Lost in the Mists of Hertfordshire

William* had lost the bet and would be Tibetan till half time


Works under consideration: 17
Dark Angel: Looking for a white one
Pyrates: They’re everywhere
State of Mind: Puppy-joy
Comedy WordMix: Eric is Idle, John took the Cheese, Terry the Grill, Chaps for Graham, Jones the Palindrome.


Lost in the Mists of Hertfordshire
I live on a small island in Hertfordshire called Welwyn Garden City known locally as Welwyn Garden City . The place is often shrouded in mist as the hot air of London merges with the Blue Mountains in the south of the county. Recently a hush has descended around WGC, the wandering violin bands of gypsies are strangely absent, squirrels fret in the tree tops, and tumbleweed blows down Parkway.

The migrating JazzZombies are back!

Yep those black-polar-neck-I’m COOLER-than-Steve-Jobs, Gauloises smoking finger clickers are making their way south for the winter. The hills of Hertfordshire are ringing with ‘Coooooool’ and ‘Niccccccce’ tunes. I have locked myself in the cellar with a barrel of Zinfandel, a large cake, an Internet connection, some crisps, a small nun, and the complete works of Margaret Thatcher (they’ll never break through those).

Works in Progress
‘Not a Recording.’
I’ve uploaded on the Channel4 site. I’ve spent all morning cutting it down from 3.36 to 3.00. It’s still not the way I’d like it. Lacks passion I feel. But I have to get work out there and I need to practice, practice, practice... After it’s moderated I’ll post a link. I really loath the sound of my voice. What about you?

Cut, cut, cut, and then cut again
I always forget this. Pure lazy I suppose. When you write you know it makes sense but you love those words don’t you? You bless them. You repeat them to yourself and the ‘Angel in your Head’ lulls you with “This is treasure, you are the chosen one.” What a lot of danglies. I cut thirty-six seconds from ‘Not a Recording’ and I don’t miss them…


Monty Python
If you were allowed only one sketch to take to your cellar? Which one would you take?
Me? Yep Dead Parrot. I don't know why but I had a Python attack recently, where everything in the world moved two inches to the left. Does that ever happen to you?

Tune in Later for…
Will I and the nun get on? Will we fill each other with love or loathing? Where do JazzZombies migrate? Is it Berkhamstead? Perhaps Munich? Could it be Chalfont St Peterr? Only this blog carries a ‘JazzZombie’ warning signal. “Watch the skies!’


* Prince Philip looked on fondly