Afternoon Delight

Not what you're thinking I'm sorry to say. However, Hawksbee and Jacobs on "Tawlk Sporwrt " are just the best.

I hear that "CoffeePot" tune, see here http://www.talksport1089.com/glossary.html and I am in radio heaven.

Today's offering........ "I lost my parents when I was six..........what a card game that was "

Go Andy, Go Paul.......Sony Stardom awaits

JVIP

How sweet it is to be loved by you.

Unusually, I suffered a night characterised by a bad dream. Adrift in a foreign country, the general population full of antipathy. Escape, only just, with my life.

Whilst dreaming, a midnight born text from Pip. "I have had one of those middle of the night thoughts tho not asleep yet. Somehow, Thumper needs to become your Sister. Still loved by your family. I love you. Sweet dreams xxx"

She's right, of course. I must talk with No Nonsense Nick (my Sister) about it soon. I'm seeing her in 2 weeks time, spurred on by a week with Pip.

Drama or what ?

JVIP

My Momma told me......etc etc

Where do you go shopping for food? Stop me if you’ve heard this one before, but it is a trial isn't it ?

Asda
Could not possibly go there because of Wallmart connection and (per-lease) Sharon Osborne. Pat pat.

Tesco
No No No. Dame Shirley Porter and all that Gerrymandering in Wandsworth. In addition, all that buying up of land so no one else gets a look in renders it impossible to set foot through the doors. And those "finest range" products. What is that all about?

Morrisons
Possibly? Like some of the stuff but the staff uniform is just hateful and to force people to wear such things in public is oppressive. Isn’t it?

Co-op
Hmmmm. A few nice things, Ethical stance? Cote de Rhone is fab but increasing reliance of packaged food to make a profit render it an unlikely JVIP choice

Marks'
Hugely expensive and actually, in many cases, not that special. They do a rather fab individual Melton Mowbray Pork Pie. Salads second rate and wine hugely overpriced. I like those liquorice milk sweets they do on the check out!

Waitrose
All right (I suppose) for posh stuff. Leader and store champion of the "pay more for ripe fruit" idea, which really really ticks me off. Good incentive scheme for staff ruined by a horrible uniform (see Morrisons)

Sainsburys
Gets my vote. Interesting their profits are now rising again after a period of decline. Nice staff in my local one and a convincing range of products. High Class and Ordinary. Quite good clothes if you don’t mind looking like Alan Partridge. Please spare me, "You got a nectar card?" though.


Aldi
Gets my vote. Precious things on a Thursday. I’m often to be found queuing up with other "older" men wearing fleeces for the latest in Hammer Drills or handy portable generators. Some food really good and cheap stuff certainly as good as any other place for less. Look out for Colliers Cheddar. (Available in Sainsbury’s too)

Lidl
Gets my vote. Unpretentious.
How do you pronounce this name though? My colleague Willow, who is almost German, says" Lie-dal, whereas I say "Lid-ul"

Lidl is a place for everyman. Certainly, in the town I come from, the aisles are full of people from all walks of life. Asylum Seekers to posh country people "out for a bargain"

Food ok in some respects. Look out for nuts, jams, breads and some cheeses that are ok. Their underarm deodorant and some other personal products smell disgusting and make the "Lynx effect" seem positively sophisticated.

More on this subject again, I’m sure.

Here’s another thing though, what do you think about the whole notion of "How Men are in Supermarkets?"

Last Sunday, walking around Aldi with Thumper, I observe red two middle-aged couples walking round the store, clearly out on a jolly together. The men (wearing fleeces) looked, for all the world, as if they had never had to shop for anything in all their lives ever ever ever.
Their response to being dragged around the place, missing the FA cup and the ridicules John Motson, was to conspire together and behave rather like 6-year-old tyrants, bossing their women partners around and debating (loudly) the merits of certain food products. "Why do we have to spend money on this rubbish?" etc etc etc


I could have slapped their silly legs.
JVIP

How do you solve a problem like Maria ?

Pip bears an uncanny resemblance to Connie Fisher. Connie, you'll understand, was the girl chosen by that creep ALW to star in a new production of the SOM.

Andrew (If there's a labour government elected this time, I'm leaving the country forever) Lloyd-Webber said many fine words at the time of selection about the type of candidate he would be looking for.

We know now, of course, Connie Fisher has been a complete triumph in her role, the critics falling over themselves apparently creating eulogies of praise.

Pip has a musical career of her own going on you could say is equally successful in its own way.

As a child she plonked away on a piano to about grade 5 but gave this up, and the violin incidently, because of insensitive comments from a rather thoughtless music teacher. I could smack him !

Until last May, therefore, and a chance to meet up at the Shrubbery Hotel Ilminster,

she hadn't sang or played since childhood.

In a small room, surrounded by other small rooms, I played "Blowing in the wind" Pip sang timorusely and without courage. She picked up my left-handed Seagull and picked out the tune roughly. She was hooked !

Within a week, Pip had got hold of a right-handed horrible Lorenzo finger cutter and had hired a music teacher.

She's not looked back.

A top quality Ovation (American built) followed shortly. She's taken singing lessons and is now looking to start a band away from Rock and Roll Renegades called Les Bitches or something equally hateful.

She sings Shania songs with gusto and does Martina with passion and energy. "He thinks I'm pretty, He thinks I'm smart" etc

And fair play to her. What a real life heroine. (and she's pretty and she's smart)

JVIP

Authors Footnote

Curiously, the person in the next door room at The Shrubbery, way back in May 2006, complained the people next door had a small animal in the room with them and it was howling all night. Whether this puppy-like performance was, as a direct result of a woman learning to sing or, maybe, a woman making love like a goddess should remain a subject for descretion.

Andrew's words (at the time of Connie's selection) run true, however.

``We need somebody who sings beautifully, a lovely mezzo-soprano voice that is extremely stretching,'' he said. ``She needs to be able to act like a dream as well.''

He should have added "Howling like a puppy is highly desireable too"

If you cant say anything nice about anyone, don't say nothing at all !

Thumper has been ill. Cough and cold and feeling miserable.

Thumper is called Thumper, not because I'm the subject of Domestic Abuse, you'll be relieved; rather, she bears an uncanny likeness to the sweet cartoon rabbit from Bambi. As in "gee Bambi, the water's stiff"

To get this idea I'd take you back to a train journey to Edinburgh (in another life) where Thumper was accompanied by Mollydolly (See below) Fellow Passengers started to smile behind their hands.

One lady opposite plucked up the courage to say "You know that thing about Pets and their owners ?" Truth to tell, Thumper has that sweet pet-like quality in her looks.

She's Preeeety.

Thumper is clever, bright, funny, kind and warm. She knows more about modern culture than a clever person. She knows about Modern Art, Modern Literature, Popular Music and importantly, Celebrity. (in some depth as well) Critically, she knows A to E list but favours Tatler and Queens for pleasure, Closer and Heat for street kudos.

If, for example, you wanted to know about the recent movements of Colleen or Posh, she'd know. Alongside this knowledge, she'd have the intimate and, indeed, artistic details of the latest Gilbert and George exhibition, who was there and what they were wearing. Ugly Betty she likes.

Sadly, Sadly Thumper and I have come unstuck. She has no passion for me. Not in the intimate sense anyway. I maybe feel she never has had that thing going on.

When we met, some 15 years ago, we both so wanted it to be right. We ignored the lack of passion. Even now, in the beginnings of collapse, we are still polite, we collaborate in steady companionship.

But Rock and Rock it ain't.

What is it that Neil Young says ? "It's better to burn out, than to fade away"

My Jungle VIP says stick with Neil every time and keep singing "Oh Pip I love you"

JVIP

What becomes of the broken hearted ?

My neighbours are in terrible dispute.

One day, a few weeks ago, there was a tap on my door. The son of Neighbours, Terry (15-nice boy-hard working-social and articulate) looked ashen. "Come over to the house, Dad's had an accident"

I followed him quickly to the house and was confronted by my Neighbour, Julian, his head gashed and blood everywhere; his partner Hilary was shaking and in shock.

Thumper called the emergency services.

It is still not clear to me how this thing happened; a veil of secrecy being drawn over a domestic conflict by the parties involved. The pain felt by all, however, was apparent massively.

I have spoken to both partners (and the boy) since and it's clear everybody feels in complete turmoil in this house.

In response I offered (rather lamely) my ear to Terry, but quite obviously the boy would not want to share his "stuff" with just anybody.

I've reflected on my own mannered, well thought-out, negotiated, controlled and "civilised" response to a relationship in crisis. (my own) and thought many things about the inner passions I feel, as do Julian and Hilary and Terry.

In my life away from home I teach conflict resolution, consequential thinking and problem solving to people with broken lives. In my own life I am facing the impact of conflict, life problems and the consequences of my actions on a daily basis and my head is full.

Pip asked me the other day "What is the point of space ? I replied I didn't really know because space was a place where my head chatter will not quieten and settle.

Readers will be able to see. therefore, that "space" is a place I do not seek often and I go, therefore, about my life full-tilt most of the time.

Above all things I say "Pip is my love in whom I trust"



JVIP

The music goes round and round

I might have said before, I'm a fan of Radio. All human life is there. The pictures are better (although Pip doesn't think so) and I like to participate with a text or two sometimes. Claims to fame include 3 read out in a week on the much lamented JW drivetime show.

In fact, for a time I (JVIP) was the initiator of the M4 Pony Tail club- a sociological sub-genre known only to a few select middle-aged bikers that listened in to JW's interesting and rocking show.

See here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johnnie_Walker_(DJ))

Anyway, cus I spend so much time in my little car (more later) there is a growing fascination for me with the on-air relationships that develop between presenter/DJ's and weather/travel presenters.

Today, I just wanted to say I'm not that keen on Fran Godfrey. See here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fran_Godfrey

Thing is, her collusion into the idea she is some sort of sexual goddess drives me mad.

Underneath this seemingly passionate exterior, there lies (I believe) a deeply conventional and conservative person. Don't get me wrong, it must be hard to find a convincing persona to run with on a national radio show........but goodness........doesn't she milk the babe angle ?

I'm not really a fan of the TYG and TOG brigade you'll gather. Perhaps exemplified best by the unbelievable cult of personality that surrounds the WOGAN show, the tired cliches and the dried-up and conventional music played on same.

So......if Tel says just one more time "a lovely and wonderfully heart-felt tune by the late Clifford T Ward" I'm going to have a complete Eppi.

More later

JVIP

Take the world in a love embrace

Bless me father for I have sinned.....tis.....4 days since my last confession.

I haven't talked about my guilty pleasure yet. Looking at today's title you'd probably think I'd want to divulge a secret addiction to dogging or something equally unusual. Actually, there's a story there too of which more at a later time. However, no; it's not about dodgy car park activity today.

I like motorbikes. Pip likes motorbikes too. It's what makes the rock and roll renegades who they are.

Back in another world when I used to call Pip "guvnor" I came across her one day (in a car park as it happens) straddling a 450 Virago. Immediately I saw her in a new light. "Girl's on bikes" I thought. I was lost of course. She wore a sexy little leather jacket, I find out later, that came from her brother "shotti". She looked like a proper biker.

My own situation was grave. I'd traded in a 1200 FJ 3 years previously at the insistence of thumper. The promise of a mini-caravan to travel the world seemed only partial recompense.

My love of bikes goes way back to BSA Bantams, Tiger Cubs and James 197's. I dream of owning a 64 crusader continental GT 250.

When RNRR was born last year, Pip and I used to meet at "the lakes" Another ....er....car park....... by (quite naturally) a lake. A place to be peaceful and think. One day, Pip arrived on the Virago. Again, I was lost.

A phone call to a company in Huddersfield pointed to a man in Abingdon who had a bike for sale a lot like the image above that has taken me some considerable time to upload. I claimed the BMW R100CS as my own.

Squeezing into aged Salopettes was a joke. Buying a racy new jacket with "cafe racer" on the label was more exciting. Meeting Pip up and down the country in car parks is like Betty Crocker icing on a devil's food cake. She rides like a dream and is my love.

Currently, I'm experience problems with my tickover. Who said life was all about dogging ?

JVIP

Our house, is a very very very nice house

Poor old Jade ! To think we could bring a person so much condemnation with so much exposure expressed with so much glee. Poor poor people that we are to do this to another.

I've been listening to Love and Mercy by Brian Wilson. It's a lovely tune. http://www.stlyrics.com/lyrics/orangecounty/loveandmercy.htm

One day, back in another world, there was a time when JVIP was threatened with public disgrace and ruin. Many people at the time queued up to have their say. Many were hurtful and unkind about the mistakes he had made. Some people chattered behind his back. Some people shook their heads and thought "it's the end for that boy" Some people pretended to be kind whilst secretly had bitter things to say to others.

One person listened to his tears on a warm sunday afternoon in May and told him he was a good man; told him he was worth a damm; told him he was decent. One person stood beside him properly back then. One person went out of their way to hug JVIP with love and compassion on the steps of his workplace and told him to stand up and fight back. One person knew what was in his heart and didn't believe the hype.

That person was Pip.

Life used to be so hard, now everything is easy cus of you.
JVIP

Sweet Adeline

My girl is an artist. And she's a musician too. She plays in....goodness.....3 bands. They are not famous. De-ee would not want fame. She would not be able to work with the compromises to her lifestyle such status would provoke.

My girl paints, draws and sculpts. She sells the work and lives on the proceeds of this, and a one day a week job in a cafe.

I admire her so much. From the day she left home and went to university, she has never asked for any financial assistance, help with accommodation or, indeed, anything that would cost me money. She has a backbone of steel and I love her very much.

Her music is most important to her. The word on the street is that its called Emotional Hardcore. This, I think, is different from EMO. But, as an older person, my definitions are not always as they should be and one genre' drifts into another. I know she likes Elliot Smith who sounds a bit browned off to be honest www.sweetadeline.net/

De-ee learnt guitar when she was about 14. She plays left-handed like me and her brother. They learnt on my guitars so that's the way it is. This means their choice is hugley restricted into what instrument they can play.

Anyway, currently, she plays a fender acoustic dreadnaught, a bright blue fender (something or other that I can't remember that's not a strat or tele) and....she plays a bass too.

Actually, on another note, if there's one thing that annoys me is the whole deal around some music shops. (more of this later)

I adore De-ee anyway.....and fair play to her

JVIP

Listen to the music

My boy is in a band. The band is well known by kids from about 14 to 30 years mainly. The band have their second album out soon.

One day, in another life, my son picked up my wonderful 1971 Les Paul and said "how do you play this dad?" I showed him. He practised. He practised. He practised. Now he's a rock and roller. That's cool I think.

One day, he was out with his first band (with my guitar and his own-fender strat mexican-left hand-all white-like hendrix) and the guitars were stolen from his little car.

When he told me, I felt empty but didn't make fuss. He said "one day dad......i'll get you another"

7 years later he did.

From New York, a 1962 fender strat sunburst 3 position pick-up arrived.

I can't remember a time in my life when I've had so little indication in my head about what I should say.

I thanked him and was a bit gooeey-eyed for a while. Inside it was a proud moment. I'll thank him here too. And let him know I love him and tell him he's a special boy of whom I'm very proud.
JVIP

You fall apart like a buttercup

"What do you do when your love breaks up ?
Do you fall apart like a butter cup ?
Forget about tomorrow, surround yourself with sorrow?"

What do you do when every avenue seems like a dead end ?
What do you do when, by doing right, you're do wrong ?

Guidance from others has had no impact. Advice from friends and colleagues seeks to increase the dissonant chatter in my head.

My answer, and answer I must, to these difficult questions is that I must do what is right for me.

What is right for me says I must be with Pip.

When? Don't know
Where? Don't know
What? To make a new go of life
Who? So many people to think about and protect
Why? See above
How? I tell myself to rely on Magic. Magic is in the nexus of love and passion.

Easy huh ?

JVIP

Way up yonder on the chattahoochee

• De-ee can use Tab
• Beep-b-beep can use Tab
• Pip can use Tab
• JungleVIP is a straggler on Tab

Tab is this thing that helps you learn how to play songs on a Guitar. It looks like this,

.............................................
...........3.........1...............
.............2.........0.............
......0.0..................0.2.0..
...............3.3.........2.......3
....................33..3.3..........

Each dotted line represents a string on a guitar. Each figure, a fret number. You play the numbers in sequence. If you're a guitar player, you'll know this tab represents Sweet Home Alabama by Lynerd Skynerd. Cep't its hard for me.

When I was a boy, I sang in a Church choir. My parents sent me because they were worried I couldn't read very well and thought singing would bring my written english comprehension up to speed. No one realised at the time measles had wiped out my eyesight from 7 on and I struggled to see text for far too many years. Both from books and chalk and talk.

Far from helping my reading, I believe singing songs in that old choir taught me to perform and develop a musical muscle memory. And, indeed (as Alan Jackson has it) "a lot about living and a little about love"

Anyway, this translated itself into a learning style which is, at once, derivitive and also, probably lazy. Half the time, therefore, I cant be bothered (at all) to work out TAB and will rather watch Jules, hoping the camera lingers on the guitarists' fret hand long enough for me to copy (to some extent) the tune by rote. Monkey see Monkey do style.

Professional guitarists like Beeb b beeb always talk of the anoraks that sit close to the front of the stage gazing fixatedly at them, learning the licks.

My defence is always "a damaged childhood" I hope this is ok everyone.

Conversely, it can be a huge downer watching other players. Just before Christmas, I was at a small concert watching a most famous english guitarist at short range (not Brian May to all you Queen fans who voted them the best ever band on Radio 2 this Christmas-What were you on......it has to be JPG&R doesn't it ?).

Anyway, it was all so easy. A slow, crab handed style that beggered the technique beneath it. And all these guitar gods have massive hands of course. Just in typing this text I can feel all my insecurities as a player rising up from me. My little paws dancing over the keys here.

The point is, Pip, Dee-ee and Beeb-be-Beep all have this thing where they see the tab; which (somehow) makes the right synapses connection and their fingers just do the work. Someone enlighten me on how that can be-or is it just laziness on my behalf ?

JVIP

Back with no Bone

Forget yesterday mostly.

These are the reasons:

• my job felt impossible
• my car was unreliable
• i got a migraine (not man-flue migraine either)
• i was very fed-up with people's unrealistic expectations of me
• i had no peace in my mind

When I get like this, all my middle-class social conditioning of deferred gratification, do as you would be done by, stand up, be a man, tomorrow will be a brighter day, stop moaning, think of all the starving children in Africa, "its better now than when you were frightened in Northern Ireland"......all try to re-surface my selfhood but, on this occasion, fail to lift me and merely seek to confirm my inability to deal with the conflicting issues in my life.

On my way back to Thames Valley from Wiltshire, Pip calls and says uncrap motivational things. I drive on painfully and blindly into a dark wet night in my dodgy car thinking about her. I drink lucozade.

Later, after (thank my stars) sleeping away the evening, she sends me this text

" and so to bed, to sleep, perchance to dream. I will dream of my romeo, his hair streaming in the wind, his eyes aflame with love"

I get up. I eat (quite good quality-Tesco finest range) Pizza and (delicious)Salad and drink (Sainsbury's plastic Merlot-£5.99 125CL) wine.

I watch Joni, David, Graham, Steve, Neil, James and Carly playing into their Californian night and think

"How could i live without her?"

JVIP

Pretty in Pink

I first met Pip on the phone. She joined the organisation for whom I work. She was to become a Senior Manager.

Being cheeky, I called her to see how much and how far corporate speak and behaviour had entered her consciousness. 25 minutes banter ensued. I pushed my luck.

Finally, reassured my new boss was a person, I felt really supported that she had creative and dynamic ideas and exhibited a proper and real sense of care for others.

She was a bit flirty too.

I met this Pip in person 10 days later. She was articulate, commanding and dead capable at a professional meeting. When talking to a group, she blushed at the neck a little. She wore business clothes and seemed confident about a tweed short skirt in pink.

I don't know about you, but I get a distinctively uncertain feeling about women who get nervous in short skirts; like you might be trying to cop a look or something ?

It's like "you're a man, ergo you're gonna peep" My observation is that this often results in much hand shifting, positioning of....er.......clip boards and other nervous adjustments. I find this a tricky dynamic to manage.

Pip didn't have any of these characteristics.

3 years of working alongside this dynamo followed. Initial impressions were never dented.

Nearly two years ago now, she left the organisation. Not in the happiest of circumstances unfortunately.

I stayed in touch because I was supportive of her and, importantly, she was a person who believed in me.

Of course we met for coffee, of course we met for lunch, of course we talked about her new career and of course we shared intimacies.

And then we shared music. She knew Classical, Chopin and Mozart. She knew Steps, S Club 7, Destiny's Child and The Beatles.

She didn't know CSN, she didn't know Joni Mitchell, she didn't know Rock, she didn't know Country and she didn't know British RN'B. So, so much to learn Pip.

I played a guitar. I told her about it. I sang. I told her about it.

She now plays a guitar and is learning to sing beautifully.

3 days before Christmas last year, we sang and played together in front of 850 people. It was really good feeling. We are Rock and Roll Renegades.

Our lives have changed. We are lovers who are in love.

JVIP

Smoke on the Water

I'm a commuter. I often spend 4 hours a day on the M4. This requires a degree of perseverance. The radio is omnipresent. I have two phones. Work phone is a basic (and nasty) cheap, little Nokia. The ring tone is called Fuga. It's set to "loud" because I'm deaf. My own phone (a superior Nokia) bears the signs of hard usage. Cracked screen, worn keys from texting Pip. The ring tone is "Smoke on the Water" I downloaded this from 02 for £3.99. Sometimes, I let the phone ring for a little while. I then get to do air guitar.

If I was asked to give up TV or Radio as a punishment. Or, if it was Lent and I was a Christian and wanted to experience a deprivation, I'd give up TV everytime. Mostly,I adore the radio. Sometimes though, it has the capacity to make me cross. Like, for example, when Susan Carter is on The Archers and she says things like "I've got to get my hands on a Tamarind" which she did last night. Susan Carter, by common consent, is the most hateful character in The Archers.

Mostly, I've developed my own blaggers guide to car karma. Nothing very spritual but exemplified by pretty good attempts to keep my head chatter positive. Mostly, this works. I'm well-versed on airway diversity too. I could, for example, be listening (mostly happily) to Alan and Beeky in the morning, yet (mostly unhappily) dipping in to a little bit of Sue McGregor a little later.

Music is a constant reminder of the passions in my life.

I stay out of trouble when I'm driving. I don't "pursue" things with people. Head chatter says "stop it". Mostly, this works. Except when I'm tired, where I can become exposed to the "sod it" factor.

If I get too miserable I try to think of people working in call centres trying to keep the show on the road or, thank my stars, I'm not Susan Carter.
JVIP

We'll start at the very begining

I'm an ordinary Joe. I'm called Jungle VIP because I like the song. Whether the sadness and inner desperation in emulating the "KING OF THE SWINGERS" is justified, I'll leave you to judge. I'm a man.

I have a partner. I call her Thumper. Thumper doesn't do names. I have a lover. I call her Pip. Pip calls me Basil sometimes; not Cleese but after the fox. I am her puppet.

I have two children. I call one de-ee. I call the other Beep-b-beep. They call me Dadders.

I work for a Government Organisation. I am 56. This is my life.