tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32481398553478079262024-03-18T23:51:53.659+00:00John MeddIt all started in 2010; and by 'it' I mean this blogJohn Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.comBlogger1480125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-59056163362222059482024-03-18T23:06:00.011+00:002024-03-18T23:51:22.233+00:00More cowbell<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4z6iwCTdc5e6YuZL2fF5wugqb0IwhTfwVesMXxoMaRpf14_gIb36T-cN6yt1Ig7ac4DqZ60OOoefkkFncbeopylisqESDiXWwQe9-EPUDlJRjHhaRya5Z_v7CDtTxM9gaHxGlNaVguvYLHuXBfJB4LJQzgxLfFo0Xw_zJXGa90J8ZQX-bf4ugA0QvBcI/s1080/Live-From-Daryls-House-2023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4z6iwCTdc5e6YuZL2fF5wugqb0IwhTfwVesMXxoMaRpf14_gIb36T-cN6yt1Ig7ac4DqZ60OOoefkkFncbeopylisqESDiXWwQe9-EPUDlJRjHhaRya5Z_v7CDtTxM9gaHxGlNaVguvYLHuXBfJB4LJQzgxLfFo0Xw_zJXGa90J8ZQX-bf4ugA0QvBcI/w400-h400/Live-From-Daryls-House-2023.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The latest series of Daryl's House (Darryl Hall's fantasy/vanity project where, going back to 2007, he's been curating some of the greatest songs and songwriters in his 'shed') is probably, in my humble opinion, the best yet; or if not the best, certainly the most varied and therefore the most rewarding. Hall's musical chops know no bounds and so scattergun in nature is his thirst for music, it matters not a jot who knocks on his door - he'll welcome any waif or stray carrying an instrument case.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I've chosen three from the clutch of episodes that were broadcast in November and December last year. Glenn Tilbrook (Ep. 85) is a natural for this sort of format. But even he says on camera that unlike the looseness of his regular band Squeeze, slotting into Daryl Hall's crack band of musical heavyweights made him tighten up considerably. Look at the way he glances over at Hall, as much for reassurance, seemingly, as an unspoken "I hope to fuck you're coming in with the second verse."</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Glenn Tilbrook & Daryl Hall - Hourglass (2023)</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6F1P2PzKkcY" width="320" youtube-src-id="6F1P2PzKkcY"></iframe></div><div><br /></div><span><div style="font-family: helvetica; text-align: justify;">Next up is Howard Jones (Ep. 87). By his own admission he tells us that he started his (electronic) musical journey relying exclusively on drum machines, sequencers and keyboards. Watch in sheer amazement then as the band tear What is Love a new one! This is such a joyous performance. When Jones is giving his post-match interview I don't think he can quite believe what's just happened.</div><div style="font-family: helvetica; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Howard Jones & Daryl Hall - What is Love? (2023)</span></div></span><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/tQtL5GjjEb0" width="320" youtube-src-id="tQtL5GjjEb0"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span><div style="font-family: helvetica; text-align: justify;">I know Robert Fripp (Ep. 90) didn't write Heroes. Daryl Hall knows Robert Fripp didn't write Heroes. But it was Fripp's guitar that carried Bowie's 1977 anthem. This is special. Even Robert Fripp knows it was special. You can see he's quite humbled at the end.</div><div style="font-family: helvetica; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #fcff01; font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Robert Fripp & Daryl Hall - Heroes (2023)</span></div></span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Qbe2_TYliTo" width="320" youtube-src-id="Qbe2_TYliTo"></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small; text-align: justify;">So there you go. I'd heartily recommend you dig out the full episodes and watch them in their entirety. I don't think you'll be disappointed. Let me know what you think.</span></div><span><div style="font-family: helvetica; text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">.</span><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: x-large;">.</span><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">.</span></b></div></span><p><br /></p>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-47959917439417474072024-03-16T09:29:00.007+00:002024-03-16T12:33:06.380+00:00We'll all be lonely tonight and lonely tomorrow<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0hRqsOFVJeS4KE-hnIpBnpWq1yXgQXsbSRWAa2AnCJWMLUrzC9QkGZVWj9vAtB5Q4lvbK6xZoMxg-M9vwHfYSjRuqrpiZRvsGFa4fvFfVe5NBjjUF89V90aa8gmmM4FzGIgHaB1qk8xhya3eCNCqUOp_uoVM7iJVhECzcaqQrc34OJAu1_q4cshECDAE/s400/Justin-Currie-Contact-Information.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0hRqsOFVJeS4KE-hnIpBnpWq1yXgQXsbSRWAa2AnCJWMLUrzC9QkGZVWj9vAtB5Q4lvbK6xZoMxg-M9vwHfYSjRuqrpiZRvsGFa4fvFfVe5NBjjUF89V90aa8gmmM4FzGIgHaB1qk8xhya3eCNCqUOp_uoVM7iJVhECzcaqQrc34OJAu1_q4cshECDAE/w400-h400/Justin-Currie-Contact-Information.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Justin Currie has been diagnosed with Parkinsons's disease. He knows it will only get worse and he knows he'll have to stop performing, probably quite soon; calling the prospect of this 'quite grim' is an understatement to end all understatements. It is truly heartbreaking. In an interview Justin recently to the BBC he </span><a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-glasgow-west-68528123" style="font-family: helvetica;">talks openly</a><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> of his fears for the future. I can only pass on my love and best wishes to him.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I'm guessing this performance of Nothing Ever Happens was filmed during Lockdown. However, the starkness of the lyrics lend themselves perfectly to the isolation of each musician as they record their part in their own individual silo. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Del Amitri with the BBC Concert Orchestra - Nothing Ever Happens</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/X_0hKjV4z1k" width="320" youtube-src-id="X_0hKjV4z1k"></iframe></div>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-30022611935366755672024-03-12T23:10:00.006+00:002024-03-13T16:38:22.932+00:00'Ullo John. Gotta New Motor?<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKWgdCUlJ9N8jKNMpEc5Cz-PX-RbYWGkSQCMdzkouf6zxPP76lgFRVWLcp_w107c8VoU6jkXLsFkJOrX60cNoMdR09wDSR6lW8oibt2Q5mrz6NMnRBZmL59mPuj8SEGhKzt1le57V8qrNqqFUmknrgyJCh6PJjnamYMMmYO_n2Y1EmrjBUqIUY7iGKdkY/s930/0-15.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="601" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKWgdCUlJ9N8jKNMpEc5Cz-PX-RbYWGkSQCMdzkouf6zxPP76lgFRVWLcp_w107c8VoU6jkXLsFkJOrX60cNoMdR09wDSR6lW8oibt2Q5mrz6NMnRBZmL59mPuj8SEGhKzt1le57V8qrNqqFUmknrgyJCh6PJjnamYMMmYO_n2Y1EmrjBUqIUY7iGKdkY/w259-h400/0-15.jpeg" width="259" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
A busy few days - just sold my car through a well known (not to say very annoying) internet company and, a handful of hours later, took delivery of a new set of wheels I'd test driven up in (a spookily deserted) Blackpool just a few days earlier.</span><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMoAsefHzxlqnMLADSBIuBkUjNj5s824390D7lgX0-YKyDnz2tC8LgouzZ4JrsNUvIsODkpGUXzp-8VBNHJVG1kGaD-Fmj6Ch1vuGbuhn8iQpSF3IqbXav6G_uYbZizQOh3kFHkh8EYOYf7ob97r2sK4bWX1FaO3AnTk_XQI48Z-9H9O0FkwXqzZhKFko/s930/0-16.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="698" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMoAsefHzxlqnMLADSBIuBkUjNj5s824390D7lgX0-YKyDnz2tC8LgouzZ4JrsNUvIsODkpGUXzp-8VBNHJVG1kGaD-Fmj6Ch1vuGbuhn8iQpSF3IqbXav6G_uYbZizQOh3kFHkh8EYOYf7ob97r2sK4bWX1FaO3AnTk_XQI48Z-9H9O0FkwXqzZhKFko/w300-h400/0-16.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I mention this purely because I found the above photo the other day - I was recently asked to take part in a <i>guess the baby</i> picture quiz and as you can see I'm quite taken with this motor (tho' still not sure who it belonged to). I have a few of me from around this time posing with/leaning on various period cars. Must've been a boy thing.</span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Chris Spedding - Jump in My Car (1976)</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/2-y0KqR4Ha4" width="320" youtube-src-id="2-y0KqR4Ha4"></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></div>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-15897477902804710592024-03-10T16:09:00.006+00:002024-03-11T13:28:58.887+00:00I Spy<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwtAhjhemflvvlvopa_tVOHAYWXIjHqqrNQu0dCAhZCcFBjtAmyNzJJ-td04SkNyK4nhGBBmxnPSah3RoWTx_h8u4cAmR14omeLIsFGgkl6ekwvaPhBk6eb5miJNfAE77Bi-UMTc1J7DntKSqLpFtU4XnZ893IWttRQwt81rdiXSUxO5vpaDeOKXxf29o/s1600/GIRMRLNWoAAhEc0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1154" data-original-width="1600" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwtAhjhemflvvlvopa_tVOHAYWXIjHqqrNQu0dCAhZCcFBjtAmyNzJJ-td04SkNyK4nhGBBmxnPSah3RoWTx_h8u4cAmR14omeLIsFGgkl6ekwvaPhBk6eb5miJNfAE77Bi-UMTc1J7DntKSqLpFtU4XnZ893IWttRQwt81rdiXSUxO5vpaDeOKXxf29o/w400-h289/GIRMRLNWoAAhEc0.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">My Twitter account is littered with my photographic obsessions - the beech tree outside my house, the Humber Bridge, phone boxes (in fact <i>all</i> street furniture), roller shutter doors with random cars parked in front of them, the Home Ales building in Nottingham, ornate door knockers, the list goes on. Some of this flotsam and jetsam will eventually find its way onto my blog, some of it doesn't. One of my <i>side hustles</i> is photographing random launderettes and laundromats. I've even enrolled others into send me launderette pictures from where they live or when they tell me they're going on holiday. It's like the old I-Spy books we all had as kids. Riggsby has sent me scores and scores of them from California and the Swede has sent me quite a few from deepest Norfolk and the East End of London - his home and his spiritual home respectively. Thank you, again, both.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And now we have a new kid on the block. My good friend Matthew and his wife Samantha are currently on the high seas cruising around Africa and recently disembarked in Cape Town. Fair play to Matthew, he could, indeed should, have been been soaking up Table Mountain, Cape Point and Robben Island, but instead was tracking down laundromats! Thank you, Matthew. You will be mentioned in despatches.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdNrLPGvFv4TS8UfA_S7N0u4_gaAzVlfccThFjZ4BlLtqV78atmx9ozOatOtmhhD050vnjIvGRqko2aCvmm_udtzmWHMdN0PrG3l2_rr1vGPSoMfqJe9vTBKHsPVEMWc4kcQXrnKI-916dfdI6B-Xtp9x_-vq2sbPiPqj0fvFkLO1c_gq6EV8yyemBbB8/s1600/GIRMRLNWIAADMS3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="777" data-original-width="1600" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdNrLPGvFv4TS8UfA_S7N0u4_gaAzVlfccThFjZ4BlLtqV78atmx9ozOatOtmhhD050vnjIvGRqko2aCvmm_udtzmWHMdN0PrG3l2_rr1vGPSoMfqJe9vTBKHsPVEMWc4kcQXrnKI-916dfdI6B-Xtp9x_-vq2sbPiPqj0fvFkLO1c_gq6EV8yyemBbB8/w400-h194/GIRMRLNWIAADMS3.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span><p></p>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-91790203563981803632024-03-09T14:32:00.005+00:002024-03-09T14:39:08.900+00:00The effects can last forever<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIqH6KDvBHoozuC7MBAFROajV-IipiT88Vo8xLANlAIB4uVh7r3nouWZOrA3xw46aXLJ7o6X2d0N51HhrkXsrIG8kvMyQVRoP9fa1YbLUr2XCYfysOQ7QR3TrIPPebyYnj27AFyoMLr_hE1QT3-YvKB5ZflA6NGDJM4R_68LMCYMBJmS2iIVf_CD-5tug/s2048/GIOw-R3XMAA7S5Q.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1330" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIqH6KDvBHoozuC7MBAFROajV-IipiT88Vo8xLANlAIB4uVh7r3nouWZOrA3xw46aXLJ7o6X2d0N51HhrkXsrIG8kvMyQVRoP9fa1YbLUr2XCYfysOQ7QR3TrIPPebyYnj27AFyoMLr_hE1QT3-YvKB5ZflA6NGDJM4R_68LMCYMBJmS2iIVf_CD-5tug/w260-h400/GIOw-R3XMAA7S5Q.jpeg" width="260" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
This one had been on the calendar for ages: the Sheffield leg of Dodgy's Free Peace Sweet tour found us bombing up the M1 on a Friday evening to sample some legendary south Yorkshire hospitality. As with a lot of music venues currently (and this one is a real jewel), the Leadmill's future is far from secure. However, a good crowd guaranteed Dodgy a warm reception. When they embarked on the first leg of the FSP tour in 2023 their frontman Nigel Clark said that they'd be playing the album (in full and in its original running order) they recorded 27 years ago when the average age of the band was 27. Phew! And here we are in 2024 with all the songs sounding just as vibrant and passionate as they ever did in back in 1996. (And I should know, having seen them dozens of times over the years). They opened with this. Somewhere in my vaults I have a 12", 12 minute, white label drum and bass remix of this, but today I've gone for a stripped back acoustic version. Enjoy.</span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Dodgy - In a Room (acoustic) - 1996</span></p>
<iframe allow="autoplay" frameborder="no" height="300" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/128003502&color=%23ff5500&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&show_teaser=true&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe><div style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Interstate, "Lucida Grande", "Lucida Sans Unicode", "Lucida Sans", Garuda, Verdana, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; font-weight: 100; line-break: anywhere; overflow: hidden; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap; word-break: normal;"><a href="https://soundcloud.com/dodgy-on-vinyl" style="color: #cccccc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Dodgy on Vinyl">Dodgy on Vinyl</a> · <a href="https://soundcloud.com/dodgy-on-vinyl/in-a-room-live-acoustic" style="color: #cccccc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="In A Room (Live Acoustic Version)">In A Room (Live Acoustic Version)</a></div>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-27062908480845377442024-03-06T23:36:00.004+00:002024-03-06T23:41:24.925+00:00No Sun in Venice<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio0YwK_cvxftdHXvPZ77aqZWX1RPW3oQxtXYCOjUze5heCH_XY59jT9jyE4_OpWNJXozlsDtsR_6nodG4xq4mkdkWBbhT5L8g2RSWFGO8unL3NRLKIAV-DkW3kSGPx3kfM8s_3eUcCErOBDlNyNBNxf9wC87IDDozVYG_XOnH-JkMNdjm-WNclol34IsM/s1687/GH6-pLmWgAEkpHM.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1687" data-original-width="1349" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio0YwK_cvxftdHXvPZ77aqZWX1RPW3oQxtXYCOjUze5heCH_XY59jT9jyE4_OpWNJXozlsDtsR_6nodG4xq4mkdkWBbhT5L8g2RSWFGO8unL3NRLKIAV-DkW3kSGPx3kfM8s_3eUcCErOBDlNyNBNxf9wC87IDDozVYG_XOnH-JkMNdjm-WNclol34IsM/w320-h400/GH6-pLmWgAEkpHM.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
The film may have been a turkey (late 50s French-Italian romance/thriller set in The Floating City) but the soundtrack to No Sun in Venice, composed and scored by their pianist & leader John Lewis (1920-2001), is a Modern Jazz Quartet classic album.</span><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU2kC3qELpUKmbRJTbgtFYDhuY6lZbcAubwovsQRPHgDl-UQui5LeqVIE9GThLCuViKbkvSSyJ8b33yEQWvToyNtAKLwCmiq5EEmd-7fFzNo5rkDrK98XPYTnoNLVriV_hI1MvJPQlSuog4ATtIOIi8EGAsZ8HTuoXFQKVLQh0do2zBCdKAshVYXCknAg/s274/Unknown.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="274" data-original-width="184" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU2kC3qELpUKmbRJTbgtFYDhuY6lZbcAubwovsQRPHgDl-UQui5LeqVIE9GThLCuViKbkvSSyJ8b33yEQWvToyNtAKLwCmiq5EEmd-7fFzNo5rkDrK98XPYTnoNLVriV_hI1MvJPQlSuog4ATtIOIi8EGAsZ8HTuoXFQKVLQh0do2zBCdKAshVYXCknAg/w269-h400/Unknown.jpeg" width="269" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The photograph at the top of the page is by James Lucas. His <a href='https://twitter.com/JamesLucasIT/status/1765081306948604226'>aerial photographs</a> depicting unique images of cities all over the world are simply stunning.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">MJQ - Venice (1957) </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/N67MZqIYvvY" width="320" youtube-src-id="N67MZqIYvvY"></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;"></span></div>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-4065357094338700442024-03-04T23:35:00.002+00:002024-03-04T23:35:36.783+00:00Lemon fresh?<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh3cqcMfgJs2Tx-eKL-SUc14va6Hh7JZxULkQ-SKVAomq5QKn43CFbHxXfk9koKmKiyEhbmXSf_pLT6IqV9kA57sUUDidTGhSC-cerRnAmrZfnfJoZa-ivS_xeqCCW9mCyz_y6hS9qlZ4GKe7ft5P5OGf0kYS4GPbVLuyCZJUc9pJkJjLP_4kZ5fc9wnU/s724/a03f3f_5a7b201f79a24997ac4dfec46e08d891~mv2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="724" data-original-width="595" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh3cqcMfgJs2Tx-eKL-SUc14va6Hh7JZxULkQ-SKVAomq5QKn43CFbHxXfk9koKmKiyEhbmXSf_pLT6IqV9kA57sUUDidTGhSC-cerRnAmrZfnfJoZa-ivS_xeqCCW9mCyz_y6hS9qlZ4GKe7ft5P5OGf0kYS4GPbVLuyCZJUc9pJkJjLP_4kZ5fc9wnU/s320/a03f3f_5a7b201f79a24997ac4dfec46e08d891~mv2.png" width="263" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><p style="text-align: justify;">I adore the sound the Lemon Twigs make. It's not startlingly original, but then again what is? The D'Addario brothers, Brian & Michael, are magpies. A riff here, a melody there; everything, seemingly, is up for grabs. And why not? Rock and roll is full of plagiarism and plunderers. (Chuck Berry has got a lot to answer for.) Plus, any band who hail from Hicksville are alright in my book. Here they are from a recent Jimmy Fallon show performing their latest nailed-on power pop belter. </p></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">The Lemon Twigs - Golden Years (2024)</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7XqW8XmYCto" width="320" youtube-src-id="7XqW8XmYCto"></iframe></div>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-72595390749093659972024-03-02T07:38:00.016+00:002024-03-04T19:59:06.444+00:00Jesus, would you look at the time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh10qSVki3Mel_f_cy1IBZ6J8AiGPV0utuEnjWUXaZTivwYaRX5Xyuc_iSOAYo157gMTzmrBN-ti0OdKkNitued3RyqLZ1YXaUAlhtg78SQ_IGN5quY_0iBxhyphenhyphenqN6IQ60bHg8sEvSbatyPDgkgBpXG8Pk62ty-YzEW5aQbN0p1GFKjO_KWan4sDIBFGt2E/s568/0-50.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="504" data-original-width="568" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh10qSVki3Mel_f_cy1IBZ6J8AiGPV0utuEnjWUXaZTivwYaRX5Xyuc_iSOAYo157gMTzmrBN-ti0OdKkNitued3RyqLZ1YXaUAlhtg78SQ_IGN5quY_0iBxhyphenhyphenqN6IQ60bHg8sEvSbatyPDgkgBpXG8Pk62ty-YzEW5aQbN0p1GFKjO_KWan4sDIBFGt2E/w400-h355/0-50.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It's that time of the month again - Photo Challenge Club. For our 15th instalment I was asking for timepieces. I always find myself having to catch my breath when I put these collections together. And this month is no exception. Thank you to everyone for taking the time. Literally.</span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">As is customary, Rol gets to cut the cake first - "Here you go, John, the clocktower of Barnsley Town Hall, complete with a suitably ominous sky to represent the town that almost broke me. Clearly I was lying in the gutter when I took this photo."</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgJWziIeBpnv7GmYEpMrnCWh7u-NRGEznY6Qda8HtbxZyNYXIJGqE2I1f9p4gteH01kHalOPxW6MsIb38a1SqerwkNMIzxXPrNrkccHq9trqcNCMB0h9zcj6azdllfvwtQuRpMLYh_3Ocqqb0dNoSuw5KMVlQv65J-yDQayOfD7XYZr9Q1kJE8Df-Xe8I/s1203/0-39.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="1203" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgJWziIeBpnv7GmYEpMrnCWh7u-NRGEznY6Qda8HtbxZyNYXIJGqE2I1f9p4gteH01kHalOPxW6MsIb38a1SqerwkNMIzxXPrNrkccHq9trqcNCMB0h9zcj6azdllfvwtQuRpMLYh_3Ocqqb0dNoSuw5KMVlQv65J-yDQayOfD7XYZr9Q1kJE8Df-Xe8I/w400-h300/0-39.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">"I did go up into the clock tower once, in happier times." I love this one, Rol. Behind the face.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhloeXh01s-IwkZWfqKhyrea-81O0yDq0VkVkbxAqKmoCTzUpT0NTkMIgf71w6ZIPspNPaR_c8VSxJIES-KNqhzkQJc6lKdMRkcbwvSGoPSUB9sRmRYTK64W48QEwK0hCmJsv-D6aCI8iNSEDOrJVpa8BQ724y3369sNFZXIuQlQwvFCnx89B9SP-ZWSk8/s1371/0-58.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1028" data-original-width="1371" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhloeXh01s-IwkZWfqKhyrea-81O0yDq0VkVkbxAqKmoCTzUpT0NTkMIgf71w6ZIPspNPaR_c8VSxJIES-KNqhzkQJc6lKdMRkcbwvSGoPSUB9sRmRYTK64W48QEwK0hCmJsv-D6aCI8iNSEDOrJVpa8BQ724y3369sNFZXIuQlQwvFCnx89B9SP-ZWSk8/w400-h300/0-58.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Another newbie: Pete Zab is a very talented photographer from Nottingham. His work is all over Twitter. "Taken a few years ago on the Harry Potter set at Warner Bros. studio in Leavesden, just ouside Watford." Cheers, Pete, and welcome aboard.</div></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghg6ix8cfX2g97U6-sA68iGH1cVi31rvn5qFHc0Wmbiy8fgrpa29jl27GHuEVKoKDIgBf6TTW7o5e92Z-Vc-7517JjK9T6dInr_dnS9CR_MzwOAbW0thOBzWTtbmb106NU_4fEtJx_joPknAnUAWjTymFk_ygM6CAqYMzrI2r2hE9KXMfb4kKpoeYqQXo/s2200/GHSggd7XcAEsiJk.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1533" data-original-width="2200" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghg6ix8cfX2g97U6-sA68iGH1cVi31rvn5qFHc0Wmbiy8fgrpa29jl27GHuEVKoKDIgBf6TTW7o5e92Z-Vc-7517JjK9T6dInr_dnS9CR_MzwOAbW0thOBzWTtbmb106NU_4fEtJx_joPknAnUAWjTymFk_ygM6CAqYMzrI2r2hE9KXMfb4kKpoeYqQXo/w400-h279/GHSggd7XcAEsiJk.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Ernie Goggins makes a welcome return "A clocktower in Muscat taken about five years ago when I was working there for a few weeks." That sky is an amazing shade of blue.</div></span><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXlMLwalm_uli1rxCvlmw-8ZOzzdEIHKeUyMCV7KZzt7paDc6msVyOLlWC2U-uBMOk8If1OyuXizw8fYSnJzv-abTFEDL02pIopkSxcRhSOpGhOzOZMXkz9sNpBBA2wkoQi6dZMVlIlpOflfq6qW2TFQ9an_Z8SFSYi-uKx0kIADNgy_mSzilovnR72v4/s902/0-16.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="613" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXlMLwalm_uli1rxCvlmw-8ZOzzdEIHKeUyMCV7KZzt7paDc6msVyOLlWC2U-uBMOk8If1OyuXizw8fYSnJzv-abTFEDL02pIopkSxcRhSOpGhOzOZMXkz9sNpBBA2wkoQi6dZMVlIlpOflfq6qW2TFQ9an_Z8SFSYi-uKx0kIADNgy_mSzilovnR72v4/w271-h400/0-16.jpeg" width="271" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The Swede goes back in time: "The young me, taken by my dad in 1965."</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8cqbuyQdrV27pwQud_Ifua-jn9LxilcQEZQFhZfAWKRtSu5hZHPj8ljhwVPmSZSFJsTWPTbfZ6wMZTkKwxoVQfbyUv6TbzWO1i8wjvYJfTFtlfW1yAkZEZ9zFi-5CY9aooodMhauPKHgxKQ7jnAl2dQZ81XkCiipH4LfjsLR_03GkovLvoQ7ilIhCfL4/s902/0-17.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="527" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8cqbuyQdrV27pwQud_Ifua-jn9LxilcQEZQFhZfAWKRtSu5hZHPj8ljhwVPmSZSFJsTWPTbfZ6wMZTkKwxoVQfbyUv6TbzWO1i8wjvYJfTFtlfW1yAkZEZ9zFi-5CY9aooodMhauPKHgxKQ7jnAl2dQZ81XkCiipH4LfjsLR_03GkovLvoQ7ilIhCfL4/w234-h400/0-17.jpeg" width="234" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">"The elderly version was taken by my cousin's husband last year; we were about eight miles into an epic walk through London." Amazing, TS. As you probably know, I'm a huge fan of this type of time lapse photography. Thank you. </span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcZ0d93ZPzg6O3r5dTRe1H1H474o3SMMD8PPT8it_Qr05hMDLViI-OTdDdDUrz43KdWlK87bC4S3NHHRDx9fhQ8ZGfBV1bYfVupMz_7Ul9B7i9Q37iJZKNyDDq56h25iGi5IkiPtRGrvaBMY1vsc969RqH78ikncqktIKaXq-o3naX_DMd4n5iuO8Ehug/s902/0-20.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="547" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcZ0d93ZPzg6O3r5dTRe1H1H474o3SMMD8PPT8it_Qr05hMDLViI-OTdDdDUrz43KdWlK87bC4S3NHHRDx9fhQ8ZGfBV1bYfVupMz_7Ul9B7i9Q37iJZKNyDDq56h25iGi5IkiPtRGrvaBMY1vsc969RqH78ikncqktIKaXq-o3naX_DMd4n5iuO8Ehug/w242-h400/0-20.jpeg" width="242" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">James was recently in Budapest and sent me this from a gallery he'd frequented.</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiswOYLYMSowAYEvrXTHRhbkkBd2j91Jvs716I5XfXn-FE5R-4irzk4dtBf_5QCX351qXGpO4ojEas45F7OfqVBkZXlDBmL2Z8QG-Veg3m3sliAt3Ot_e-IhuDDwH8aqbh-m6O2LayhBXGbI15Jb7tdfvDczuN7_HZifcEyj7MHWCQ1yfBb8Qx6Bx-HUz8/s902/0-26.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="677" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiswOYLYMSowAYEvrXTHRhbkkBd2j91Jvs716I5XfXn-FE5R-4irzk4dtBf_5QCX351qXGpO4ojEas45F7OfqVBkZXlDBmL2Z8QG-Veg3m3sliAt3Ot_e-IhuDDwH8aqbh-m6O2LayhBXGbI15Jb7tdfvDczuN7_HZifcEyj7MHWCQ1yfBb8Qx6Bx-HUz8/w300-h400/0-26.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A bit of background.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1n6gpSPN2BL0jL_NMiY6eGck6oPQvMJADozpopuO6XGLNM1H5TBHQPhCHgJVrKwR5EnbU-SgWDpe09t5qeAduo6TTivFVS0GBpxNw_IOAMt71NK3mpipBVZrXF90ENno1WlF6aa9vc9MOR-PzKEc6GVO0RUq35W9Um0yw04IUPQF1EatNX9yYnu_osGw/s902/0-24.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="676" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1n6gpSPN2BL0jL_NMiY6eGck6oPQvMJADozpopuO6XGLNM1H5TBHQPhCHgJVrKwR5EnbU-SgWDpe09t5qeAduo6TTivFVS0GBpxNw_IOAMt71NK3mpipBVZrXF90ENno1WlF6aa9vc9MOR-PzKEc6GVO0RUq35W9Um0yw04IUPQF1EatNX9yYnu_osGw/w300-h400/0-24.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A quartet from Riggsby. The first harks back to his time in Germany: "This was the view from the kitchen window from the flat when I lived in Heidelberg. I nicknamed it our kitchen clock."</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigoYhXl7V2vKeRX8OepbvsqqzGs3ll_18xgXgr0MvEAIkDtM0WLChCSTW2oRfweyAIOykX3cyQLiItOwhi85w5IHwOXl71DWKFGDgGysRUx_UaL11tMiGuiAC0KvBUnj66Y5OnO8Ul4PIY443JUmzP721RhpLVvYTMA5BS0SAsFXXYDZU6j-KTj7oGdJQ/s902/0-33.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="602" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigoYhXl7V2vKeRX8OepbvsqqzGs3ll_18xgXgr0MvEAIkDtM0WLChCSTW2oRfweyAIOykX3cyQLiItOwhi85w5IHwOXl71DWKFGDgGysRUx_UaL11tMiGuiAC0KvBUnj66Y5OnO8Ul4PIY443JUmzP721RhpLVvYTMA5BS0SAsFXXYDZU6j-KTj7oGdJQ/w268-h400/0-33.jpeg" width="268" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">"This clock stands proudly to commemorate 50 years of the Rotary Club in Del Mar. I pass it on my way home from the office. We've had a lot of rain recently and this was taken between storms."</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieFuRYypabSWZBFRlSwoF_jLOBAHF2eYNATAmVm4lv31gQA4jeM-tW-xbl5EdRA4ZtDfnD6_WUIvTDfD0rYXfEjtul1qzW_OikLfV23tL_RUZ-xLMGyka0Id6mUOwyTzIbi5ABl_GMcdoSYtNVzziNLZi42HLSpwL4rdL19gtXMVuYgfS7bD3YuCyx1KQ/s1600/unnamed.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieFuRYypabSWZBFRlSwoF_jLOBAHF2eYNATAmVm4lv31gQA4jeM-tW-xbl5EdRA4ZtDfnD6_WUIvTDfD0rYXfEjtul1qzW_OikLfV23tL_RUZ-xLMGyka0Id6mUOwyTzIbi5ABl_GMcdoSYtNVzziNLZi42HLSpwL4rdL19gtXMVuYgfS7bD3YuCyx1KQ/w300-h400/unnamed.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Richard goes on to say: "Do hourglasses count?" Yep, they most certainly do.</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUoIfHv-snCZ5ffuQZo0k6cgXmbwqSr1Ym6Ij0gIZpa-zBhMBflmDeTv51e9CMK56N2ME0JOmgfROgMPE_4Wvro8ZL3c1DI-st6pUIlDqMKTGyrO5oM-A31_cOcHDgOO0KSP7_G0IH40TvIJQFyQzw0SfR6tCGdrM-hz5NKwRWd4K4IR5IDLD0vy2eLac/s902/0-32.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="677" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUoIfHv-snCZ5ffuQZo0k6cgXmbwqSr1Ym6Ij0gIZpa-zBhMBflmDeTv51e9CMK56N2ME0JOmgfROgMPE_4Wvro8ZL3c1DI-st6pUIlDqMKTGyrO5oM-A31_cOcHDgOO0KSP7_G0IH40TvIJQFyQzw0SfR6tCGdrM-hz5NKwRWd4K4IR5IDLD0vy2eLac/w300-h400/0-32.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And finally, <strike>Geddy Le</strike>e Riggsby signs off with "It's five o'clock somewhere." (I was looking for a yard arm but it must be out of shot.)</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1d6zQxB1JDDJM8XLLdXk2r9Xj7yn6zlLmT6HLolLuGBlndlboLLIdZYB_FUuukv9Zu49lAry-oglandFORo_vqAhvoCcSZyH5b7wUJEz2q-1megKY4KN9INzyxp5KTb3GO5BaCPjG6SdGCzIJVVyKqbQKtvgILWEMZRzWhBssssdKYxTw9Y7tVL9Oxr8/s902/0-29.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="677" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1d6zQxB1JDDJM8XLLdXk2r9Xj7yn6zlLmT6HLolLuGBlndlboLLIdZYB_FUuukv9Zu49lAry-oglandFORo_vqAhvoCcSZyH5b7wUJEz2q-1megKY4KN9INzyxp5KTb3GO5BaCPjG6SdGCzIJVVyKqbQKtvgILWEMZRzWhBssssdKYxTw9Y7tVL9Oxr8/w300-h400/0-29.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Jo-Shreeve's photos are always thought provoking "An empty Paddington station at 5.20am after getting the sleeper train from Cornwall xx." Thank you, Jo.</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ46WvjgovI4AilojJBjM6mmbK2ydTvlrTQXbh42ydecNp0svRT5kM1yd7odXgXbTdkKaIibLnwJZWS1SRBT-yfsuVVDKjwNoybYvTyzrdon0k4o-4iRVst5p1y0DOJht9Pz4YnO9v21jGyJMFIKTx2xfcfvjYlAYpSN2SgxhKBwWnzNN_HABI3XQx7rE/s680/f9ykewlF.jpg-small.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="513" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ46WvjgovI4AilojJBjM6mmbK2ydTvlrTQXbh42ydecNp0svRT5kM1yd7odXgXbTdkKaIibLnwJZWS1SRBT-yfsuVVDKjwNoybYvTyzrdon0k4o-4iRVst5p1y0DOJht9Pz4YnO9v21jGyJMFIKTx2xfcfvjYlAYpSN2SgxhKBwWnzNN_HABI3XQx7rE/w301-h400/f9ykewlF.jpg-small.jpeg" width="301" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Someone else I follow on Twitter -Tim Widdowson from Notts is next up: "Here's a couple, John. St. Paul's taken from the Rotunda (just realised you'd be unlikely to see the clock from ground level)." </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQCu6ax7vEDLPNx9b8aMrQ-Vtrl76em1_q4Q0moIE9-NNmt468Nsjt3M4MvsjZ5QGQQ2xBO94dd6KVnDVMqQpySlW3dZcN2Qc-iNz8hnuOaJMsaImT9IpNx7xJYk-a8T1hfqVxA_rtWGV2DHj8Y8-a9e7LtxwpHA8OhU6NmZtLvkGTDknsVVZtqqrlwMY/s1641/GHSG7b8XIAAXTay.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1641" data-original-width="1134" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQCu6ax7vEDLPNx9b8aMrQ-Vtrl76em1_q4Q0moIE9-NNmt468Nsjt3M4MvsjZ5QGQQ2xBO94dd6KVnDVMqQpySlW3dZcN2Qc-iNz8hnuOaJMsaImT9IpNx7xJYk-a8T1hfqVxA_rtWGV2DHj8Y8-a9e7LtxwpHA8OhU6NmZtLvkGTDknsVVZtqqrlwMY/w276-h400/GHSG7b8XIAAXTay.jpeg" width="276" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">"And the Courts of Justice on Fleet Street." <span style="text-align: justify;">Two very contrasting skies - thanks, Tim. A great brace to start. Come back next month, won't you?</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrFUHvrvYQ2hW8BV_shznqcKClym424szkyHukEEsTNPIraYta13rZY9JUQcmpRK-B7EAQt5FmSi_kzatIxhyphenhyphenfI94DGOe50V1dkao0bEb19WvI-Y3j6sOg-CBgztRJk-Dv8IGU9UIrlRBJXNWhQtkd_xcZsH3mdua_VG8DNpWQDr5oPbbjCi-0MisNIc/s1496/GHSG7b-XcAAL3Ay.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1496" data-original-width="1170" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrFUHvrvYQ2hW8BV_shznqcKClym424szkyHukEEsTNPIraYta13rZY9JUQcmpRK-B7EAQt5FmSi_kzatIxhyphenhyphenfI94DGOe50V1dkao0bEb19WvI-Y3j6sOg-CBgztRJk-Dv8IGU9UIrlRBJXNWhQtkd_xcZsH3mdua_VG8DNpWQDr5oPbbjCi-0MisNIc/w313-h400/GHSG7b-XcAAL3Ay.jpeg" width="313" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">David Cooper is currently in India. Are there any timepieces over there on the subcontinent, I enquired? "Yes there are John.
Have chosen this one. I spent a while waiting to get a shot without the general public in it but was never going to happen.
Sealdah Station in Kolkata at 7.08 am.
David." This is a superb photo, Coops. And all the better, I think, for having people <i>in</i> the frame.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBL6KslQi9DKXkpLYItIepJ1MAyjaltiDDGvqW87gk_YSUbOtS4PuwKuGWhVmqyJD08MPj4ahFTieLN3O1kBoqx9fq7xc0cTTt6ivFUzbOheyKqo24ECsfUT59Ev9-rijFC_dgThwJdH2_3854J2YenicEIbNGpG9FsTO22IHfw4GBq3SuqmedeaYtyk8/s930/0-59.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="930" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBL6KslQi9DKXkpLYItIepJ1MAyjaltiDDGvqW87gk_YSUbOtS4PuwKuGWhVmqyJD08MPj4ahFTieLN3O1kBoqx9fq7xc0cTTt6ivFUzbOheyKqo24ECsfUT59Ev9-rijFC_dgThwJdH2_3854J2YenicEIbNGpG9FsTO22IHfw4GBq3SuqmedeaYtyk8/w400-h400/0-59.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">C from Sun Dried Sparrows next - "This pic should really have been taken on a sunny day! If you look closely you might just be able to work out the time it was taken - a very faint shadow pointing to 1pm. It's on the front wall of a building near me - a sheltered housing complex for older people; not that the residents would probably choose to be constantly reminded of the passing of time! C x." I love it, C. And our only sundial in the collection.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMY39bpEJsHaB8ebxjgCzWWgC0Y-3tzQ62fcKFpwnD1XPhzY1qYodeUJE4pS80JozUA3fEELasdwktLNNEYIq83kdqZWdGQyg15rh8DlUUpiSiWIX97ztfE25pgiMdj6tf8GjBgUyGx5cbSyYzqek7PSQ0EJKCD-3zH7z1kTs7LM3obQFi3UlM57lHazg/s902/0-40.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="748" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMY39bpEJsHaB8ebxjgCzWWgC0Y-3tzQ62fcKFpwnD1XPhzY1qYodeUJE4pS80JozUA3fEELasdwktLNNEYIq83kdqZWdGQyg15rh8DlUUpiSiWIX97ztfE25pgiMdj6tf8GjBgUyGx5cbSyYzqek7PSQ0EJKCD-3zH7z1kTs7LM3obQFi3UlM57lHazg/w331-h400/0-40.jpeg" width="331" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Adam from Manchester - "Hi John, two clocks for you. The first one is our kitchen clock photographed recently with some strange shadows. A fairly monochrome shot to begin with, I later filtered into B&W for <i>more </i>monochrome!"</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYilXm6DWiFP2f-m1Gq85TLmZwMegtCJOEjoGZqShaLMWILcXEINo4F1Q7QzgLYcEqXozdG7IXhyesSqyX9vjf8JDQGX3HHu8KxeTP02qgKlFRrZAC_R5zimQ5GPtlRDXR9OIhWJH0GyakauOzY6k5ugWAnPtE9JlfBwXTYqj4nvmdqMC2ksuJymu_WJs/s2048/kWkZ3fW8.jpg-large.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="2048" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYilXm6DWiFP2f-m1Gq85TLmZwMegtCJOEjoGZqShaLMWILcXEINo4F1Q7QzgLYcEqXozdG7IXhyesSqyX9vjf8JDQGX3HHu8KxeTP02qgKlFRrZAC_R5zimQ5GPtlRDXR9OIhWJH0GyakauOzY6k5ugWAnPtE9JlfBwXTYqj4nvmdqMC2ksuJymu_WJs/w400-h260/kWkZ3fW8.jpg-large.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">"Second one is the giant clock inside Mex taken by Baz, a friend of mine. The venue hasn't been used for gigs for years, but in the past New Order, Kraftwerk, Pixies, Happy Mondays have all played here." Thanks, Adam. I've only ever shot the outside of the GMex, never been in. Thank you.</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK4zDJty24LEMtP4R5JFX2Ep6i0YX5emE-8MJz7BQFZwTmR4-IiSGhxKKX8exh_Hj-mfBlNID0Q0YiB7IzWtZQjCQ9vtng1yHj5AoUPFaaxEIC6Sm5hkLbQJp_Yh0TaF0LmttrXmk9UjMrexG4MDf22fXgTwQzselo0205xManc-vYLUTQuuAut5NR010/s2048/KPHLmxPr.jpg-large.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK4zDJty24LEMtP4R5JFX2Ep6i0YX5emE-8MJz7BQFZwTmR4-IiSGhxKKX8exh_Hj-mfBlNID0Q0YiB7IzWtZQjCQ9vtng1yHj5AoUPFaaxEIC6Sm5hkLbQJp_Yh0TaF0LmttrXmk9UjMrexG4MDf22fXgTwQzselo0205xManc-vYLUTQuuAut5NR010/w400-h300/KPHLmxPr.jpg-large.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Chartity Chic: "Hi John, George Wylie's Running Clock opposite Glasgow's Royal Concert Hall on a wet Killermont Street."</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjdkEWgFuJBphONF8NHbFNb_b7VeaDhdbEwF78ubH_2zdY6wdSfzijb6dJAFcRGvWBQvOOYCZ-Jfp-sNYWHRlxyqnAqcIEI-iTewdDZSof1IRP4hdMBNVQ-r37VZ7F97I-Az3VbrAo1-trfj2lKBldyoRxMxzfRHKRekH2Pgm_eknv4zEq-8p_Qnv7Xrg/s902/0-41.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="676" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjdkEWgFuJBphONF8NHbFNb_b7VeaDhdbEwF78ubH_2zdY6wdSfzijb6dJAFcRGvWBQvOOYCZ-Jfp-sNYWHRlxyqnAqcIEI-iTewdDZSof1IRP4hdMBNVQ-r37VZ7F97I-Az3VbrAo1-trfj2lKBldyoRxMxzfRHKRekH2Pgm_eknv4zEq-8p_Qnv7Xrg/w300-h400/0-41.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">"And a more sedated offering from Bridge of Allan." Cheers, CC.</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHFfoZEFU5jQtK93K5zIrSGugxBia6ak36zJElJJO-7uAmg5uL1pR9Qw6ljm4qI6uhmyAjxjcUiWNjn0rBJ50Y4g0qBKkTiFesOD7nIwUQp6IamzXZqBCX1tQLHJe35MU8PXAGMcoVBCK-XiicOWtJcvR8tVot6DFCQ8J0R-w_RcQMEAO3qG4qxYWIJYI/s902/0-45.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="676" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHFfoZEFU5jQtK93K5zIrSGugxBia6ak36zJElJJO-7uAmg5uL1pR9Qw6ljm4qI6uhmyAjxjcUiWNjn0rBJ50Y4g0qBKkTiFesOD7nIwUQp6IamzXZqBCX1tQLHJe35MU8PXAGMcoVBCK-XiicOWtJcvR8tVot6DFCQ8J0R-w_RcQMEAO3qG4qxYWIJYI/w300-h400/0-45.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Alyson signing in from the Highlands: "I'll start with an old one. It's a view of the astronomical clock in Prague from the window of a restaurant across the road. This was taken in the early 90s not long after the wall came down so we experienced much of how it was during the Communist Bloc era. I'll regale you with the stories one day." I'll be all ears at BC24, Alyson.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIaejByA2h0JiZ70D5uPkJGP1adae7tePX9QrK8OQFaZ7cJUjTOZODtwVviUuF8YiLA5Ax2nIN-ESK1q6oIphtj8fAzPCgoMvL-X6-wkMetT4ctGSaIQ-a9tlw8bFt8necGdjBlzh205jsOFqL-dqTjSEiflsiHfTdVYWrLE3Dz9dO6VIB3wl_NM3lV8E/s1324/0-46.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="879" data-original-width="1324" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIaejByA2h0JiZ70D5uPkJGP1adae7tePX9QrK8OQFaZ7cJUjTOZODtwVviUuF8YiLA5Ax2nIN-ESK1q6oIphtj8fAzPCgoMvL-X6-wkMetT4ctGSaIQ-a9tlw8bFt8necGdjBlzh205jsOFqL-dqTjSEiflsiHfTdVYWrLE3Dz9dO6VIB3wl_NM3lV8E/w400-h265/0-46.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">"My second one I took earlier this month. It's the frontage of a shop in our local Victorian Market. In addition to the little clocks and watches I particularly like the sign writer's wording - 'All repairs executed by practical workmen'. We wouldn't want them to be impractical, now would we?!" Great shots, Alyson.</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdpE90Mdef4ISeqLWllB_sn75PLJeIVkYGBWKMANS_kPKZfax0bZb5TM-DiBctQd098DZWFIoQ4ME3gYAWnaXzlUavNGWDyI7SxeLfLIeknJ3NIe5JBp92ZDLPqKhJR0BzZCh9fc8i5OtBy6ZXde8S0dhud0LPcZoIb_KIz32HVo0Cp6U06S0wYxTzqdo/s1203/0-49.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="1203" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdpE90Mdef4ISeqLWllB_sn75PLJeIVkYGBWKMANS_kPKZfax0bZb5TM-DiBctQd098DZWFIoQ4ME3gYAWnaXzlUavNGWDyI7SxeLfLIeknJ3NIe5JBp92ZDLPqKhJR0BzZCh9fc8i5OtBy6ZXde8S0dhud0LPcZoIb_KIz32HVo0Cp6U06S0wYxTzqdo/w400-h300/0-49.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Khayem comes with four perfectly formed quadruplets and kicks off with a genre I think needs further exploration - timepieces in album (and singles) artwork. "A much loved and much played OMD 12” single from 1985 which features lots of 80s artefacts, including a clock!"</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgevM0NO8hi8QmiCQAsFEWonb9yb1R32dQSxBFWPpavjk3I1bi9MdOX2UnpGLNK1u96EXeAjhl61iwBpz3dgRyldxR27ASqzsTadAor0TS0XN0c-MGFdlSsRIvJCjHlMAXqquuBcY2KzDZdDeZqmxtTKyfI_ANvei5lf4iYgsqtwUzWvFrNc3nQe7gNPQg/s902/0-34.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="901" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgevM0NO8hi8QmiCQAsFEWonb9yb1R32dQSxBFWPpavjk3I1bi9MdOX2UnpGLNK1u96EXeAjhl61iwBpz3dgRyldxR27ASqzsTadAor0TS0XN0c-MGFdlSsRIvJCjHlMAXqquuBcY2KzDZdDeZqmxtTKyfI_ANvei5lf4iYgsqtwUzWvFrNc3nQe7gNPQg/w400-h400/0-34.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">"The<span style="text-align: justify;"> clock tower in Coleford, in the heart of the Forest of Dean, is reasonably big but looks even more intimidating with this extreme angle at the base."</span><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMjSGIbYQlPe-uaM9Qt99WCBec_6ZByKF8lG8jIeXLQIg9QpAvuA5qMaolkcLjSZDz5MlumPule5qKrpguXi9Y0ck-ud8TStRZUoBVe4zdHcQjnXdh-lCCoprK9iJvzMJpxsXXt_SE2tqBlZI6_jJLVxj2BWGLqzUp41N0Z_cw1OOrYSM9_zoouYKvCdo/s1203/0-35.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="1203" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMjSGIbYQlPe-uaM9Qt99WCBec_6ZByKF8lG8jIeXLQIg9QpAvuA5qMaolkcLjSZDz5MlumPule5qKrpguXi9Y0ck-ud8TStRZUoBVe4zdHcQjnXdh-lCCoprK9iJvzMJpxsXXt_SE2tqBlZI6_jJLVxj2BWGLqzUp41N0Z_cw1OOrYSM9_zoouYKvCdo/w400-h300/0-35.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">"<span style="font-family: helvetica; text-align: justify;">This one in Gloucester town high street is a beauty, not least for its ornate metalwork, the weather vane above, the bell below, the characters below that and then at street level, the fabulous shop. Jewellers and opticians, you say?"</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjov1_uoXjd4aaqPnM54Oei91N3x4LCZi2STsKL3pPZjjR51yNTGtzmJdiGFu-CN0jkCua1hEGp6mMCVjjFNxS9MatTmfBVSNV77cFFFecj1xgKOlNj-q5l2JEssoUBYDQgovnfwP9PimVWftKEMCNqR-zlAvgu0-vuHeB1My-Dz5qhew2HOyK6elKml-k/s902/0-37.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="676" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjov1_uoXjd4aaqPnM54Oei91N3x4LCZi2STsKL3pPZjjR51yNTGtzmJdiGFu-CN0jkCua1hEGp6mMCVjjFNxS9MatTmfBVSNV77cFFFecj1xgKOlNj-q5l2JEssoUBYDQgovnfwP9PimVWftKEMCNqR-zlAvgu0-vuHeB1My-Dz5qhew2HOyK6elKml-k/w300-h400/0-37.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">"<span style="font-family: helvetica; text-align: justify;">This relatively tiny clock tower is in Stroud town centre, opposite the Subscription Rooms, where I’ve enjoyed a few fine gigs in the past year." A great collection, K. I particularly like the one above Baker's. It reminds me of the Lewis & Grundy clock in Nottingham (see below).</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_dfZp2LdqiXaq9jbywRsYoNV0fgZsGcvQOO7AHHwVa3NEZ4ubCYbG804V-VwTIJOxUQpWyeghWlD4qnXTA_W7xqe6n9NX9KIT_U0-kjVfqRvgZQX2pBm9Uo-oObgLf6GLrmjzxv5c0YjJiH-KP_ErjyPZx_U5Cp0XxRBCsDbBA7nQhy-pBLIWw7ymkdg/s1795/unnamed-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1795" data-original-width="1274" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_dfZp2LdqiXaq9jbywRsYoNV0fgZsGcvQOO7AHHwVa3NEZ4ubCYbG804V-VwTIJOxUQpWyeghWlD4qnXTA_W7xqe6n9NX9KIT_U0-kjVfqRvgZQX2pBm9Uo-oObgLf6GLrmjzxv5c0YjJiH-KP_ErjyPZx_U5Cp0XxRBCsDbBA7nQhy-pBLIWw7ymkdg/w284-h400/unnamed-1.jpg" width="284" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rob never disappoints. This one landed in my inbox just as I was about to hit 'publish'! - "Here you go, John - a dolphin clock in a Dawlish charity shop!" Excellent, Rob!</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_z_tSV3TUBpbFmusQmfSiVYDcc1LJQvjT_St9kJZJR7iQ6Ml-1ra132vphbyb8l5_sene4pVaOpxPbgxwq-KWrjgqqlmLZVh1GifptsYIbob994HdaikxshVODAnrGh3Qz2PyTZfz55yTgEqf4w6MpdAmDDAHVXc_iLbdnwS0oVdHKPUzq2RIjNbSts/s2048/9n5054nW.jpg-large.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1534" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_z_tSV3TUBpbFmusQmfSiVYDcc1LJQvjT_St9kJZJR7iQ6Ml-1ra132vphbyb8l5_sene4pVaOpxPbgxwq-KWrjgqqlmLZVh1GifptsYIbob994HdaikxshVODAnrGh3Qz2PyTZfz55yTgEqf4w6MpdAmDDAHVXc_iLbdnwS0oVdHKPUzq2RIjNbSts/w300-h400/9n5054nW.jpg-large.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Time (sorry) for me to wrap things up. Hopewells of Nottingham is a magnificent furniture store in the town that's been going since forever. I love its simple clock face against the brick facade.</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi95EJCr1zxQZUf1GgK2jQDYGj9f_hX9PY9SCZq4E2PTtjFKQKhNN42XI-Vz7P7-_Ezz2Sxj7mGO42XMnSe-JT78tiNSU6HZn2bZSQpHpEQxlPgoi1O1L5tHMjo6XbVkC1vH61W7rzrIOTs8anikgHD2d4wVAexUH0hl2borPNC8mCP3JGXjXhgYZ92q54/s1324/0-51.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="611" data-original-width="1324" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi95EJCr1zxQZUf1GgK2jQDYGj9f_hX9PY9SCZq4E2PTtjFKQKhNN42XI-Vz7P7-_Ezz2Sxj7mGO42XMnSe-JT78tiNSU6HZn2bZSQpHpEQxlPgoi1O1L5tHMjo6XbVkC1vH61W7rzrIOTs8anikgHD2d4wVAexUH0hl2borPNC8mCP3JGXjXhgYZ92q54/w400-h185/0-51.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">As mentioned above, this is the quirky clock residing on the Lewis & Grundy building on Nottingham's Victoria Street. The two blacksmiths would strike out the quarter hours and hours by striking the anvil. But alas no longer.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeTchWk57O5cmCln6wmWF9LAyN7QwL3TpWG_nC4ROse6pEefh-GqG6WPfKHRP0W8_ktapZD4INZX-_KT6uJBEEKtvVvFgrWlwhR6-CarvkWynO1Bz5Ip0ocQjHFVK5CQPwMRanS8JS0fumx_3KoDaQsLX7AlELQjMEYI3-32YB5Dh7YjWFFjkBJfEzM2c/s902/0-52.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="676" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeTchWk57O5cmCln6wmWF9LAyN7QwL3TpWG_nC4ROse6pEefh-GqG6WPfKHRP0W8_ktapZD4INZX-_KT6uJBEEKtvVvFgrWlwhR6-CarvkWynO1Bz5Ip0ocQjHFVK5CQPwMRanS8JS0fumx_3KoDaQsLX7AlELQjMEYI3-32YB5Dh7YjWFFjkBJfEzM2c/w300-h400/0-52.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I live but a five minute walk from the bus stop at the top of my road. This finely crafted gizmo that lives in my kitchen means I can leave the house at just the right time thus minimising any 'hanging around at bus stops'. Since James designed and built this for me it's been a game changer.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqYTHmN5hLx0CCRVfC2shc7HzIXcm1Krmmsr-F1uDVDo_0CPoRbuCrH4ePcxQrp6ORSX5994PLEfIkeYFNJCLl1armrVWvzYcmUPn5a8WtWxU_cYHsguqORg_hKO_EqIxCK1IpVZMMPWBD5yxdpcod3tJSnDKrxyH__o1wSkyI7doHfcsUFa4mPb2Kg1Y/s902/0-53.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="676" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqYTHmN5hLx0CCRVfC2shc7HzIXcm1Krmmsr-F1uDVDo_0CPoRbuCrH4ePcxQrp6ORSX5994PLEfIkeYFNJCLl1armrVWvzYcmUPn5a8WtWxU_cYHsguqORg_hKO_EqIxCK1IpVZMMPWBD5yxdpcod3tJSnDKrxyH__o1wSkyI7doHfcsUFa4mPb2Kg1Y/w300-h400/0-53.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Regular readers will know I love caffs; formica, gingham tablecloths - my idea of heaven. This is on Daleside Road in Cowlick. Half caff, half truck stop - I love it. </span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtSC1eSgX5aqxw4r_SrD87y0uGIjRYgzIw-EkJ1UVbk8ATv6USQQT8ZjWPR0sW21B3MjhwR_sPJ27xDqFul8aHcf16tnUJnN16BLKyvJL2xhGR9PuTRXCN5T5QkBypsffxK4vpFaLkE6rDewxk12FV369bk9jawxJGsNE4xnNEK1tI2diGyuLiF25XGIQ/s902/0-54.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="676" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtSC1eSgX5aqxw4r_SrD87y0uGIjRYgzIw-EkJ1UVbk8ATv6USQQT8ZjWPR0sW21B3MjhwR_sPJ27xDqFul8aHcf16tnUJnN16BLKyvJL2xhGR9PuTRXCN5T5QkBypsffxK4vpFaLkE6rDewxk12FV369bk9jawxJGsNE4xnNEK1tI2diGyuLiF25XGIQ/w300-h400/0-54.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Any Totnesians out there will recognise this straight away. Halfway up (or down) Fore Street is this magnificent clock that straddles the road. Oh, and I love using fish-eye lenses.</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkpiDd3GEzSTs1gmCGOgIDNSdaEKwRRJ85fBcJz37HHquGA_ZFcmmt0msX9z10Oqq-wCFlRqcPwzNYiHXPwOu_DOZpE-xGWGTA85c1xmb8rt-hBASapfg4zKJCTzNfu3L8OIkCIuKwYlkeSRdVEODVoG10_9JpUUQcAR3xSGQnATTg2Q1Hq_tkPGiFT4/s902/0-55.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="902" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkpiDd3GEzSTs1gmCGOgIDNSdaEKwRRJ85fBcJz37HHquGA_ZFcmmt0msX9z10Oqq-wCFlRqcPwzNYiHXPwOu_DOZpE-xGWGTA85c1xmb8rt-hBASapfg4zKJCTzNfu3L8OIkCIuKwYlkeSRdVEODVoG10_9JpUUQcAR3xSGQnATTg2Q1Hq_tkPGiFT4/w400-h400/0-55.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">One of my favourite buildings in Dublin. I think I've mentioned it before around these parts. Its construction, demolition and subsequent reconstruction is <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Archer%27s_Garage">quite the story.</a> </span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhbQGiOHSd2KXRfirJZFMfxSGP4KtUu9bnoP12QTfMbjP5C8TpQFx4hrhi5WgyffIdv1nKjNw0gz-aoiUvq5cstFKzHslHeDhWQDB3e74nNH3dxA6R9jo0MybOiDce1AGoN8ytuyshWOT4ycpWFgB1g5UHRBIQx18WhSxZ9Zy_OwYuu-XZ88bdHcy2eo/s959/0-56.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="959" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhbQGiOHSd2KXRfirJZFMfxSGP4KtUu9bnoP12QTfMbjP5C8TpQFx4hrhi5WgyffIdv1nKjNw0gz-aoiUvq5cstFKzHslHeDhWQDB3e74nNH3dxA6R9jo0MybOiDce1AGoN8ytuyshWOT4ycpWFgB1g5UHRBIQx18WhSxZ9Zy_OwYuu-XZ88bdHcy2eo/w400-h376/0-56.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">More formica and more gingham; though sadly gone now. Victoria Centre Indoor Market was once home to half a dozen caffs. When the Market closed a little part of me died with it.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgru933OWYMl8grbhjyWuZoc6nJ1-_G8fAssZvZyGE4Hh4OQQ57Qq2zh3qUeNZhzUSNVkk2rOV0T2Y7JH6IW9P197kgFyzuB-RlxIs_9j8MMstuahoIHB-vnNunCzO0Oe4SOrNKKXZmoH7VCXOUPVrpIGe9JabYYXtA5AKYFl3VPQUGfVMbuKBkF6AzO58/s902/0-57.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="648" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgru933OWYMl8grbhjyWuZoc6nJ1-_G8fAssZvZyGE4Hh4OQQ57Qq2zh3qUeNZhzUSNVkk2rOV0T2Y7JH6IW9P197kgFyzuB-RlxIs_9j8MMstuahoIHB-vnNunCzO0Oe4SOrNKKXZmoH7VCXOUPVrpIGe9JabYYXtA5AKYFl3VPQUGfVMbuKBkF6AzO58/w288-h400/0-57.jpeg" width="288" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I've got shedloads of photos of St. Pancras Stain but I think we did that one last time. Instead here's King's Cross, next door. Taken from the window seat of one of my favourite Chinese restaurants directly opposite. </span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFt0pGffpNB8MJ-j0AFnF6HTX4IPD0yWGTe_n9iu0Djzg_izj7bRAbxQC65mFb88Kl67n0SqFYQHPfZJMIodhvDT8D44Jt1Jsvc5429cbHsqkw9wgaTMMUSiUGAfkzXOFQGNrQJJLftOUC6F103mt1NsclIJimsWnXKEdJsg9cr5dkBuyOlftRZJ_ze1w/s1125/0%202.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="1125" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFt0pGffpNB8MJ-j0AFnF6HTX4IPD0yWGTe_n9iu0Djzg_izj7bRAbxQC65mFb88Kl67n0SqFYQHPfZJMIodhvDT8D44Jt1Jsvc5429cbHsqkw9wgaTMMUSiUGAfkzXOFQGNrQJJLftOUC6F103mt1NsclIJimsWnXKEdJsg9cr5dkBuyOlftRZJ_ze1w/w400-h321/0%202.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And there you have it. Time to call time. Thank you again to everyone who sent me their fantastic photos. I couldn't do this without you. Till next time. J x</span></div>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-21253761766507535622024-02-26T23:15:00.001+00:002024-02-26T23:17:18.435+00:00Five-Spot<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZPP4dcTO3FkOEDBQQiwqz7xc4rW4l0A86g3F_0_y1VcmW1OFcAZdy5b7VFIV17wocc3zPd2HMFHfHGuVC-lbY3dOMUpqaa1cUF7Yt9aF_fQKjNlCP9MNQ3iI-7A3BQAkZEwfXMXW1FUqQqme_KNkrSJqNPrBugklDriWOcDtansodmERtbKh6NtT7bK4/s900/GHLCcxwXIAAynjj.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="675" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZPP4dcTO3FkOEDBQQiwqz7xc4rW4l0A86g3F_0_y1VcmW1OFcAZdy5b7VFIV17wocc3zPd2HMFHfHGuVC-lbY3dOMUpqaa1cUF7Yt9aF_fQKjNlCP9MNQ3iI-7A3BQAkZEwfXMXW1FUqQqme_KNkrSJqNPrBugklDriWOcDtansodmERtbKh6NtT7bK4/w300-h400/GHLCcxwXIAAynjj.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">There are a number of mosaics, large and small, dotted around my neighbourhood. I found this little one (pictured above) on Saturday morning as I stepped outside a coffee shop I'd hitherto not frequented before. Did you know there are <a href="https://www.woodlandtrust.org.uk/blog/2021/03/ladybird-identification/">twenty-six</a> different types of ladybird? No, me neither. This is a fin. A fiver. A five-spot, a.k.a. Coccinella Quinquepunctata.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Thelonius Monk - Five-Spot Blues<span style="color: #a2c4c9;">*</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qBTckUjELLQ" width="320" youtube-src-id="qBTckUjELLQ"></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><span style="color: #a2c4c9;">*</span> <span style="font-size: x-small;">Monk (1917-1982) dedicated this to the Five Spot Café in New York's Bowery neighbourhood.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-47892423094609707342024-02-24T09:53:00.004+00:002024-02-24T09:56:19.622+00:00"His head's like a ghost town"<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRPk8u3Wrrff85wJ-arlN4ajWXH_yTjs80iAFQkV36HrNClvgYqkFNQUnYsyuwUvqhku16fbh8gXgA0TbVf5on9jHn4SzSMg4WGicaVVimy3PKaFOp5U5j7gVg_1Bo8OFNytUVnDfbGhC6nl3SppCxaNp91zrN1ZJ88RKIa-cZKkXCk5K-PzRuDSwBLOo/s330/p21235527_b_v13_aa.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="330" data-original-width="248" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRPk8u3Wrrff85wJ-arlN4ajWXH_yTjs80iAFQkV36HrNClvgYqkFNQUnYsyuwUvqhku16fbh8gXgA0TbVf5on9jHn4SzSMg4WGicaVVimy3PKaFOp5U5j7gVg_1Bo8OFNytUVnDfbGhC6nl3SppCxaNp91zrN1ZJ88RKIa-cZKkXCk5K-PzRuDSwBLOo/w300-h400/p21235527_b_v13_aa.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It's been a long while since I've got my teeth stuck into anything of note on the telly, but I've just binged Season One of The Tourist, starring Jamie Dornan, and was utterly gripped. It was relentless. From the opening homage to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SutDTIhbQ2g">Duel</a> to the final denouement, I was riveted, nay glued, to the box. The writing, the characters, the cinematography were all off the charts.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Trailer (2022)</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/xJYweDEjbEE" width="320" youtube-src-id="xJYweDEjbEE"></iframe></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Oh, and the soundtrack. Never has Johnny Mathis sounded so menacing. It's up on the BBC iPlayer if you want something to watch this weekend. I really think you should. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Johnny Mathis - Just a Closer Walk With Thee (1965)</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/a08BnoVtz4g" width="320" youtube-src-id="a08BnoVtz4g"></iframe></div><John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-79682987536434246962024-02-22T21:11:00.003+00:002024-02-22T21:33:49.424+00:00It's all about me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqn0Jlt-vss-HTeaq5TEhTKmbbDmaZngxwnLguCI0EwkHIT2gjY1Un9WlXuZ7d9VT9HuaiDI7Mv5MFFbH4HinMgwcCYLkEgQMacg72LDJ8dLpLADEiwUw0IQx_MJJR5djIlSrB8H010mCkOz9lp3dH3n5S__ZwGUVcWtoPmj-hRzYYj3iDAY-5q7v7UrU/s685/0-7.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="685" data-original-width="629" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqn0Jlt-vss-HTeaq5TEhTKmbbDmaZngxwnLguCI0EwkHIT2gjY1Un9WlXuZ7d9VT9HuaiDI7Mv5MFFbH4HinMgwcCYLkEgQMacg72LDJ8dLpLADEiwUw0IQx_MJJR5djIlSrB8H010mCkOz9lp3dH3n5S__ZwGUVcWtoPmj-hRzYYj3iDAY-5q7v7UrU/w368-h400/0-7.jpeg" width="368" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: helvetica;"><span>I</span><span>t's all about me (1)</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The crudely cropped Facebook screen grab says it all really. A collection of my photographs will be on display at The Abdication in Nottingham for the month of March. We're having a launch next Wednesday 28 February from 7pm. All welcome! </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrcQ4ACJjEiK_lzCQzPYGv3KVRwBnxMDSV-K0EhZ8RxxjEkdw3xJebMylbaKM-rSp-9lFq2sgovKzkAhmmNJmwh_EJDNS5BmkYukG-mizAaTnQWLA3mYCLkkuKqXver7qmWjBdtKtwy_dfhiwdu0lsi0tDcd52oeuF_2ER-7rkhwPH796jQclmJClBotI/s902/0-15.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="604" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrcQ4ACJjEiK_lzCQzPYGv3KVRwBnxMDSV-K0EhZ8RxxjEkdw3xJebMylbaKM-rSp-9lFq2sgovKzkAhmmNJmwh_EJDNS5BmkYukG-mizAaTnQWLA3mYCLkkuKqXver7qmWjBdtKtwy_dfhiwdu0lsi0tDcd52oeuF_2ER-7rkhwPH796jQclmJClBotI/w268-h400/0-15.jpeg" width="268" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: helvetica;">
It's all about me (2) </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I'm fascinated by AI. Fascinated with what it can do. Fascinated with what it might be able to do in the future. And fascinated (actually, make that slightly worried) about how it will affect us all going forward.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I know I often ask you to indulge me (thank you) and here I am asking you again (you love me really). A little earlier I 'asked' Bing (other AI portals are available) to 'write a blog in the style of John Medd.' </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This is what happened: </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">“A Musical Odyssey: From Eno to ABC” </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Today, let’s embark on a musical journey—a voyage through soundscapes that resonate with nostalgia and innovation. Buckle up, dear readers, as we traverse the cosmos of melodies and memories.
Two Enos for the Price of One
It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything on the long-running Monday Long Song thread. Let me rectify that today. In 1983, Brian Eno and his brother Roger joined forces with producer Daniel Lanois to create a spectacular soundtrack album. The occasion? To commemorate a planned film celebrating the Apollo space program. One track from this celestial symphony stands out: “An Ending.” It’s not only part of that album but has also found new life in other films, including “Traffic” and “Trainspotting.” Yet, never quite like this. Clocking in at 57 minutes, I present to you Monday’s Long Song:
🎵 Brian Eno & Roger Eno - An Ending (1983) 🎵
Watch on YouTube
And while we’re on the subject of Brian Peter George St. John le Baptiste de la Salle Eno, who among you would like to behold one of his sexy Eno signature limited-edition turntables? It might seem pricey at £20K, but I dare say it’s a bargain (assuming I subsist on tinned baked beans for life and live in my car). Feast your eyes on this sonic marvel:
🎶 BRIAN ENO, “Turntable” (2021) 🎶
!Eno Turntable </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: helvetica;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;">.</span><span style="font-size: large;">.</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: courier;">If you were stopped on the street tomorrow and asked to name three bands that dominated the singles charts in the '80s, your trio would likely include Spandau Ballet, the Police, and Wham. But let’s not forget ABC—the architects of infectious tunes and chart-topping hits. According to my trusty Guinness Book of British Hit Singles, ABC spent nearly 90 weeks on the charts between 1981 and 1990. Impressive, right?
But ABC wasn’t merely a singles band. Their albums were treasure troves of musical gems. So why did it take me forty-odd years to witness their live performance? A good question—one I can’t quite explain. Nevertheless, fate intervened, and on Tuesday, I broke my duck. From my vantage point in Row A of the Upper Circle, I witnessed a masterclass in showcasing 40 years of tune-smithery.
The formula was simple yet sublime: the Southbank Sinfonia (a 35-piece orchestra conducted by Anne Dudley) teased us with a five-minute classical snapshot in the first half. Then, the band took the stage, playing the “ABC Songbook.” Hits like “When Smokey Sings,” “The Night You Murdered Love,” “Be Near Me,” and “Viva Love” filled the air. After a twenty-minute interval (just enough time for a white Magnum ice cream), it was time for the main course—the groundbreaking debut album:
🎤 Lexicon of Love 🎤
They played it in its entirety, and the crowd knew every word by heart. For those in the stalls, it wasn’t their first rodeo. Martin Fry’s voice held up, and the 2,000-strong audience provided a perfect backdrop for any notes he dared to tackle.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Anyway, dear readers, that’s my musical escapade for today. Until next time, keep your ears attuned to the symphony of life.
— John Medd
P.S. If you’re curious about my dotage and other musings, feel free to explore my blog. And remember, even monkeys fall out of trees.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: helvetica;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;">.</span><span style="font-size: large;">.</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">What did you think? I can see what it's done: it's stitched together two of my recent blog posts, changed some of the text around and given it a formal beginning and end (something I don't always bother with). As I was watching it 'type' in real time - the whole thing took less than 30 seconds - I thought to myself 'I'm redundant!'.</span></p>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-24991535715780734642024-02-19T23:45:00.005+00:002024-02-20T13:27:07.627+00:00They've got it All<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfW03ui1ZWYkuQ3om3w-iVKKmuuwaQo4da3qhLOk-7SBKmPHijWDOBCjjnoLtMRF0_OK-c1q7rtbvmMFeCsSBWnOVxYIYr2XvWpXp009JsHAk0OLT_J-hYqYEPRlmPLdIUscTIGmbJjup1DBuleEYbtQQFN1uGz_zulqB2nJr2TSVP1ZS_oTQq37tLq9g/s700/a1979824169_65.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfW03ui1ZWYkuQ3om3w-iVKKmuuwaQo4da3qhLOk-7SBKmPHijWDOBCjjnoLtMRF0_OK-c1q7rtbvmMFeCsSBWnOVxYIYr2XvWpXp009JsHAk0OLT_J-hYqYEPRlmPLdIUscTIGmbJjup1DBuleEYbtQQFN1uGz_zulqB2nJr2TSVP1ZS_oTQq37tLq9g/w400-h400/a1979824169_65.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
If you were to lay all the ex-members of the Fall end to end on the M61 you'd probably get moved on by the police. You'd also have your longlist for potential members of House of All. From that very long longlist they managed to narrow it down to just five who then thought it would be a good idea to channel the energy of Mark E Smith, their onetime leader and friend (mostly), and fashion a sound born out of a Manchester that barely resembles the city they first joined forces in. </span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">For what it's worth, and despite many reservations, I think it works. Lat year's album and the mini tour to promote it were well received, for the most part. Would MES have approved? Probably not, but that's hardly the point is it. I saw the Fall a couple of times and they were shambolic. But in a good way. What HOA will be like in a live situation is anyone's guess. But I'll blag a ticket if they keep going long enough. By which time I may have figured out what these lyrics are all about...</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">House of All - Turning of the Years (Marc Riley Session, 2023)</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/HmGNU3xYLFY" width="320" youtube-src-id="HmGNU3xYLFY"></iframe></div><br /><br />John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-57858747878516338152024-02-18T00:57:00.001+00:002024-02-18T00:57:21.585+00:00TopPop<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQhTH09I5mtPl712DV58AemxK2uJth-ibXfcYlXSbP037CraSjfoYcEPnqQUkq_Na7iyjnD4oWUPAm0Hv2WrDIyVNhFgDxdlJPUBAcz7kmGiih-5wCeSXIsEm0D4dylXWCDgb9Wn_ACVYrRIBMxPQVXcTXHIa11GCT_UGzagg9dFalLQahBN1dIyLIKxM/s800/MV5BZjFiZWYyZGItZmEwYS00Yzk3LTk5ODEtYWJkNjdmN2YzZTBlXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMDEwNjY3MQ@@._V1_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="800" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQhTH09I5mtPl712DV58AemxK2uJth-ibXfcYlXSbP037CraSjfoYcEPnqQUkq_Na7iyjnD4oWUPAm0Hv2WrDIyVNhFgDxdlJPUBAcz7kmGiih-5wCeSXIsEm0D4dylXWCDgb9Wn_ACVYrRIBMxPQVXcTXHIa11GCT_UGzagg9dFalLQahBN1dIyLIKxM/w400-h193/MV5BZjFiZWYyZGItZmEwYS00Yzk3LTk5ODEtYWJkNjdmN2YzZTBlXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMDEwNjY3MQ@@._V1_.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In 1974 glam was still alive and kicking - Sweet, Slate, Mud, T Rex and Alice Cooper were continuing to put the fear of God into our parents every Thursday evening. Top of the Pops was still very much the launch pad that could jettison your latest single from the lower reaches of the charts one week to Top 5 the next. There was no other show quite like it. Or was there? Many European countries had similar shows that showcased indigenous and imported chart sounds. Holland for example had <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ze1uSo1efeY">TopPop</a> which ran from 1970-1988.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdttxR8kEivy6bozZogsgKkZ80bWC-Md1W7-6fpg9f_bBRI8ZiOb0eineGzfYtLd1FFFvpg0S4wqbthTytvu7lZZSyZJx1UIFGzfwGi2SnBDgAAJCMUKRoirTtp6SHCeZrogacDFKzWbu_P5Js-LunfBmrM6-CgoWirf6gaMtpyLBreU9urdF_agsUrkk/s500/Earth_&_Fire.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="500" height="399" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdttxR8kEivy6bozZogsgKkZ80bWC-Md1W7-6fpg9f_bBRI8ZiOb0eineGzfYtLd1FFFvpg0S4wqbthTytvu7lZZSyZJx1UIFGzfwGi2SnBDgAAJCMUKRoirTtp6SHCeZrogacDFKzWbu_P5Js-LunfBmrM6-CgoWirf6gaMtpyLBreU9urdF_agsUrkk/w400-h399/Earth_&_Fire.png" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">I'm not 100% sure if this lot ever made an appearance on the show. Their name was short-lived (as probably was this 1974 single) - Heart in America were just becoming a thing. But their Dutch namesake sure made a splendid racket.</span></p></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Heart - Lovemaker (1974)</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/UCixjSulRog" width="320" youtube-src-id="UCixjSulRog"></iframe></div>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-80870865240919566142024-02-17T14:26:00.012+00:002024-02-26T19:38:00.151+00:00Boys will be boys (1975 revisited)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdq2NyGahQoA5N8XGeSPW4wJrVDjC9X-BNQIiv0WyQ912yVqgF_4hXf2ddz03Si91l6gGuE4JQjj9_caE4p3MJszir_NMymWBALE2nVHKZakimz1EFlBxbG8fhUjKxB3_IP_TkHvtmrg_ZMA2pNG8kii2CRijrxtJBdwC8mlVR4idoIgKsXgbUGHn4mxc/s750/504c1735418e36f286857b54c9da371d.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="499" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdq2NyGahQoA5N8XGeSPW4wJrVDjC9X-BNQIiv0WyQ912yVqgF_4hXf2ddz03Si91l6gGuE4JQjj9_caE4p3MJszir_NMymWBALE2nVHKZakimz1EFlBxbG8fhUjKxB3_IP_TkHvtmrg_ZMA2pNG8kii2CRijrxtJBdwC8mlVR4idoIgKsXgbUGHn4mxc/w266-h400/504c1735418e36f286857b54c9da371d.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">No one likes to think of themselves as average. "Oh, I'm just average" you hear precisely nobody say. Not about themselves anyway. Only in hastily written police statements or headmasters' reports would we ever get the devastating truth about ourselves. (Average height, average weight, average intelligence.)</span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">But if I was to transport myself back to 1975 then, like a lot of other boys in my class, I <i>was</i> an average teenager - full of hormones and not knowing what the hell to do with them. The obvious outlets were all too grubby (and sticky) to mention and a blog such as this wouldn't deign to stoop so low. Obviously.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZRedmFM8VsojqKeuV_HD81CM5xZ8Fq-rqTQzhPxn_9XrPTb5P8CfpHD3FJnGHfyoXv9FDL1tr5hGhgiJSYw916FUOd49nPzhiY3hweUVabtAKWjLKVvX58TR817W9M2KdruBxYxDgKpjILJw4_CXdfc5Ofz465V7h0ZCvDQjFeImB-YQxbnjj_7oHts/s542/gettyimages-1313972219-612x612%202.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="542" data-original-width="446" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZRedmFM8VsojqKeuV_HD81CM5xZ8Fq-rqTQzhPxn_9XrPTb5P8CfpHD3FJnGHfyoXv9FDL1tr5hGhgiJSYw916FUOd49nPzhiY3hweUVabtAKWjLKVvX58TR817W9M2KdruBxYxDgKpjILJw4_CXdfc5Ofz465V7h0ZCvDQjFeImB-YQxbnjj_7oHts/w329-h400/gettyimages-1313972219-612x612%202.jpg" width="329" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">There never were such (TV) times</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">However, in 1975 we had Purdey - the role Joanna Lumley has never surpassed in fifty odd years of treading the boards. When the New Avengers came to our screens it was like we had our own walking talking (not to mention <a href="https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=515753816571694"> sleeping</a>) living doll all to ourselves; if you don't count Steed or Gambit. Speaking of Mike Gambit, it would be remiss of me to not share with you what was, for me, probably the finest interplay between him and Purdey. It was the scene me and countless pubescent schoolboys memorised and burnt into our collective retinas. File under 'boys will be boys'.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/sTkkn1k-BpI" width="320" youtube-src-id="sTkkn1k-BpI"></iframe></div><br />John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-56137637993093401922024-02-14T22:37:00.001+00:002024-02-14T22:37:18.374+00:00I could be persuaded<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdCEot4WFSTNZ8_5425x8FFHiLmPumPJIWYb0tY8mpUpR3TWuThESDR5qSvQBwRIFiGQqapFO-xbA0Kr-KnGBmtVgGpuIx45IJlxuk8vWJN2Hv8hg0iMLSv1mBFT_9jMbZTBpzBejC-byssaGLa6YE18Azq9mPe8QzSNCNawPY4lpefZ9eh2O2ocz9qY8/s1310/00a9637e5351e02b921bcb0f312beba3-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1310" data-original-width="1077" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdCEot4WFSTNZ8_5425x8FFHiLmPumPJIWYb0tY8mpUpR3TWuThESDR5qSvQBwRIFiGQqapFO-xbA0Kr-KnGBmtVgGpuIx45IJlxuk8vWJN2Hv8hg0iMLSv1mBFT_9jMbZTBpzBejC-byssaGLa6YE18Azq9mPe8QzSNCNawPY4lpefZ9eh2O2ocz9qY8/s320/00a9637e5351e02b921bcb0f312beba3-1.jpg" width="263" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I spoke about the John Barry Seven <a href="http://www.johnmedd.com/2024/02/the-power-of-seven.html">yesterday.</a> (I know, I need to get out more.) I mentioned in particular a rather jaunty tune that was obviously based on Brubeck's Take Five - loads of sax and a time signature to tie you in knots. Today I want to talk about Barry's theme for a 1971 Lew Grade ITC show that paired Tony Curtis & Roger Moore and, with what must have been one hell of a budget, dropped two of the biggest movie stars of the day on location in Monaco. Throw in a few bronzed supermodels (long before leggy blondes were known as supermodels), a couple of car chases, the ubiquitous cheesy dialogue and, voila, The Persuaders was born. </div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Barry's progression from Cutty Sark to The Persuaders is his Love Me Do to Her Majesty, his Hamburg to Apple rooftop; Barry was using a Moog for heaven's sake. Eat yer heart out, Keith Emerson.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Still, to these ears, one of the most haunting TV theme tunes. Ever.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">John Barry - The Persuaders - Intro (1971)</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/SbA7q3AVYyQ" width="320" youtube-src-id="SbA7q3AVYyQ"></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-5522363300533857232024-02-13T23:52:00.005+00:002024-02-14T22:37:57.113+00:00The power of seven <p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzH21of-TLWmWfMs9x59CruUM0A_q_Z0CB40CXpxNF-HVcRXBYwEmIYv94-oH3Z0C_VAcaE-QI9FxUUP5jawlLZfmvp9I64BtcbRtMfi3TAORQ8F4OBIZVgIvvBpPywF7ZAJ657KLFWW0HG8VM0XDEZrwDzp_LivMslj5rjxvDTUSXfI4l_bS-BOj5pkQ/s417/JB7_at_loughborough_s.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="417" data-original-width="260" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzH21of-TLWmWfMs9x59CruUM0A_q_Z0CB40CXpxNF-HVcRXBYwEmIYv94-oH3Z0C_VAcaE-QI9FxUUP5jawlLZfmvp9I64BtcbRtMfi3TAORQ8F4OBIZVgIvvBpPywF7ZAJ657KLFWW0HG8VM0XDEZrwDzp_LivMslj5rjxvDTUSXfI4l_bS-BOj5pkQ/w250-h400/JB7_at_loughborough_s.jpg" width="250" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">If ever a piece of music conveyed a time and a place then Cutty Sark by the John Barry Seven nails early 60s London; not quite swinging, but in its brief two mins 40 seconds you can detect that changes are afoot, something's coming down the tubes. The end of innocence? Probably. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkjViBext24SXOpX9doKtLkb48W3VVN6GtXKjGjbt5POi0xoRbCejYBhrJhLGSHl0thf0Seel5iuxku8xuFyHUyHSyCXAuYkdlO2Pzh1zb1A8D5B95mfh7R78dV6CSkSA0fGePDrR8olIqwyJEZtrpZ0A4Dp2kRT5wLAu0eKDlVV5KCXgNiPJiIRcD8qQ/s612/s-l1600-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="317" data-original-width="612" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkjViBext24SXOpX9doKtLkb48W3VVN6GtXKjGjbt5POi0xoRbCejYBhrJhLGSHl0thf0Seel5iuxku8xuFyHUyHSyCXAuYkdlO2Pzh1zb1A8D5B95mfh7R78dV6CSkSA0fGePDrR8olIqwyJEZtrpZ0A4Dp2kRT5wLAu0eKDlVV5KCXgNiPJiIRcD8qQ/w400-h208/s-l1600-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">JB far left & next to him, Dennis King </span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The Paul Desmond soundalike on sax is actually a guy called Dennis King. He played with the JB7 from 1957 to 1963 when the bandleader's head was turned by the lure of another 7, James Bond 007. </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I could listen to this all day long...</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">John Barry Seven - Cutty Sark* (1962)</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/94maNqMlQ9Y" width="320" youtube-src-id="94maNqMlQ9Y"></iframe></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">* Cutty Sark - Scottish slang for short skirt.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></p>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-88977421999281495952024-02-12T22:49:00.003+00:002024-02-12T23:31:23.979+00:00Two Enos for the price of one<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipEhRh_w-psE7wZDN1uhxdOvBRDairzpBI5etf_HKPwGAu5g3tXRKsM1Nd56NWtp6QKcuKgx6H_KmfNBizSoOZ4IXzdfhwLQVO-z9rfWNLS-c4MvOugwvAhkr4_x_jNRrmMtBoKouhjtdGhqIBIdkNI1PgJMkXvNPPp67mmPzr2bngI2XDa_-E5XK4-14/s1600/paulstolper-brian-eno-turntable-2021.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipEhRh_w-psE7wZDN1uhxdOvBRDairzpBI5etf_HKPwGAu5g3tXRKsM1Nd56NWtp6QKcuKgx6H_KmfNBizSoOZ4IXzdfhwLQVO-z9rfWNLS-c4MvOugwvAhkr4_x_jNRrmMtBoKouhjtdGhqIBIdkNI1PgJMkXvNPPp67mmPzr2bngI2XDa_-E5XK4-14/w400-h266/paulstolper-brian-eno-turntable-2021.webp" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It's been a while since I've posted anything on the long running Monday Long Song thread. Let me put that right today. In 1983 Brian Eno and his brother Roger joined forces with producer Danial Lanois and came up with a spectacular </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WTxkLGBkcO0">soundtrack album</a> to commemorate a planned film celebrating the Apollo space programme.<span style="font-family: helvetica;"> 'An Ending' formed part of a suite of music that lives not only on that </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apollo:_Atmospheres_and_Soundtracks">album</a><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> but has gone on and fond a new lease of life in other films including Traffic and Trainspotting; though never in this format. Weighing in at 57 minutes, I give you Monday's Long Song. </span></div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Brian Eno & Roger Eno - An Ending (1983)</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/fEw2K7bwU_U" width="320" youtube-src-id="fEw2K7bwU_U"></iframe></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><b><span style="color: #01ffff; font-size: x-large;">.</span><span style="color: #ff00fe; font-size: x-large;">.</span><span style="color: #01ffff; font-size: x-large;">.</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Whilst we're on the subject of Brian Peter George St. John le Baptiste de la Salle Eno, who would like to see one of his his sexy Eno signature limited edition turntables? Looks expensive, I hear you say. Well, only if you think £20K is a bit steep. I actually think it's a bargain (if I were to subsist on baked beans out of a tin for the rest of my life. And live in my car). </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/NM72aDDKxU4" width="320" youtube-src-id="NM72aDDKxU4"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><b><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">.</span><span style="color: #04ff00; font-size: x-large;">.</span><span style="color: #fcff01; font-size: large;">.</span></b></span></div>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-78001774855581198402024-02-10T19:41:00.003+00:002024-02-12T21:40:19.142+00:00Viva Love<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUHJIy70M2PBYJQkO7xx0U4FAvdZsDqn4uHx1T2Oa3H5plV0ll-mrpFRrleB2KVhC_u93gM91_XnVhFlrHVX6OncCV8G-oUeYA2fhQuddRGdVyoshKHEKfTMbhClgqtFUyVnbbpCc4KsQGqkzCEJ_POo3A2Piuq2LNB3xbASLEslm3uiJ_0vJdu_GYQbA/s1302/0-54.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1028" data-original-width="1302" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUHJIy70M2PBYJQkO7xx0U4FAvdZsDqn4uHx1T2Oa3H5plV0ll-mrpFRrleB2KVhC_u93gM91_XnVhFlrHVX6OncCV8G-oUeYA2fhQuddRGdVyoshKHEKfTMbhClgqtFUyVnbbpCc4KsQGqkzCEJ_POo3A2Piuq2LNB3xbASLEslm3uiJ_0vJdu_GYQbA/w400-h316/0-54.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">If you were stopped in the street tomorrow and asked to name three bands who dominated the singles charts (and by inference Top of the Pops) in the 80s, your trio would more than likely be culled from Spandau Ballet, the Police, Wham, Duran Duran, Culture Club and, I'm guessing, <a href="http://www.johnmedd.com/2023/05/alpha-bravo-charlie.html">ABC.</a> </span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This afternoon I reached for my most up to date<span style="color: red;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">* </span></span>Guinness Book of British Hit Singles and discovered that ABC had spent nearly 90 weeks on the charts between 1981 & 1990. Pretty impressive, huh? But they weren't just a singles band. Their albums too were packed to the rafters with infectious songs. So why has it taken me forty odd years to finally get round to seeing them perform live. Good question. And one I don't really have a plausible answer to. Anyway, on Tuesday I broke my duck and from a superb vantage point on Row A of the Upper Circle I got to see a masterclass in how to showcase (and compress) 40 years of tune-smithery into a luscious set lasting just over two hours. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The formula is quite simple really. The first half opened with the Southbank Sinfonia (a 35 piece orchestra conducted by Anne Dudley) teasing us with a five minute classical snapshot of what was to come in the second half. After which the band themselves filed onto stage and proceeded to play the 'ABC Songbook' - When Smokey Sings, The Night You Murdered Love, Be Near Me, Viva Love<span style="color: red;">**</span> The Night You Murdered Love, Ocean Blue et al. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A twenty minute interval, just time to stretch my legs, grab a white Magnum and its straight into the second half - the main course - Lexicon of Love their groundbreaking debut album played in its entirety in order. You know the songs. By heart, probably. And for those down in in the stalls I could tell this wasn't their first rodeo; although Fry's voice is still holding up, the 2,000 strong crowd made for a great backstop if there were any notes he didn't fancy tackling.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXqY7dfVj-JlQxY8DlE-gzRksAO9Usr4UPl7lzYQfXhUEG6pqOBsyKyiUDD0bxYGhuhiH-fRupcZ3X-NGJKUQYaUupQO7TkDZ7x1zVkwq-V97SqPaIpzAhc0bNhLG3PKkq9-Ik7WHI3cUvQjb4HP2B5iVeOt6IX5Y8lsLurzEO4PYMSW2mKGrD9fNsUFk/s1240/0-55.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="1240" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXqY7dfVj-JlQxY8DlE-gzRksAO9Usr4UPl7lzYQfXhUEG6pqOBsyKyiUDD0bxYGhuhiH-fRupcZ3X-NGJKUQYaUupQO7TkDZ7x1zVkwq-V97SqPaIpzAhc0bNhLG3PKkq9-Ik7WHI3cUvQjb4HP2B5iVeOt6IX5Y8lsLurzEO4PYMSW2mKGrD9fNsUFk/w400-h300/0-55.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The obligatory encore was as predictable as night following day: because The Look of Love opens side two, and therefore had already been put in to bat, it was pretty obvious Fry would have been run out of town had they not played it AGAIN! </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">9/10. (Unlike the pretty rubbish photo I took on my phone.) </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">ABC - Viva Love (2016)</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/xLlaq4zGYwg" width="320" youtube-src-id="xLlaq4zGYwg"></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: red;">*</span> 1991!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: red;">**</span> As you can see from the above video not only do we see flashbacks to 1980s Martin Fry but he also does a cameo 'Hitchcock' contemporary cameo.</span></div>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-92136263647265011922024-02-05T23:28:00.003+00:002024-02-05T23:37:26.764+00:00Darncing<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiSTb8yY_RvoTzsvxtEuUJ0lPd0H5XrtBsUkhCN3ELd_2UnoF6OE-BiPlvE57RdfGHo2TDcr7TcFw8IyqsK0wOrizAhTOBYFH4C_rdDwrH_I61YGk0ike2r-YLuBZDCmy2ks2iegUgmJh0hKSzKqdQ44U5hx1HP2ZZApJPCOpQAaRJvqRefjir8ChzjI0/s369/Unknown.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="136" data-original-width="369" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiSTb8yY_RvoTzsvxtEuUJ0lPd0H5XrtBsUkhCN3ELd_2UnoF6OE-BiPlvE57RdfGHo2TDcr7TcFw8IyqsK0wOrizAhTOBYFH4C_rdDwrH_I61YGk0ike2r-YLuBZDCmy2ks2iegUgmJh0hKSzKqdQ44U5hx1HP2ZZApJPCOpQAaRJvqRefjir8ChzjI0/w400-h148/Unknown.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I suspect today's track belongs to a very small club indeed: songs with only one word in the 'lyrics'. If anyone's had a go at compiling this sort of thing then my money's on <a href="http://histopten.blogspot.com">Rol</a>. Though for what it's worth I can't think of another one - not off the top of my head. Anyway, here's Dogshow from an EP they put out last year. Warning - it's catchy. <i>Very</i> catchy.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Dogshow - Dancing (Dancing)</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lZxWaOimFAc" width="320" youtube-src-id="lZxWaOimFAc"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><b><span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-size: large;">.</span><span style="color: #ff00fe; font-size: x-large;">.</span><span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-size: large;">.</span></b></span></div>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-88003032131388820872024-02-04T16:11:00.005+00:002024-02-04T16:13:32.194+00:00Just for one day<p style="text-align: left;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtmuCEdPHA6gFLIJQw0Xxhp0GjL6ogiBs5l6Z36oVDuaH3eoYYBnyOXiSk5_i4zr5iYycaO5m94vAht5aL5RqvO8KBPoMAbHQ9-fbR4bG-_E26-spLW-bAB2T6HPrFZvPa9gpzmvp-NKja7ganrzhuYIFdMU1qTPHkqIY9j3oGluIMSptGYEjQ3fNs8Pk/s930/0-52.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="524" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtmuCEdPHA6gFLIJQw0Xxhp0GjL6ogiBs5l6Z36oVDuaH3eoYYBnyOXiSk5_i4zr5iYycaO5m94vAht5aL5RqvO8KBPoMAbHQ9-fbR4bG-_E26-spLW-bAB2T6HPrFZvPa9gpzmvp-NKja7ganrzhuYIFdMU1qTPHkqIY9j3oGluIMSptGYEjQ3fNs8Pk/w225-h400/0-52.jpeg" width="225" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Book exchange</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><p style="text-align: left;">They say you should never meet your heroes. So who are <i>they, </i>exactly? Well, despite it being one of the most hackneyed & bandied about expressions that everyone just blurts out, it was, I'm led to believe, originally attributed to the French writer Marcel Proust: "We only see our heroes from very far away. What we see is what they want us to see and we never have really looked into their actual life." And I get that; I've had one or two dodgy experiences in the past. OK, so let's not dwell on my Brian Connolly experience in 1990. Instead, I'd like to fast forward some thirty four years, yesterday to be precise, and my delightful encounter with James O'Brien. He was in conversation last night with the wonderful <a href="http://www.johnmedd.com/2023/06/">Robin Ince </a> at Nottingham Playhouse<span><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> talking about his new Sunday Times bestseller - 'How The Broke Britain'. A forensic charge sheet detailing the events that have brought this once great country to the precipice we currently find ourselves. And he's got </span></span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">the receipts. Anyone who listens to his morning show on LBC (as I have been since 2018) you'll know that he does this sort of thing brilliantly. If you call him up and don't have the facts to back up what you're saying then it's not gonna end well.</span></p></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Unlike last night, when, after spending a couple of hours hanging on his every word I was then in the foyer shaking the great man's hand and telling him what a brilliant human being he was. We talked about bridges (he loves 'em) and Battersea Power Station (ditto) as I gave him a copy of <a href="http://www.johnmedd.com/2023/10/amen.html">my book</a> (fair exchange is no robbery after all) and bade him goodnight. File under 'Bloody good bloke'.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgye0nnWnVenxeNPUFHvqvdWAaCYYXnBqLVq_6jdVkQMh4ZCmf10UIc-iEr7OwD1-gR1AWQPmrWDDw6I6L8c-IM4vNzOq8HkLbaTx5EEapzWxXAosAuX2kJ2SPVcqwRg64QMZ2RCmohxOimn-iAzGZYE99VCwfOFQo45fmMHAmLSOYnkVG71G6NLvtnLys/s930/0-51.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="930" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgye0nnWnVenxeNPUFHvqvdWAaCYYXnBqLVq_6jdVkQMh4ZCmf10UIc-iEr7OwD1-gR1AWQPmrWDDw6I6L8c-IM4vNzOq8HkLbaTx5EEapzWxXAosAuX2kJ2SPVcqwRg64QMZ2RCmohxOimn-iAzGZYE99VCwfOFQo45fmMHAmLSOYnkVG71G6NLvtnLys/w400-h400/0-51.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-14009105167307435902024-02-01T12:46:00.015+00:002024-02-26T19:35:42.276+00:00All aboard!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3iiM0dll34Y77r99RucAVIP4Yo8G7ON8P33oTgfXPxrWuqNe-ie0rN1fJabD61lKgu0HV3pXXBF1-7c8_6msjCVg8YG62j0sd0yf_cFH-_AH6LGk9HTYTv40ZKYFvK5IjrLjO_vHFcCe8UnFcMD5m_gBaj8lGbMcD9hFw6ZRy1G1D80eliSy2OK8cI7A/s590/jamiereid080501.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="590" data-original-width="540" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3iiM0dll34Y77r99RucAVIP4Yo8G7ON8P33oTgfXPxrWuqNe-ie0rN1fJabD61lKgu0HV3pXXBF1-7c8_6msjCVg8YG62j0sd0yf_cFH-_AH6LGk9HTYTv40ZKYFvK5IjrLjO_vHFcCe8UnFcMD5m_gBaj8lGbMcD9hFw6ZRy1G1D80eliSy2OK8cI7A/s320/jamiereid080501.jpg" width="293" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Hello again and welcome to February's Photo Challenge. The monthly feature where I throw down a photographic gauntlet and you wonderful people pick it up and run with it. This month I was looking for anything Public Transport related. You didn't disappoint.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The first rule of Photo Club says Rol goes first. "Hi John, a nice easy one - although it took me ages to find the photo on my phone.
A couple of summers back we stayed at Whistlestop Cottage in PIckering. The garden backs onto the North York Moors Railway line, so a few times a day we'd be treated to a steam engine rolling past. I'm not usually one to wave a strangers, but it's expected when they're on a steam train, and doing so immediately transports you back to better days.
Take care, Rol." Nice one, Rol. A part of the world I know well. Too well.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFpFn5Qe2vR82fMrAxuwFBxiV3zqw4Numx1_GeubRMlkMsKayvesgMUzYndwgs8XMln20qL7dlO8VYwAKZY2TNA6Lx9Nt0ipbwwma91gXfcbr4AS8IXWt7WzDsItVUwWATIr3n1hGxHuabIj1tQdTy2PJvYGkGqJlUawJAYIBA6KhU8AfDgLLW4syPlXA/s1240/0-35.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="1240" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFpFn5Qe2vR82fMrAxuwFBxiV3zqw4Numx1_GeubRMlkMsKayvesgMUzYndwgs8XMln20qL7dlO8VYwAKZY2TNA6Lx9Nt0ipbwwma91gXfcbr4AS8IXWt7WzDsItVUwWATIr3n1hGxHuabIj1tQdTy2PJvYGkGqJlUawJAYIBA6KhU8AfDgLLW4syPlXA/w400-h300/0-35.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Khayem's got four for us this month: "Hi John, this is Bristol Temple Meads railway station from July 1990, when there were no ticket barriers and you could random wander up and down the platforms taking photos without attracting the attention of security. This is a personal favourite which I’ve used on mixtape and homemade CD covers over the years. I love the damaged, rusty sign in the foreground and to the right, the man casually walking along the track to the Inter City engine. Makes me feel as fuzzy as the focus!"</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-UsEFqch5xwB98vhcn-EXtor0NrtmmHDtQmM5weAIK1488Fp8cTmst0hZDjvUm3abnsG9qQPMpf_PQmOxyEzFlk72rEB1GOnyc6AcDM9lbAGBrMLePyTDiHzE7uVhV6qVeNs_zQjEI2VB1ptMUxKngeSj1Rez1algoVucAeCZZFjsPskVyItglszZo4/s1324/0-31.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="882" data-original-width="1324" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-UsEFqch5xwB98vhcn-EXtor0NrtmmHDtQmM5weAIK1488Fp8cTmst0hZDjvUm3abnsG9qQPMpf_PQmOxyEzFlk72rEB1GOnyc6AcDM9lbAGBrMLePyTDiHzE7uVhV6qVeNs_zQjEI2VB1ptMUxKngeSj1Rez1algoVucAeCZZFjsPskVyItglszZo4/w400-h266/0-31.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">"Gloucester has been busy overhauling its town centre transport hub in the past couple of years and the bus station is generally nothing to get too excited about. However, in an opportune moment I caught a view of crane at a nearby building site mid-swing coming into view through one of the 'skylights' above a parked bus (The 94 is clearly not the <i>secret</i> <i>service </i>to GCHQ!).''</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh2z2x4wT9AAXtGjI_pkupb1ruIhZ07P1O3ItQ_bG36OxBdFJB2SuvVD6KEFRSCbxx360FWVwMeKN4QU02bwwQV1MQJpGYKAPpXwQToBAYc-jp8ZZqsupGc2iGKm7aMA_KoexJfY0Mt5focJ6ypUjPWe65C0zy9FxZSqrJPOdsFb01xvDWx5iQttZPjDY/s1240/0-30.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="1240" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh2z2x4wT9AAXtGjI_pkupb1ruIhZ07P1O3ItQ_bG36OxBdFJB2SuvVD6KEFRSCbxx360FWVwMeKN4QU02bwwQV1MQJpGYKAPpXwQToBAYc-jp8ZZqsupGc2iGKm7aMA_KoexJfY0Mt5focJ6ypUjPWe65C0zy9FxZSqrJPOdsFb01xvDWx5iQttZPjDY/w400-h300/0-30.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">''Over to Cotswold town Stroud and its rail station footbridge, which has been in need of some love for many years, paint peeling from the roof and walls.''</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKVlGQEbsJomBoRJNcOx6SMRFPidF5ctrvsVgZ7YbH7TPArtGr4Qv1nAIdMXhUnvf9hE-XVEP0ZG6XnKT4wx1GoNQFd2FMDgtekwxCBMeNpC2ozHqZVkaG7SLXHbd2D0rCvPxl004dn-yuwxm-Y6vnwBB7tvDlCpXzqQazM2Id_KdXM7eP2UP3Cm3gpO4/s930/0-28.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="592" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKVlGQEbsJomBoRJNcOx6SMRFPidF5ctrvsVgZ7YbH7TPArtGr4Qv1nAIdMXhUnvf9hE-XVEP0ZG6XnKT4wx1GoNQFd2FMDgtekwxCBMeNpC2ozHqZVkaG7SLXHbd2D0rCvPxl004dn-yuwxm-Y6vnwBB7tvDlCpXzqQazM2Id_KdXM7eP2UP3Cm3gpO4/w255-h400/0-28.jpeg" width="255" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">''On the same footbridge, the wooden slats and glass panels prevent much of a view of the platforms. And what a view, with the tracks leading off into the Cotswold Hills. What I like most about this shot though is that I imagined that this was the perspective within the maw of a mythical dragon flying low over the station, the wooden slats a neat row of sharp teeth and the bubbled, flaky paint lower approximately a tongue. A bit of a stretch, I know!'' Some great shots, K. Thank you.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_g0QwvXo0Tyxl95pYOii-X0DZeYDuAoTqQORQGElaJ1crVrM5P-htrpOaZI2y-zwy1b1CLM49XDLiZxn-T05qh8Jfpikh3YTOehqMtpc_uUGpzY8NQPOj6Nou0xMGI_3LXEiHyIO9wFTOD_y183sipQg0YULMnnnoDb05LDe0eFt0kgDNcK3gLvoHrtw/s1167/0-27.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="1167" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_g0QwvXo0Tyxl95pYOii-X0DZeYDuAoTqQORQGElaJ1crVrM5P-htrpOaZI2y-zwy1b1CLM49XDLiZxn-T05qh8Jfpikh3YTOehqMtpc_uUGpzY8NQPOj6Nou0xMGI_3LXEiHyIO9wFTOD_y183sipQg0YULMnnnoDb05LDe0eFt0kgDNcK3gLvoHrtw/w400-h319/0-27.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Ben took this in Rochdale. ''I used to drive past this bus stop and one day thee was a rare blue sky. So I took this!'' And I'm glad you did, Ben. Nice work</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtmLHlcA-hYLExtzDcYzd8JXuESq1fBoEtvVe9RtIXJScDpNrl86mj9wvBC2wwdxQE3_BcpSZLbvCRK2MFC2Vuj04pzQ5XUQ9yoVSQANrElvOQ1UZltBFrXi2sIXu1Oae069uRVKgCeScsbI5IaYIOzlpemGkzViignhDvpo-vqeEUhXX0LVHi4T8uysE/s680/gf6ARflS.jpg-small.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="680" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtmLHlcA-hYLExtzDcYzd8JXuESq1fBoEtvVe9RtIXJScDpNrl86mj9wvBC2wwdxQE3_BcpSZLbvCRK2MFC2Vuj04pzQ5XUQ9yoVSQANrElvOQ1UZltBFrXi2sIXu1Oae069uRVKgCeScsbI5IaYIOzlpemGkzViignhDvpo-vqeEUhXX0LVHi4T8uysE/w400-h400/gf6ARflS.jpg-small.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Jo-Shreeve is something of a regular these days! ''Stumped me a bit, this one! Have this one from a trip to Amsterdam x.'' Thank you so much, Jo.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWMC-9ajpwQeXX97sWWUXZvTU9xJN28ZVPNyNkhyphenhyphenv2btMo3F4IZEwqDf29oDcfEWzvyRuj2j8BRr69AAyygWJX9O_fBtIBVvBEzMWJIMMTc9soYk8L05h2mD5FeI_lKg1xyvOQ2NClfjwoiwBFaZ7s2dh3BS5ZiwVSioWVqYZhO6SrLohX1d3THwGJHis/s2048/ZI5Gv_ai.jpg-large.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWMC-9ajpwQeXX97sWWUXZvTU9xJN28ZVPNyNkhyphenhyphenv2btMo3F4IZEwqDf29oDcfEWzvyRuj2j8BRr69AAyygWJX9O_fBtIBVvBEzMWJIMMTc9soYk8L05h2mD5FeI_lKg1xyvOQ2NClfjwoiwBFaZ7s2dh3BS5ZiwVSioWVqYZhO6SrLohX1d3THwGJHis/w300-h400/ZI5Gv_ai.jpg-large.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Like she's never been away, the lovely Alyson next: ''Hi John, I had wanted a night shot as the Caledonian Sleeper is very much a night train which seamlessly whisks people from the Highlands of Scotland down to London every day. We’ve done it once and woke up at Euston at 8am with the rest of the day ahead of us. I'm hoping some of you from down south will make the trip sometime the other way up to see me?!'' I hope so, Alyson. Let's talk about it at BlogCon.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrLu0FDVpxfgoWTaL70Ml5DhRiiqVkR1Smm1W-Im1AfxlWkpHN8-R2hJ6zsd71iZipa5eAnaOBD3Qdy6hMTzPhkiZRSekAOceAvIgMKwFm_GGgPLlXkPYPXZqv2tZ-S8dThNzWjfPUObKwDMD9Mte25xLTSPR-mugApAqb5CzLsE7hY2BcGnE8-MdoQQs/s930/0-26.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="698" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrLu0FDVpxfgoWTaL70Ml5DhRiiqVkR1Smm1W-Im1AfxlWkpHN8-R2hJ6zsd71iZipa5eAnaOBD3Qdy6hMTzPhkiZRSekAOceAvIgMKwFm_GGgPLlXkPYPXZqv2tZ-S8dThNzWjfPUObKwDMD9Mte25xLTSPR-mugApAqb5CzLsE7hY2BcGnE8-MdoQQs/w300-h400/0-26.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Alyson has another one: ''My second photo is simply a concourse scene on a Monday afternoon - very quiet indeed.''</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtqFBX0K5lOcSj0ym3E-y113rnUm52erC8hgENhlrMauihQMBk65ZaMqwLkyU1RZZor0RSUi5E9ztkrVt8_cohZesM8nAfSvT0fbsqWDRq6POuXvgXfilPVhvhmLLpZPIrcVAOJZG8f3P0xXTyjbdjzkLYF70Qn94OTxzrCAkiQ3_RbnsXBUivvHTeYVo/s1240/0-25.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="1240" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtqFBX0K5lOcSj0ym3E-y113rnUm52erC8hgENhlrMauihQMBk65ZaMqwLkyU1RZZor0RSUi5E9ztkrVt8_cohZesM8nAfSvT0fbsqWDRq6POuXvgXfilPVhvhmLLpZPIrcVAOJZG8f3P0xXTyjbdjzkLYF70Qn94OTxzrCAkiQ3_RbnsXBUivvHTeYVo/w400-h300/0-25.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Please give a big welcome to new boy, Ernie Goggins: ''Many thanks for admitting me to your prestigious photo club. I have enjoyed looking at the monthly exhibitions and kept meaning to join in, but only finally got around to it this month.
I attach three entries which are clearly designed to show off how cosmopolitan I am! One is the Joliot-Curie metro station in Sofia, one the Gare do Oriente train station in Lisbon, and one a sign commonly found in Jakarta and probably other Indonesian cities as well. It translates as "Be careful - bus lane" but sounds much more fun. If I ever set up a jangly indie band, that's going to be its name.
Thanks again and all the best.'' Thank <i>you</i>, Ernie. A most audacious start.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijpq4BsIahfKaTAzkd-iVjI8WlwfYZc29weuGfLFg7mncQcDaIUwfyP1LjqIdyhx7iNWaj2cwnNI27ZbG_bdJB8W6MlKYdWJHBBBhTP_uSdSkPAObHsj_DyuqG9yzd7RLUtb27E3SCAvbQSyl-xANzSEOUfMhV3bm5IJI_a2eZwbjozterMdxZX50qBls/s1324/0-40.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="836" data-original-width="1324" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijpq4BsIahfKaTAzkd-iVjI8WlwfYZc29weuGfLFg7mncQcDaIUwfyP1LjqIdyhx7iNWaj2cwnNI27ZbG_bdJB8W6MlKYdWJHBBBhTP_uSdSkPAObHsj_DyuqG9yzd7RLUtb27E3SCAvbQSyl-xANzSEOUfMhV3bm5IJI_a2eZwbjozterMdxZX50qBls/w400-h253/0-40.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB5aBv9GH3VwY7qPWW19AEx_3j7ef1nKKLwSKZa4bOtjUD7J6lGWRoy17y3iHpXmCq15-tCWzpq4N4f2z7ub542VWzf8c1M8cptoECPyvpHtbhRnk9YC3mEUdVCyS3Wa9Fz7m-emCLvS5lYliLB5NGozugE8yU3VGoxEiZd_oaWV5gvSnqmI2_4VA801E/s1320/0-41.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="1320" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB5aBv9GH3VwY7qPWW19AEx_3j7ef1nKKLwSKZa4bOtjUD7J6lGWRoy17y3iHpXmCq15-tCWzpq4N4f2z7ub542VWzf8c1M8cptoECPyvpHtbhRnk9YC3mEUdVCyS3Wa9Fz7m-emCLvS5lYliLB5NGozugE8yU3VGoxEiZd_oaWV5gvSnqmI2_4VA801E/w400-h281/0-41.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5N5W9aOS_jScRj9qv08Lhf8c10Kbc3hOh-rQOSRssNSlBWRSpnrHRVkoBhsUJQsjQ7iDXInGiKC65O90pFftctc5wOfoTLYuEgbJO2pBODL_Od2j3Ny6Sy9WNV2WMnEWTbc9HM6iTRkzp3cd-b0cczpGpjVEdiu8vMiZFN2d9ixxGOyEY-Sit2crg5jQ/s1239/0-42.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="1239" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5N5W9aOS_jScRj9qv08Lhf8c10Kbc3hOh-rQOSRssNSlBWRSpnrHRVkoBhsUJQsjQ7iDXInGiKC65O90pFftctc5wOfoTLYuEgbJO2pBODL_Od2j3Ny6Sy9WNV2WMnEWTbc9HM6iTRkzp3cd-b0cczpGpjVEdiu8vMiZFN2d9ixxGOyEY-Sit2crg5jQ/w400-h300/0-42.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Charity Chic next: ''You spend ages waiting for a bus and then two come along at once.'' Indeed you do, CC.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhthk0q4n4jXLtD6FGqUZBHdWVzC1uNag2b5BU10NTwdB0iH0gvyHBI01-nLNJKguQJHsQCkNYUiC3vozctcIQ1k8V7yS5nWJtoFU5Cm-fiFhY-1JqZ4N7id3AmPukrRFFTmUeyzqUC39ypm45iIqc_t3smH2ruCyB_ApI1BFq0M2DI4PuO-ouJvrd4ckw/s930/0-43.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="698" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhthk0q4n4jXLtD6FGqUZBHdWVzC1uNag2b5BU10NTwdB0iH0gvyHBI01-nLNJKguQJHsQCkNYUiC3vozctcIQ1k8V7yS5nWJtoFU5Cm-fiFhY-1JqZ4N7id3AmPukrRFFTmUeyzqUC39ypm45iIqc_t3smH2ruCyB_ApI1BFq0M2DI4PuO-ouJvrd4ckw/w300-h400/0-43.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div style="text-align: justify;">CC goes on ''A better one, I think: an urban trainscape.'' Is trainscape a word? It is now! Thank you, CC.</div></span><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY0LExkMBkyj5npbUYlJXbck6tYQ8BowphAiZrr-mXMRBRyR3_0y4JY_uM1KPA8-NiZzL-6CQ7mh8fEwvY3T2xrtA4FqzceZwTzDHQTOtJntzHHqma2tC3yKgOLdlUHiVFDgKkJbxA6-2bVrsCd8g7jecHazfimgyx2LXFRpm0GAoRPOxIMSLDURlJIkY/s930/0-44.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="698" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY0LExkMBkyj5npbUYlJXbck6tYQ8BowphAiZrr-mXMRBRyR3_0y4JY_uM1KPA8-NiZzL-6CQ7mh8fEwvY3T2xrtA4FqzceZwTzDHQTOtJntzHHqma2tC3yKgOLdlUHiVFDgKkJbxA6-2bVrsCd8g7jecHazfimgyx2LXFRpm0GAoRPOxIMSLDURlJIkY/w300-h400/0-44.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The Swede is girding his loins: ''In May 2019, before a 75 strong audience in a tiny club, Robyn Hitchcock played a concert in Ipswich for the first time in his long career. Two years and one pandemic later, Robyn returned to town to play a show on a stage set up between an old tram and an equally vintage trolleybus at the Ipswich Transport Museum. To say Robyn was in hog's heaven would be the understatement to end all understatements. One of his life long passions is ancient, redundant modes of public transportation, as can be witnessed in the lyrics of several of his songs and that evening he appeared genuinely overwhelmed by his surroundings, claiming it to be the most perfect venue he'd played in 45 years on the road. The setlist reflected the transportation vibe - 'Fifty Two Stations', 'I Often Dream of Trains' and a really beautiful 'Trams of Old London' were all given outings. In September 2023 he was back in Ipswich, at a recently opened town centre arts centre within St Stephen's Church. Glorious though his ancient surroundings were, Robyn declared from the stage that when he next swings by Suffolk's county town, he'd rather like it to be back amongst the trams and trolleybuses in the transport museum.'' Wow! Thank you, TS.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3fWDkFhrYMJ8OSm0G4WAscA_ZcGvZqec-_b2TA4U5x6tiG11SPJC4AeHO_ekjh_DOiqpsMNgDGezB9U3XB3DLkRGVtyhnWkNxjtceiYapQar3Coj8q9YFYlP-wpdXExJLEyOJpeElhkZ2d5z-CaUool2AisArOUF4zaLNWIa9xs0tCQhwLZodDnsyX84/s1240/0-23.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="1240" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3fWDkFhrYMJ8OSm0G4WAscA_ZcGvZqec-_b2TA4U5x6tiG11SPJC4AeHO_ekjh_DOiqpsMNgDGezB9U3XB3DLkRGVtyhnWkNxjtceiYapQar3Coj8q9YFYlP-wpdXExJLEyOJpeElhkZ2d5z-CaUool2AisArOUF4zaLNWIa9xs0tCQhwLZodDnsyX84/w400-h300/0-23.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">C at Sun Dried Sparrows: ''Hi John - I found this pic from last Summer which I took as I waited for the train home... a familiar sight to a few people here! Love that you can see the train through the open archway and the symmetry in all the different shapes; I can just imagine the scene as inspiration for a geometric/abstract painting. A future project perhaps?!
C x.'' I've seen that 'gap' a few times over the years. Nice one, C.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOhk0656TVb1C46d4wwkZfJPrprsMUnTGIazGWpMakR1xdzHHoAdtu4tLGoBNHRsy8NdsyxVXjB4RKc4sLbuq8hz2lcyUK6JrKrHKffw6uMvYzRyL_4-h19O3tPSloAx5hXf7XBTtheCPYmp0Iv2swxWZfCstNp2g69VORTyqBOf0tMNLq9OlpCEcNscU/s801/0-24.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="801" data-original-width="781" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOhk0656TVb1C46d4wwkZfJPrprsMUnTGIazGWpMakR1xdzHHoAdtu4tLGoBNHRsy8NdsyxVXjB4RKc4sLbuq8hz2lcyUK6JrKrHKffw6uMvYzRyL_4-h19O3tPSloAx5hXf7XBTtheCPYmp0Iv2swxWZfCstNp2g69VORTyqBOf0tMNLq9OlpCEcNscU/w390-h400/0-24.jpeg" width="390" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">One of our most travelled contributors next - Cooper Senior: '' Leipzig, December 2023; I didn't see the old bloke staring back at me!"</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhidOU3SAx1K9G4IOr6bcG0uHG1OIZnHFht-QWTLFET767aWzpfZpyO4akVoYxTzMsgIBxQYIuZlzRmC-R9Ibh0-ZAQqlYS0hmY4hOANTNQAFCsJfFVUxpjWEBW0TGFB8Nalz6BjecwOby_SBeCN2gHx2GOi_OjjIA8E9EbFEm5gAheEt_92KcuVNTgOSk/s930/0-33.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="888" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhidOU3SAx1K9G4IOr6bcG0uHG1OIZnHFht-QWTLFET767aWzpfZpyO4akVoYxTzMsgIBxQYIuZlzRmC-R9Ibh0-ZAQqlYS0hmY4hOANTNQAFCsJfFVUxpjWEBW0TGFB8Nalz6BjecwOby_SBeCN2gHx2GOi_OjjIA8E9EbFEm5gAheEt_92KcuVNTgOSk/s320/0-33.jpeg" width="306" /></a></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div style="text-align: justify;">'' And Wiesbaden, May 2023.'' Thanks, Coops. I love the 'red one'! </div></span></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh01b-Bk4gb_3CgMlfDrjcn9c0g7nUtasZPkDQMovzEVcaZUbNP1BkaQPlFGZ5MeKYbZrcUahh-ZbtwL8zEL4NAl70fLFxeediNxb9ouW_3XY5195zqAtDiG4hmusIUGSXCPB8khn2pPSKv5ebanJBwSSLWFia1HkVe0FUrpUGoaMApLf04Vn8D0YL7dnU/s1324/0-34.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="883" data-original-width="1324" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh01b-Bk4gb_3CgMlfDrjcn9c0g7nUtasZPkDQMovzEVcaZUbNP1BkaQPlFGZ5MeKYbZrcUahh-ZbtwL8zEL4NAl70fLFxeediNxb9ouW_3XY5195zqAtDiG4hmusIUGSXCPB8khn2pPSKv5ebanJBwSSLWFia1HkVe0FUrpUGoaMApLf04Vn8D0YL7dnU/w400-h266/0-34.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">My old friend Riggsby in San Diego: ''A bus at the train station. Constructed to welcome the world to the 1915 Panama-California Expo, the Santa Fe Depot is a city landmark known for its soaring towers and tiled domes. It was named after the Aitchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railroad (ATSF) that conceived and built the station. This is considered very old for the area!''</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihtaXWTPJLnCajEtttic0cI2kCmtPpa8AJ0DukeIKyEBDVj7v5SeNw_l4UE0_A7U2ngWgo0mbpH6bPnjVkxHtzocuRG_uXZqcrb0bK5n0StTM-HEwepIbigEcAWunIBPsXWkzJRZv_wAWfcZwHwy4RteUGSC85G1wVvNPOh4kIZmdIEzrf1k0my0WofVA/s1024/0-36.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihtaXWTPJLnCajEtttic0cI2kCmtPpa8AJ0DukeIKyEBDVj7v5SeNw_l4UE0_A7U2ngWgo0mbpH6bPnjVkxHtzocuRG_uXZqcrb0bK5n0StTM-HEwepIbigEcAWunIBPsXWkzJRZv_wAWfcZwHwy4RteUGSC85G1wVvNPOh4kIZmdIEzrf1k0my0WofVA/w400-h300/0-36.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div style="text-align: justify;">''One of the trains that runs along the coast from San Diego to Oceanside, skirting the beaches.''</div></span></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ32E0jbFl1_-f461mUZAvhVnwG0MfBGKCLXQcR_Frq5jCc69P78PWPUklzjB98FcWyGLghtPIwSg0JCa_3ZbnO7ihAttAPOtCfIU_MJ9Ex24JhWj6078x83L2Dus59hFxb4vxoBYKtGBbUBLGcBb7hlhvmBSRs_NuuauLWRq_AzONcfBKYfBgVCygr_A/s930/0-37.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="698" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ32E0jbFl1_-f461mUZAvhVnwG0MfBGKCLXQcR_Frq5jCc69P78PWPUklzjB98FcWyGLghtPIwSg0JCa_3ZbnO7ihAttAPOtCfIU_MJ9Ex24JhWj6078x83L2Dus59hFxb4vxoBYKtGBbUBLGcBb7hlhvmBSRs_NuuauLWRq_AzONcfBKYfBgVCygr_A/w300-h400/0-37.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div style="text-align: justify;">(I asked Richard if he'd photograph a waiting room for me!)</div></span></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsupjtmwTtiZGLseuttrIcM_x9IEiXbpPYiW5NOJ9d5fjPT892vXB6VFg-_PvgjJGTcxzwQLUoRnADT0tJ_M6cxt77XLlPB3W1Lwk_sZ-Iy_pyYd2dZTq7KDyRyl1cjICLTe3kCNWRJ40tWH7ee-JJiUc-ikVs7mrTB_4bNwEwHhJkZWxoKpAzApCrj5I/s930/0-38.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="698" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsupjtmwTtiZGLseuttrIcM_x9IEiXbpPYiW5NOJ9d5fjPT892vXB6VFg-_PvgjJGTcxzwQLUoRnADT0tJ_M6cxt77XLlPB3W1Lwk_sZ-Iy_pyYd2dZTq7KDyRyl1cjICLTe3kCNWRJ40tWH7ee-JJiUc-ikVs7mrTB_4bNwEwHhJkZWxoKpAzApCrj5I/w300-h400/0-38.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><div><br /></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div style="text-align: justify;">''A San Diego 'trolley' with the railway station in the background.'' Thanks, as ever, Richard. When your photos arrive it's like leafing thru a National Geographic!''</div></span></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT87IGsuUW5T5KrEXJdXgWivbdYSOnwFZJ76cQXPfIBqlLmz0NKHfLhYb65sH8LG7KSH9K4-9YJ-CdZGGry1qY2RYh3E1lDB1Ahp4YWIhcPfUWU3tt4fRz8m9xUDBpfgNvtj3sajvDbun2omTtR3FxY_3iGMVf5WkxtNt95kMevC0ukBjIwQBVGMmH11E/s1024/0-39.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT87IGsuUW5T5KrEXJdXgWivbdYSOnwFZJ76cQXPfIBqlLmz0NKHfLhYb65sH8LG7KSH9K4-9YJ-CdZGGry1qY2RYh3E1lDB1Ahp4YWIhcPfUWU3tt4fRz8m9xUDBpfgNvtj3sajvDbun2omTtR3FxY_3iGMVf5WkxtNt95kMevC0ukBjIwQBVGMmH11E/w400-h300/0-39.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rob, our South West correspondent next: ''Hi John, here's my entry for this month. Sitting in the waiting room at Clapham Junction feeling pretty happy as I was waiting for my connection to take me to Brighton - my summer holiday destination. Such a hot day it was good to find some shade, and surely one of the most beautiful waiting room windows in the country.'' You could be right, Rob!</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-0wqhNEAarFKmbEj3PRRLzgKBjKf7BQE9rGBN4hCFIhL48XS5yvMI7eTCNWgePxnTblpGmGT2Ub9j7PVSnlZkELx85vmHI-yYQBwA4EHKuSUyZ261iF-Ew5wtBwwt6JMiFMmq7kn_duKG-VB451YGttb5fR3aODGw4Ny2Vuvfbuu19TZunuDgI83nLbY/s2048/Y2AZmlSL.jpg-large.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1533" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-0wqhNEAarFKmbEj3PRRLzgKBjKf7BQE9rGBN4hCFIhL48XS5yvMI7eTCNWgePxnTblpGmGT2Ub9j7PVSnlZkELx85vmHI-yYQBwA4EHKuSUyZ261iF-Ew5wtBwwt6JMiFMmq7kn_duKG-VB451YGttb5fR3aODGw4Ny2Vuvfbuu19TZunuDgI83nLbY/w400-h300/Y2AZmlSL.jpg-large.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Adam in Manchester: ''John, this photo was not shot in black & white, just taken on a very black & white day. It's Stockport railway viaduct, the biggest brick built structure in Europe, linking Manchester to the south. It crosses the bus station (underneath the arches) and even on a sunny day is a windy and desolate place. It also crosses the Mersey at some point and in previous centuries was a major transport hub.''</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdIaPusVEV0Ja-T0sd2jwo1k9H2uiyKM-ucU3bkADJ9ADg6O_U1rJuHjUazA1iL1c9CvJ2eARwBAzdy-D2YX-R3MZ8imTVrnVGsCk-dE4_4Oafkxl2GEWI4b8N8udyeb7n6-F2LIEFGUogN66fMWEbjxKMV80fjD11n6X1NCVEAStDvID28QtXqKobs74/s554/0-49.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="554" data-original-width="312" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdIaPusVEV0Ja-T0sd2jwo1k9H2uiyKM-ucU3bkADJ9ADg6O_U1rJuHjUazA1iL1c9CvJ2eARwBAzdy-D2YX-R3MZ8imTVrnVGsCk-dE4_4Oafkxl2GEWI4b8N8udyeb7n6-F2LIEFGUogN66fMWEbjxKMV80fjD11n6X1NCVEAStDvID28QtXqKobs74/w225-h400/0-49.jpeg" width="225" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: helvetica;">''And this is a bus shelter not far away.'' Thank you, Adam. I just love viaducts.</span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRfhw7YouUj0UjVs3vFyFhX4VuVtAIahA7rf51s_b3B3BRXb-7mZlolEzKOxNoBy0yQxmxuw8f6GuQkeJcJbWGcl4L7bzPYelJzlg59jCFxD9TJXocsxhFG23dv57rxd8DoRFgIopZ9xD2zYLko1kub3FcKqP46lPRKiwxxsP0ao0-iBNQx4p2oDFHMlw/s415/0-45.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="234" data-original-width="415" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRfhw7YouUj0UjVs3vFyFhX4VuVtAIahA7rf51s_b3B3BRXb-7mZlolEzKOxNoBy0yQxmxuw8f6GuQkeJcJbWGcl4L7bzPYelJzlg59jCFxD9TJXocsxhFG23dv57rxd8DoRFgIopZ9xD2zYLko1kub3FcKqP46lPRKiwxxsP0ao0-iBNQx4p2oDFHMlw/w400-h225/0-45.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It probably won't surprise you to learn that I've got quite a few public transport images on various SD cards, hard drives, old photo albums etc. I've lost a few too (hard drives that went bump in the night - but let's not go there shall we, they're gone). So of the (many) hundreds I <i>have</i> got I was able to choose a few that, I think, fit the bill. And as I didn't want to rely totally on my back catalogue I did get out and about this month and have chucked a few new ones into the mix too. I can't believe I haven't put forward any of my York Railway Museum photos. Anyone who knows me will tell you I would live in that building, no questions asked.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">From my 2022 California expedition - somewhere between Flagstaff & Grand Canyon.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXVDLR52tgpVf_LlaVg_UQFPCORvuQ0Xsl2yTanifPUUEsyDV09SdzuAj8HIZVr-g_OF-4eUJ4twpA5vQxrlr6Ot3C6X87EhmAUZDd7z9GGgS4uA_1XIvFGx7q_J_wl8gFf0rZ9sxwS0MYEUxii6N05CsA86qOuONgOsfS-CId3B8O1NJ6V8uoUBw_qo/s930/0-20.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="689" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXVDLR52tgpVf_LlaVg_UQFPCORvuQ0Xsl2yTanifPUUEsyDV09SdzuAj8HIZVr-g_OF-4eUJ4twpA5vQxrlr6Ot3C6X87EhmAUZDd7z9GGgS4uA_1XIvFGx7q_J_wl8gFf0rZ9sxwS0MYEUxii6N05CsA86qOuONgOsfS-CId3B8O1NJ6V8uoUBw_qo/w296-h400/0-20.jpeg" width="296" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rock City, Nottingham.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWeFrOpt6jQVp66Y-2fgXuFeQvyy0_Qkis7mLrw_E01HS4JHgtbYZ2avr-9F5ohKyJAG_QO00-zucGD_BJOvA-p7bHbHkeNhndll_mMi9jQclzwa__H-IKj-FwWRqVYS8uT4aSYvc7LgKjECsnLmv_bvltmo5x80zXOL2uW8BuoynDn7pj-G_7UEYdGPk/s1324/0-22.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="928" data-original-width="1324" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWeFrOpt6jQVp66Y-2fgXuFeQvyy0_Qkis7mLrw_E01HS4JHgtbYZ2avr-9F5ohKyJAG_QO00-zucGD_BJOvA-p7bHbHkeNhndll_mMi9jQclzwa__H-IKj-FwWRqVYS8uT4aSYvc7LgKjECsnLmv_bvltmo5x80zXOL2uW8BuoynDn7pj-G_7UEYdGPk/w400-h280/0-22.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I tap Sir John on the shoulder every time I land in St. Pancras.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9VuL9TCF_023kwDc06ZabNlUWFsPp5JqdMex1bOBhSJfK_1MNaGXehV4RsMZeOCLbE4FEWVNemjuYGqanBX1F23VL2A-XhmQnakCtcq4ZeNwh3NjSo1yY3hqgf80FIJfa24cjS_GO6MfIBB_Tn2ID9IfXyGTdV64X2ni0fzYG6RLNtIKR_UUlvILE1BA/s930/0-21.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="930" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9VuL9TCF_023kwDc06ZabNlUWFsPp5JqdMex1bOBhSJfK_1MNaGXehV4RsMZeOCLbE4FEWVNemjuYGqanBX1F23VL2A-XhmQnakCtcq4ZeNwh3NjSo1yY3hqgf80FIJfa24cjS_GO6MfIBB_Tn2ID9IfXyGTdV64X2ni0fzYG6RLNtIKR_UUlvILE1BA/w400-h400/0-21.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Probably not taken at midnight.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmDC4Idw1NMs1RDY67R_Xmi9TzH3sgL2E2AT_77jUbyak6yFegzNw3IWk_XDwo1NqzNTpXKHhDJwlHgtavLw1rTEa6zbXxg7-54XUXTloaCk527RKZhkLCubWRzv6-p4dPKnxGdudm8J7uK1ajuf5X5HE0OGnHTVrPtBEI103JIjhacDaVGwY8dtvtFYU/s529/0-16.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="529" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmDC4Idw1NMs1RDY67R_Xmi9TzH3sgL2E2AT_77jUbyak6yFegzNw3IWk_XDwo1NqzNTpXKHhDJwlHgtavLw1rTEa6zbXxg7-54XUXTloaCk527RKZhkLCubWRzv6-p4dPKnxGdudm8J7uK1ajuf5X5HE0OGnHTVrPtBEI103JIjhacDaVGwY8dtvtFYU/w400-h378/0-16.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">My friend, Vladka.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuBF94U913GB8eknSRZp-Ae67dC7DV_IMvozNZxC8S9x9WlBPhsqCwieMSw-NAWcWxfP9W7gqoCnCLSGTUnq1FZmkcT9UacUu6ivo1WmEx3Q44nhu3DGM2mvP1TPXxSm3YS0P7M2IuYUJnu8LjUITvEL-__wMraSeWKZtYxhVszVK2cfD2o2v9muXAM8E/s930/0-17.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="698" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuBF94U913GB8eknSRZp-Ae67dC7DV_IMvozNZxC8S9x9WlBPhsqCwieMSw-NAWcWxfP9W7gqoCnCLSGTUnq1FZmkcT9UacUu6ivo1WmEx3Q44nhu3DGM2mvP1TPXxSm3YS0P7M2IuYUJnu8LjUITvEL-__wMraSeWKZtYxhVszVK2cfD2o2v9muXAM8E/w300-h400/0-17.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Taken around 1987/88. One of our old cats, Dora. She'd often sleep on the railway line.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOobrUdP8JoSRT73uDPX4mE3Tagz2z7KrV3w99FkpduaoETkziPJ43fotujgxoB2CHiABy4lwg2jqKXdOCU3vsk76AhAmhtuyMbBUkx0ObiBKOzSELjrDrteSPmp8hvfl3KtSs_Xr_4y0bj3VG8kS7Ly213KMVvmfD4JYrUTmyAQ4U50Rljwt3VXzJ29I/s813/0%202.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="513" data-original-width="813" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOobrUdP8JoSRT73uDPX4mE3Tagz2z7KrV3w99FkpduaoETkziPJ43fotujgxoB2CHiABy4lwg2jqKXdOCU3vsk76AhAmhtuyMbBUkx0ObiBKOzSELjrDrteSPmp8hvfl3KtSs_Xr_4y0bj3VG8kS7Ly213KMVvmfD4JYrUTmyAQ4U50Rljwt3VXzJ29I/w400-h253/0%202.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Liverpool - taken from the top of the Radio City tower a couple of weeks ago. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK7L5ugeLyQR1Hab3DOq6p1-DvRURXlZHhwb5MkW7iGGy8UIA6F-B1AjdOLTc1W9CFebqjhnMUcvTMcZFk0uK5y_EQcbUa5u1iuhi24ySHoZ_wVTTcM0ePpYjsGkQn3blVy8EpIZ_fjLuuXmNc1cUpkOsRwkKgk_zi4bz7l-HSGUwrR0ASTv34InWWejE/s4608/IMG_3520%202.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK7L5ugeLyQR1Hab3DOq6p1-DvRURXlZHhwb5MkW7iGGy8UIA6F-B1AjdOLTc1W9CFebqjhnMUcvTMcZFk0uK5y_EQcbUa5u1iuhi24ySHoZ_wVTTcM0ePpYjsGkQn3blVy8EpIZ_fjLuuXmNc1cUpkOsRwkKgk_zi4bz7l-HSGUwrR0ASTv34InWWejE/w400-h300/IMG_3520%202.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Cromer c.1979. This is Riggsby's brother, Simonjohn. He used to do this sort of thing a lot.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5uakm0FB913PpGEgmdsO9-0YMBlaMbgAgMg8UIPPboGUmDbDajsuwomiK5V5CqQR-zwItKW_0T-MT1uhs6rVoTm-7ZIZduUiBGg6IiHrI1Q4CqFAO4EiHvmlapsbZ-bDb7luMFxjLk14njriFe0mC2fzHxaNlQT7lVNxX5Q-Pqfm3sjhL0u8zKw2kBBA/s1177/0-32.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="1177" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5uakm0FB913PpGEgmdsO9-0YMBlaMbgAgMg8UIPPboGUmDbDajsuwomiK5V5CqQR-zwItKW_0T-MT1uhs6rVoTm-7ZIZduUiBGg6IiHrI1Q4CqFAO4EiHvmlapsbZ-bDb7luMFxjLk14njriFe0mC2fzHxaNlQT7lVNxX5Q-Pqfm3sjhL0u8zKw2kBBA/w400-h316/0-32.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A London bus and a big puddle.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEhEtRCr0Vl3diA-O9QxsKXmmJZhA2RjR23fcLDFf1fnCXmZKVvANwuh4XnFyUUH6zdFKzovm1GLZ_qMmDuxE7vkfzxBAZwDUR05Kk9Ec_sYH06EAdxTIC13ZtbGMsuezwiCT6sRvYnoTCDcmEyOHFFv3u7oAnaRjY3i4ZKWqCFLZrPtQ4q7dn45yvBw8/s930/0-15.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="624" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEhEtRCr0Vl3diA-O9QxsKXmmJZhA2RjR23fcLDFf1fnCXmZKVvANwuh4XnFyUUH6zdFKzovm1GLZ_qMmDuxE7vkfzxBAZwDUR05Kk9Ec_sYH06EAdxTIC13ZtbGMsuezwiCT6sRvYnoTCDcmEyOHFFv3u7oAnaRjY3i4ZKWqCFLZrPtQ4q7dn45yvBw8/w269-h400/0-15.jpeg" width="269" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Wolverhampton Station carpark. Iconic. And yes, I believe I <i>have</i> used the 'i' word correctly.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0R3wZ1nPZQexeF2tGevt_Zfiye2isBahUEa7GpyiF1gRxIbH6J9Y9fQ79QAf4EL-OEAV3TAxkkljvWz5c1GZ3WD7CYVChhKvSyVwsPKj5qrGJQa29z3G6Ft6AV3vrwRJnlUOwrZqUvABMI0fKqDQTbspEeVJSXLgG98kfUz0-fnL9ZJ5CL_SArh6bZN0/s725/0-21-1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="725" data-original-width="544" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0R3wZ1nPZQexeF2tGevt_Zfiye2isBahUEa7GpyiF1gRxIbH6J9Y9fQ79QAf4EL-OEAV3TAxkkljvWz5c1GZ3WD7CYVChhKvSyVwsPKj5qrGJQa29z3G6Ft6AV3vrwRJnlUOwrZqUvABMI0fKqDQTbspEeVJSXLgG98kfUz0-fnL9ZJ5CL_SArh6bZN0/w300-h400/0-21-1.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A deserted Wilford Tram Stop in Nottingham, taken during LD.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5F85KhdSUthOQQXit8zcb3nOt-M9fL8CKW21ROfC52EGUs-Me3Of_UJT-B9Ms5MGCYnk4aWBAfkF0j9aWGw6zEqDMoVkOpJyBdMnOks4IgnDPMk4wdS7vD-Hy9i-GomW57oR0vVUb3wPmK5MnTJJKQQapXqIadGZT1GF3GVZVsUafXeuVKdjrdUo3SiM/s930/0-46.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="698" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5F85KhdSUthOQQXit8zcb3nOt-M9fL8CKW21ROfC52EGUs-Me3Of_UJT-B9Ms5MGCYnk4aWBAfkF0j9aWGw6zEqDMoVkOpJyBdMnOks4IgnDPMk4wdS7vD-Hy9i-GomW57oR0vVUb3wPmK5MnTJJKQQapXqIadGZT1GF3GVZVsUafXeuVKdjrdUo3SiM/w300-h400/0-46.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">So there you have it. Thank you for indulging me at the end. A huge thank you to everyone who took the time. See you all next time. I'll post March's theme in the comments below in the next few days.</span><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> J x</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ff00fe;"><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">.</span><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-large;">.</span><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Postscript 4.2.23</span></b></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">If you've read Alyson's comments below you'll see she was sitting on an old photo she'd taken but couldn't retrieve in time for publication date. No worries, she's found it now and here it is: "Hi John, a late entry but I liked this photo of the very old & ornate St. Pancras Station along side that shiny purple car.'' Thank you, Alyson. A stunning photo. And that's not just any old <a href="http://www.johnmedd.com/2023/12/figaro-figaro-figaro.html">purple car!</a></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvA0XEQznolJvk4nmIKpmc5fKSYDKRAsp_ZXWD_J9jgNRWb0Srssg-PS8mKWWdU63cupGUl0WGX5t9eEZmpFjIOHytETcOoZMEpb8k97-oXwwZoaJt6_e_LuY-rHqfHQW2DOStYv14RL1yYQXmXRW9f2iHxhNdpOL4awemia8-FT5FxF03o5WCnVdhOPU/s930/0-50.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="698" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvA0XEQznolJvk4nmIKpmc5fKSYDKRAsp_ZXWD_J9jgNRWb0Srssg-PS8mKWWdU63cupGUl0WGX5t9eEZmpFjIOHytETcOoZMEpb8k97-oXwwZoaJt6_e_LuY-rHqfHQW2DOStYv14RL1yYQXmXRW9f2iHxhNdpOL4awemia8-FT5FxF03o5WCnVdhOPU/w300-h400/0-50.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p></div>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-5032917865614381582024-01-28T23:36:00.002+00:002024-01-28T23:36:53.768+00:00General synopsis<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpNwuRWWbLAG8Ra_F3H57LW_N34hY5ijo5Pvqo1DDjNZMC1aLZEuCsHl1ls-HeUucE7uobB5dGmoOp1iByQySh4ene7YHd-Us4zAWpXb19H5HsdKCsnMiRblCWtykDpqFeGi_NhdnYC1VHo-M0-O4L0MkpwTh3PRYRcB6EDR0QcaUvkSobBqVIH8K7SlU/s902/0-16.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="648" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpNwuRWWbLAG8Ra_F3H57LW_N34hY5ijo5Pvqo1DDjNZMC1aLZEuCsHl1ls-HeUucE7uobB5dGmoOp1iByQySh4ene7YHd-Us4zAWpXb19H5HsdKCsnMiRblCWtykDpqFeGi_NhdnYC1VHo-M0-O4L0MkpwTh3PRYRcB6EDR0QcaUvkSobBqVIH8K7SlU/w288-h400/0-16.jpeg" width="288" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: courier;"><div style="text-align: center;">
Humber</div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">WIND - South 5 to 7 becoming cyclonic 4 to 6. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">SEA STATE - Slight or moderate. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">WEATHER - Rain, mainly later, fog patches later. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">VISIBILITY - Moderate or good, occasionally very poor later.</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizd6pSut9uYsPGA4-KaPpjVGIpLZUMDJN0somd6SqgYFU4g5dypEX6ZzJuExucTWcjX9SJZzRJYjmyI16GvYEWnusyy2ZCkgdV29XTI0V-1zxILPvxmKCGUI_DqCEcJ6J6JvMDes9PupQwQ1wN7KMeiDaMlvIFwR67YBu7qlUOq_0MVLpdO_gO8gmiPsw/s902/0-17.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizd6pSut9uYsPGA4-KaPpjVGIpLZUMDJN0somd6SqgYFU4g5dypEX6ZzJuExucTWcjX9SJZzRJYjmyI16GvYEWnusyy2ZCkgdV29XTI0V-1zxILPvxmKCGUI_DqCEcJ6J6JvMDes9PupQwQ1wN7KMeiDaMlvIFwR67YBu7qlUOq_0MVLpdO_gO8gmiPsw/w399-h400/0-17.jpeg" width="399" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">So said the Shipping Forecast earlier today. Of course, what was happening further out to sea was probably very different to walking along Hessle Foreshore this afternoon photographing (once more) the behemoth that is the Humber Bridge.</span></div>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-21014611407742670832024-01-23T16:44:00.002+00:002024-01-23T16:44:59.552+00:00Lording it<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirO0ONxnUR3rajBXE4hL_k1BR2P1lKGLiLQ6hSh0OxK37_x8-IyTlFdJ9BJMqZOgCML_ujVCgMEqz-izSEfGdGt9nnLC38OqzzC7e4mqcwuCbxFCKYdhlPQnqZyRRb4jVOwSZEtDx4jBmYdecLa1VuU9MQOAfqjwREj93KJfanDnMiaHF4XlSaGA7Pzls/s300/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirO0ONxnUR3rajBXE4hL_k1BR2P1lKGLiLQ6hSh0OxK37_x8-IyTlFdJ9BJMqZOgCML_ujVCgMEqz-izSEfGdGt9nnLC38OqzzC7e4mqcwuCbxFCKYdhlPQnqZyRRb4jVOwSZEtDx4jBmYdecLa1VuU9MQOAfqjwREj93KJfanDnMiaHF4XlSaGA7Pzls/w400-h224/Unknown.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div>It seems that just lately barely a week goes by without a new band (or new to me) parading their wares coquettishly, who then proceed to inject themselves directly under my skin (in a nice way). One such outfit is Lord Huron. Hailing from Los Angeles they are, I don't mind telling you, currently taking up all my bandwidth. I shan't even bother pigeonholing them as it's all but pointless. (Who even knows what an indie/folk/country/rock/surf band emoting new age cinematic soundscapes is meant to sound like?) All </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">you</span><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> need to know is they make a wonderful noise. Footnote - I've just seen that they're coming to the UK later in the year. 2024's diary is filling up fast.</span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Lord Huron - Mine Forever (2022)</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/yOz3VJD4L0o" width="320" youtube-src-id="yOz3VJD4L0o"></iframe></div>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-79680784153199558402024-01-22T23:57:00.004+00:002024-01-23T00:04:24.462+00:00They don't write 'em like that anymore<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg237ye38sVDKpReBb5bQtslH1EiD6h7dIwPxBv7_LQ_cVKjvCGlH9EfAKB40atr6aiHcto4H4AiaHiyChjCYmjPY31ojFQ9F6HvHiSW0x5CxQ8axVVhD5-2HjMho2_o2fqhYuuuDx134FcnZKL74ZO5iU-mKpoAxXHqw1vVgggG4zrZXIFEGhfLWA0az0/s1920/rigg-mcnee.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg237ye38sVDKpReBb5bQtslH1EiD6h7dIwPxBv7_LQ_cVKjvCGlH9EfAKB40atr6aiHcto4H4AiaHiyChjCYmjPY31ojFQ9F6HvHiSW0x5CxQ8axVVhD5-2HjMho2_o2fqhYuuuDx134FcnZKL74ZO5iU-mKpoAxXHqw1vVgggG4zrZXIFEGhfLWA0az0/w400-h225/rigg-mcnee.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
The sad news of Laurie Johnson's passing reached Medd Towers today. He was 96. Johnson enjoyed a wide and varied career in the entertainment industry and wrote some of the seminal TV theme tunes of the 60s and 70s. The Professionals, Animal Magic and This is Your Life would normally have been enough to earn you bragging rights. But this, ultimately, is what he'll be remembered for. You just can't imagine Steed and Mrs. Peel clinking champagne glasses to <i>any </i>other music.</span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The Avengers - opening/closing credits (1967)</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/GeK3Lkd_XL4" width="320" youtube-src-id="GeK3Lkd_XL4"></iframe></div>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3248139855347807926.post-20625430918378932662024-01-21T13:02:00.008+00:002024-01-22T07:41:49.709+00:00"I'm not in love" (he said, lying)<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQIVGFnLt4eqQUnTs-BYz7MwHKbxc9uBeZFjb3UR0SUJ-ibeszItaX9C7YrS-UhIVc6Zmh8YMw1P1UBsTpb9XnYFWzUGFyjGWzbyvpNjnPB_GsOhG1Tw70UR6OibhFj-pZN8DSDXgplHRTVzlnKqdls0Xz5HYWgoTRtWnq8PYh17tbZG2tBI4jVokXryY/s640/ab67616d0000b27357d8a64a4fc55e74138b783e.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQIVGFnLt4eqQUnTs-BYz7MwHKbxc9uBeZFjb3UR0SUJ-ibeszItaX9C7YrS-UhIVc6Zmh8YMw1P1UBsTpb9XnYFWzUGFyjGWzbyvpNjnPB_GsOhG1Tw70UR6OibhFj-pZN8DSDXgplHRTVzlnKqdls0Xz5HYWgoTRtWnq8PYh17tbZG2tBI4jVokXryY/s320/ab67616d0000b27357d8a64a4fc55e74138b783e.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">When someone describes themselves as a self professed 'English major nerd with a penchant for sci-fi TV shows' I'm already willing them to win and definitely have a foot in their camp. And in the case of Elle Cordova (aka Reina del Cid) I'm also, ever so slightly, in love. In love with her, her music, her guitar playing <i>and</i> her musical partner Toni Lindgren. Here they both are playing an intimate little set on Caffe Lena TV. (See how they overcome the 'false start': this is precisely why I find them so endearing.)</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Runner in the Sun (2023)</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/xMJzqCaNG3M" width="320" youtube-src-id="xMJzqCaNG3M"></iframe></div><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; text-align: justify;">Every Sunday morning under the moniker "Elle & Toni" on their YouTube channel they drink coffee (Coffee Cheers!) and play a new song (originals and covers). It's a great format. I've gone with three essential covers. The first is a classic Chuck Berry tune:</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: courier; font-size: x-small; text-align: justify;">C'est la Vie (You Never Can Tell)</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/pwzlHefcHDc" width="320" youtube-src-id="pwzlHefcHDc"></iframe></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Next up I've gone for their version of a song that dominated the charts in 1971/2 and went gold in America for Melanie with sales in excess of 1M. Blimey!</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">Brand New Key</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9d8k6_E6tC0" width="320" youtube-src-id="9d8k6_E6tC0"></iframe></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And finally, here is probably one of the sweetest, heart tugging versions of a Simon & Garfunkel song I think I've ever heard. Don't worry about the chit-chat at the beginning and the plug for Kyser capos, they soon get stuck in to the song...</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ffa400; font-family: courier; font-size: x-small;">The Sound of Silence</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/BZ5CJlccy1A" width="320" youtube-src-id="BZ5CJlccy1A"></iframe></div>John Meddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10547777949324509522noreply@blogger.com10