The sleeping giant of Coba Fynn

at last nears the end of its slumber, and in the antediluvian recesses of its mind, a multi-faceted thought is given sonorous voice. That voice declares to all those irresponsible enough to listen: "Light her up / cheeseburgers / whisk(e)y!" in the sort of accent that Tom Baker might possess if the Tardis has stopped in either Ireland or Edinburgh for any length of time. Charlie's threatened return to Glasgow is almost upon us and then nothing will stand in our way. We've even had a few practices, which mostly begin with Davis responsibly guiding us through CF oldies and then degenerate into ever messier covers of Crossroads after I've worn down his defences. Good times!

Speaking of Coba Fynn, Davis has oft propounded his theory of Blues as Sandwich. Were a closed-minded musical type to say that all blues is the same, Davis' response would be that said assertion is like claiming that all sandwiches are the same. I heartily agree and so the other day I pondered what form the hypothetical Coba Fynn sandwich might take. The creation of this thought-sandwich could proceed down only one path, and I was immediately seized by the conviction that it would be a majestic stilton cheeseburger such as might be ordered at Bar 91 or the Hard Rock Café.

Tiny Monkey, I think, would have been an avant-garde take on a traditional sandwich. Maybe roast beef and horseradish on a ciabatta or something similar. Accompanying it would be huge lump of cheddar representing my insistence on playing Happy Twenty Thirty-Fourth Birthday ad nauseum. Which, of course, was a twelve-bar blues song and so the circle is, ouroboros-like, complete. Granted, it would be a little mouldy by now because it's been lying out for a while.

(Holy crap, what's happened to my language? A couple of HP Lovecraft books have turned me into a virtual antique. Ah well, perhaps to-morrow's entry shall be less verbose...)

Apart from some extremely pleasant festival boozing, it's been a fairly quiet week; with Dom's and Chris' weddings coming up in a week and a couple of months respectively, I've been mostly concerned with assembling kilt gear and practicing the pipes. Ash and I drove up to St. Andrews and then back through Fife to visit la famille, and also to convince me that the car is up to the trip to York Leeds/Bardsey next weekend. It is, and it continues to rock.