Day One 2015

No Dog Diaries this week (busy, alright… blimey!) – However we can delve into the box… I recently had to delete a load of stuff from my Gmail to free up space. It got so monotonous I just went crazy and got rid of a bleep load of stuff without wanton care nor attention. One particular batch had titles Blog 1, 2 etc, loads of ’em. I had no idea what they were and grew intrigued, so, before deleting No.1 (all other gone and un-get-backable) I took a look – argh memories… this’ll fill a Dog Diary space for a day. P.S Cherry was two years old then

Bilocation – is it possible to be in two places at once… why not…

Day 1; no shower required; it’s Blighty and the air is fresh with just enough bite to keep the finger-toes alert… not a drop of perspiration in sight, and deffo no mozzies.

I’ve just spent the annual 24hr door-to-door migration from somewhere in South East Asia to somewhere in South East England, wondering if our pilot would keep us informed of Glastonbury updates, as happens in big sporting events. Eva, a full red-lipped air-Goddess asked if I wanted salmon or chicken, I said salmon please, as I’d promised myself fish for every meal, and the meal being the only thing I was looking forward to on the flights – daughter No.1 convinced herself she didn’t like airplane food and was just itching for the TV… ha ha, more for me.

Eva didn’t have the salmon, which miffed me why she asked in the first place. Daughter No.1, who sat with Daughter No.2 and mum 9-rows back, because although we had seats booked, could not get four together as they swapped the plane to a bigger newer A380 double-decker, which curiously fresh off the conveyor belt has ash trays fitted on the toilet doors; by-the-by, anyhoo, seats for four of us were unavailable… on a bigger plane. Daughter No.1 managed to get the salmon… oh Eva…

The chicken gave me the squirts, which meant every stop enroute meant a trip to the office. I read about Shane Warne suggesting Anderson will ‘cop it’ from Australia in the Ashes, how the Dalai Lama, Billy Bragg and Pussy Riot mused why Britain’s middle class were lacking ethnic minorities at Glastonbury and how across the pond, weed paraphernalia rakes in 50% revenue of sales in the 4 states it is legal to buy the herb; back on board (we stopped in Dubai for a toilet break), neither Eva nor our pilot commented.

Long haul flights’ immediate effects are like being in limbo. On Blighty’s terra-firma I left 3 half-watched films in the air, most of my bowels in the airports and a sleepless brain in between. As a state of semi-conscious awareness drifted from a world gone by to the familiar sights and smells of a world once lived in and since gone by, but in a blink are back again… the car journey home was, I surmised, a little like what the other half of that paraphernalia was like. Confused? You should be.

Circumnavigating time’s space continuum with reason for being both here and there, now and then, it’s comforting to know the other you is well equipped in being shouldered with creature comforts to adorn a lifestyle that suits both parties, at the same time… Mum and Dad’s fridge was stocked for our return with scotch eggs, pork pies and sausage rolls. Dad had acquired another shed, bringing his tally to 4. I brought a suit home, I didn’t know I had, and found I had one in the cupboard; I didn’t know I had – 2 suits fool – and on the telly Lionel Ritchie was playing at Glastonbury looking more bemused from the euphoric crowd response than we were. Sat there watching his time warp, I was concerned if his face girdle would give way and explode on the baying crowd,  while all the while,  we waited for Jeremy Clarkson to weirdly appear on his last ever Top Gear, wondering if it really is possible to be in two places at once.

• here is Leftfield’s Bilocation featuring Channy – from his first LP in 16 years; Alternative Light Source out on BMG
• https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yR6P0CEVu

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