A Place in the Sun

What can I say..............................

Hey Ho!

It's a Hard Life

It's a hard life
To be true lovers together
To love and live forever in each others hearts
It's a long hard fight
To learn to care for each other
To trust in one another right from the start
When you're in love

Ten days in to our visit to Paphos and, even for Cyprus, the temperatures have been well above the seasonal April average and set to rise by a degree each day until the middle of next week. It might be 28C in the shade but in the full sun it is more like 38-40C. It is 11.00 am here and I am writing this outside on the patio with the current semi-shaded temperature already 90F.

But, after all,  that's why we come and, of course to relax and lay around the pool all day doing not much more than read. There are only a couple of TV news stations and one old movie channel to watch but more importantly no BBC radio except through the internet. Knowing that I had no internet connection in this apartment, the second of our stay, last week I downloaded a selection of Desert Island Discs podcasts which I am gradually working my way through.

If you ever find yourself lost for something interesting to listen to and can get access to the internet download a selection of these podcasts at:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/features/desert-island-discs/find-a-castaway

These are my recommendations so far:

• Tom Sharpe - 1984
• Christopher Lloyd - 2000
• Bobby Robson - 1986
• Danny Baker -
• Dickie Bird -1996
• Graham McPherson (Suggs) - 2002
• Jonathan Agnew -
• Ian Dury - 1996
• Kenny Everett - 1993
• David Gilmour - 2003
• Henry Blofeld - 2003
• Spike Milligan - 1978

Like most places in Europe the bars here show wall to wall football but being two hours ahead watching the midweek Premiership and Champions League games are a non starter as they don't even KO until 10.00pm so today I am going to take the opportunity to watch the Arsenal v Manchester United match at 6.00 pm.

I'll leave you with this track from Ian Dury, who, when asked by Sue Lawley to give her a few lines that he had writen that he was proudest of, came with this classic:

Home improvement expert Harold Hill of Harold Hill
Of Do-It-Yourself dexterity, and double glazing skill
Came home to find another gentleman's kippers in the grill
So he sanded off his winkle with his Black and Decker drill



Hey Ho!

The "Un-retired" Employee of the Month

Much has happened over the last 2 weeks, and the story that has dominated our media to the point of saturation was the passing of the Iron Lady, bringing an interesting range of reactions from all sections of the community. Enough to say that she was 87 years old and had been in failing health for several months and if you're going to go - do it in style in a queen size bed in the Ritz! End of story - let's move on.

I am sure David Cameron and Iain Duncan Smith have welcomed the media attention being moved away from the saga of the introduction of the long overdue and necessary Welfare Reform Act, a subject that is fast becoming my "Specialist Subject" having had to research, translate into simple English and publish the detail and timetable on the information portal MyAdviceGateway.

As many of you will know I have been spending a lot of time updating and extending this site which is, despite saying I would have nothing more to do with IT when I retired, something that I must admit I find quite enjoyable and rewarding, and I don't just mean the additional beer tokens which are currently being exchanged for pints of Brakspeares at the Lifeboat Inn, Lesley, every Friday evening to toast my new found benefactors at We Do the Words. 

I have also been producing two newsletters every month for them and have become a vital cog in the well oiled wheels of their organisation, such that, for the last 6 months, I have been voted "Employee of the Month"!

Which leads me on to another relevant story published last week:

           Boredom 'leads retired men to go back to work' with most returning within four years

• One in 20 men aged between 50-74 goes back
• The 'unretired' tend to be highly-skilled professionals
• Likely to take managerial roles for average of 20 hours

By Rosie Taylor
PUBLISHED: 03:20, 5 April 2013 | UPDATED: 09:02, 5 April 2013

Boredom in retirement is sending men back to work, a study has suggested.

Financial troubles and missing the workplace may also lie behind a rise in people becoming ‘un-retired’.

One in 20 men aged between 50 and 74 has decided to go back to work, according to research presented to the Royal Economic Society’s  conference in London.

The 'un-retired' tend to be highly-skilled professionals with at least one A-level or equivalent and an average salary of £50,000 at 2006 levels,

Most returned to some form of work four years after retirement.

They are most likely to take a consultancy or managerial role for an average of 20 hours a week.

Christopher Brooks, of Age UK, said many people ‘simply enjoy the identification of the workplace, so when they stop working they  miss it’.

So there it is - I am officially" un-retired" although I have not been offered that option in any "Occupation" drop-down menu yet!

For the last week or so I have been researching and publishing pages on "Family Life and Relationships" which has included the topics of Relationship Problems, Ending a Relationship, Divorce, Gender Violence, Child Abuse, Social and Community Care, Bereavement et al. This depressing subject matter has necessitated prolonged periods of recuperation at the end of each afternoon down the Fox, which has also hit the front page of the papers this week, albeit The Farnborough News:

Late night licence, not for me anymore!

But as far as I am concerned the story of the week was that of the Samoan Airline that is charging passengers by weight:

http://news.yahoo.com/samoa-airline-introduces-pay-weight-pricing-231150753.html

This is a subject that I know is very close to the heart of my mate Paul who, on flying back to Cyprus from the UK a couple of years ago, was charged excess baggage on his wife's suitcase. Of course Paul being Paul didn't accept this lightly and created quite a scene demanding to know why the rather rotund overweight gentleman checking in at the next desk wasn't paying excess baggage on his flight ticket!

I rather agree with him but can you imagine the queues at the check-ins if you have to weigh yourself and your luggage before boarding. Down to your underpants to make the weight - I think not!!

And taking about Cyprus, we are off to Paphos on Thursday for 3 weeks of sunshine. I will of course keep you updated.

The weather over the last 8 weeks has put us allotmenteers well behind schedule and it is only in the last few days that I have been able to get anything planted. Onion sets, early potatoes, broad beans and various seeds have been sown but after Friday and Saturdays rain they are probably all floating on the surface. Yesterday I overbalanced and placed my right foot in a bed that I had previously dug and rotovated. I sank in a bog up to my knee and when I managed to get my leg out found that I had left my shoe behind!

However the weekend before last Spring was in the air at Lesley. We went for a walk on the new beach at around 6 o'clock and witnessed what looked like a scene from an Alfred Hitchcock film.

They were, in fact not birds but ducks, and must have been returning to Pagham Harbour and points East for their Summer holidays. There was at least a dozen large groups each with more than 500 ducks in each and as they approached from between the IOW and Portsmouth they looked like squadrons of aeroplanes. Quite impressive!

Must go and do a bit more up the plot now but I can't resist leaving you with this:

RIP 01276 31275

The first taste of sunshine since we returned from Portugal has inspired me to put fingers to keyboard!

The caravan survived the winter and is up and running, although we beat a hasty retreat back to Cotswold Towers on Sunday morning as it was so cold and windy.

This week has been quite eventful so far.

On Tuesday the planned “seamless” switchover from Sky and BT to Virgin Media was completed with one major problem. Although we were assured that there was no need for us to contact BT to cancel and retain our phone number as this would all be handled by Virgin Media staff, we were left with a new exchange and number. Not only that, the BT service had not been cancelled so we now have another 30 days line rental and broadband charge to pay!

We are NOT amused. I have, of course, already opened negotiations with Virgin Media re compensation but loosing the phone number that we have had for 43 years is like losing a good friend.

With the change of the broadband and WiFi router location I took the opportunity to totally reorganise my office and clear out 25 years worth of old equipment and cables, a task that was long overdue.

See photo below featuring my backup laptop.

Why, you are asking yourselves, am I showing my old laptop in the picture?

Well, having spent most of the day sorting things out and after refitting a shelf, I was finally able to sit down and admire the new setup and check my email. I noticed that I had forgotten to throw out two old Windows and Frontpage manuals so I removed them from the shelf which immediately crashed down on top of my new Samsung laptop smashing the screen!!

Hey bloody Ho! - a fitting end to a far from perfect day!

You have to admire the Bradshaws from Westerham in Kent, who are on a mission to buy only British for a 12 month period. The have already found out that there are no light bulbs or batteries manufactured in the UK.

Visit their site at http://britishfamily.co.uk 

Whilst on holiday I completed the 5th book in Robert Rankins Brentford Trilogy – “The Brentford Chainstore Massacre”, reviewed by the Observer as:

“STARK RAVING GENIUS … ALARMING AND DEFORMED BRILLIANCE”

 These books just get better! Here’s an extract:

‘What blood type are you?’ asked Dr Steven Malone.
‘AB negative,’ said Jack. ‘I used to bleed a lot as a child.’
‘Nosebleeds?’ Dr Steven asked.
‘No, the top of my head.’
‘How unusual.’
‘Not really. My brother wanted to be a musician.’
‘I don’t think I quite follow you.’
‘He wanted to play the xylophone, but my dad couldn’t afford one, so my brother, my older brother, used to line up all us younger brothers in descending order of height, then go round behind us and strike each of us on the top of the head with a tent peg mallet. A sort of human xylophone, you see. He could do almost the entire Lennon and McCartney song book. I was Middle C. I used to suffer a lot from concussion.’
‘Does your brother play the xylophone now?’
‘In Broadmoor, yes’

Meanwhile, in the real world, another great musician and personality passed away last week:



I can remember buying those singles in the early sixties – Samantha, Midnight in Moscow, The Green Leaves of Summer, Rondo etc.  In fact, I still have them and they were part of what fell on my laptop on Tuesday!

I’ll leave you with one more memory:



Kenny Ball RIP

Weston-super-Bock!

I could quite easily live in the Algarve. The people are so laid back and friendly, the beaches are beautiful and unspoilt and it is so cheap to live here. For example, a three course meal with ½ litre of wine or a pint of beer followed by coffee and a glass of port is 7.50€ in one of the restaurants up the road from where we are currently staying. In the bar next door a pin of Super Bock is 1.50€ and a large glass of wine 1.00€.

This time we are in the small town of Olhos d'Agua (Water Eyes), so called for the fresh water springs visible on the beach at low tide. It is situated midway between Albufeira and Vilamoura about 18 miles west of Faro.

The weather for the first 10 days was hot and sunny but the last 3 days have been a mixture of sunshine, showers and heavy rain.

Yesterday we waited for the rain to ease before leaving the apartment at around 2pm to go for lunch. We had just got inside a cafe, not 10 minutes walk away, when the wind got up and the heavens opened. Our lunch came and there was a power cut. By the time we left to return, some 20 minutes later, the sun was shining.

On the road just down from the apartment there is a bridge over a deep gully. No more than 10 minutes after we crossed it, on our way out, a mini tornado had blown through the gully uprooting trees, blowing the gates off and damaging the roof of a beautiful villa and decimating several gardens before blowing itself out before reaching the town.

If we had been walking over that bridge at the time ....................................

Well it's back home tomorrow then down to Lesley on Saturday to open up the caravan for a new season. Hopefully we will have better weather this year and the whole family will be able to enjoy the new and improved beach, which 17 million pounds later, is now complete.

Sadly my favourite fishing spot has completely disappeared in the remodelling of the coastline but there is a nice protected lagoon that I can't wait to "sling my hook" into!

Here's a brilliant video of the 12 months work compressed into 5 minutes, (look out for Janice and me in the anoraks at about 2 min 53sec):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_uvTV7izExs&feature=player_embedded#!

Since my last entry we finally made it to Weston-super-Mud and spent a great few days in the Wetherspoons Hotel on the seafront. Unfortunately, as you can see, the diets have gone out of the window:

I leave you with Weston-super-Mud and "The Cafe" filmed on the promenade last year:

Update from Lesley next week!

Hey Ho!

In memory of ...................

The warmer weather of the last few days has tempted me "up the plot" for sustained periods of fruit tree pruning and general tidying up. I've even planted a few flower bulbs to brighten up the borders.

We're off to Portugal for two weeks on Thursday so I am trying to get ahead of the game.

On Friday of last week I met up with JohnG and the Welsh Bard for our quarterly quest to map out all the pubs of Oxford and two new venues were ticked off our list.

Oxford really is a lovely city and so far we haven't entered a public house that we wouldn't be happy with staying in for the duration.

Here we are enjoying lunch in the Kings arms on a previous meeting:

To celebrate our fourth visit I decided to put pen to paper:

Beneath the clock at Oxford station,

the meeting place again.

Three OAPs, still young at heart

arriving on the train.

From South and East and West they came

with stories to be told,

of funerals and ailments

and memories to unfold.

A  Welshman and a Suffolk boy

and making up the trinity,

a  Northerner, an Eccles lad,

paradigms of masculinity.

Oxford's streets are paved with pubs

and they are on a mission,

to have a pint in every one

on their quarterly expedition.

They've done The Grapes and The White Horse,

The Kings Arms and The Bear,

Eagle and Child, The Rose and Crown.

Have they been everywhere?

This time they started at The Grapes

but new pubs they had vowed.

The Lamb and Flag received them well

and the Royal Oak did 'em proud.

With time to spare they crossed the road

into the Eagle and Child,

to finish off a perfect day

the boys were going wild!

At three o'clock, their bellies full,

and smiles upon their faces,

they say goodbye and board their trains

back to their diverse bases.

In three months time, The Likely Lads

will meet again, don't fear.

With ailments new and stories too

and of a course a pint of beer!

or two, or three or four or more!

February has seen the passing of two greats in diverse fields of entertainment.

Two days ago the brilliant Richard Biers passed away. Although "The Good Life" only ran for a comparatively short time, it is a sitcom that everyone of our generation can relate to.

Earlier in the month the legendary Reg Presley of the Troggs and one of Hampshires genuine characters passed on:

The Troggs shot to fame with "Wild Thing" a song that was later covered by Jimi Hendrix, Bruce Springstein, the Muppets and many more.

What a star!!

Thanks for the lift!

Our trip to Weston-Super-Mud seems destined not to happen. I postponed this weekend's re-arranged trip on Thursday because of the approaching snowy weather and by the looks of the South West today it was a good thing that I did.

So I am sitting here looking out of the window at the freezing, snow covered garden wondering what adventures this Saturday will bring the Werewolf.

Well it won't be a football match that's for certain.

Boro's home game to Bath was called off yesterday afternoon and the only game on the TV at lunch time is St. Mirren v Ross County!!

The decorating is finished (although there are worrying rumblings about the state of our bedroom) and a visit to the allotment would be totally pointless in these conditions - at least this year I did have the foresight to remove the netting from my fruit cage earlier in the week.

So it looks like another afternoon of intellectual, stimulating and thought provoking conversation down at the Fox.

Hopefully it will finish up better than last Saturday afternoons debacle.

Originally we were going to Weston-Super-Mud last weekend so I turned down the chance of a ticket to the Cardiff v Ipswich match with the Welsh Bard and his brother-in-law.

I then had to postpone the trip because Janice hadn't finished decorating so as it turned out I could have gone but it was too late to get a ticket.

Instead, I decided to go to watch Boro at home to Dover. It was freezing cold and starting to sleet when I left and I called in the Fox for the customary one on the way to the ground.

The public bar was so warm and welcoming with the second half of the QPR v Spurs game on the box. I had a second pint, then a third and before I knew it was 3.15pm. The bar was getting lively - just one of those occasions where everyone was up for good drink and plenty of 50's and 60's music on the jukebox.

Bonnie, the land-ladies daughter, who was on bar duty and incidentally who I know from her school days with Karen, couldn't believe her eyes at the sight of the over sixties singing, falling over and generally having a good time.

Cooperman, a good friend of mine, called in on his way back from work and joined in the fun and selected a batch of Bobby Darin and Doris Day records. I have a nasty recollection that at one point photos were taken of the two of us performing a lively little duet to "The Deadwood Stage"!

At 6 (ish, I think) I prepared to wobble home in the cold and sleet but Cooperman, who had his truck outside, kindly offered me a lift home.

Janice was in the kitchen when I fell indoors, so I quickly de-togged and got comfortable in front of the tellie for a lazy night.

I was awoken almost immediately by "Where's the shopping?"

"Shit, shit, shit!", I was supposed to call in the Coop on the way home.

"Sorry dear, it was so cold and wet that Danny gave me a lift home", I offered as some sort of pathetic explanation.

"Well you just better get yourself back down to the Coop then!" was the icy reply.

Realising it was my only chance of getting anything to eat I re-togged and made my wobbly way back to the Coop in the icy sleet, shopped, queued up with all the lottery hopefuls and when I finally got to the till - "Shit, shit, shit!" - I hadn't got my wallet!

I wobbled back home, in the now driving sleet, collected my wallet and wobbled back once more to the Coop, re-queued behind even more last minute lottery hopefuls, collected my shopping and paid.

Eventually, 45 minutes after first arriving home, now very cold and wet, I returned to the comfort of my sofa and sent a text to Cooperman, "Thanks for the lift!!".

What I don't understand is how women can be so unsympathetic.

And to top of it all, Boro were 5-0 at half time going on to win 5-2!!!!

The best thing that could happen this afternoon is that I get snowed in the Fox!

Well, I'm off to do the shopping, BEFORE, I go down the pub!!

I leave you with a video of a typical Saturday afternoon down the Fox public bar:


Hey Ho!

Beyond the sea

We were thinking of going away to Paphos for 3 weeks in January but Janice has at last got wise to my decorating and house maintenance avoidance tactics and decided to start giving the house a facelift instead.

Worse still she has also imposed a calorie controlled diet regime!

Rather than having to prepare and cook my own meals and, somewhat inspired by the Hairy Dieters TV programs, I have been forced to join in and show that I am shedding the pounds.

If you didn't watch the programs there's a book:



In case you are interested I have added a link to the recipes from the series at the end of this blog entry.

As you are all aware by now,I didn't get where I am today without a game plan so I have formulated a cunning four point fall back strategy:

Plan A - Low Calorie Nosh but normal liquid intake.

Plan B - Low Calorie Nosh but 50% reduced liquid intake.

Plan C - Low Calorie Nosh but 75% reduced liquid intake.

Plan D - Suicide!

Day one also saw the house facelift starting in earnest with a completely fruitless 3 hours of wandering around B&Qs trying to satisfy madams shopping list only to find either most items out of stock or failure to get two party agreement on choice. Returning home, totally stressed and starving hungry, I was presented with a bowl of clear green vegetable liquid and a Ryvita!

On day three I started a "Guess the Weight" spreadsheet which revealed I had lost 3¼ lbs, so come early doors, flushed with this success and a new found enthusiasm to "do better", (something that apparently I could have done a lot more of in most subjects over 50 years ago, according to my school reports), I jogged to the Fox.

Well I call it  jog very loosely - it was more like a geriatric shuffle and is not to be recommended for the slightly overweight, very unfit over 65's.!

On arriving at the door to the public bar I found that my legs had given up the ghost. I fell through the door and had to be propped up onto a stool in the corner of the bar where I remained, attempting to regain my breath, for a full 10 minutes before recovering sufficiently enough to thank the land lady for presenting me with a pint, pay her and take the first delicious mouthfull!

Needless to say I walked (wobbled) home.

The Welsh Bard offered this encouragement:

They’ve had enough of Baltzer! Their paths have reached a fork:
He’s started using silly words like ‘diet’.
Now, when it comes to fitness, he’s hardly one to talk,
And, at the Fox, there’s danger of a riot!
Yes, Chris has started jogging, when he can barely walk,
And they don’t believe that Janice is watching like a hawk,
So fans have reached consensus, from Yately up to York,
Requesting that, in future, he keeps quiet!

They don’t want Baltzer slimmer – he’s scarcely gone to seed
(Apart from seed potatoes...), but all this talk of jogging,
And other crazy concepts are not what people need –
It’s time to stop the blasphemies he’s flogging.
As all of them are devotees of indolence and greed,
His fans may be in danger of taking what they read
As gospel, so they think it’s time that Chris should take the lead,
To concentrate on loopy lunar blogging!

It's now day 6 and I've just weighed in at 13st 5lb, making it 5 lbs I have managed to lose so far.

Only 19 more lbs to go!

It's going to be a long six weeks before we go to Portugal again!

Tomorrow we are off to Weston-Super-Mud for a long week-end, a place that we have wanted to visit since watching "The Cafe" comedy series on Sky One last year:

Let's hope Cyril's Cafe is open.

I was a great fan of Bobby Darin in the 60's and the song "Beyond the Sea" is used as the theme song for "The Cafe" series, sung delightfully by Kathryn Williams.

Here's another version by Jeff Lynne, the final track from his new CD "Long Wave":

Pop music at it's best (IMHO)! He's singing and playing every instrument on this CD except the strings.

Hey Ho!

LINK TO HAIRY DIETERS RECIPES:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/search?programmes[]=p00vq8c6

Once more unto the Plot, dear friends, once more.........

On New Year's day, spurred on by the blue skies and sunshine, and full of New Year's resolution your intrepid allotmenteer ventured forth once more unto the plot to do battle with the out of control cultivated blackberry plants that were threatening to crowd out my raspberry canes and take over my soft fruit bed.

As usual, as soon as I arrived, I discovered there were many other maintenance jobs that needed doing, so morning visits have been scheduled for every day this and next week while the weather remains dry.

I have to count myself lucky that I can actually do anything as my plot is on a slightly raised corner of the site unlike several other plots that are completely underwater.

Despite the awful Spring and Summer weather resulting in a poor return from the normal banker crop, the potato, and the constant attack from the monster slugs which even gorged themselves on my beetroot, some of the other crops have flourished.

None more so that the humble parsnip, a vegetable that I have consistently failed to grow successfully since I took on the allotment. I have spent hours raising parsnips in the greenhouse in root trainer cells then carefully transplanting them into individually prepared conical shaped holes filled with sifted soil. All to no avail. The results were invariably the same - stumpy tops and "forking" roots sprouting out in all directions.

This year I took no special care at all. I sowed  3 seeds in a group at intervals direct into the ground and forgot about them. To my amazement they all germinated and I was left with two rows of healthy seedlings.  On harvesting some for the Christmas period I was amazed at how difficult they were to dig up, as it turned out not through frozen or compacted soil but because of their size.

I dug up two with a combined weight 3¼ pounds. Now that's what you call parsnips!

We were going to go to Cyprus for 3 weeks in January but decided we should spend some time re-acquainting ourselves with our house and all the outstanding jobs that have accumulated over the last two years. Needles to say I am still at the "Planning" stage.

The Fox made the front page of the local paper again last week for all the right reasons.

Community pub thrives after time called on food plans

It would appear that after nine months Greene King have finally got the message. The Fox is where local people go to have a drink NOT to sit down and eat. Even their final pathetic attempt to drum up some food trade by installing a hot cabinet on the bar, armed with over priced Peter's Pies, failed miserably. All it was used for was warming up the hands of the boys from the building sites when they came in from work and the unsold produce, which hadn't been nicked when no one was looking, becoming the staple diet of the now quite portly "Who Ate All the Pies Roger", the Landlord.

I am now reading the fourth of the Brentford trilogy novels by Robert Rankine, "The Sprouts of Wrath", in which there is a wonderful passage describing exactly how a pub should be:

"Not one hundred yards due North of Norman's shop, as fair flies the griffin, there stands a public house which is the very hub of the Brentonian universe. Solidly constructed of old London stocks and fondly embellished with all the Victorian twiddly bits, The Flying Swan gallantly withstood the slings and arrows of outrageous brewery management. It's patrons have never known the horrors of fizzy beer or pub grub that comes 'a-la-basket'.

    The Swan had grown old gracefully. The etched glass windows, tinted with nicotine and the exhalations of a million beery breaths, sustained that quality of  light exclusive to elderly pubs. The burnished brass of the beer engines shone like gold and the bar top glowed with a deep patina. The heady perfumes of Brasso and beeswax blended with those of hops and barley, grape and grain to produce an enchanting fragrance all of its own. Only a man born without a soul would not pause a moment upon entering The Swan for the first time, breathe in the air, savour the atmosphere and say, 'This is a pub'.

    But of course, for all its ambience, redolence and Ridley Scottery, a pub is only as good as the beer it serves. And here it must be said that those on offer were of such a toothsome relish, so satisfying in body and flavour as might reasonably elicit bouts of incredulous head-shaking and murmurs of disbelief from the reader.

    Nevertheless the eight hand-drawn ales available were of a quality capable of raising eulogies from seasoned  drinkers, their bar-side converse long hag-ridden by cliches of how much better beer tasted in the good old days."  
                                                                                               Robert Rankine - The Grapes of Wrath

As this particular story unfolds Brentford is chosen to host the Olympic Games, not  at Griffin Park, but in a soon to be erected purpose built stadium supported 500 feet in the air by four large columns. In preparation for the great event the Brewery, (it's got to be Greene King), have unveiled grandiose plans to convert the Flying Swan into an upmarket Hooray Henry 'wine and dine' bar, changing its name to "The Pentathlon Bar". The locals are NOT happy!

Remind you of your local? It reminds me of mine!

When I heard this story I must confess it made me laugh and the Welsh Bard quite rightly felt strongly about it as well:

Another fine day, so once more unto the plot dear friends, once more!

I leave you with this video of Jeff Lynn's new group, appropriately named "The Jeffs" with a track from their latest CD -

Clever! That's a real 'one man band'.

Hey Ho!