Not A Lot

It's been a bit spartan on the post front here at the Harbour.

I'd have apologised earlier but presumed I actually spoke face-to-face with any frequent visitors on an almost daily basis.

It comes to my attention, however that a few others actually drop in from time-to-time.

With this in mind (and the fact that a blog without any real opinion or content is a dire waste of pixels) I shall attend to some more thoughtful and considered posts forthwith.

Although not just now, as I'm popping for a drink.

Night Night

Thompson And Twins


Got to be worth a pop out in the rain today.

Some reviews are here. The Sun is a little critical...

Happy 40th Birthday!


Fairport Convention's first public performance was at Saint Michaels Church Hall, Golders Green, on 27 May 1967.

Video's Gonna Kill Me


Dave, over at The Stabbing Robot, is getting all excited about Richard Thompson's new album on Monday and Cropredy in the summer.

And for good reason.

Just to add my tuppence worth, and in case you thought the Strawbs video was as 'how come I can't seem to round up many people to go with me to Cropredy' as can be, here's a couple of real early eighties treats:

And a much more respectable:

Speaking Ill Of The Dead (Belated)



Pants On Fire


So much to say but so little enthusiasm to write it down.

If the last ten years is what democracy is all about I'm in for a troubled and angry existence.

According to my Death Watch widget I die in 25148 days, on 24th January 2076.

That's in 69 years.

The night this idiot got in the prospect of having 17 general elections ahead of me was very exciting. But it seems a pretty hollow prospect after the last decade.

The news-junkie in me is looking forward to the next few weeks, in fact the next couple of years. But the bigger part of me - you know, the part that makes you cry at the state of the world - isn't having any of it.

In fact, as I recall talking to both my Dad and his Dad about elections and the future and money and hope and dignity and justice and peace it seems we're just destined to go round and round in circles.

And part of me wishes it was New Years Eve 2075 and time for one last quick drink.

Thanks Tony.

The Only Places...

...for a decent analyse of the Blair legacy are here and here.

Er, that's it.


Maybe St Stephen Had a Point?