Crossroads

Bridport is certainly not Rosedale, Mississippi, and Clarksdale is not twinned with West Bay to my knowledge. I also doubt that Robert Johnson and the Devil had to dodge a Vauxhall Astra while discussing their deal. My four-wheel nemesis pinged me, and as a result, I feel more like Sandy from Crossroads than a blues legend. Still, it gives me a good reason to buy another acoustic. Maybe not a 7-string, but something a little more user-friendly.

Half a week to go to my next progress visit to Salisbury Hospital, and it won’t be a day too soon. All my friends, family and neighbours have been amazing. A real life-affirming boost that has made the last few months a lot easier. Despite this, as the leaves fall, and in anticipation of the Consultant’s report, I fear I might be going slightly stir crazy. The mind starts playing tricks on you.

Last week I managed to use what remains of my buttocks to bump my way up the stairs to the bathroom. An oasis of a hot water and bubbles awaited, and it didn’t cost me £300. Just as I was relaxing in the tub, I heard a high-pitched squeal in my ears. Strewth, after all that’s happened, has Tinnitus decided to join the party? No, a leak in the blow-up hot tub being fixed by Jude and Oz. It sounded like the combined Mouse Marching Bands on manoeuvres. You get slightly panicky about any ache, bump or noise.  Best to take your mind off it and try and find something else to focus on.

To that end, I thought it might be an idea to build a remote-control car for my granddaughter – just what every three-month old needs. Small parts to choke on, batteries to drink and sharp objects to chew. It seemed perfect until I saw a YouTube video walking you through the construction process. Only madness lies down that path, my child. You need a PhD just to open the glue.

No, I need a simpler project. I have noticed that my language has become somewhat ripe over the last eight weeks. Yesterday I fired up the grey matter and built a virtual swear box. £10.00 a pop. All receipts to the young un. At the current usage, however, the house will be on the market by the end of the month and the instruments will have been sold.
(Swear Box can be viewed here, https://hillyfields.org/swearbox/ )

To stave off financial ruin, I reduced the hit rate to 1p and picked up my guitar and played. I’ll need to find something else to occupy my time.

Then it hit me like a Ticketmaster bill. I’ll write some songs. Nothing too serious. Just a few ideas written on the Martin that slipped into the house via the back door. Keep it simple, keep it safe. Acoustic, Mandolin, Bass and Accordion. Maybe a bit of single coil love as well. All recorded on the sofa with my leg in the air. Get a few friends involved. What could possibly go wrong, Gandalf?

As a result this blog might become more audio-based. Let’s see what the Doctor prescribes on Monday.

While I’m waiting, I’ll revisit another life affirming moment, Adam Steffey and Sierra Hull, superb players jamming.

 Link to video