It is St George’s Day, the patron saint of the English. In these strange time it seems, both, a little incongruous and also somewhat apt that our patron saint should hail from Syria and be of Italian extraction. Potentially, soon, we could be back to 1535, before Wales, 1707 Scotland and 1851 Ireland joined to make us the United Kingdom. St David and St Patrick are local boyos (bishops) done good. St Andrew, like St George is an import. Nevertheless they are all loved and celebrated, well all except St George.

BREXIT maybe the opportunity to redress the balance and give St George greater prominence. As Britain, well England leaves the EU (now back to being referred to as the Continent) and our three other partners in the United Kingdom head off to become provinces of Canada, Tierra del Fuego, Boston and New York, we English will stand proudly alone – once again.

Let us embrace this chance to rewrite history. After a period of stocktaking, we could go on the campaign trail – reclaiming our lost territories particularly those lost through Salic Law claims in Northern France. I am sure that the French on the northern coast, wearied after years of British run peace and refugee camps and selling tourists cheap wine and cheese will not put up much of a fight.

Prince Harry, stands out to be our leader on the campaign, he can make a rallying speech on the White Cliffs of Dover recalling past victories “Once more unto an Ibizan beach, dear friends, once more and close up the doorways with our English dead (drunk)”. Then using our two mighty aircraft carriers as a land bridge, the aircraft still not being available and the RAF not willing to fly as it is early in the morning, it’s not Wednesday and there are no half decent five star hotels in Dover. The army will be seen off by Pippa Middleton who will give each hero a favour, a sprig of Norfolk Mustard, bound in ivy and columbine (the social climber). So when fighting, our troops can taste the heat of battle while chewing on their favour.

In the van of our attack will be a Brigade from Leicester, proud in their blue and white with their newly approved (by the Queen) battle honour ‘Gibraltar’, for their plucky and bloody incursion in Sir Francis Drake style to Spain. They would be supported by mixed battalions drawn from Crystal Palace, Leeds, and Millwall. Strong lads who if the enemy won’t fight, they will – among themselves. The bands will playing stirring tunes to stiffen the sinews and summon up the blood, ‘Gibraltar, Gibraltar it’s my kind of town’ and ‘Do you know the way to Algeciras?’

Our progress will be swift, once on the flat, open plains in the hinterland of Calais and Boulogne we will rest a while at Azincourt. Here Prince Harry’s speech will have to have been rewritten no more Exeter, Bedford and Gloucester, these are rugby playing towns and their public school educated players will have connections in France and may be as treacherous as Scrope, Cambridge and Grey. They will be replaced by Southampton, Norwich and Portsmouth. As he jumps from his cart, Prince Harry leads his army onwards motivating them with his Cry…..

“For Good, Harry, England, and St Jude”

I have been following Japanese girl band for a while now. I have not succumb to falling into Otaku or wotagei subculture and the adoration that fans develop for their ‘idols’, but within my broad knowledge of world music it is an area I have gained a healthy understanding in. Perhaps if I were to be clever, or brave, enough to be on Mastermind it would be my second specialist subject.

I get a number of my Cds direct from Japan, and recently have been fortunate enough to discover a supplier here in UK. This weekend they are hosting an event in London featuring an excellent Japanese group or idol group FEMM, these are two really talented ladies, Femm by the way stands for Far East Mention Mannequins. I quite like them, they are talented, pretty and I suppose amuse. Their top song is Fxxx Boys, Get money, which of course disappoints me as I will never be able to play it on a radio show. OFCom would think all their Christmases had come at once and a rollover on the Lottery as well.

This is today, one hundred years ago Marie Lloyd was refused entry to the USA for ‘moral turpitude’ because of one of her songs. I have provided links to them both below, I like them both.

But as Marie sang “A little bit of what you fancy does you good”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aq6LKARJYZc

Today saw the very best of Somerset. The beautiful small village of Mells held its annual Daffodil Festival. Sadly I think the daffodils have all gone, well certainly the ones in my garden, but it is an excuse for a great day out.

Its success can be marked by this year when we arrived we were diverted around the village to the over spill parking, it was closer to the action I think than the routine parking and certainly much closer than those who had opted to leave their cars on the very outskirts of the village. I suspect some are disappointed when they get to the village and find the parking is free anyway and it is an entrance fee that you pay to support the village projects.

Although cloudy the temperature was just right for a healthy stroll around. The burger stalls are in strong competition with vegan delicacies and Indian curry wraps and some culinary treat from Peru, I am sure it wasn’t guinea pigs but that is what they eat in Peru and marmalade if you believe in Paddington Bear.

In the main event field there was that quaint English tradition of ferret racing, no doubt later when much beer and cider has been consumed there can be competitions on how many you can get in your trousers with the legs tucked in your socks – not a challenge for the faint-hearted. There were jewelry stalls, hat stalls, Indian shawls, bric-a-brac and the good find was seeing two old friends; the lady from Wraxall Vineyard  where they produce an excellent set of Rosé wines and sparkling white and the lady from the herb stall found in Wells Saturday Market. We came away with some unusual herbs to add to the collection and an arranged call to return to the vineyard to top up with Rosé.

I can recommend both as purveyors of extremely good quality and good value products, but that is what friends are for.

It is Good Friday, once a day of religious observance with strange, typically British traditions. In  the past the only people who worked were the building trades, and in particular carpenters, as  penance for putting Our Lord on the cross. It was also, traditionally the day you planted your potatoes. This latter tradition arose as for working class people it was the first non working day that they would have enjoyed since Christmas; the weather would have improved and the conditions were ripe for getting spuds and vegetables in the ground on your little plot.

Now we seem to have sold our souls to the Mammon of the retail sector and the shops are all open. Locally there will even be Sunday Markets on Easter day as we always hold our Market on the third Sunday of the month, even though you could hold it next week on St George’s Day, now that’s English!

So if Jesus lived and he were to return today, it would probably be a waste of time looking for money lenders in the temple, too many, like banks have closed and are empty. It would be better that he and his disciples attack the supermarkets.  I think I would join in, around the corner at our local superstore, where I would turn off the coolers in the dairy section and turn over the display shelves in jams, conserves and related products so our scepter’d aisles would once again flow with milk and honey.

I think Jesus might approve

I suppose this is about being satisfied with your lot in life. We spent all our lives thrying to keep up with our neighbours, or do we. It is interesting to watch human nature at work, and men being driven by their wives to get the garden tidied or a better car, or a better job and being miserable as a result. I have always had jobs I enjoyed and I am always thrilled after conducting weddings either grand or small. Nowadays it seems that people are being driven onto the local economy and weddings are big business and that means money.

Frome in Somerset has just got its town hall back. It never went away, but when Frome ceased to be a local authority in the 1970s the town hall became the local social services office and despite their good works the building was not loved. Now it is, it has been tastefully refurbished is back under the control of the Town Council and will be a focal point for the people of Frome and surrounding villages. One of their plans is to use the Council Chamber and other rooms as a wedding venue, this will be good for the people of Frome and I hope they grab the opportunity to get married there when it presents itself. There are hurdles to jump and loops to go through, but it is coming.

So you will be able to get married without the enormous costs that you might attract elsewhere. The Mayor declared it as a priority and so it should be.

Perhaps then people will be happier with their lot as there maybe more cash for other important expenditures.

Jun remarked that our grass is greener. That’s because we are happy and content, and when it was dark the other evening I broadcast lawn feed over it.

Today has been a good day, well for me anyway. Various circumstances found me interviewing Sir Ken Dodd for Frome FM today. As you would expect I had done my homework, compiled a mix of questions so that we could have a meaningful discussion. Arrived at the studio early, had washed behind my ears and was ready to go. Some colleagues were in the studio to provide support and at the appointed hour I made the telephone call. At this point I have to explain that as we are still building our studio it was a jury-rig, my mobile telephone held against the presenters microphone, but that’s radio!

Sir Ken had the drop on me as I was ringing him at home and he was expecting the call, but had to wait as I was initially talking to his ansaphone. Suddenly he was there, larger than life “ah jolly Geoffrey from Frome” and there started a twenty minute gambol through the history of Variety, Frome (and he knew a lot about the town), me, he interviewed me, never let me finish a question. A lovely man, so if you are inclined please go and see him at the Memorial Theatre in Frome on 16 April. Nearly ninety and still going strong.

And the fish? Half-way through the interview his doorbell rang and it was the man who delivers fresh fish. For three minutes we discussed fish – now that’s comedy.

The expression as dead as a dodo means completely dead or extinct, it has a touch of Phytonesque about it “this Dodo is completely dead”, ‘Not quite Sir, just resting’.  The last living specimen was seen in 1662 and it is believed that they were no more from 1690.  My old school was refounded in 1652, and as one who sat through a few sermons as the gift of our benefactor and founder it was a long time ago and I am sure that each year a new batch of scholars joins the throngs of those of us who endured an hour long sermon.

I will be much shorter, I promise, I have discovered a Dodo that is very much alive and kicking. It hails from Spain and is Iseo and Dodosound and jolly good they are too. Their album Cat Platoon is available through Bandcamp and is pleasant listening.  I forwarded some music by them on Facebook lastnight and a few people have said how good it was; hence you all now get the benefit.

Tomorrow I start my Drive Time show for 10 Radio which will be fun and I am working on my next Orient Express for Frome FM which will be D-I-Y music such as Iseo and Dodosound and Kawehi and some local Frome Artists and Bands. Charity does begin at home.

And as for the Dodo is is far from dead and is stunning.

Thanks to Iseo and Dodosound for the music and Youtube for the Video

Today has been Frome’s day, well the Town Hall. Newly refurbished today was the grand opening. I managed to be working for most of the afternoon, but got in for a few minutes whilst the radio station was live on air with guests. Then home, a quick rig shift and back out again for the official opening reception.

The ribbon had been cut earlier in the day and this evening there was a ‘soiree’ to celebrate the return of the Town Hall to the community of Somerset’s fourth largest town. The evenings festivities where opened by the ribbon cutters, Mr and Mrs Wheeler who were married in the Town Hall when it was the town hall over 50 years ago. A nice touch. Then the Mayor, Toby Eliot, resplendent in his chain of office and Van Dyke beard welcomed us and gave a few words on the buildings residents, other than the Town Council, including Frome FM, kind welcoming words – thank you. It marks the end of a two year project taking the building back from the County Council, who used it as the local Social Services Office. The team have lead and completed a good project and we were all suitably impressed. The building will be available for all residents of Frome and they hope to start having marriages in the Council Chamber again. It will be a good venue.

I said that I had been working earlier and it was fun – a nice wedding at one of our more up market venues. The fun was, our colleague Karen had some Kazakh smoked string cheese, brought by her son (please skip this bit Defra and Borders Agency) and she had brought it in for the Saturday duty teams to try. Interesting, salty, smokey, cheese, which is exactly what it is – curds drawn out into strings, soaked in brine and smoked. They like it with beer in Russia in the same way as they like pork scratchings with beer up north. I think pork scratchings need not to worry just yet. But as it was from Kazakhstan it gives me the opportunity to introduce their girl band, Kesh You. Two videos below for you to watch.

Back in Frome, I sat for the speeches with the Town Crier, Mike Bishop and his wife Angie. He has a story to tell so will find his way into the studio in the future.

Oyez, Oyez, Oyez

As always my thanks to Youtube and the artists.