Bike

It is fair to say that I have been neglecting an important aspect of my life in recent months. Something that plays a big part in maintaining my physical and mental fitness. Something that is both challenging and rewarding, almost in equal measures. Something that is quite serious, but also a great deal of fun. Something important to me.

I haven't been out on my bike.

The dark and cold mornings have been a disincentive, I have been very busy with music & writing and, if I am honest, I have almost enjoyed the break. Fortunately, the wheel is turning (if you will pardon the pun) and the time feels right to correct my orientation slightly.
Even though I ride a mountain bike, the Tour de France tends to inspire. To put it simply, it is great TV. The competition, the tactics, the drama, the expert commentary and (not least) the scenery all combine to provide hours of great viewing.
I have also been asked to write an article for a magazine about a week-long bike tour I embarked upon a few years ago, so that has caused me to reflect on my cycling adventures generally.
There's a big ride in the Flinders Ranges in September, so I will need to be fit for that.
So, you could say that the encouragement and incentive is there.
I won't be riding straight away; I have to go on holiday. But the moment I return, I will be back on the bike.
You just watch me.

www.bleakumbrella.com

The rhythm of life...

The sun rises.
Get up, shower, shave, get dressed, tidy rooms. Turn heater on - it's cold in the house. Watch Tour de France for a bit. Make toast and marmalade for breakfast. Take dog for a walk in the pale sunshine. Chat with neighbours. Tidy the garden. Go to the shops for a couple of things. Listen to podcasts while walking. Start drafting a cycling article. Enjoy leftover stew for lunch. Watch an episode of The Wire. Update website. Stuff around in the shed. Fix up some cupboards. Listen to The Jam. Tidy and sort the music room. Drink wine. Chat with my brother. Become friends with Nasty Nigel via Facebook. Listen to the Happy Mondays. Make a curry. Eat a curry. Watch Corrie.
The sun sets.

Now it is time to go and make some music!

www.bleakumbrella.com

Roy of the Rovers

This morning, while attending to duties that incorporated both the joyous and the mundane, I spotted a rare gem. On sale at the newsagent, among all of the other unwanted, remaindered books, was a copy of Roy of the Rovers: The 1970s. I didn't have to be asked twice.
For those who do not know, Roy of the Rovers was one of a number of English football-oriented comics, featuring a range of ripping yarns about players and teams as they dealt with sibling rivalry, boardroom machinations, international espionage, magical equipment and, on occasion, football matches. These men became many a schoolboy's heroes...
Roy's own comic came quite late, after spending many years as the marquee character of the sport/adventure Tiger comic. Scorcher and Score, my own favourite and itself an amalgamation, bit the dust and joined forces with Tiger in 1974, with Roy of the Rovers ascending in 1976.
Scorcher and Score was so important to me. I preferred it to real-life mags such as Shoot! and Football Monthly. In fact, I preferred it to real life. I would read and re-read the stories every week, lost in the magical boy's-own world of Jack of United, Jimmy of City, Billy's Boots, Lags Eleven, Hot Shot Hamish and Nipper. Oh, for those carefree days of yore.
I was heartbroken when Scorcher and Score finished, but at least the amalgamation bought Roy, and Melchester Rovers, into my life.
Now I have a bedside book to remind me of those good times. And, in perfect keeping with my personality, I still have all my originals in a trunk.

www.bleakumbrella.com

Getting closer.

The joys (such that they are) of planning for an overseas trip are, these days, the domain of the common man and woman. No longer do people have to make semi-ignorant, on-the-spot decisions regarding their holidays while being subjected to the sterile, soulless environment of the travel agent. Ordinary folk are now equipped to do as good a job planning their journey as were the professionals of the last decade. The internet, and cheap international call rates have enabled people to be their own travel agent, if they don't mind doing the work.
Plane tickets. Check. Accommodation. Check. Tickets for Wembley. Check. Relatives and friends contacted (and warned). Check. Insurance. Check. Foreign currency sorted. Check. Plane seat allocation. Check. National Express. Check. Passports in order. Check. Rugby tickets. Check. Mobile phone enabled. Check. Train tickets. Check.
The more you get organised beforehand, the easier the trip. That's Burke's Law.

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Poem for Adrian Henri and Roger McGough

sometimes in the supermarket
cash and patience almost gone
filling bags with weekly fuel
for wife, daughter, son
I wonder what it would be like
to buy dinner for one

Copyright © David Robinson 2001

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Aah, sweet Friday...

Adelaide is in the grip of a very, very cold spell. Even when the sun is shining, it's not getting much warmer. It feels like old Sol is every inch of his 93 million miles away. And when there's no sun, it's even colder. So look out.
Not that anyone should be too surprised by this weather. It is the middle of winter, after all.
The sun was providing illumination, if not much warmth, when I left my house on Friday and walked into the city. I was suitably attired, so the journey in was quite an enjoyable experience, despite the freshness. Sunshine tends to make everything better. Except the wings of Icarus, I guess.
As I walked through the parklands, I was entertained by the swooping and diving welcome swallows, flying directly at me before darting off in another direction at the last second. I'm not sure if they wanted a fight, or thought I was going to feed them, or were perhaps just ensuring that I passed safely and responsibly through their home.
I had a lovely lunch at Citi Zen, an entree of battered tempura-style vegetables followed by a spicy fried tofu dish. Despite tofu being essentially tasteless (how did it ever get to be a food?) the main course was surprisingly delightful.
I enjoyed good conversation with my mate John, as we slurped down a bottle of pino grigio while lamenting the shortcomings of the England football team.
We followed up lunch with a few pints of Guinness across the road at The Brecknock, ensuring the afternoon ended on a (slightly blurry) high note.
I walked home, traversing the same route by which I'd made my inward journey. It must have been tea time for the birds though, because there wasn't a swallow in sight.

www.bleakumbrella.com

End of Financial Year Report

2009-2010 has been and gone.
In that time I have made over 60+ public appearances, and performed my original songs over 200 times. I've probably churned out somewhere in the region of 50 cover versions too, including an acoustic guitar version of Werewolves of London, of which I am extremely proud (to have survived). Warren Zevon, a true genius.
I have collaborated with other musicians, performed as a duo (Yours Truly, the fabulous Double Blues, and others), and made many new friends. I've continued in my role as a member of the SCALA Board; I have also put together and run ten or so Songwriters' Workshops. I have been lucky enough to have some of my music-oriented articles published in magazines and books.
I have added a Taylor six-string acoustic to my musical arsenal, and have assembled a decent enough recording facility. I've even started recording in it.

I haven't written enough songs. I haven't really developed as a guitarist or singer. I don't network, either personally or via the internet, well enough. But progress, however slow, has been made, and things have picked up in the last couple of months.

Where would I be without music?
In the nuthouse, I guess.

www.bleakumbrella.com