grumpyf1

It has been a decidedly bad few weeks for lovers of 70s rock, in all it’s splendour - be it Glam, Heavy or Country flavoured. In depressingly short order, we’ve lost genuine “Rock God” Lemmy, he of the gruffest of voices and heaviest of bands, the mighty Motorhead. Soon after that, David Bowie left us, a man whose ever-changing style saw him cover more than just rock, and more than just music too, and truly worthy of being called a legend. Within the last couple of weeks, Glenn Frey, co-founder of the Eagles, passed away. Capable of making easy-listening country rock sound effortless, the level to which his songs have ingrained themselves into a generation’s minds is incredible. Dale Griffin’s name may not be so familiar, but as drummer with Mott The Hoople, he played an important part in shaping the sound of classic British rock. There may have been less coverage, but his recent death compounds the uncomfortable feeling that we’re losing a lot of great musicians, who helped

My nemesis... I went to see the latest Bond Movie last week – in our local village hall. By the time it was over, my back was definitely breakin’, not stirred. So, Community Cinema is a thing. If, like me, you’d never heard of it before, it’s a rather clever scheme whereby you get to watch some movies that have just stopped showing at your nearest mega-screen cinema complex, but at a sensible price, and in your local village hall (other local indoor meeting establishments are available). Additional benefits include not foolishly convincing yourself you can drink an entire litre of cola just before the film, no requirement to consume a container-full of popcorn so large it actually does come in a bucket, and, in our case at least, an interval that included a raffle. Surprisingly, it had taken us 9 years of residence before we decided to dip our toes into the wonder of very local cinema and catch the latest Bond Blockbuster, SPECTRE, having singularly failed to sort out doing

The weather – source of endless fascination, conversation, irritation and (just recently) excess irrigation. And a fidgety weather presenter on the BBC... I’m endlessly fascinated with the weather, and will confess to making sure I catch the BBC’s updates whenever possible. Not the local ones, where half the presenters look like they got dressed in the dark, or ITV, where they seem to know very little about actual weather, but the national forecasts. Delivered by actual Met Office personnel, their job entails a tricky mix of waving your hands about a bit, explaining about warm fronts without smirking, and trying not to look too pleased whilst mentioning gales force winds and torrential rain. Or stand in front of Cornwall. Each has their own presenting style, but there is one who intrigues me above all the others. Step forward, Tomasz Schafernaker, the 37 year old man from the Met who breezed onto our screens in 2001, as the youngest male ever to point out that it was going to r

It may have been a whole week ago, but my New Year got off to a baffling start when I watched “Sherlock” on TV, and started doubting my own existence. I hope you had a delightful Christmas, and that 2016 is off to a great start for you. Congratulations if you’ve already successfully finished all that cheese. Having viewed the BBC’s most-watched festive edition of “Sherlock” on the very first day of the year, I now have a rather odd problem - I’m not sure if I actually did watch it, or in fact just dreamed I did. Maybe I’m still dreaming that I’m thinking about whether I dreamt it or not. If I’m making no sense at all (probably a regular problem for you), then perhaps I’d better rewind a little an attempt to explain why I’m so confused. This may not go well, as I’ve pretty much no idea myself. The modern re-imagining of the Conan Doyle detective, Sherlock Holmes, sees a very current version of the sleuth deducing all manner of marvels from clues invisible to the regular man-on