Last year I got knifed for Christmas

I've said it before but this is a really fantastic album. It features the lyric 'Last year I got knifed for christmas' which is so brilliantly urban-Scottish and bleak and typical of Mr Middleton's dour Caledonian outlook. Despite this, it is incredibly uplifting and you forget that you're singing 'Woke up again today, realised I hate myself' at the top of your voice and dancing round the cottage with a massive grin on your chops. Genius!

Word

I forgot to mention that I've had a letter published in Word magazine. It was on the most pointless subject ever but I e-mailed it rather than putting pen to paper, which seems worse really. Anyway it's in the current one which may no longer be on sale but it has Weller on the cover as shown. I would photograph the article and post the picture but I'm still not technically up to these modern practises. If you do read it then I must add that the letter was heavily editted and it reads worse than it did when I wrote it.

Q. Where's Tom?

A. On a bloody stag weekend in Newquay. Possibly engaged in activities such as this.

Activities depicted are only hyperthetical and in no way realistically document Tom's actual activities over the weekend. All the people shown are other people's horrid friends and in no way represent those attending the current stag party in Newquay.

Geordie Racer

I can't be doing with a huge post at the moment so I think I will add some bite sized portions of what's been going on in my life recently, when I feel like it. Here's the first and strangely the tale I wish to tell the most.

Geordie Racer is the racing pigeon who has been living in our garden for the last two weeks, he is very fine. He has a lovely coat and well defined red feet, he looks like the one above.

We first noticed him in the garden because he looked fancier than all the other pigeons and he had a ring on his foot. Tom managed to read the code on the ring and through the magic of the internet he traced him back to the North East Pigeon racing society, hence Geordie Racer which was a childhood favourite of both Tom and I, along with Badger Girl. These were schools' English programmes where you could learn our fine language whilst enjoying exciting child-oriented dramas. They also feartured Wordy; a floating computer generated learning assistant with no legs, of the 'Magic, Magic E' fame. Only as an adult did I discover that yes my weird floaty friend E is indeed magic.

Anyway, I digress somewhat. Geordie Racer likes our garden because our house is being re-thatched and he seems to only eat corn, which the local thatcher Chris found out when he tried to give him some biscuits. Chris is a nice chap and seems very fond of Geordie Racer too. Jon has been staying this week and he was introduced to Geordie, he wanted to shoot him with an air rifle. Not too keen on Jon sometimes.

I have been on an emotional rollercoaster where Geordie is concerned, on a rainy Monday morning feeling very miserable at going to work I came across a dead pigeon in the road on the way to the bus. I looked closer and found to my shock and horror that the pigeon had a ring and was in fact our Geordie Racer. Of course being the over-emotional wreck that I am I was in tears all the way to work and when I got to work I had been crying so much I had brought on a migraine and had to go home. I was guilt ridden for not trying to catch him sooner and worried that Tom might have seen him as Tom was the most attached to Geordie. I steeled myself and decided to clean up the evidence before Tom got home.

I returned home to get the spade and bin bags and lo and behold a racing pigeon was sitting in the garden, this fellow had a blue ring and the poor chap in the road had a yellow one. This was bloody Geordie Racer, alive, healthy and cooing at me in mockery. I felt very silly and then guilty at being relieved as another pigeon had met his maker and I didn't care as much as if it was our pigeon.

He's still here anyway and we don't know whether ethically it is better to catch him so he can be returned to his owners or whether he should live as he wishes, free in Devon but perhaps unable to survive on his own. We'll give him another week or so and then decide.

what's for tea man?

Make Bland MOR Rock History

Live 8 Observations 1:

If enough people text in or log on then this cruelty will stop, otherwise U2, McCartney and Keane will carry on forever and some one will loose faith in music every three seconds.

Sorry, don't knock Live 8 or else you're a shit - I know. But is it just me or does the sight of 250,000 white people listening to free music in Hyde Park, watching bands who are so generous to donate their time (to perform in front of billions and get more exposure than a Jo Whiley voiced over advert for their current album being sold at Tesco, during the last episode of Friends), preaching to us about how the G8 leaders (who include two war criminals with no idea of the value of a human life) are going to sit up and take notice because some people are having a lovely day out, rather frustrating?

Maybe if they were collecting money I'd understand more. They could do so much more if they were collecting pledges, create millions to stop people starving right now and raise awareness at the same time. How much do the collective train fares and over-priced burgers of these 250,000 add up to? How much money is sitting in the bank accounts of those performing? Yes awareness is very important but think of your intended audience - elected presidents and prime ministers who are for the most part corporate puppets. They speak of dropping the debt in one meeting and then sit at the table with the same global corporations who are bleeding Africa dry and raping the rest of our planet the next, promising not to make any compromises which may compromise their special relationships.

Maybe I'm having a bad day but in my book its Africa today and then the rest of us who are f****d and there is no amount of bleating that will change this. But then again I really hope I am wrong.

Live 8 Observations 2 :

What's with all the pre watershed swearing? Even Madonna's at it and for some reason I (Miss Foul Mouthed herself) am finding it unreasonable thinking about all the little Poppys and Harrys asking 'What's a Motherf****r mummy?'.

It really should be fundraising as I for one would pledge good money to make Jonny Borrell put his shirt back on the nasty little wanabee prick that he is. I still find myself trying to combat my strong urges to slap the tv every time I see little chubby-cheeks, double barrelled surname Keane singer. Also why is it that REM always turn up and play Man on the Moon and Everybody Hurts at these sort of things, I love REM but just found them boring. I am looking forward to seeing the reformed Pink Floyd who I hope will be so good that they reform and go on a big tour culminating in headlining Glastonbury 2007.

Now what's going on in my oh so important life?

In other news there is none, which is good I guess. We're still happy in Devon, T still hates his job, mine is OK. As most of you know we came to Norfolk, it was lovely and we shall be returning in two weeks. I have just bought the Malcolm Middleton album which is the best of the year so far by a Devon mile.

I am taking a keen interest in bird watching and feeding a troop of greedy sparrows who are devouring everything I put out there. We've had some nice tits and a chaffinch visiting and some blackbirds fighting over some fat balls, it really is a veritable ornothological soap opera outside.

I wasn't very impressed with the Glastonbury footage so not too upset that I missed it but at the same time sad to not be going to any lovely outdoor festivals this summer as I have an aching for this kind of experience.

Anyway I will wrap up this by saying sorry again for the Live 8 slating as I really do hope it works and feel sad being a cynic amongst all the lovely good feeling. I really do wish them well and hope it is sucessful and would love to see a fairer world but what makes me feel sad is knowing that all that good will might not come to anything. But then again I pray that I'm wrong.