The Doctor Is Back, Not That He Ever Really Went Away...

Back to normal blogging service now, and I don't mean that I've fixed my spacebar*.

It was pointed out to me that my guitars tend to breed when I'm not looking, and the electrics have been it like knives again. The guitar stork will be dropping the baby on the left down my chimney sometime in the next month or so. I know. I don't need another guitar. But fucking hell, look at that bastard. The Gibson Firebird is still, for me anyways, the single most beautiful (solid body) electric guitar ever and even if it sounded like shit I'd still have to get one. Fortunately it sounds like heaven with a bottleneck, possibly even better than my '56 Gold Top, which, given that the first time I plugged that sucker into the Orange, slipped a slide on my finger and let rip it sounded exactly like Elmore James, is fucking going some.

Greenwich is a random place to live sometimes. Particularly on No Car Day. Woman in silver unitard** and matching hat attached to giant silvery-white globe helium balloon doing acrobatics anyone? The appearance of a man riding a metal elephant mounted atop an electric go-kart with a motor so weedy he needed his mate to give him a bit of a shove over a 3inch high speed bump being followed by a fat kid on a BMX*** making hooting noises every time the elephant trumpeted was pretty good, but my favourite moment was the arrival of the heavenly rapid response unit. We were sitting dozily in the sun, on the steps of the old naval college between the chapel and the painted hall, when the sound of classical music could be heard getting increasingly louder from somewhere hidden off to the right. I thought no more of this until an angel on wheels**** (not a bike, parallel wheels) whizzed along the path in front of us at a fair old clip, pausing only to do a quick 360 and to chat briefly to some tourists before speeding off on presumably holy business elsewhere, all the while blaring the aforementioned classical music from it's arse. It was one of those moments where you turn to each other and say "did you see that too?" at exactly the same time, and are deeply reassured to find out that, yes, they did, meaning that either you're both equally crazy (this is a distinct possibility) or an angel on wheels did just whizz past...

*No, I'm still having to paste spaces and a few punctuation marks in because I still haven't bought a new keyboard after my old one decided to succumb to alcoholism. As to the back to normal service bit, if you know what I mean you know what I mean and if you don't you're not meant to. Nosy sods.

**Alright, it was a leotard, but leotard isn't nearly as snigger-inducing a word as unitard.

***BMXs (how do you pluralise BMX? Fucked if I know) always look too small for the person riding them, no matter how tiny they are. WhatTheFuck? The other thing to bear in mind is this was on a practically deserted backstreet.

****Not a hell's one either, but one with wings and halo and shit.