Just Scan From The Neck Down Please.

Freddy Shepherd must have been taking neurosurgery lessons because it appears as if he has managed to perform a lobotomy on Michael Owen who...get this...has agreed to join Newcastle United on a four year deal. Owen flew over to the UK yesterday for talks with both Liverpool and Newcastle with a view to securing a move away from Real Madrid. After spending a couple of hours talking over the move with Rafael Benitez, the Liverpool manager, he drove up to Northumberland to talk with a Newcastle contingent of Freddy Shepherd, Alan Shearer, Graeme Souness and Dean Saunders. Most people assumed he was just being polite; he’s that kind of guy apparently. But no, one of the biggest transfer shocks of recent years is now a reality; subject to a successful medical (do they do brain scans?).

I can only assume that Real have rejected Liverpool’s offer or that Benitez has put his foot down and said that he didn’t want Owen in his side, after all he hasn’t been very vocal in his wish to see Owen play in red. It will be interesting to see how both Newcastle and Owen play things at the press conferences. Owen hasn’t exactly been crying from the rooftops in a wish to play for us, quite the opposite, but I would have thought he’ll make all the right noises when required. Most fans will have forgotten all the negative stuff after hearing of his signing and he will get a heroes reception when he pulls on a black and white shirt for the first time. I hope this turns out to be a dream move for both parties and he thinks of this as the best decision of his career by the time he has to write his memoirs.

Pointless Weekend

Another Sunday, another Premiership game for Newcastle, another defeat and once again no goals. Not that many people will have been surprised by the result or even the 2:0 score line for that matter. The disappointing things were that barely troubled Van Der Sar apart from an overruled effort by Luque, we lost three midfielders to injury and the fact that both goals were down to defensive errors. Luque’s performance a mere 2 days into his Newcastle career did give some cause for cheer but not much else could be considered positive. Now only a wholly woeful Sunderland can ‘boast’ a worse record and things need to be addressed very quickly. Hopefully the next few days before the transfer window closing will see the arrival of at least a striker plus, hopefully, a left back and a centre back.

I’m not even close to panicking yet and still think we can qualify for Europe but only if we get a goalscorer. The word on the net is that Liverpool have lined up a deal that will take Cisse to France, take your pick from Marseille, Monaco or Lyon, thus opening the door for Michael Owen to step right through. The one stumbling block to this plan is that they are only prepared to offer the £8M they received last year from Real Madrid for the player. Owen still maintains Merseyside is his preferred destination. Dirk Kuit of Feyenoord, another potential target according to the rumour mongers, has expressed a wish to remain in Holland and Everton have allegedly had a bid of £10M rejected. All in all the options appear to be dwindling and time is running out; ask me on Thursday if I’m still not panicking.

Gaming With Mr Gygax

Last night I sat in a room with a government advisor on Broadband, a primary school teacher, a Clinical Lead in Speech and Language Therapy, a librarian, a youth worker, a railway engineer and a housewife (live in lover?) and we played Dungeons and Dragons (D&D). Yes that’s right Dungeons and Dragons; you know the game that they were playing just before they discovered ET in the movie. If that sounds a bit childish of us perhaps I can make it a bit more adult by saying we each drank about 2 bottles of wine each over the course of the evening. Or does that make us sound even more childish?

I have been playing D&D for over 25 years now through most of its incarnations from Chainmail and on to the current version 3.5. I started at school under the tutelage of a couple of guys in the year above me and before long was a regular in their ‘group’. Sessions would be held in one or another’s bedroom and were usually accompanied by the sounds of our latest record purchases and the odour of burning joss sticks. I was never really sure what the respective parents thought of it all, they were probably just happy we weren’t hanging out on street corners. Of course back then we didn’t just stick to D&D, we also had regular sessions where we played Traveller, Bushido, Top Secret and Call of Cthulhu amongst many others.

I never subscribed to the notion that Role Playing Games (RPG’s) caused me or anyone else any harm. These comments usually came from religious evangelists who just wanted all kids to be in bible class and couldn’t understand that playing a game that had the potential for the mention of Daemons and Devils was no more harmful than reading about them in the ‘good book’. RPG’s are even now still stigmatised as being somewhat deviant as are those who play them. If only our bosses knew eh? Well in the case of my boss he would jump at the chance of a game so I don’t know what that says about the psychiatric profile of the Clinical Trials Unit in Newcastle, hmmm.

Anyway please see the photographic evidence below and make your own minds up on just how deviant we all look.

As usual you’ll have to wait for the photos. I’ll try and get them on before the weekend.

Is There a Brain Surgeon In The House?

You may have noticed I have avoided any talk of Newcastle United since the start of the season. Well there is a very good reason for this...embarrassment. With a grand total of one point from three games played and as yet no goals scored the fears of even the most pessimistic supporters are being realised. With our next game at home to Manchester United this points total is unlikely to change this weekend and already the odds have dramatically fallen on Graeme Souness being the first managerial casualty of the premiership season. To be fair at Wednesdays defeat away at Bolton the supporters got behind Souness and chanted his name through the game whilst calling for the head of Chairman Freddie Sheppard.

Fat Freddie as he is ‘affectionately’ known was the Chairman who was caught slagging of his team, players, fans and city during a sting by the News of the World in a Spanish brothel...what a guy! He, along with John and Douglas Hall, has been creaming off excessive dividend payments from the club over the last few years and none seem to offer anything positive in return to the club. Every transfer window is greeted with wild statements from Mr Sheppard telling the fans of huge bids for players who would have no intention of playing in Newcastle; see Wayne Rooney last year and the ongoing saga of Michael Owen (as yet still lobotomy free). The majority of the fans would much rather he kept his fat mouth firmly shut and got on with the job in hand, trying to steer the club away from the bottom of the table and towards the top.

Newcastle’s main problem at the moment is the lack of any firepower up front. The strikers of first team status currently at the club are:

Alan Shearer who is several seasons past his best and to be honest should just be making appearances from the bench this season.

Shola Ameobi who, despite the hope of all on Tyneside, looks likely to amount to nothing more than a very average Premiership player or decent Championship player. Does any other player have such slow speed of thought?

Michael Chopra who is not a Premiership quality player but could do quite well in the lower leagues and is currently injured.

All in all the lack of goals so far this season is not surprising and perhaps because of this Freddie has made agreed a fee for Albert Luque of Deportivo la Coruna despite claiming there would be no new offers after his ‘final offer’ for the player last week. Luque is a left side player, which we desperately need after the sale/loan of Laurent Robert, and operates as an attacking midfielder/supplementary striker. I have always enjoyed watching Luque play in La Liga and I think he is a good buy for Newcastle but, and it’s a big but, he is not a twenty goals a season striker. If we are to make any progress we still need to acquire someone who will net us close to that mark this season and for the next four or five.

This brings us back to Michael Owen, if ever there was a player as desperate not to join another club, as Owen is with Newcastle, I have yet to hear of him. He has been quoted as saying that he would be happy to join Arsenal, Manchester United and, preferably, Liverpool on a full term basis but would only join Newcastle on a one year loan if all other possibilities fail. It’s so nice to feel wanted as a club. In some ways I hope we don’t take Owen on loan, even if he would be ideal for the club, after all can you imagine the crowd reaction as he begrudgingly makes his debut or if he misses a sitter against Liverpool, ouch! It would be a far from ideal scenario for all parties and I can’t imagine the player responding positively to the situation and even a full transfer, though very welcome, could be difficult now.

Short Back and Sides

I had taken a day off from work today in the anticipation of having something of a hangover after Sunday’s beer train but rather surprisingly felt quite bright. Despite not getting to bed until one in the morning after several nightcaps of Bowmore I was up and at ‘em early. Gill on the other hand managed to have a nice lie in until about 10:30 so it is as well she had taken a half day just in case of such an event. Taking things at a leisurely pace I went into town with Gill at 12 with the express intention of buying some gear to wear for our holiday.

My first stop was at the barbers for a much needed clipping. I have been going to the same barbers for about five years now and enjoy its very old world charm and the banter of all the lads who work there. It is the only place I know in Newcastle where you can get a hot towel shave with a cut throat razor, although I have yet to enjoy the experience myself. From the barbers it is just a short walk up into the centre of town and the main shopping areas. I’m not a great clothes shopper, I never feel comfortable in the shops or with the staff. I always feel as if they are having a quiet snigger at me as I pick up items they obviously deem to be unfashionable but well suited for me. Paranoid? Me?

To be fair most of this discomfort stems from the fact that for more years than I would care to mention all I wore were jeans with t-shirts or white linen granddad shirts and a pair of trainers/cowboy boots. Basically your standard rock fans dress code. What with my advancing years and receding hair line I dropped the rock look and started to dress in a more conventional manner. This of course meant I had to introduce myself to such weird places as Top Man, Burtons and Next and their bewildering range of garments. I still marvel at the fact that I can buy a concert ticket and tour t-shirt and still spend less than I have to in order to buy a t-shirt by, say, Diesel, astonishing. Anyway despite being armed with these fears and prejudices I walked away from Next with two pairs of trousers (cords and linen, in case you were interested) and a couple of t-shirts (green and red, ditto). My attempts at purchasing a pair of brown leather casual shoes were, however, thwarted by an attack of indecision.

By this point I was losing patience with both myself and the fact that due to the school holidays Newcastle was packed with hormone ravaged teenagers and yapping pre-pubescent kids. Taking my leave I headed down to the Quayside, bagged myself a cheese and onion pasty from Greggs and made for the Ouseburn and the sanctuary of its many watering holes. Along the way I noticed a greater volume of traffic than is usual in this part of town. This was down to the number of middle class couples carrying Baltic carrier bags turning right off the Millennium Bridge and families with young kids walking hand in hand. The reason for this I realised was that they were all making for the newly opened Centre for Children’s Books. Unfortunately the museum is not well sign posted and you have to pass through a slightly run down area to reach it causing some to turn back and others to grip hands more tightly and up the pace. All very amusing as I sat outside at the Tyne watching it all whilst supping my pint. I must have looked particularly rough as none of the quite obviously lost passers by stopped to ask me for directions.

Pleasant Valley Sunday

The Tyne Valley is one of the most beautiful stretches of countryside I know with some wonderful towns and villages dotted along it. The Tyne Valley Railway services these communities, running from Newcastle to Carlisle it is blessed with some of the best views of any rail journey. When I first qualified as a Radiographer, back in 1988, I worked for a time in Carlisle and was a regular commuter along the line, invariably armed with a book and my walkman. The journey was usually uneventful, there would be the occasional disruptive drunk, screaming kids or excessively talkative stranger, the usual stuff, nothing out of the ordinary. On Sunday this journey took a stroll down Salvador Dali Way and on into Surreal Place via Whatthef**k Avenue.

Anyone who had not been forewarned could be forgiven for thinking they had passed into another dimension as they entered the train, their senses assaulted by the sight and sound of 10 ukulele players from the Ukulele Allstars strumming merrily away at one end of a carriage. To further add to their disorientation the other end of the carriage had been taken over by a couple of barrels of Real Ale and Cider kindly provided by the Wylam Brewery. Welcome aboard the second of this years Event Trains organised by the Tyne Valley Initiative (or something like that...couldn’t find a link), enjoy the ride.

Joining me on this...err...trip were Gill, Billy, Steph and my youngest sister Lisa. Everyone bar Lisa, who we met at Central Station, had been into Fenwick’s to pick up some nibbles from the deli and then on to the Duke for a libation or two prior to the journey. Suitably oiled we headed to the station passing a number of ukulele wielding people before bumping into George Welsh leader of the Allstars. George had been the star of a similar event last year which we had also attended and is a well known figure in the local music scene. On to the platform and there was the beer laden trolley waiting to embark, all the pieces were falling into place.

There were one or two passengers on the platform warily eying all this up with a mixture of confusion and amusement, wondering what was going on. Once aboard it all became clear to them and there was a frantic five minutes of seat swapping as people either moved to be clear of the beer/ukuleles or tried to get closer. We were lucky (depending on your point of view of course) and sat only a couple of seats from the entertainment. Through the journey we were treated to tunes by Simon and Garfunkel, Donovan, Bad Company, Jeff Beck and Status Quo amongst others, but no George Formby, unfortunately. As we progressed further along the line and more alcohol was consumed the ‘sing along’ atmosphere intensified and the volume rose accordingly.

Seeing the looks on the faces of unsuspecting travellers was as much fun as any other part of the journey. Some would enter the train, take one look and head straight to the other carriage whilst others would stand and watch for a minute or two before deciding we all looked relatively harmless and that the beer looked particularly appetising and so joined in. I was invited to show my ukulele prowess for one of the songs as they no doubt recognised a fellow muso, so I strummed my 2 taught-there-and-then cords along to...well I don’t know really, I was too busy trying to play the correct cord at the correct tempo (I failed) to worry about what song I was playing. I’m sure it happens to Clapton all the time.

After three and a half hours the frivolities came to an all too soon end leaving us all wanting more. I think we will make a point of turning up at one of the Allstars sessions at the Cumberland or Stout Fiddler and maybe, just maybe, join in with the playing again. Apparently you can pick up a good ukulele for about £40 in some of the instrument shops in town. Even Gill professed an interest in giving the ukulele a go because it looked like fun so I might have stumbled upon an idea of what I could get her for Christmas! (I now await a panicked call from Gill telling me that something from Richard Sinton’s would be a much better idea thank you very much.)

Photos on the way as soon as I feed the dial up hamster.

Energy Rating: A+

Well it had to happen, we’ve just booked an expensive holiday, Gill wants a new car, and it’s nearing the Christmas shopping period so obviously the washing machine has taken upon itself to self destruct. It hasn’t quite completed the process just yet but every cycle is currently accompanied by the dulcet tones of metal grinding on metal. I’ll give it two more cycles before it finally gives up the ghost. All of which means a trip into town tonight to compare different makes and models, I can’t wait.

Having had a cursory browse on the internet it appears we will not be lost for options

• How many washing programmes would we like?
• Do we need a hand wash facility?
• What maximum spin cycle speed is required?

And on the green side of things...

• How energy efficient is the machine?
• How much water does it use on a standard cycle?

All this information and much, much mare is available for every model out there and there are a lot of them.

I just know I’m going to get a headache tonight.

Hello...Is There Anybody Out There?

It’s too hot to work today, far too hot, I feel awfully sweaty, which I guess you really wanted to know, sorry. I have a real problem with heat and I always end up dripping with sweat. It’s so bad I have to wear white shirts for work because when I wear coloured shirts all you can see are gross sweat stains, yuck. I’m painting a lovely picture of myself here aren’t I. it’s just as well I’m happily married and I’m not using this as an avenue to hit on women !

Which brings me today’s point, in a round about way. Who actually reads this s**t? I know some have my friends pop in to have a laugh at/with me but are there people out there reading this who don’t know me? If so how did you end up here? I occasionally click on the ‘next blog’ button on the top of the screen to see where it takes me, I like the random chaos that ensues...Toyota spare parts anyone?...how about Californian Insurance?...not to mention wedding photographs aplenty. Within this morass though I have occasionally stumbled across another diary and spent a couple of minutes perusing the trials and tribulations/joy/pain/hope contained within. Clicking onto the profile page and following the links therein takes me even further into the depths of the blog world and I’m often left surprised at the different personalities with the same interests.

All part of life’s rich tapestry I guess.

Dripping Wet

I got soaked through to the skin on Saturday as I was caught in a flash storm heading into town. When I had left the house it was pleasantly warm but slightly overcast but by the time the bus had reached Byker the skies had darkened, the temperature dropped and the heavens opened. In the time taken to cross the 5 yards from the bus to the nearest cover I was drenched and so gave up and just trudged along to the Duke. Billy had been luckier and had dived into Spin just as the worst of the rain hit and so was relatively dry when he arrived.

It was the first day of the Premiership season and we stood watching the scores come in as I drip dried. To be honest our hearts weren’t in it with Newcastle not playing until the Sunday and this was also the first year we had not been involved in a fantasy football league. The fantasy league was not run this year as Glen who co-ordinated it had relocated to Liverpool due his work. I think both Billy and I felt a sense of loss standing watching the scores come through but having nothing riding on what we saw. We gave up before half time and fell back on that old faithful, record buying.

I’ve been going through a bit of a Heavy Metal phase recently so anything with a cover depicting dragons, warriors, spaceships or any other kind of science fiction/fantasy cover was fair game. I’m not really up on all the subgenres and what exactly each sounds like; Power Metal, Grind Core, Viking Metal, Battle Metal, and Symphonic Gothic Metal etc. etc. I just like loud guitars. I tend to go on gut feeling and it’s something that has worked very well over the years. Saturdays gut feeling led me to Nevermore’s ‘This Godless Endeavour’ and The Children of Bodom’s ‘Something Wild’. Both turned out to be a little heavier than I would normally go for, grunted vocals and all, but I enjoyed both and I think there was enough there for me to further explore their back catalogues.

Before bankrupting ourselves we retreated to the relative safety of Steph’s flat, drinking and chatting our way through to midnight. Perhaps Steph’s offer of a ‘small’ brandy before we left should have been politely refused. I’m getting old, I know I am. My tolerance for alcohol is fading so fast that I almost need to book a day off afterwards to recover and, for the second week running, my Sunday was spent atoning for my intake on Saturday. Well I’m off now to surf for detox remedies and a nice comfy pair of slippers.

Hypocrites Also Feel Pain

At 2:00 today I will be attending the funeral of David’s brother, it’s not something I’m looking forward to. I am attending with Jan who also works in the unit and possibly Susan if she can finish with her auditor in time (in an apt sense of surreallity her auditor today is called Jesus). I think it important that, as a unit, we can offer David some support and hopefully it will make his eventual return to work a little easier. He needs to know we understand and sympathise with the pain and hurt he is feeling at this moment.

I’m not a great funeral person and not just because I don’t like to see people hurting. I’m not a religious person and feel hypocritical when taking part in any religious service. I feel uncomfortable reciting words in which I have no belief and often have the opposing view of and so usually stand in silence. Funerals in particular I often find to be cold, impersonal and comfortless. The service, largely unchanged in hundreds of years, is the same for everyone and, I feel, strips the individuality from the person rendering them to just another chore for the priest/vicar/pastor etc. etc. etc.

Only when the deceased is an active member of the congregation does any sense that we are there to say farewell to an actual person seem to permeate into the proceedings. I know David’s father is a religious man and I assume the rest of the family have similar views so I hope they find the strength and comfort they are going to need today from the service. I would never criticise anyone from taking strength from whatever source they find to be most helpful regardless of my views on that source.

I know that it is my wish not to have any religious aspect to my farewell do, not funeral, farewell do. Unfortunately I recently attended the funeral of Steve whom I had known for 20+ years and was the long term partner of another work colleague Jane. I’ve never had such a good time at a funeral as I am sure all who attend thought. The feeling of loss was palpable but the service, delivered by a member of North East Humanists, concentrated on everything Steve had left behind for everyone and by its end all present had laughed at least once and there were smiles on their faces. When I go I hope the Humanists help me put as many smiles on as many faces.

Toilet Tales

Well the trip to the vets was not as bad as it could have been, the bill came in under £100 due mainly to the fact that there was no litter to be had and Floyds eye was OK...just looks strange. We’ll have to hunt out some Catsan soon or suffer the consequences. The picky buggers that Floyd and Coral are, they will only use Catsan, and anything else in the litter tray is an open invitation to them to use the rest of the house as a toilet. Gee if only when I started to post I realised I would be talking about my cats toilet preferences... I bet you’re soooooo glad to be reading this.

Gratuitous Pussy Stuff

When I was a youngster and I pestered my mam about getting a cat she always said that once I had a house of my own I could get one. Unfortunately she had not passed this information on to Gill who balked at the idea of her (note not our) furniture becoming a scratching post. However on my thirtieth birthday Gill deposited two little bundles of fluff in my lap and told me she was off to get some litter and food. I was stunned and didn’t know what to say which caused Gill to think she had made a big mistake. Far from it I was entranced by them from the word go.

The little grey bundle of fur instantly became Floyd, the name just fell into place and I couldn’t contemplate him being called anything else. The little peachy, pink, beige bundle of fur proved to be more of a problem. My initial choice of Pink was instantly dismissed by Gill who refused to be seen calling for Pink Floyd in the evening, I guess she had a point. In the end ‘Coral’ kind of fit and so she became, although I still don’t think her name fits as well as Floyd’s does

Tonight Gill and I take them to the vets for their annual booster injections against feline flu and lymphoma. Neither Floyd nor Coral are great fans of the vets but compared to my sister Lisa’s old cat Kali (?Sp), who would fight tooth and nail, they are no real bother to get there. Whilst we are there we will get Floyd’s left eye checked out because it has looked a little...I don’t know...’strange’ over the last few days. It doesn’t seem to be bothering him or anything but we’d feel happier getting it looked at.

As an upholstery/carpet/LP/flesh saving exercise we’ll also get their claws clipped as they are getting particularly razor like at the moment. So, what with the injections, clipping, some litter and dry food we are looking at a bill of £100+ and that’s before we consider any further cost accrued for treatment of Floyd’s eye, if required. Still our lives would be a much emptier place without them so the money is not begrudged, much. It’s also a hell of a lot cheaper than the £300+ it cost us to have Floyd seen to after he was savaged by a dog earlier this year. I recon he was just getting too old and couldn’t evade the attack as he had done a number of times in the past. It’s a bugger this ageing malarkey.

Finish What Ya Started

About 2 months ago I received a very nice surprise in my pay packet in the shape of about £1k as a result of having been slightly underpaid for the past couple of years. Now anyone who knows me will understand just how large a hole this instantly started to burn in my pocket. Before I had even confirmed with payroll that there had been no error made I was planning just what I could spend all this lovely money on. After dismissing the obvious first thoughts such as “how many CD’s could I buy?” I decided I needed to purchase something ‘substantial’.

I don’t have what you would call a hobby beyond listening to music and as I’m quite happy with my Hi-fi at the moment I didn’t see the need to replace any of my gear. So what else could I turn my hand to? And perhaps more to the point what could I turn my hand too that wouldn’t lead Gill to looking up divorce lawyers in the Yellow Pages? The answer came out of the left field and totally threw me when it popped into my mind. What was this shocking thought I hear you ask…well I decided to…wait for it…learn to play the guitar!

Now those very same people who understood the money…hole…pocket…burning scenario will know just how unlike me that decision was. I have known guitar players for years and always admired their skill and the sound they could create but never once had I expressed an interest in playing. In fact I hadn’t even picked up a guitar in my life before never mind tried to play one. This was going to make selling the whole thing to Gill a very interesting exercise.

I need not have worried though Gill was very understanding and after getting over the initial shock of my announcement she agreed that I could buy what I wanted but with one proviso, which I will come to later. How did I get Gill to agree? Well I was honest, as simple as that. Remember earlier when I said I had no real hobbies? What I said to Gill was that I was sick of wasting my evenings coming in from work and plonking down in front of the TV or PC and vegetating. What I needed was something to do in the evenings that would take some hard work and dedication to achieve but I could do by myself, hence the guitar playing. I didn’t want to be in a band or get up on stage or anything, I just wanted to be creative and work my mind a bit harder.

Buying the guitar was my next challenge…what should I be looking for?…what other gear would I need?…what sort of price should I be paying?…and how do I know the shop is not ripping off the poor schmuk guitar virgin? Facing this challenge I did what I always do in such a situation, research by buying several relevant mags and surfing the internet. All this really did was confirm how little I knew and just how much guitar gear was actually available. What I need was a guide to take me through all the info and pinpoint the important stuff and prepare me for that trip to the now dreaded instrument store. So I turned to an old friend from my college days, Val, who also works at the hospital and arranged to pop around and pick the brains of her guitar playing husband, Russ.

To call Russ just a guitar player is doing him an injustice he is a very, very talented musician and a good friend to boot. Russ is one of the North East’s stars of the New Wave of British Heavy Metal scene having played with Satan, Blind Fury and Pariah (pretty much the same band with a different name/line ups). He is currently creating a stir around the pubs and clubs here as the leader of the Russ Tippins Band performing both lead guitar and vocal duties. So armed with a few bottles of beer I headed around to have a chat and try to get my head around what I should be looking for/asking. Russ’s solution was simple, he would take me shopping at the weekend and play the guitar so I could be sure I liked what I was hearing and ensure I wasn’t buying a duffer. What a guy!

I have to admit that on the way to town with Russ my stomach was tying itself in knots…was I really planning to spend money on something I couldn’t use?...would they make me try and get a sound out of something?...would everyone in the shop stop and stare at the sad old git going through his mid-life crisis?...can you really teach an old dog new tricks? Russ asked me if I had any preferences on what type of guitar I would like and if I was trying to get a particular kind of sound. After digesting my answers he suggested I should look at a Les Paul style of guitar but to also see if anything else in the shop caught my eye and with that I walked through the door…

Russ had brought me to Sound Control on Dean Street in Newcastle as he had had dealings with them before and knew the staff well. Standing in the shop I could feel the guitar clad walls closing in on me and I nearly crapped myself when Mark the assistant came over to us. Thankfully Russ took control of the situation and once we had confirmed the type of thing we were after Mark pulled a couple of guitars of the stands and handed them to Russ to put them through their paces. In the end we only listened to three guitars because it quickly became obvious that what I wanted and what I was going to buy was an Epiphone Les Paul. All that needed to be determined was which model was going to win out and that was decided by Gill’s one proviso…”it has to look gorgeous”.

I finally walked out of the store with a Flame-top Epiphone Les Paul Custom, a Line 6 Spider II 15 watt practice amp, a Korg CA-30 Guitar Tuner, a guitar bag, lead, strap, stand and a selection of plectrums. I can’t remember the exact price I paid for all of this but I do remember that I needed a couple of drinks afterwards. Russ left me at home with my new gear, a couple of quickly taught cords to practice and the telephone number of a guy who taught guitar and may be prepared to take on a total novice. I pulled up a chair, strapped on the Epi (that’s what we guitarists call an Epiphone), got my fingers into position and started to strum...

So why am I telling you all of this now? Well after a couple of weeks of practicing and getting my fingers used to the sheer agony of fretting the strings I stopped playing, just stopped. Work was becoming a distraction, I was considering changing jobs and my workload was increasing and I used this as an excuse to do nothing other than sit and vegetate in front of the TV or PC once again. The guitar stood on its stand in the living room accusing me every time I walked past it and Gill was biting her tongue desperate to say something but knowing I was punishing myself enough.

Yesterday my annoyance at myself got too much and I finally cracked. The telephone number Russ had given me was sitting at home so rather than let the moment pass I searched the internet and found the number of the Northern Music Centre in Heaton who provide one to one tuition and gave them a call. I now have a date with one of their tutors and I feel as if I have cleared a huge hurdle. I look forward to finally starting what I had set out to do. I’ll keep you posted at various times on my progress but I don’t think any will be as important as that made yesterday.

Saturday Night's Alright For Drinking

I’m pleased to report that the retail foray for CD’s into Newcastle on Saturday was a success. Well a success in so much as I was able to get over the purchasing something hurdle. As for the quality of my purchases well we’ll just have to wait and see as I have yet to have a chance to listen to them properly. For reference my purchases were Sonata Arctica’s ‘Reckoning Night’ and ‘Universal Migrator Parts 1 & 2’ by Ayreon. I’ll pop something down here about them once I’ve had a good listen.

I did put the Sonata Arctica disc on yesterday afternoon but I was still suffering from a hangover following Saturday’s excesses and didn’t really take much in. Billy and I had met in town and wandered around our usual haunts before taking a breather in the Duke. Over the last year or so this has become our regular Saturday port of call replacing Trillians/The Jubilee which had held the dubious honour since about 1980. There are always about 7 different real ales on the go so we can usually find something we like. The fun is in the finding.

Suitably lubricated I felt I could approach the task of purchasing something with fewer mental shackles, and so I could. The purchases were made in RPM which, handily, is directly opposite the Duke. Whilst not the cheapest store, I guess Windows still holds that title, it has a great selection of music from early 60/70’s rock to up to the minute dance, with most points in between. I know I’ve become something of a regular fixture here because the staff have started to greet me in the street/pub/metro etc.

After making the purchases the obvious thing to do was celebrate which we decided to do in the Newcastle Arms. Known as the Top Arms due to the fact that there also used to be a Newcastle Arms near the Quayside which was know as…yes, you’ve guessed it…The Bottom Arms. The celebratory ale was Port ‘o’ Call from the Bank Top Brewery in Bolton. It was a lovely dark strong porter and a pleasant change from the usual light summer ales you get at this time of year. I always enjoy having a drink in the Top Arms due to the characters you tend to get in there. They and the pub itself are a bit rough and ready but I’ve never felt in the least bit uncomfortable in there…not sure what that says about me though…hmmm?

This was certainly turning into one of those days where your capacity for more alcohol seems limitless so Billy and I made an executive decision to tell Steph to meet us back at my house. I hurriedly phoned Gill to make sure all the crap that was lying around on various chairs and the floor was cleared away but, bless her, she had already done this in anticipation of my actions. So off to the local Co-op for some wine and nibbles and a pleasant evening was spent listening to a couple of albums, watching some wonderful dodgy 80’s rock videos and generally having a good chin wag…life rarely gets better than this.

We're all going on a ......

The deed is done…we have finally booked our holiday. The lucky hotel is the Casa Fuster who will be relieving us of about 1.4K for the privilege so we are hoping for something really f**king special for that kind of money. Of course Gill is now in a panic about her wardrobe’s suitability for such a prestigious lodging. Me, I’ll just make sure my t-shirts are ironed. Well I’ve got to make an effort.

So whilst one saga has been resolved the continuing slapstick comedy that is Newcastle United does it’s best to keep the rest of the nation amused. Today’s non bombshell is that Jermaine Jenas (JJ) is not enjoying himself at Newcastle at the moment. This obviously has nothing to do with the fact that Arsenal, Tottenham Hotspur and Manchester United are all batting their £ shaped eyelashes at him, oh no. Rather he feels as if he is “living in a goldfish bowl” in Newcastle which would, no doubt, be much less of a problem for poor JJ in London or Manchester.

To be honest I’m not sure I would be too bothered if some cash rich mugs were to part with £10-12M for the player. He is, it seems, yet another of Newcastle’s young starlets who’s play has failed to match their supposed potential. In the three and a half years JJ has been here at Newcastle we have seen flashes of brilliance but no real consistency of good form and last year he was, if anything, consistently poor. Others this slight could also be levelled at include Kieran Dyer, James Milner, Titus Bramble and Shola Ameobi amongst others. Not the ideal assessment of a large proportion of your first team squad is it?

Tomorrow I plan to meet up with Billy, we have of course not arranged this yet, and attempt to splash some cash on a couple of CD’s. I say attempt because, as Gill has just reminded me, we have to try and save some spending money for when we are away. With this sort of pressure I’ll probably walk around several record shops with handfuls of discs only to put them back at the point of purchase. Both Billy and I are past masters at this technique and could easily have sizably larger CD collections/debts without it. Both Gill and Steph are eternally grateful for this flaw in our psyches.

Told you so.....

Well the Newcastle result last night was not quite as I had predicted although the outcome remains the same, no European football until next season at the earliest. The performance was about what we could have expected at this stage of the season and with the team we put out. We looked bereft of ideas on how to get the ball forward and an aged, slow Alan Shearer is not going to frighten many defences this season from open play. James Milner grabbed our goal but once again failed to impress, his crossing both from open play and dead ball situations was appalling.

The positives to come out of the game were in the shape of the performance of our two new midfield players Emre and Scott Parker. Both were making their debuts and Emre in particular looks as if he could cause problems for opposing teams with his dead ball delivery. They worked hard throughout the game and even when it was obvious we were not going to get anything out of the tie they still played with intensity.

The defence, responsible for the 2 goals conceded, is not our ideal starting back four but due to injuries and lack of transfer activity is the one likely to start the season against Arsenal, joy of joys. The newspapers this morning have linked us with a loan move for Inter Milan’s left back Francesco Coco…I’ll forgo the clown jokes for the moment. Coco has played sparingly over the last couple of seasons for Inter and spent some time on loan with Barcelona. He has the reputation of being a bit of a playboy (when will we learn?), owning several bars in his hometown so he should feel quite at home down on the quayside. I wonder if Graeme Souness has been picking Emre’s brain about possible Italian recruits.

Meanwhile the holiday saga continues and if it goes on much longer it will be a Saga Holiday we will need to book. I have finally gained agreement on the dates I can take so hopefully that is the last hurdle to getting something booked. The dates we want to be away for include week 3 of the La Liga season and Espanyol are playing host to Real Madrid so I think tickets for that may be in order. In a previous visit we had the pleasure of catching Barcelona against Fiorentina in the Champions League and would look forward to seeing another game.

Pessimist Corner

Well things went better yesterday than I had hoped and it looks like we’ve decided on a hotel, well 3 actually. Yeah I know that’s not exactly practical but as Gill said “it gives us options”. The hotels in question are Casa Fuster, Grand Marina and the Pulitzer and all have their good points. If we were being honest both of us would rather stay at Casa Fuster but it is the most expensive choice at about £200/night and hence the ‘options’. Gill is also going to contact the Neri, a hotel we have previously stayed at, just as another of those helpful options.

Gill is phoning each hotel today just to confirm availability and the tariff whilst I am making sure that yes I can have the required time off work (fingers crossed). The time was agreed(ish) earlier this year but we have had some staff changes i.e. loses recently and the booking of annual leave is not as straight forward as it used to be. I should have just booked the whole of September and then cancelled the leave I didn’t require, ho hum.

Tonight, on a totally different note, Newcastle United entertain Deportivo la Coruna in the second leg of their Intertoto Cup tie. We trail 2:1 from the first leg and so will go through on the away goals rule if we win 1:0. Of course that will never happen and I imagine that we will go out in a blaze of disappointment on penalties after we concede a last minute goal after leading 2:0 for most of the game. Pessimistic? Nah, just fatalistic, you try being a Newcastle fan; it’s not much fun you know.

A few years ago Newcastle regularly challenged for a Champions League place and were disappointed if they fell into the UEFA Cup. How things have changed, we were luck to even make the Intertoto this year after finishing a lowly 14th in the Premiership. This season looks like it could be more of the same if we don’t secure the services of a couple of new strikers of proven quality. So far we have been linked with Mark Viduka (lazy, oft-injured, fat Aussie – no thanks), Nicolas Anelka (falls out with every team he has played for and there have been a lot) and Michael Owen (talented England striker so unless he has had a lobotomy we have no chance of landing him) and unfortunately the only one I can see keeping our physios busy this season is Viduka….aaarrrggghhh!!!!!!!

Random Mark Viduka quote…

“I wouldn’t mind if we lost every game as long as we win the league.”

…speaks volumes.

Summer Holidays

For the last 2 months Gill and I have been promising ourselves a holiday in September, preferably in Barcelona. In all that time we have managed to book nothing and any effort to do so has been met resistance in an “I can’t take in all this info, so I’ll not look” kind of way. No names mentioned but it has frustrated me on a couple of occasions. This problem is becoming almost critical with time rapidly running out.

Over the years Gill and I have succumbed to the finer things in life and I’m afraid a 5* or very good 4* is a pre-requisite. This tends to have a soul destroying effect on our Bank Manager and the longer we leave it the more the poor bugger is likely to suffer. A cursory glance at a couple of websites this morning reveals we will be very lucky to get away with anything less than a grand for the 7 nights we had planned. Despite having all of September to play with this price seems fairly constant for all dates.

To further complicate matters there are several gigs throughout the month that we would like to attend such as Jeff Scott Soto on the 6th, Gov’t Mule on the 11th, Budgie on the 15th, Waysted on the 19th plus a Philip Pullman lecture on the 27th. Add to this the Heritage Open Days on the 8th-11th you can see something might have to give. My personal preference would be to see Gov’t Mule (we already have tickets), Waysted and Philip Pullman but we’ll have to see, Gill/the Gods (same thing?) might have other ideas.

So I think tonight we will be looking for 4-5* hotels in the centre of Barcelona that have large rooms (junior suite?), sun terrace/outdoor pool, bar, restaurant, and are in close proximity to the Metro system, all for less than a grand. Should be a piece of cake then! I have a feeling the price we want to pay will have to become somewhat elastic, 1.3K would be my guess. It sounds like a lot of money but we both love the city and its laid back pace of life. It is one of the few places we find we can both fully relax and because we have been a number of times before we don’t feel pressurised into trying to cram as much as we can into our time there. Let’s hope tonight is as stress free, I’ll not hold my breath.