I don't think I am dead...

There was a time when Mysweet would say to children “That’s enough! You have been on Facebook for at least 24 hours…It’s time to eat/sleep/do homework…”

He did have a Facebook account, but rarely used it

But now, all is changed.

It is down to this photograph of him posted on my page by an old touring friend of his. This attracted the comment “A dam fine man! RIP!” by another of the ex touring sound engineer community. Feeling, with Mark Twain, that reports of his death had been exaggerated, he set to with a vengeance to remind everyone on the web that he is still drawing breath. I hear whirring noises from the office late into the night as he decides which photograph of the good old days he will be scanning and posting.

 And now they are all at it. Sound and lighting engineers, and touring personnel generally.

Facebook is bulging with photos of strange hairy men from the 70’s with Ted Nugent, Foreigner, and doubtless more to come, mainly featuring sound equipment (it’s their thing after all) at massive festivals in California and elsewhere. At meal times the conversation is along the lines of “What was the name of the guy on the Jackson tour in this photo?”

  

It seems that if you are not on Facebook these days people will think you are probably dead. The entertainment business is high risk, so I can see why…We both have friends who didn’t survive the pressure. But here we are! Still up and running!

I want to make the most of every minute. 

My favourite walk

I have lived in Brittany for over 20 years now.
In the winter, it can be difficult to cope with grey skies and rain and I long for the city...any city.
In the summer, it is quite stunningly beautiful. All that rain creates a lush green landscape and when the clouds clear it sparkles in the sunlight.
Even in the depths of winter there is one place that I go to, very close to where I live, which simply nourishes the soul. It is never crowded and always different. The sound of the water is a soothing background to even the most troubled thoughts. Time stands still. I walk the banks of the river and fall into a meditative trance...

And then Porridge barks and I have to throw sticks into the water. She likes it there too.


Les Chaos du Gouët par guyomdeSinope

A foreign country

It has been a mixed pleasure walking down memory lane this week, as I assembled the elements for my new personal website. I have been singing professionally for 35 years, so putting a biography together has been challenging. What to put in and what to leave out has mostly been determined by what I could find in dusty drawers. There are lots of videos on you tube showing me in places that I didnt know I had even been to, but touring can be like that sometimes. I thought it better not to include any that I didn't put up myself . They come and go with alarming speed as the copyright lawyers take them down and then they spring up again somewhere else like weeds. Which left me with a vast collection of photographs...
Who is this person in all the costumes? I have been looking hard but she seems like a series of dissociated personalities. A collection of strangers. What a great time we had though!

I can't believe I ever managed to squeeze into that one...

                                                              gillianodonovan.com

Restaurant Le JAVANAIS

When I lived in London, I was a great fan of Indonisian food. So it was with delight that we accepted an invitation from some friends to take a day off from our internet toiling and visit St Malo for lunch at a Javanese restauraunt. Our friends are French but unusually adventurous when it comes to spices...

At this time of year, the medieval town of St Malo is full of tourists from just about everywhere, and they were very entertaining in themselves, but perhaps would be less so if I lived there and had to fight my way through them on a daily basis!

The restaurant, which was hidden away in the narrow winding streets and off the beaten track, was completely empty. It is run as an addition to a small hotel by a married couple, a Frenchman married to a Javanese chef. We were told by our friends that the meal would be explained to us in minute detail, which could have been very tedious. But no! It was charming.

The whole culture of how javanese food is prepared and eaten was delightfully described by our maitre d while I attacked a large rum punch and agonised over menu choices. His wife hovered in the nearby kitchen and then the sound and smell of woks and friers got going.

I chose gado gado as my starter and he said that this meant a mixture and was a good description of their children. The sauces were delicately spiced and my chicken curry with 10 spices was subtle and delicious. Everything was authentically made and it was more like being invited to someone's house than a retaurant. Chili sauces were available to up the endorphins for those of us that way inclined. Here is some of the spread:

And these are the happy faces of the diners.

So I am tortured by indecision. Should I tell everyone about this wonderful place and then find it full up next time we go? Or share the secret with you? Don't tell anyone will you!!!

Off into the big bad world

Maybe I was just tired.

So emotions always get more intense, don't they?

Drummer boy is off into the world.

We drive to the airport, and I go through the long list of things that could go wrong in my mind.

We sing to his favourite tracks and hope that his small midi keyboard won't get crushed in the ryan air hold.

He is going to Aberdeen for a 10 week internship. We have tried to disguise a 6 ft 4 spindly rock star as an office worker, so his bag is full of sensible trousers and shirts.

He sits next to me in his usual extravagant garb and I wonder whether he will ever wear any of them.

He is brimming with youth and excitement and promise and all the wonder of a life ahead that could go anywhere, do anything...

There is something so touching about the unwritten page.

I drop him off at the airport.

I feel strangely happy and sad at the same time.

I turn the music up loud in the car and my favourite radiohead track comes on smart shuffle and I sob self indulgently for a little while...

how to keep cool

We have been working a bit too hard lately, so we decided to take a break on Sunday, and get Porridge to work instead. We showed her a stick and reminded her that a retriever's job is to... retrieve.

Her diet is working well, and it was a newly svelte shape that slid into the water.

She is a lot lighter on her feet. This doesn't change the danger of her running behind the backs of your knees though. Her momentum remains the same (less heavy but faster) so her skill of reproducing the effect of a bowling ball on skittles is just as devastating to the unwary.

On occasion she will go to the other bank with the stick and chew it ostentatiously because she knows that I can't get to her.


Today, she just seemed delighted to be able to run about with nothing hurting, and pleased to bring the stick back for more of the same.

Oh alright then. Again! How many times is it now?

Hurrah for a weekend in London

The sun is shining and my spirits are as high as can be.

I am escaping to London to spend some quality time with fairy godmother (to my kids) and best friend in all the world .

I have finished the intensive work of completely overhauling the kool drum website. I have to say that I am proud of it. Mysweet's paint work on the new drum type, the nova, is absolutely beautiful.

It should be, because he spent weeks experimenting until he came up with some stunning prototypes. It has been a worrying time because we have stopped using recycled gas bottles and have ordered the metal shells directly from the company who make them to sell to gas companies...

Would they sound as good...or better...or different?

We are pleased and relieved. The metal is less fatigued. When he cuts the notes they pop up like the petals of a flower. When they are coaxed back into position, the sound is much clearer. The sustain is not so long, so they are easier to play without lots of overlapping frequencies.

Porridge is recovering nicely from her operation and has what looks like a zip fastener along the mid line of her stomach. She is on a diet and her stomach is shrinking. She is not pleased.

Also, Billy boxer no longer comes to call. I suspect that her operation has reduced her "femme fatale" appeal. What with that and not being able to belly dance...