Guitars, Newcastle Upon Tyne and my Dad.

A few things in my life.... *WARNING: Likely to be long and rambly. My head is hurting a little.*

My dad flew up from London to see me yesterday. He brought with him my favourite pint glass from which to sup Diet Coke, a book about the 100 Most Important/Greatest Irish or something like that, some post and....

Led Zeppelin Remasters box set. :D Featuring the unreleased tracks 'Travelling Riverside Blues', 'Hey Hey What Can I Do', 'White Summer/Black Mountain Side' and the 'previously unreleased in this form 'Moby Dick/Bonzo's Montreux'. He found it cheap in HMV or something. *does little dance* and has said he's going to look out for the Complete Studio Recordings which retails at like 90 quid and he swears he's seen cheap in Luton. *does mad dance*

Anyway, we went into Sunderland and got me some food shopping before then going into Newcastle. No offence to any Geordies, but I think I actually prefer Sunderland in a way. I mean, maybe it's that I don't know where anything is in Newcastle, but it was just... I dunno. Anyway, we ate at Frankie & Benny's and then trolled around for awhile until it was time for him to head back to the airport and me back to university.

Oh, and in Waterstone's he got me Michael Moore's book Stupid White Men which is actually a required text in a couple of my modules (how cool is that?) and... the Neal Preston book of Led Zeppelin photographs. WOO HOO! *does mad, insane dance, trips over guitar and collapses in heap*

Anyway, have done a glorious amount of nothing today, and thanks to having a fridge and en-suite bathroom, have not even had to leave my room at all. This is the kind of ultimate doing-nothing that I feel I have elevated into an art form.

I have though, been trying in vain to get my hands to find chord positions on my guitar with ease. ( Guitar stuff. Cut for Disinterested. )

Had a weird dream the other day. Ringo Starr and George Harrison were in it, but I can't quite recall exactly what was going on. I know why though- just before falling asleep I saw coverage from the Concert For George premiere in LA. Ringo was there (as was Paul McCartney, but the less of him at the moment, the better, I feel) and the first bit I saw was Ringo with his arm around Dhani Harrison, who really is the spit of his dad at the same age. Maybe that's why- although I'm sure in the dream George was his long-haired in-his-fifties self. I don't know!

Then last night I had yet another weird dream in which I was going to play football for England. Let's ignore the fact that I haven't played football since I was 16 for a second. Girls can't play for England! Girls can't play in the regular leagues! We have our own shitty league that nobody watches- why would they when there's the good stuff to watch? Only in America is chick football remotely popular. Now- I haven't played footie since I was 16 and we finally got to play in PE at school. I wasn't bad, you know. But that's because I was playing against other girls. I look like David Beckham when I play against girls who don't play football and don't even know the rules. I remember playing my brother and his mates and regularly being creamed. I'm not being at all anti-feminist here- some girls are as good as the boys. I'm not. So why was I in a dream where I was going to play for England? Has the football sitch here got so bad that they can't find anyone else? And while I'm on it- why was I with the England football team at church of all places? Why were Gerry Adams and David Trimble also there? Hell- when are we likely to see Gerry Adams and David Trimble in the same church together?

God I love this new set my dad got me. It's like Jimmy Page sat down in 1990 and thought 'what will Clare Worley like in thirteen years time?' I mean, I'm only halfway through the first disc and I'm on the floor here. There was me thinking 'ah, me Zep obsession is calming down' and it's NOT anymore! And on Disc Three there's Kashmir and Trampled Underfoot consecutively *dies* and then When The Levee Breaks, Achilles Last Stand and The Song Remains the same all in one go. *dies again* There's only one issue I have, and that's that Immigrant Song isn't the first thing on Disc Two- there's nothing like that song to open an album- listen to Zep III for the proof! Still, I'm sure Jimmy had his reasons as to the tracklisting and who am I to question The Wizard?

Mind you, any plans I had to tone down any Zep stuff has been thwarted- aside from aforementioned box set and the Neal Preston photo book, I got this month's Vanity Fair (Music Issue, woo hoo) and found... a long article about Led Zeppelin by Lisa Robinson. I won't go into detail, but suffice to say I was thrown right back to where I was before- listening to nothing but Zep, although I had a break for the Coasters and the Dubliners earlier.

Have also decided that, if I can work out how to do all the fancy layout stuff, I will buy myself a paid account. Watch this space, kiddies.

Guitars, Newcastle Upon Tyne and my Dad.

A few things in my life.... *WARNING: Likely to be long and rambly. My head is hurting a little.*

My dad flew up from London to see me yesterday. He brought with him my favourite pint glass from which to sup Diet Coke, a book about the 100 Most Important/Greatest Irish or something like that, some post and....

Led Zeppelin Remasters box set. :D Featuring the unreleased tracks 'Travelling Riverside Blues', 'Hey Hey What Can I Do', 'White Summer/Black Mountain Side' and the 'previously unreleased in this form 'Moby Dick/Bonzo's Montreux'. He found it cheap in HMV or something. *does little dance* and has said he's going to look out for the Complete Studio Recordings which retails at like 90 quid and he swears he's seen cheap in Luton. *does mad dance*

Anyway, we went into Sunderland and got me some food shopping before then going into Newcastle. No offence to any Geordies, but I think I actually prefer Sunderland in a way. I mean, maybe it's that I don't know where anything is in Newcastle, but it was just... I dunno. Anyway, we ate at Frankie & Benny's and then trolled around for awhile until it was time for him to head back to the airport and me back to university.

Oh, and in Waterstone's he got me Michael Moore's book Stupid White Men which is actually a required text in a couple of my modules (how cool is that?) and... the Neal Preston book of Led Zeppelin photographs. WOO HOO! *does mad, insane dance, trips over guitar and collapses in heap*

Anyway, have done a glorious amount of nothing today, and thanks to having a fridge and en-suite bathroom, have not even had to leave my room at all. This is the kind of ultimate doing-nothing that I feel I have elevated into an art form.

I have though, been trying in vain to get my hands to find chord positions on my guitar with ease. ( Guitar stuff. Cut for Disinterested. )

Had a weird dream the other day. Ringo Starr and George Harrison were in it, but I can't quite recall exactly what was going on. I know why though- just before falling asleep I saw coverage from the Concert For George premiere in LA. Ringo was there (as was Paul McCartney, but the less of him at the moment, the better, I feel) and the first bit I saw was Ringo with his arm around Dhani Harrison, who really is the spit of his dad at the same age. Maybe that's why- although I'm sure in the dream George was his long-haired in-his-fifties self. I don't know!

Then last night I had yet another weird dream in which I was going to play football for England. Let's ignore the fact that I haven't played football since I was 16 for a second. Girls can't play for England! Girls can't play in the regular leagues! We have our own shitty league that nobody watches- why would they when there's the good stuff to watch? Only in America is chick football remotely popular. Now- I haven't played footie since I was 16 and we finally got to play in PE at school. I wasn't bad, you know. But that's because I was playing against other girls. I look like David Beckham when I play against girls who don't play football and don't even know the rules. I remember playing my brother and his mates and regularly being creamed. I'm not being at all anti-feminist here- some girls are as good as the boys. I'm not. So why was I in a dream where I was going to play for England? Has the football sitch here got so bad that they can't find anyone else? And while I'm on it- why was I with the England football team at church of all places? Why were Gerry Adams and David Trimble also there? Hell- when are we likely to see Gerry Adams and David Trimble in the same church together?

God I love this new set my dad got me. It's like Jimmy Page sat down in 1990 and thought 'what will Clare Worley like in thirteen years time?' I mean, I'm only halfway through the first disc and I'm on the floor here. There was me thinking 'ah, me Zep obsession is calming down' and it's NOT anymore! And on Disc Three there's Kashmir and Trampled Underfoot consecutively *dies* and then When The Levee Breaks, Achilles Last Stand and The Song Remains the same all in one go. *dies again* There's only one issue I have, and that's that Immigrant Song isn't the first thing on Disc Two- there's nothing like that song to open an album- listen to Zep III for the proof! Still, I'm sure Jimmy had his reasons as to the tracklisting and who am I to question The Wizard?

Mind you, any plans I had to tone down any Zep stuff has been thwarted- aside from aforementioned box set and the Neal Preston photo book, I got this month's Vanity Fair (Music Issue, woo hoo) and found... a long article about Led Zeppelin by Lisa Robinson. I won't go into detail, but suffice to say I was thrown right back to where I was before- listening to nothing but Zep, although I had a break for the Coasters and the Dubliners earlier.

Have also decided that, if I can work out how to do all the fancy layout stuff, I will buy myself a paid account. Watch this space, kiddies.