No "funny" low-rent-music nostalgia this week, I'm afraid. I've been waiting for my domestic world to resolve itself one way or another, and now it has, although I still fail to properly understand the reasons why - which may, in fact, be one of them. So not exactly in a "ho-ho-ho" sort of mood right now. Staying positive, however, at least I feel that I'm under no obligation to communicate with my passive-aggressive-nightmare Mother-in-Law ever again. (Not that she was talking to me after our last visit to the USA, but still....it's the principle of the thing.)
Anyway, there's a bit of an inevitable personal retreat inwards going-on, so apologies to anyone I haven't been in touch with as I should.
Once upon a time (ok, 8 years ago), I was a guy with a flat in Edinburgh (recently voted best place to live in the UK in a tremendously scientific study...er...) , who had a permanent contract day job, played in two 'official' bands (plus numerous dep gigs), and was a splendidly mediocre competitive weightlifter (olympic style).
Now....not so much.
Nobody's fault but mine...