Tag Archives: Music

#ACDC Not Retiring?

So I seem to have knee jerked myself into a rash blog post earlier, as there is twist in the tale…

Sorry

AC/DC Not on Cusp of Retirement: Sources | Billboard
http://m.billboard.com/articles/news/6053874/acdc-not-quitting-retirement-rumors


Worst News Today #ACDC

Thanks the memories Malcolm and the rest of AC/DC, will never forget waking up after a night in Connelleys in Greenock with a sore neck, mostly down to Whole Lot of Rosie.
Bands from major stadium rock to pub rock owe you thanks and gratitude.
Sad news indeed.
The Orstrahyun: RIP AC/DC: 1973 – 2014
http://theorstrahyun.blogspot.com.au/2014/04/rip-acdc-1973-2014.html?m=1


A Pub Like No Other

Back in the 90’s when I lived in Scotland I used to go to the Cambridge Folk Festival every summer. A couple of times, along with my friend Al, we would go on a road trip round southern England the week before the festival.

How we planned the road trip was with a copy of the Campaign for Real Ale’s (CAMRA) Good Beer Guide. A little tent icon by the pub description meant there was camping within a half mile (805 metres), or in other words staggering distance of the pub.

Now the wee icons were not 100% accurate and it did mean some extra driving around to find a place for the night. We did however find some gems on our travels. In a period when some great old boozers, and indeed some real dives were being converted into Irish theme bars, the Good Beer Guide promoted (and still does) fantastic pubs with traditional brewed beers, some classic old school, some modern.

Two of our locations were repeated into the next years trip. One in Southwold on Suffolks North Sea coast, home of Adnams Brewery, a must on any beer lovers ‘to drink list’ and another in, or rather around Boughton Monchelsea in Kent. Home of the legendary, to us anyway, Red House.

So so many things about this pub made it a favourite with us. The Real Ale was amazing, the Real Cider sublime, proper cider, translucent, not crystal clear and filtered to death and with added CO2, and certainly not that Jillz pish Heineken try to pass of as cider. It was a friendly pub, and to cap it all off, you could pitch a tent in the adjacent garden and spend the night after a night on the ales and cider.

Trying to find the pub however was a challenge. It was down a country lane, in a spiders web of country lanes that seem to move around while you’re finding your way. After plenty of driving north, south, east and west, and quite possibly driving up and down the lane we wanted at least five times it would just suddenly appear. This carry on happened on both occasions and became part of the pub’s legendary status.

We had a theory about this, and decided it was a sort of English Brigadoon.

After the last person left the pub and it was locked up for the night it would disappear from sight, not if you were camping out in the garden, but invisible from the road. The Red House would be gone and out of sight, only to reappear whenever the last hangover of the night before finally lifted. Truly it was a magical place and provided us with some of the most amazing, and probably the best hangovers ever.

Now amazing, best and hangover are words you never really see together. More often or not it would be hangover, hell and never again. A Red House hangover was weird, it was a hangover you respected. The kind of hangover that had Al sitting under a stand pipe with a slow cool run of water over his head and I had a cooking pot filled with cool water on my head, slowly seeping out. Too bad Monty Python ended up in a bin in a Kent service station later that day.

Sadly The Red House is no more. A bar restraunt, or gastro pub or something, but the legend lives on.

I wonder what happened to Pod who lived in his caravan there.


A Good Day in Twente

Had a brilliant day today.

Had some archery practice in Enschede with the new arrows I bought recently, and they have made a huge difference to my form already. I limited myself to six arrows at a time and was getting roughly three first hits from the six on the 3D targets, even managed a six out off six. Really pleasing because before I would only manage about one or two from six.

Progress and that is only the first time shooting with those arrows, hoping my form picks up soon.

Afterwards we went back to my girlfriend’s town, Hengelo where there was a free one day festival, and Dutch power folk band Scrum were playing. Not a huge fan of Scrum, saw them once before at the Folkwoods Festival in Eindhoven a couple of years ago and it just didn’t click for me then. This time I enjoyed it more. A sort of Scottish, Irish folk and roll band from somewhere in the Netherlands.

Kilts en klompen if you will.

http://www.folkwoods.nl/ Folkwoods Festival

http://www.scrummusic.nl/ Scrum

http://www.summersquare.nl/ Summer Square Festival


Reasons I Can’t Be a Dutch Radio DJ

Those who have followed my ramblings on twitter will probably know I am no fan of Dutch radio. Possibly beacuase working in a factory I am pretty much captive audience and there is nothing i can do about it.

I never listen to radio at home.

It also got me thinking how I would have a show if I was DJ. Trouble is I don’t think DJs have much say in what gets played as pretty much everything comes from a playlist from up on high. And I would probably scare listeners away with rock, folk, punk and metal.

Ach well there you go…

Other reasons I couldn’t do this?

I’m not a fan of Coldplay, Dutch radio loves Coldplay.

In my own humble opinion John Miles Music (is My First Love) is one of the most asre crushinly worst steaming piles of horse jobbie I have heard, and you have no idea how much airtime that gets over here.

I know Faith No More have released more music than their cover version of Easy, but that is a fact Dutch radio is determined to keep under wraps.

Likewise Soundgarden’s Black Hole Sun.

I know DJs work in shifts, but being in a factory and hearing the same song played five times a day, everyday for five weeks would drive me nuts. Many a good song has been ruined for me because of this.


The Meaning of Life… sort of…

The other day I was sitting on my balcony after what started as a relaxed day turned into a sprint finish and realised I may have stumbled on the meaning of life!

Sitting on my backside in the sun with a cold beer or hot tea, reading, listening to rock music mibbies folk, growing an epic beard and let time flow on by.

Well it worked on Friday.