Ok, so Carnaval has just ended. It was a transformative experience for me. Two months rehearsing every night on a diet of booze and cigars, so no change there. However this was team work, 10 men and me, creating a 26 minute kaleidoscopic homage to artisans of the past. I now have a huge bunch of new chums.
The unwritten rule is you drink & smoke for 10 minutes, argue for 5 minutes then play for 15 minutes, repeat for three hours.. However the rule broke down and the equation got seriouly warped, you do the mathematics.
I may have been the first person from outside the town to have played in the Carnival, possibly in the whole of Cadiz, but who cares? I did it and loved it and have many injuries to prove it.
Here I am receiving an award, probably just for turning up.
Apologies for being so quiet of late. Not true, actually I've been very noisy bashing seven and a half bells out of a bass drum in a Carnaval group. Report and video to follow shortly. Oh Lordy.
I have finally knocked together this 25 min epic biopic film of dear friend John Izod. In it he describes his misadventures as a star in a feature film. He tells it with wit, wisdom and charm. The feature film “Misfortunes” really ought to have a cult following but it is impossible to find. Thus, o'come tither all thee hipsters and seek it forth.
Yesterday was San Juan, so what you may ask. We’ll take a look at this photo.
This pair of creatures were lovingly made by a neighbour, in secret. She made the suit and the everything else from her own clothes, over two months. They represent Catherine and I. All good so far?
Now look what the town did to these fine figures next.
Quite often the dolls are made up to represent local or national personalities who are famous (or sometimes infamous). The burning of these effigies is supposed to bring good luck but quite often, it is just good fun and it makes a great spectacle, but very odd to witness yourself in The Wicker Man.
Then Merry Christmas to all ye resting God fearing Merry Gentle Persons. For nobody's interest I am likely to be trolling about in the Alhambra in Granada considering the merits and virtues of Islamic culture and admiring the fucking architecture, I shall then almost certainly spend the rest of the season of jollity supping Alhambra brand beer. It's a weird place the world, glad I popped in.
I was in Cadiz yesterday and saw this appetising mural outside a place that may possibly sell this product. I wasn't quite hungry enough for cartoon food and opted instead for a realistic looking Havana Club Rum in what might well be regarded as a Spanish Fish & Chip shop around the corner.
Breakfast in Andalusia usually involves eating bread, or drinking spirits. Look closely at this photo and see if you can spot the difference between the rabbit and the slice of local bread. Ultimately is does not matter a jot, as they can be combined or eaten separately.
I apologise for not writing for over a month. I was kidnapped and held captive in cyberspace by the internet. Yesterday I managed to escape the digital domain and am now trying to find my way back to some form of analogue reality. I am suffering from the Information Highway horrors, and now dear friends it is your turn. Read on about 1970's rock drummer Carl Palmer's current antics at your peril, courtesy of Wikipedia.
In recent years, Palmer has performed a series of drum clinics across the UK, Europe and United States. Highlights of Palmer's live drum solo over the years have included the use of both gongs and tambourines, and also his ability to extract himself from his t-shirt while playing complex double bass drum patterns; the latter leaving him stripped to the waist to play the final part of his show. The removal of his shirt was a major attraction in Palmer's drum solos during the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s. On recent tours, however, his shirt has remained on throughout his performances.