise everywhere, we forget what silence is like, and how valuable it is.

Apart from bludgeoning our brains, all this noise is destroying the art of conversation. When I complained to a bar-owner friend of mine about the current vogue for deafeningly loud music in premises, he explained that young people, the bulk of his clientele, felt more comfortable with the noise, as it did away with the need to make conversation, something they are not very good at.

While I work I may still listen to music, even the radio from time to time. But more and more I enjoy the quiet background, and the chance to let my own thoughts surface.

As I write this, 3 children and the dog are still fast asleep, and the loudest sound is the old freezer humming and grinding its teeth. I’ll savour it while it lasts.

Originating post: peace and quiet

Much of the real work is nothing but housekeeping on a grand scale. Providing, cleaning, adapting, improving and struggling to balance the books. Every family does this in their own domain outside working hours. If they are smart, they get it done as efficiently as possible to leave time for more creative or enjoyable pursuits.

Might not artists be the most natural people to run things? Often blessed with abundant energy, they would be inclined to swiftly perform their duties, and solve the problems of the day, so they could turn their attention to something more interesting.

It might be argued that they are frequently burdened with personality disorders, are slovenly in their personal behaviour, and are prone to engendering mayhem and chaos in their wake. These accusations can be just as accurately directed at our politicians. The difference is that the boys and girls in charge at the moment feel impelled to create problems rather than solve them, and blow them up out of all proportion. Are they trying to justify their priveleged positions and salaries? I cannot think of any other good reason.

So why not sack the lot of them, and make a provably creative life be a prerequisite of standing for election. It couldnt be any worse, and it might be a lot more fun.

Originating post: lets have artists rule the world

It occurs to me that apart from the obvious health benefits, a very compelling reason for millions of us to stop spending our money this way is to hold our governments to ransom. For those of us who are less than happy about the way our taxes are spent, this might finally provide some bargaining power. If enough of us quit drinking for say, one month, our feckless leaders might be obliged to listen to our concerns a little more carefully than they currently do. During which time, we would all sleep more soundly and be better off!

In Britain at the moment, where the drinking classes are an overwhelming majority, it is not inconceivable that the money earned from all this partying is paying for the health service that must then treat the consequences of all this abuse. That is a very discomforting equation.

So, if you need more reason than just personal integrity to control and reduce your bad habits, think about exerting your democratic muscles. The less you drink and smoke, the less taxes you pay.

Originating post: tax evasion