Ah, British Sea Power. A proper band with guitars and drums and dirty bits. All these new bands hardly ever seem to use drums these days. What do people do at their gigs? They can't mosh, they probably just sway from side to side. Someone recently tried to convince me that Coldplay were a proper band. Proper band? They probably floss their teeth every night before they go to bed. But BSP really are very good - imagine the Pixies being stoned and British and writing the soundtrack to a sinister Carry On film made in the 80s but in a parallel universe where there were no synthesisers. Hmmmm... I'm beginning to feel like Sid James; worse still I'm beginning to look like him.
I think you could substitute the seven players of Carry-On for the Seven Ages of Man. I was once as bouncy as a young Babs Windsor, now I'm as clapped out and gravelly as Sid James (we won't mention the extended Hattie Jaques phase). Now it's just Kenneth Williams and death - though not necessarily in that order.
Beloved much more than so-called best friend has finally read this, bless her. And since I justified writing all this self-indulgent drivel as being a kind of therapy I know feel obliged to write something meaningful. But I'll save that for later and write about .. you've guessed it.. him again. It is precisely ten years since we first had sex. I only know that because it was following on from a Burns' Night party. I think Minusbat may have been there....have to check with him later. How does this make me feel? Kind of happy I suppose, because if someone points out to him that it is Burns' night he will remember too. I am probably the only living woman for whom haggis engenders
feelings of tender nostalgia...