life with an ageing rockstar

The Ageing Rockstar and i have had a busy week. On Sunday we went to the Blues Jam.    This may sound like something you get in a jar but in fact is a bunch of ageing rockstars and other musicians getting together to sing and strum and bash drums. It is great fun and gives me the opportunity to film the Ageing Rockstar in action.    Then on Wednesday we were off to Uxbridge, which is somewhere almost north of Watford as far as i can work out, where we met with some friends of the  Ageing Rockstar who he has known since he was a Fledgling Rockstar.  Between strumming there was a lot of reminiscing about Gigs We Have Been To, and talk of fellow Ageing Rockstars, punctuated by exclamations of "blimey, is he still alive?!!"  Then on Saturday we were off again, this time to Sunbury on Thames.    The Ageing Rockstar did his stuff and between strumming found time for a chat with the Teetering on the Brink of Middle Age bass player about a new purchase the TBMA bass player h

today our good friend richard is going to deliver some logs. this is something we have been looking forward to now that the evenings are getting a bit chillier. we have even managed to have the chimney swept in advance of lighting the fire, which shows remarkable forward planning. in the past i have scrounged free logs from richard in the form of offcuts and scrap wood but this year we are rather more financially stable so we have had a load of logs delivered like proper grown-ups. sitting in bed this morning i mentioned the log delivery to the Ageing Rockstar. "where will they go? what time is he coming? will we have to stack them?" he was clearly worried that his input might be required. luckily i had the forethought to have a son some years ago who has now matured into a tall, strapping specimen who is very useful when heavy lifting is involved. "don't you worry your pretty little head about it," i reassured him, "you just stay indoors and play guitars.&

the Ageing Rockstar and i are in the habit of loafing around in bed for a while before rising in the morning. this is a habit which is brought on by oldness, although it is common in teenagers as well. we have a cup of tea and put the world to rights. more accurately we have a cup of tea and i put the world to rights, reading choice morsels about Trump's latest debacle from the online Guardian to the Ageing Rockstar, who does his best to ignore them, while focusing on guitars or electronic gadgetry on eBay.  due to my new health regime, i now have a bowl of porridge for breakfast. this can be a rather unwieldy thing to eat in bed, especially if one's bedmate is prone to pulling the duvet up round his chin and moaning about the cold. if the porridge bowl is resting on the duvet when this happens the results can be calamitous. fortunately my reactions are like lightening, and to date i have managed to avoid porridging the Ageing Rockstar. i did have cause to remonstrate with him

our friend bertie-sue has recently moved house. she is known as bertie-sue to differentiate her from all the other sues in our lives. bertie is her little dog, who resembles a manic powderpuff but has the courage of a lion. he persists in trying to give alfie his babies, even though both of them have had their wedding tackle removed and the fact that he has to wait for alfie to lie down to make the attempt because of their disparity of size. because bertie-sue has been de-cluttering there have been a few additions to our house. one was a large mirror which i have hung in the bedroom. this seemed like a good idea at the time. however, once i stood in front of it in a state of undress i realised my folly. "this mirror makes me look huge!" i shrieked. the Ageing Rockstar looked up from his laptop. i waited a little while for him to say that the mirror had a dishonest streak, but there was silence. "i don't look as fat in the mirror downstairs! do you think this mirror i

The Ageing Rockstar and I are sitting in bed, reading about vital matters on our respective laptops. As i am sure many of you find, the screen of the person next to you is infinitely more interesting than the one in front of you. rather like the old days when travelling on the tube the person next to you has a more interesting newspaper, even though it is one that your political sensibilities would prevent you from buying.  The Ageing Rockstar is looking at a map. My lust for travel is ignited and i crane my neck to see where he might be thinking of whisking me away to. “Leominster.”  “Leominster?” I cry, “what’s in Leominster?” Let me give you a clue, dear reader. It begins with G. And has strings. But this is no ordinary guitar. It is a peculiar leaning over guitar.  “You can’t buy that!” I shriek, “its all wonky!” “They are supposed to be like that,” the Ageing Rockstar reassures me. “But it won’t hang on the wall properly with all the normal un-wonky guitars. And everyone will lean

Yesterday found me visiting her maamship and the prof. Readers of  Joker's blog  will recall that her maamship used to be called mrs prof, until she was called to the judiciary, whereupon it was felt that she needed a title befitting of her new station. Talk turned to our increasing oldness and general decrepitude. The prof has the lead on oldness but her maamship and i are probably ahead on decrepitude.  Her maamship related an amusing tale about her ear. It seems the ear has not been well and her maamship resorted to pouring olive oil into it in an effort to return it to useful service. While this may have resulted in interesting salad dressing, it did nothing for auditory volume. In addition the ear was rather sore. It then began to give off a rather unpleasant smell. To give some idea of the magnitude of this, her maamship was able to smell her own ear, in spite of not being furnished with a trunk. At this point in the conversation her maamship digressed, describing how she had

last saturday saw the Ageing Rockstar and me travelling up to Camberley for an outing. now and again the Ageing Rockstar gets to play one of his many guitars in front of an audience, alongside an Ageing Drummer, an Ageing Singer and an Ageing Keyboard player, as well as a bass player who is merely Teetering on the Brink of Middle Age.  such outings are often arduous. travelling to the wilds of Surrey can bring its challenges, as there are frequently roadworks to be dealt with which play havoc with the Ageing Rockstar's carefully calculated timings. on this occasion we had to divert, after a large sign on the motorway informed us of very long delays. the Ageing Rockstar began to fiddle with the radio in his car, which doubles up as a satnav. it is inhabited by a very well-spoken lady, whose diction is only slightly marred by her habit of pausing for breath between words. the main problem with this satnav is that it came with the car, which is almost as ageing as its owner. the idea

about a week ago i was visiting a poorly friend. there was a knock on the door and when i opened it the prof, who readers of  joker the lurcher's blog  will recall, stood on the doorstep. i should explain that the prof is the father of the friend in question, not some random door knocker. "can i tempt you with a large courgette, madam?" he asked. i made a mental note of this wonderful opening gambit before replying, in a very poor approximation of the accent of a southern belle, "lordy, i do declare, its a gentleman caller proffering interesting vegetables!" the courgette turned out to be rather larger than anticipated, and to have two colleagues. i was persuaded by the prof's charm to relieve him of all three, and decided to pass two of them on to some friends who cook for a large group of people. the remaining one sat in the kitchen for a few days, looking reproachful. eventually i braved matters and attacked the beast with a large knife. the blade merely

the subject of how to remember interesting or funny things to write about on my new blog comes up. "the trouble is," i say, "unless i write things down straight away i forget them. that's the trouble with being so old. like the other morning when you got all princessy about me trying to strip the bed while you were still in it - you said some really funny things but i've forgotten them all." "you could record them on your phone," suggests the Ageing Rockstar, "just switch it on when we are talking about something you want to remember."  "yes but as soon as you saw me switch on the phone it would stop you saying hilarious things in case i quoted them!" and, while i would love to tell you what the Ageing Rockstar replied, sadly i cannot. because i failed to record it on my phone...