The Monthly Meeting

I'm sitting in a meeting room facility at a venue in the Midlands, a venue which has lost one of its major attractions since the removal of a GT40 from its exhibition. [Again, this is taken from notes made at the time]. I'm sitting in a meeting room because I'm in a meeting, one which is scheduled to take several hours, and it is my least favourite event of the month, and so one which I generally take pains to avoid unless truly I am forced to be there.

This need to take hours is slightly unfortunate, not least because I have a sore nipple, an affliction the origin of which is unknown to me, thus making it difficult to prevent re-occurrence. As ever, it is the right side which is causing me such discomfort. The possible causes vary, from being a consequence of my always-restless sleep, or excessive vigour when towelling myself post-bath, to something more subconscious, of which I am in no control. This latter is a little worrying.

Is it me or is the trailer for 'Lonesome Dove' unbelievably shit? The first time I saw it I was sure it was a spoof, indeed I kept expecting someone like Charlie Higson or the late Kenny Everett to appear.

A good friend sent me a link to a recent BBC Radio 4 programme about 'prog rock' which featured an interview with, amongst others, Capt. Brock. This is fine, but, of course, whenever such material is covered on radio or telly there are always the usual suspects. Keith Emerson, for one, Rick Wakeman, and the frankly ghastly Jon Anderson. What unites these people? Most obviously, a complete lack of self-doubt. They all acknowledge the extremity of indulgence about their musical ambition, but all equally believe that their talent merited such indulgence. Anderson seems to believe himself underindulged.

My friend Mr. Han Solo today offered the word 'envidulator'. Needless to say, he failed the exam, which said officer was over-seeing...

God I love ice-cream...better still, I love to share ice-cream. It always makes people smile.

I often describe people as being 'pronounally challenged', by which I usually mean that they have a tendency to use 'I' when describing achievement, in place of a more accurate and appropriate 'he/she/we'. I am increasingly aware of another phenomenon, however; the use of 'myself' instead of 'I'. It appears to be an effort to lend gravitas to the statement. I think it's just careless and clumsy.

Oh alas, alack, the GT40 has gone, departed. It has been sold, and is unlikely to be replaced. Why on earth else do they think I would want to visit a car museum? To look at old Rovers?