‘into… Tales from the Hip’

… On a rainy day in a small village in the north of England he sat staring at a screen wondering what to write. Only moments earlier he’d had it all figured out. Tales of grandeur induced flashbacks scurried by an impassive conscious while walking the dog. Ugh! Memories bent on subliminal ridiculousness ruminated in the magic chill of the walking woods. And there a Eureka moment unfurled. But now home and defrosted from the winter’s bite, courtesy of a very hot shower, the first he’d had for 7 days due to a bout of covid over the Christmas period whereby delirium set foot, lending validation for all activities null and void except necessities borne out of chocolate, cheese and war films. Happy days. Now cleansed from ill and dog duties he sat poised with anticipation in front of his £50.00 hp ProBook 4530s, exhaled loud and abruptly through his nose, stuck a finger in a soapy ear and could think of bugger all. It’ll come to him. He thought. Something always does. Something always has to. It’s how it works, isn’t it?

It had been 27 years since the African adventure. He was 27 when he moved there. The 27 club, he thought, still hoping something would come to him. The 27 Club eh, he mused further drifting on the hyped enigma of coincidences he had no concern for, not now anyway, he didn’t care about the 27 Club and its J clan of Janis’, Jims and Jimis. They were all 27, so what, not relevant, just happened. Omens and reason stood short in line these days. Perhaps he held a care one day, but not now. Given that, he did hanker for their names only to be on the boxset and was reluctant to acknowledge latter day cult deadies like Kurt or Amy, even if they did uphold the same respect to warrant being in the same army. But hogwash and balderdash, you can’t have it. It’s done, dusted. The three J’s were the originals, or was there four, that old dog Brian Jones kick started it all in 1969, didn’t he? But I digress, forget it, it’s over. Means nothing not. Move on. You can’t just add names willy-nilly because of coincidental same aged rock star death. He was side-tracking and knew it, there’s a tune there. Everyday I’m shuffling. He was avoiding the blank page and in the same breath fuelling his propensity to navigate the mundane. Meander as he may he couldn’t shake the awakening in the woods which kept prodding his focus and the all-intent purpose of sitting in front of the bloody screen in the first place. Procrastination’s excuse futile and unforgiving. The Cliché Kid was in town and he knew Time and Tide waited for no man. Sod it, he thought, just write the bloody thing, anything, it’ll weave its own motion. You’ve got to start somewhere, start here and start now, yes by-gummy gum drops, and put in the first and 3rd and maybe even sometimes in the second person while you’re at it, why not, stick it all in the long longed for; The second novel. Yes, God dammit, start the all elusive second novel which has been sort and encouraged previously by at least three people, give the people what they want. Start it now. Who needs a plot! Write it as you go, a weekly blog, a page a week, keep a theme flowing. Why, the zillion chronicles of, It is Time… on fear of returning home after 27 years of being ‘out there’ worked out didn’t it, as did its sequel It Is…  depicting boots on the ground thereafter the fear, and what a smash hit it that was, seeing readers listening in their balmy 100’s.  They were but mere mini stories to read coupled with a radio podcast type thingy-majig brazenly full of sparkling bent oddness. That’s what we need, keep it gonzo style with a hint of ginger biscuits, hoist up the John B me hearty’s and set sail on the Oddball Venus, we’re riding into… into… into… no, not moo moo land, into… into… into…

…stay tuned folks for more of the follow up to the colossal game changer they called Hmmm and he called Durban’s Bread, written 24 years ago, which makes it nearly 27 old now – but right here right now on the other now and coming soon, already happened, happening as we speak, the all longed for second novel bearing tales so irrelevant up to three people have since asked for forgiveness. Written here and now, on the spot, void of plan and full of… hope, ladies and gentlemen, hope Joanna – welcome to… dun dun dun… into… Tales from the Hip.

On another note, the nights are getting lighter on the northern hemisphere’s clock, which is nice.

He sat at the screen and pondered…

 … oh, I can’t wait, can you, shall we go to the World News

true dat

There are three active volcanoes around Naples and with an increase number of earthquakes in the region, all suggests one or more is ready to pop. The Italian Dept of Civil Protection has to come up with a viable solution whereby a huge survey of building safety is being carried out in the large volcanic caldera of western Naples deducing whether to evacuate or not. Tomatoes must be really good in that area. I think it would be a good way to go, on the job, while eating really good tomatoes. Come, buy a house, no mortgage, no need, you’ll be burnt to a crisp in months, but the tomatoes are really good, here try one argh….

new wet flip flops

Asia’s vast majority are to join the consumer ranks of 2024. Millions of newly minted middle class credit wielding folk from Indonesia, India and Vietnam are flooding the shopping malls of Singapore, Hong Kong and Bangkok. I’ve said it a zillion times and I’ll say it again, never before have I seen a country change so much as Vietnam. Now with their Japanese funded metro operational, albeit 6 years late and less many a fine tree, the country is destined to be in the top ten wealthiest countries by the end of the decade. Should of course the US and China allow it and let Tawain get on with their thing… or its tomatoes for them.

mud under the fallen

The night train across Europe continues to be contagious with Hamburg to Vienna, Paris to Berlin, Poland to France to the red Roman roof tiled tops of the Croatian coast to Berlin to Stockholm to sleeping in Amsterdam and Brussels and I’ll have a Danish – Europe is awesome.

here she comes

James Niehues has been hand painting trail maps for world ski resorts since 1987. From North America, Australia, China, Chile and Serbia, it is a 4–5-week process first taking 100+ aerial photos to sketching and finally adding water colours. ‘I can show the beauty you see when skiing, which is a major part of the experience – that’s something computer generated images won’t pick up.’ Says James, and so say all of us. Who knew, hand painted trail maps.

there she goes

Toronto’s reclaiming the mouth of the brilliantly named Don River. Or re-routing to be exact. A project the biggest of its kind in the world, will see the Cannucks bung on 4 sleek bridges, 29 hectares of public parkland, 13 hectares of wildlife habitat, new roads, new bus routes and housing for 25,000. They partly rerouted the river mouth in the 1880’s and made a pig’s ear of it causing basically the death of the river – shame on you, you river Don people. But it got better and after an extensive clean up there now reside bald eagles and mink. Mink toupee, what every best bald eagle is wearing in 2024.

wasn’t that nice

Ok lastly just enough time to mention Thailand have initiated booze tax cuts to encourage tourism. That’s 10 – 5% off wine sales and 10 – 0% off spirits. Nightclubs will also get extended hours to pay for the offset. Their aim is to garner 34m tourists this year up from last year’s 28m.

And Denmark’s Queen Margrethe II made her last public appearance in a horse drawn carriage this week before she abdicates and hands the reign over to Crown Prince Frederik. I think it was King Canute the Danish King who effectively penned the Cliché Kids proverb about time and tide, which takes us full circle and ponders me so whether he’ll appear in into… Tales from the Hip

Keep it turning keep it wheel, keep it radioPrimco.com

Till next weak folks – spelling correct.

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