Tag Archives: #amblogging

Can You Take A Loaf Into A Gig?

Five twenty five and I’m on a train. It can only mean one thing. Rock Mum aka Rock Friend was off out to play.

Little did I realise……

After a few last minute changes of plans due to illness, I was accompanied by Boy Child, Girl Child. FB Son, Rock Chick Friend and a new addition to the posse, who will be christened later in this tale.

Our destination was the legendary Barrowlands Ballroom in Glasgow where the American rock band Halestorm were headlining for the night.

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As the train pulled into Glasgow’s Central Station, FB Son and the as yet un-named member of our group declared that they needed to grab something to eat. While I darted off to the loo, the two boys headed off in search of some food. FB Son duly returned with a sensible healthy sandwich and some fruit juice. His friend returned with a loaf of bread. Not just any old loaf – an M&S loaf!

Cue every bread joke imaginable!

Bread Boy, no longer nameless, promptly began to munch his way through said loaf slice by slice.

On the taxi ride out to the venue, the loaf was securely tucked into the seat belt just to ensure it arrived safely at the gig.

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It queued patiently with us for forty minutes without a murmur of complaint, although it was now reduced to less than half a dozen slices.

I bumped into my fellow rock chick writer friend and her husband in the queue and they too were duly introduced to Loaf and Bread Boy.

“Are you allowed to take a loaf into a gig?” was a question I never thought I would ponder.

The loaf made it through security and was escorted upstairs via the merchandise stall into the ballroom.

At this point our tale splits – or should that be slices?

The three boys, having dumped their hoodies and assorted t-shirts with Rock Chick Friend and I, disappeared off with Loaf in search of some moshing and crowd surfing. It had already been pointed out that a baguette would’ve been a smarter choice for crowd surfing.

Us girls took ourselves across the hall and secured a spot fairly far forward with a clear view of the stage.

The first support act, Wilson, took the stage by storm and played a blistering half hour set. In front of us, two “females” had pushed their way in and stood drinking throughout the entire set.

Second support band, the amazing Nothing More, followed Wilson and held the audience captivated with their performance. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more athletic display of drumming. Awesome set! Check both these bands out if you haven’t done so already.

The two “females” still stood in front of us downing pint after pint.

As the hall filled up, it was getting to be more tightly packed around us and it was getting hotter (not helped by the fact I had three hoodies tied round my waist and at least three t-shirts stuffed down the various sleeves).

Halestorm took to the stage, opening their set with Mz Hyde. Love that song!

The two, now very drunk, “females” launched straight into full on dance mode. Both of them were completely oblivious to the carnage they were causing with their drunken gyrations. One had also by now soaked Girl Child down one side as she had thoughtlessly discarded the remains of her beer. After too long watching my baby girl getting bodily thumped and smacked in the face with hair, I stepped in between her and the gyrating drunk.

Now I’m not a large person and I am most certainly not a violent person but I will not stand back and watch my kids getting hassled.

Bracing myself, I let the “female” bounce off me a few times, barely able to retain my own balance. At least Girl Child was out of the firing line.

The crowd was tightly packed around us and there was no visible alternative spot to relocate to. If we wanted to see the stage, we had to stay where we were.

At the end of the number, the “female” turned round to face me and hurled a foul mouthed rant at me about what did I think I was doing. Cue angry rant back about what did she think she was playing at and did she realise that she had repeatedly battered into my daughter. She spat a mouthful of abuse back at me. It was clear to see she was too drunk and too ignorant to care!

To our left, another mother was having a similar conversation with the drunken friend to the same effect.

Despite our best efforts neither of us could attract the attention of the security staff at the front of the crowd. We were stuck with them. I silently prayed that the beer would take over entirely and that they would run out of steam.

Girl Child had had enough. She bailed out to sit at the side of the room. I offered to go with her but she said to stay and enjoy myself. Awash with guilt at my baby girl missing out due to the thoughtless actions of the two drunks, I opted to stay put.

OK, there’s a stubborn streak in me- I wasn’t moving for anyone least of all an ignorant foul-mouthed drunk.

Rock Chick Friend had wandered off to the side to get some air so I hoped Girl Child would find her and not be entirely on her own. (Sadly she didn’t)

Out on stage Halestorm were playing a blinder of a set that included three of the songs from their forthcoming album Into the Wild Life. The main set ended with a fabulous rendition of I Miss The Misery.

And during that who did I spot?

FB Son crowd surfing!

The two drunks had thankfully long since run out of bounce and were at long last not disturbing those around them. Hallelujah!

During Halestorm’s encore someone threw a Scottish Saltire flag up on stage which Lzzy duly held up before tying it round her neck. Wearing it like a super hero cape, Lzzy and the rest of the band ended the show with Here’s To Us.

As the lights went up, I quickly located Girl Child and greeted her with a huge hug. I still felt like I’d failed her.

As the crowd dispersed we waited for the boys and Rock Chick Friend to reappear. The boys turned up first, minus Loaf. The loaf had enjoyed Wilson and Nothing More but after a bit of crowd surfing (humble apologies to Halestorm – those naughty boys lobbed a slice on stage!), the loaf failed to survive the moshing and was trampled underfoot in the mosh pit.

R.I.P. Loaf!

If only the two females in front of us had used their “loaves”. If they had had a little – ok a lot- less to drink and actually been aware of their surroundings then perhaps all of us could have enjoyed a memorable gig.

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Aftermath – due to adverse weather conditions the trains had been disrupted while we were at the gig. Shortly before midnight, tired, wet and weary, the six of us boarded the last train out of Glasgow. It was jam packed. There’s nothing worse than being stone cold sober on the “Piss Head Express”. The train service terminated five stops from home and we were all herded back out into the wind and rain and onto coaches to complete the journey. The six of us ended up on a bus filled with folk who had been to see Lionel Ritchie at the SSE Hydro and who insisted on serenading us with “All Night Long”.

A long night it had been. A long surreal night!

How The Hell Did That Happen?

Some of you may find this hard to believe but sometimes I do have to act like a grown up.

It goes against the grain and is bad for your mental health but it has to be done.

Last week I reached VERY grown up milestone.

One that pulled me up short.

One that made me think “How the hell did that happen?”

I celebrated twenty five years of service with my employer.

Quarter of a century! GULP!!

I recall at the time thinking I’d work there until I decided what to do with my life -what to do when I grew up. College hadn’t gone to plan (Never was any good at Physiology) A brief stint as a management trainee for a well-known burger chain had ended in disaster. (Great way to lose weight- 20lbs lighter after six weeks and two days. Perhaps I should go back?….)

I was at a crossroads.

So my employer opened their door at an opportune moment and welcomed me in.

And I’ve stayed.

In this day and age I wholly appreciate how fortunate I am to have secured a job that has allowed me to stay safely employed over the years. An opportunity that’s sadly denied to too many.

So what else was going on in the world in 1990?

-Saddam Hussein ordered the Iraq invasion of Kuwait

-A formal ban on the trade of ivory was introduced world wide

-Nelson Mandela was released from prison

-Margaret Thatcher resigned

-The Leaning Tower of Pisa was closed to the public due to safety concerns that it was falling down.

-The Berlin Wall came down.

On TV we enjoyed The Simpsons and Twin Peaks for the first time.

In the cinema we watched Ghost, Pretty Woman and Edward Scissorhands, among many other now classic films.

We were listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Jon Bon Jovi, Aerosmith and, in the Big Green Gummi Bear’s case, Erasure. (Yes, the Big Green Gummi Bear was around then too)

On the technology front, a 16 MB chip was shown to the world for the first time and the Hubble Space Telescope was placed into orbit.

When you read that list, suddenly it all feels a very long time ago.

So in twenty five years have I made up my mind about what I want to do when I grow up?

No. I’ve long since decided that growing up is bad for you!

I was fortunate enough to be given some vouchers as a thank you and in recognition of surviving all this time in the salt mine.

I’ve kind of done a grown up thing with most of them. I have finally invested in a decent “adult” watch. The Big Green Gummi Bear will be pleased.

 And with the change? New  red Bose earphones!

Can’t go acting like a grown up for too long!

And Breathe…..And Relax

And breathe…and relax.

The “R” word is something I am very bad at. It’s always on the To Do List but invariably ends up being the last thing to be ticked off – if I even get that far!

This week however I ticked it off the list!

I find it very difficult to make proper “me time” on a regular basis. Yes. I go for a walk most lunchtimes (weather permitting) but that doesn’t really relax me as , by the time I’m heading back up the path towards the salt mine, I’m already thinking to the afternoon ahead and to what I need to achieve.

If the sun’s out at the weekend or on summer evenings I try to head out for a walk along the beach, camera in hand, but again, soothing as it is, I’m thinking photos, sunsets, birds and the occasional rainbow.

“Book Baby” has taken up a huge amount of my spare time over the past year and a half and, much as I love losing myself in my characters and the story, I don’t totally relax while I’m sitting pen in hand (cue panic that people will think my Book Baby is ugly!)

So how do I relax? How do I finally hit the pause button on my world and my mind?

Reiki.

To explain briefly, for those of you who have never heard the word before, Reiki is a Japanese technique for stress reduction and relaxation that also promotes healing. (This link explains it better than I ever could www.reiki.org )

For about ninety minutes the world around me gets placed on hold. Nothing out with the room exists. It truly is my “me time”.

I’ve tried a wide variety of holistic and massage therapies over the years. I’ve even taken courses on some but Reiki is the only one I’ve found that totally de-stresses me and generates a calm feeling that lasts way beyond the actual treatment.

For me, each treatment differs. Over the last ten or twelve years that I’ve been enjoying the benefits, no two experiences have felt the same. Some have been very emotionally intense but I always head home feeling lighter, calmer and at peace with my world.

Last Wednesday night was no different. I knew I had left it too long between treatments but even I was horrified with myself to discover it had been ten months since my last “me time”. Far too long and it won’t happen again. (I promise, Laurie)

It’s a very personal experience when you have a Reiki treatment. I  feel there has to be a connection with the Reiki practitioner. If that bond isn’t forged then you don’t get the full benefits of the therapy session.

This time the experience was very calm, deeply relaxing and good for the soul. Exactly what I needed.

The best analogy I can use to describe the effect Reiki has on me is this – you know the spare shoelace that lies at the back of the junk drawer in your kitchen? The one that’s all tangled up and covered in bits of fluff and dried up elastic bands? Right, that’s how I feel when I arrive for a treatment. The “fluff” is all the clutter that sticks to us in daily life. When I leave, the shoelace is all clean and straight. All the kinks have been removed and the fluff’s long since been shed.

Even now, several days later, I’ve still got that feeling of inner peace. I visualise the Reiki energy being stored within me in wee bubbles. My bubbles are all round and full just now. Happy girl.

Once they start to pop and dwindle in number then it’s time for “me time”.

This time I promise myself that I won’t wait until they are long since gone.

If you are feeling frazzled by everyday life, this beautiful therapy experience may be the one for you. It’s not for everyone as some people find it too intense but if you think it could be for you, treat yourself.

You inner shoelace will love you for it!

 bubbles collage

credits to the picture owners- sourced from Google

Just How Many Clothes Do You Need At A Gig?

This week it was time to resume normal musical activities.

Rock Mum made her first appearance of 2015!

Chaperoned by Boy Child, we headed off to Glasgow last Wednesday.

Yes, usual train.

Yes, usual venue.

When we saw the lengthy queue outside the O2 ABC some forty minutes before the doors were due to open I was convinced to forego my usual caffeine fix to ensure a spot on the barrier.

Forty minutes is a long time to stand in the cold, staring across Sauchiehall Street at my missed coffee opportunity. (One more stamp on my loyalty card and I get a free fix!)

An hour later coffee was the last thing on my mind!

I had Crobot on my mind! Oh and headliners Black Label Society.

I was also beginning to feel like a clothes horse! Due to the cold weather, I had worn two thin hoodies and a long sleeved top over my Crobot t-shirt. Now as I stood on the barrier, I had the two hoodies, one inside the other, tied round my waist with the long sleeved top stuffed down the sleeve of the hoodies. In my trusty red “gig bag” I had another two Black Label Society t-shirts, procured from the merchandising stand (There was no one manning the Crobot stand at this point- return visit was already planned). Beside me Boy Child was grumbling about having to wear a hoodie and what was he meant to do with it.

The lights dimmed. Crobot hit the stage with all guns blazing! An awesome sight to behold!

I’ve been a huge fan of this band since being given their EP and subsequently their debut album to review last year.

I had the honour of seeing and meeting them last September in the smaller O2 ABC2. They were amazing that night, performing as if they were playing to a packed arena instead of to less than fifty folk.

This time round the room was much bigger and it was almost full. Result!

Watching Brandon, Jake, Chris and Paul give it their all made my heart sing.

How Chris manages to twirl that Fender Telecaster round his body the way he does I’ll never know. Neat trick!

All too soon their seven song set was over. (Please hurry back and headline a show, boys)

Time to go and say hello.

With Boy Child in tow, we surrendered our barrier spots and headed back across to the merchandising stand.

Front man, Brandon, was already there and deep in conversation with a fan. A part of me began to fret that I was being a bit presumptuous here. Would he recognise or remember me? After all, how many folk must these guys meet and greet?

I needn’t have worried. A huge smile, an interrupted conversation and an equally huge hug reassured me that I had been recognised. Cue one happy girl!

Politely I stepped aside and allowed the other fans to chat with him while I slipped past to buy two new Crobot t-shirts (one was stowed in the trusty handbag and the other went down the other sleeve of the hoodie)

When Brandon was finished chatting to the other fans, he turned back to Boy Child and I. More hugs and quick introductions to Boy Child then a couple of photos. Enter Jake, the bass player, from the right. More hugs and greetings and introductions. More photos! Love the face these boys pull!

We chatted briefly then they excused themselves (OK slipped out the back door for a sneaky smoke) while Boy Child and I wandered back over to watch the second band of the evening, Black Tusk. Great name. Pity about the noise they made. Wasn’t impressed. (Sorry, guys)

While the stage crew worked to clear the stage and set up for Black Label Society I headed for the little girl’s room and the bar (Diet Coke- honest!) I met Jake en route and we exchanged pleasantries. I also met a work colleague who seemed somewhat amused that I was happily camped out down at the front of the crowd – again!

I wasn’t sure what to expect of Black Label Society. On the other hand, Boy Child had been surveying the crowd and had his hopes set on a mosh pit.

Before the lights dimmed, he handed me his hoodie to look after. More clothes!

Hoodie number three was duly tied round my waist. This was getting silly, not to mention hot!

Let me attempt to set the scene with regards to the crowd here. Black Label Society fans appear to be almost “patched in” like a scene from Sons of Anarchy. Most fans had “cuts” on with Black Label Society emblazoned on the back and were sporting beanies on their heads. And I’ve never seen so much facial hair in one room before!

So how do you get everyone on side before you start? Playing a bagpipe rendition of “Flower of Scotland” was inspired. Everyone in the place was singing their hearts out. When “Flower of Scotland” was done, the lights remained dimmed and the Black Label Society curtain still hung over the front of the stage while a mash-up of Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs” and Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love” blared out. Cue more enthusiastic singing.

The curtain dropped and Black Label Society stood on stage in their full glory, blasting out their opening number “In The Beginning…At last”

Cue second inspired move – Zakk Wyle was wearing a kilt! Brilliant!

I’ll be honest- I’m not overly familiar with their music but I do love some of the tracks off their last album. If you don’t like lengthy ego-massaging guitar solos, give these guys a miss.

Boy Child had darted off into the midst of the crowd as soon as they had started while I had slipped back down to the barrier at the corner of the stage. Perfect vantage point for my camera.

A few songs in and much moshing later, Boy Child appeared at my side, clutching his nose, muttering that he was OK and then thrust his sweaty t-shirt at me. It took me a moment or two to realise he’d been covered in blood, by which time, he was long gone back into the dark.

The “mother” in me twitched a bit but figured he’d be back if he was really hurt. I returned my attention to the stage.

Not however before I had stowed said sweaty t-shirt down the sleeve of his hoodie and re-tied it round my waist. Thank God it wasn’t overly hot in the venue!

This was the first night of Black Label Society’s European invasion…sorry, tour….so I’m possibly about to be a bit harsh. (If I am, I humbly apologise)

On stage at Zakk Wylde’s feet I had noticed a pile of A1 laminated sheets. Lyric sheets in large print. Everything about these guys is larger than life- even the cheat sheets!

I take my hat off to vocalists. I have no idea how they remember the lyrics to all their songs.

Highlight of their set for me was “Angel of Mercy”. Love that song.

It was followed by an impressive piano solo by Zakk Wylde and a song called “In This River”, sung in tribute to the late Dimebag Darrell.

Time was running away from them and curfew was fast approaching. Black Label Society declined to go off and return for an encore, electing instead to stay out on stage and just play the final couple of numbers.

As the last chords died away, the lights went up, roadies invaded the stage and I went in search of Boy Child, feeling somewhat weighed down by three hoodies with three t-shirts in their sleeves.

I found him. Hot, tired, sweaty, a bit battered and broken but grinning from ear to ear.

The “mum” in me was relieved to see him in one piece. Baby Boy Child was nursing a suspected broken nose, a punched face and some bashed ribs but he’d survived moshing with the big boys…just!

All in all, a successful night out. Wish Crobot had been able to play for longer. Wish Black Tusk hadn’t bothered to play at all!

And I wonder what Zakk Wylde was wearing under that kilt…………..

 BLS collage

You Can’t Do That To That Song! It’s Just Not Right…….

After last week’s Hayseed Dixie gig I showed some of my video footage to Boy Child.

He threw his hands up in horror and declared emphatically that certain classic rock songs should be “listed” in a similar way to buildings.

He may be on to something here.

For those of you unfamiliar with the term, if a building is “listed” in the UK it cannot be demolished, extended or altered without special permission from the relevant authorities. I believe many other countries have similar legislation covering buildings of historic interest.

In Scotland, there are three categories of “listed” buildings depending on their significance – A, B and C listed.

An example of a Class A listed building would be the Palace of Holyroodhouse in Edinburgh, a Class B example is the Mitchell Library in Glasgow and a Class C example is my favourite haunt, the O2 ABC, Glasgow.

You get the picture, right?

So, if this theory of classification were to be applied to rock songs what would/should be classified as “Listed”?

Do you put an age caveat on eligibility? For example, does the song have to be over ten years old?

Do you categorise it by the number of copies the original sold?

Or the number of downloads on iTunes?

This could get complicated!

Let’s keep it simple for starters, shall we?

Class A listed songs – ones that should never be messed with but may be covered with permission as long as the cover version remains true to the original.

Top of my list would be “Bohemian Rhapsody”. When I asked Boy Child to name his Class A songs he instantly replied “Everything by Led Zeppelin.” I’m sure many of you would agree, I may however be a bit more precise. I’m sure there are a few B’s and C’s in there!

Class B listed songs– ones that may be covered with a modicum of deviation away from the original.

I’d include “Sweet Child O’Mine” in this list, despite the fact it may be my all time favourite song. There are only a handful of vocalists who can do this song justice! A perfect example of an ideal Class B version would be the treatment this song is given by Slash featuring Myles Kennedy and the Conspirators. (note- I still prefer the original)

Class C listed songs – could be altered to a greater degree, with the original act’s explicit consent. This one is harder to choose an example for!

The first song that springs to mind is “London Calling” by The Clash. This was covered last year by Brent Smith and Zach Myers of Shinedown. Their acoustic version of this classic track is significantly different to the original but still retains the song’s identity.

Ok I’ve started the lists – which songs would you add?

Appearing For One Night Only….the Big Green Gummi Bear’s night out

It’s been forty five days since my last fix.

Withdrawal symptoms had long since set in and the depressing January weather among other things wasn’t helping. However Friday dawned bright and sunny, if a tad on the chilly side, and my fix was almost in sight.

This time there was to be a break in my usual routine. A different persona was about to emerge. One that I don’t think has ever been seen in public before – Rock Wife.

As I took my seat on the train to Glasgow to meet the Big Green Gummi Bear, I wracked my brain in an effort to remember the last rock/pop gig we’d been to together. There were a few memorable shows in the dim and distant past- Iron Maiden circa 1991, Def Leppard circa 1993 and a dodgy Bjorn Again gig circa 1994 (not my choice!) among others. I honestly couldn’t recall one that we had been to since we got married in 1995!

The Big Green Gummi Bear has a strict set criteria for going out to play that he rarely deviates from so I suspect I caught him in a weak moment when he agreed to attend this show. It did tick most of his boxes though –

It wasn’t on a school night.

It was part of Celtic Connections, the annual music festival held in Glasgow in January/February

It wasn’t “yicket” music as he phrases it (Hard rock/metal to the rest of us.)

The tickets were bought and paid for before he had time to have second thoughts!

My usual pre-gig routine slipped back into its normal pattern as, accompanied by the Big Green Gummi Bear, I headed for my favourite coffee shop for a much needed caffeine fix.

So where were we going?

The venue for the evening was Glasgow’s O2 ABC. (I love that venue!)

The band that were going to have the honour of being the first headliners the Big Green Gummi Bear had seen this millennium were Hayseed Dixie.

We were both about to be initiated in the delights of “rockgrass”!

Suitably caffeine fuelled, we joined the queue outside the venue shortly before the doors were due to open. (Cue much muttering about the cold and queuing)

Once inside the hall, the Big Green Gummi Bear insisted on putting his jacket in the cloakroom then, after a quick trip the merchandising stall (“Why do you need another black t-shirt with writing on it?”), we took our places right down on the barrier.

The Big Green Gummi Bear is a self-confessed snob. The look on his face as he glanced around was telling me that he was less than impressed so far. Hmm this could be a long night….

The support act were a band from Dublin called The Riptide Movement and they entertained the growing crowd admirably for around forty five minutes. A mental note was duly taken to add then to my ever increasing list of bands to check out further.

Up on stage everything bar four mic stands was cleared away. No drum kit?!

I nipped to the little girl’s room to powder my nose. By the time I returned another couple had come to stand beside us and the Big Green Gummi Bear was talking beards with the guy. No idea how that conversation started! Up on stage there was little activity. The girl enquired if we’d seen Hayseed Dixie before. Both of us confessed we hadn’t. She promised that we’d love them. The Big Green Gummi Bear had his cynical face on. Sensing his scepticism, the girl declared that if he didn’t enjoy the show she would buy him a drink at the bar at the end. Deal!

Hayseed Dixie duly came out on stage to rapturous cheers from the capacity crowd. Their show is very tongue in cheek. The name’s a play on ACDC and front man , John Wheeler, was sporting cut off denim dungarees and a tie-dye t-shirt (A kindergarten version of Angus Young?)

Within minutes of the start of their set the Big Green Gummi Bear was seen smiling.

Over the next two hours many rock classics were given the Hayseed Dixie treatment. Hearing songs like Highway to Hell, Ace of Spade and Bohemian Rhapsody played on acoustic bass, acoustic guitar, mandolin and banjo with the occasional fiddle thrown in was a thoroughly enjoyable if bizarre experience. John Wheeler’s rapport with the audience was fabulous and filled with amens and Hallelujahs. A man that‘s not taking himself too seriously. Amid the rock classics they played a few of their own tunes, most notably I’m Keeping Your Poop. Mandolin player Hippy Joe Hymas’s actions and antics throughout the entire set added to the humour. A hillbilly Gene Simmons!

Behind me a strange transformation was taking place. The Big Green Gummi Bear has graduated from smiling to laughing and was even heard singing along (never a good thing as he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket!) However, he was having fun!

The show ended with a fifteen minute encore of Hotel California – another classic that will never be the same again!

When the lights went up the girl beside us asked if she needed to buy that drink. The answer was a resounding no.

Hayseed Dixie collage

Mental note to Rock Wife self- add another box to that tick list. Any future gigs with the Big Green Gummi Bear must be on warm dry days.

I almost froze to death outside on the pavement waiting on him collecting his jacket from the cloakroom!

Only nine days until my next fix!

ASBO Tagged In My Sleep

For Christmas I asked the Big Green Gummi Bear for a new watch. Not an expensive watch. A simple black or purple every day watch. Nothing fancy.

Following an expensive mix up with dates and tickets for a West End show, I was pushing my luck asking for anything. (If anyone wishes to buy two tickets to Riverdance in London on 4 April please drop me a message. Best seats in the house.)

Anyway, Christmas morning duly arrived and I opened my gift from the Big Green Gummi Bear to find an ASBO tag – sorry- a Fitbit Charge inside. True, it tells the time as requested but I eyed this strange black device somewhat suspiciously.

I am not the fittest person on earth. Not a total couch potato but Hell will freeze over before I go to the gym. The Big Green Gummi Bear freely admitted it was a bit of a wild card gift but he hoped it would trigger my OCD and encourage me to become a bit fitter. I had to admire his optimism.

As I was badly in need of a watch, I began to wear my ASBO tag. (Still not convinced he hasn’t tampered with it and it’s my whereabouts being tracked rather than my activity)

While I go about my daily business, it counts away silently on my wrist – steps, stairs, distance and calories required.

We tolerated each other quite nicely for a few days.

The first time it reached the daily step target of 10 000 steps, it scared the crap out of me! Completely unexpectedly it started to vibrate on my wrist. My ASBO tag seemed rather over excited by the fact I had been trailing round Tesco and the local shops then dared to go out for a walk. It soon got over the shock!

After a couple of weeks, the Big Green Gummi Bear asked if I’d tried its sleep activity tracker. I eyed him rather sceptically and said “No.”

I never wear a watch while I’m sleeping!

Curiosity got the better of me. How could this inanimate black band possibly know if I was asleep or awake?

Let me tell you- it does!

The step, stairs, distance thing I understand. But how the Hell does it know when I’m asleep, restless or awake in the middle of the night?

I have had a rather annoying cough for several weeks so I know my sleep pattern just now is horrendous. It’s never great, if I’m honest.

Night One – I managed to keep the damn thing on all night, a major achievement in itself, and according to the app on the pc, once I’d synced my ASBO tag, I’d been restless ten times for a total of 22 min 49 sec, awake for 5 min 52 sec and asleep for 6 hrs 44 min. It even showed me a bar chart detailing the time I fell asleep, when I stirred and when I was awake during the night.

Every night since has been pretty much the same story give or take a few minutes.

This has me baffled!

The Big Green Gummi Bear may have succeeded in triggering my OCD here but perhaps not in the manner he intended.

I WILL sleep all night without being restless and without wakening up!

The goal is 8 hours of completely undisturbed, unbroken sleep. Somehow I don’t ever see it happening and, if it does, my ASBO tag will probably get itself over excited again, start rattling and waken me up!

With A Little Help From My Friends – hopefully!

It’s been another one of “those” weeks around here. Living with two exam-stressed teenagers isn’t fun, as I’m sure all parents of teenagers will agree. Five exams in five days has been baptism by fire for Girl Child. (These exams are her first experience of sitting formal exams in the school assembly hall) I really felt for her and could empathise with her rising fear and panic, as I recalled my own exam experiences. I can still clearly picture the rows and rows of desks and still hear the silence.

In the midst of all this emotional turmoil, I made time to take my next leap of faith towards bringing my “creative baby” to life. Well it was on this week’s To Do List and had to be done at some point.

Mid-week I set up my Kindle Direct Publishing account. GULP!

Cue rising fear and panic to rival Girl Child’s!

Adding things like your tax information and bank account details in international format suddenly felt like very grown up things to be doing. Not like me at all. Scary stuff!

On reflection, my immediate reaction didn’t totally surprise me. As I’ve said in previous blog posts, my biggest fear as a writer is letting folk read what I write. Crazy, I know. By creating the KDP account and reading the T&C’s, in particular the list of countries that Amazon cover, brought home how many people my “creative baby” will be exposed to. Now I know that’s a good thing. The more exposure I can get for this book, the greater the chance of sales and success etc. I get it. But what if they think my “creative baby” is ugly? Hence the rising tide of fear and panic.

Breathe! Deep breaths! Breathe!

(A medicinal glass of wine may have been required at this point)

The following day, I stumbled across a magazine article about something that is another weakness of mine. (No – it was nothing to do with coffee or rock stars!) It was an article extolling the virtues of asking for help.

To ask for help is a bit of an alien concept for me. I’ve always attributed this to the fact I was an only child and had no siblings to either ask or help. Over the years and through various situations that life has thrown across my path, I’ve got used to finding my own way through things. I guess there have been times when I’ve felt to ask for help was to show weakness. The article brought home to me the fact that sometimes it’s necessary to ask for some assistance. We don’t all know the best way to do things or have the ability to do everything on our own. At the end of the day, it’s not a sign of weakness or stupidity to ask for help, particularly if you are doing something you’ve never done before.

The time has come to follow the advice I’ve been giving to both Boy Child and Girl Child for years. If you don’t fully understand the subject, ask for help.

So, that’s what I need to do here. If any of you beautiful people have any hints or tips to offer this fledging writer regarding using KDP, I’d be eternally grateful. If there are any pit falls lying in wait that I should be aware of, please let me know where they are lurking as it may save me from a painful fall. Any help will be gratefully received.

And if there are any suggestions for steering stressed out teenage girls through exams, I’ll take those on board too!

 

 

The Annual Duvet Battle

The annual duvet battle has comenced!

We’ve had a few preliminary skirmishes where I begged and pleaded to be allowed to swap the thin lightweight summer duvet for the thick fluffy one. Each time I was brow beaten back under the summer covers.

A more subtle approach was required as the nights grew longer and darker.

The pink stripy fleecy blanket that is usually folded neatly along the bottom of the bed, was duly spread out across the bed. The majority of it was spread over my side of the bed, I may add.

Slowly, over a period of time, it became evenly spread across the entire bed. Hmm I wonder why? Could the Big Green Gummi Bear be feeling the winter chill creeping in?

A cold snap around Christmas saw me add a second fleecy blanket on top of the pink stripy one. Again, primarily at my side of the bed.

I was nice and cosy – result! J

Wrong!

Gradually, over a few nights, the second blanket too found its way over to the Big Green Gummi Bear’s side.

All the evidence I needed!

If it was cold enough for a summer duvet and two layers of blanket then I could justify the winter duvet without challenge! I was feeling confident about winning the duvet battle.

Last weekend I swapped the thin summer duvet for its thick, fluffy, warm, cuddly cousin – the winter duvet! Welcome back, old friend!

So for the past two nights what has happened? NO! Nothing like that!

For the past two nights the Big Green Gummi Bear has pulled most of the duvet off me because he was too hot! Go figure!

Me- I surrender!

I’m buying a onsie and putting the summer duvet and the two blankets back on the bed at the weekend. At least then I’ve a one in three chance of a share of some of the bedcovers!

Music, Music Everywhere

Yesterday I spent several frustrating hours battling with the wonders of modern technology. For the record, after about five hours, I won only to waken this morning, check my Facebook and find a You Tube link to the damn thing! C’est la vie!

The battle? Oh it was nothing life threateningly vital. I was merely attempting to download some video footage from a recent MTV live show.

It did set me thinking though about how the world has changed with regards to obtaining new music.

I clearly remember walking into my local Woolworths store circa 1982, with my money tightly clutched in my hand, to purchase my first ever 7” single. And the record was? “Best Years of Our Lives” by Modern Romance and, yes, I do still have it and have a soft spot for it.

This triggered the start of my addiction to music. Lunch money was squirrelled away in order to save up for the next single or album (Sorry, Mum). Trips to Woolworths became a weekly pilgrimage as my vinyl collection grew.

Although I had a cassette player, I never bought pre-recorded tapes, preferring to buy vinyl instead.

In time, I joined the local record library and, like every other local member, took the discs home for the allotted period, having closely inspected them for scratches, and invested in a stack of C-90 blank cassettes. I’ll leave you to figure out the rest of that bit.

The first CD I ever bought was “Stars” by Simply Red. Again, this proved to be the first of many; the first of a collection that continues to grow today on a regular basis.

For a couple of years vinyl and CDs co-existed quite happily in my wee world then, largely due to the demise of the stylus on the turntable, CDs won that round of the music battle.

And so it continued quite happily for many years until Hey Presto! Enter iTunes and mp3 files. The Digital Download age was upon us, signalling death of many a good record shop.

I will confess to being VERY late to this particular party.

I only purchased my iPod eighteen months ago but have been making up for lost time at a rapid rate of knots as my bank balance will testify!

Now it’s second nature to head to “Digital Music” on Amazon or straight to iTunes. Some bands themselves are making mp3 files available via their own websites. Just yesterday I downloaded a whole live concert from Hogmonay on mp3, for a fee, direct via the band in question’s website. Happy days!

As I stare at my small purple iPod, it never ceases to amaze me the amount of music it holds. Even more incredible is the amount contained in the SD card that I use in the car’s stereo.

At the end of the day though I can’t help but feel that there’s something missing from the whole music buying experience when you purchase digital downloads. Even when you buy a CD a bit of the magic is missing.

I was given a turntable for my birthday some eighteen months ago. The Big Green Gummi Bear may argue it was the worst thing he ever bought me. I would vehemently disagree!

Despite all the media that music is available on, you just can’t match that feeling of buying a new album on vinyl, bringing it home, slipping it out of the sleeve and setting it on the turntable for the very first time. That subtle “dunk” as the stylus connects with the black, or coloured, vinyl disc.

You just can’t beat it!

And on that note, I’m off to see if Amazon has any decent vinyl in their January sale!

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