Sorry if I got your number wrong but I remember you once telling me that this was your favourite song:

John Martyn. Total geezer.

Sorry about your leg, John. But I’m diabetic so it won’t be too long. Oh well.

I’m getting a bit bored with the painting in pink. Oh, it’s nice, for sure, pretty in pink.

But something has to be done. I’m thinking of ‘The Kiss’ by Judee Sill. Love rising and it has to come through the mist.

Maybe some stripes of grey with the sun underneath. I’m obsessed with the sun, although I rarely see it, but , aah, now I DO see it.

Love through the mist. It won’t work well because I’m not that clever but now I see in my head what I can or could do.

The technology of painting is very easy. Start at the back and finish at the front. But skyscapes are so hard to do.

The painting in pink will work because I want it to and that’s about that. I’ll show you photos as I get on.

In other news, I have been making a nuisance of myself on Digital Spy. One (or a few) of the conributors was (were) most complimentary. I have a lovely voice and blah blah they should give me a programme. I can’t disagree.

You see, I’ve heard this compliment before and once it came from the the most beautiful girl in the office. If you don’t believe me check out Digital Spy (I lost the bit of paper that told me how to do links that Carol sent me) and look at the LBC comments.

So what am I?

If your answer is a rude one I suggest you sign it.

There is a problem. Am I an artist or am I not?
According to Doc Holiday (who has a copy of one of my pictures on his surgery wall) what I get up to is therapeutic and therefore has no value. My sister has the original and I gave it to her for her birthday.

Here’s the mess I make when I’m in the mood:

As I love mischief (there is an advert just up the road which is dying for a gay fellatio scene to be added, not that I ever will) I stuck the pixie door in the tree. This is the last time I could bear to see it. It has had a kicking by the looks of things or maybe it just got splashed:

Now I never take commissions because I can only paint when I want to which isn’t very often. Then the paintings leave and it pleases me to give them away. It also pleases me to know that my paintings, my real paintings, are in Europe. I’ve been working on one for my Dad but I don’t think I’ll ever finish it. Then I have to do one for my brother and one for my son and one for my daughter who hates me.

I never draw or anything, just slap the paint on and hate it for six months. Then, I look at it again and try to finish it. I never paint from life or, worse, photographs but I took this picture of my friend Bob.

The light is good. Me and him go back a quarter of a century. We were both in the same car until the windows were bricked in and the car was set on fire.

I hid behind a bus.

Maybe it’s a portrait that I owe him. Maybe it’s my guilt. Maybe guilt is what drives me to do these paintings and give them away, as if that would ever wash away the tears.

Although these are works of art they are not really work, they are love and all I have to give.

You may have noticed that I have not blogged recently. This is because AOSmell refused me access. Arguing the toss with them has cost me a fortune.

Now I have a PC with no firewall so Messrs. Glitter etc. had best round to the carpark.

Why couldn’t AOSmell tell me this? If I can work it out then why can’t they?

Best I get off-line quickly while I try to work out how to reinstall McAfee and all the rest before some perv. utilises my wossname.

Anyway, that’s why I haven’t been here. Maybe tomorrow, eh?

X

My latest canvas is all pink. I don’t know why and I don’t know what the fryingpan I’m going to do with it. But it’s pink now.

I just painted it pink.

Like everything I do I will hate it for a few months and then I will start to look at it a little bit more. And then maybe I’ll do something more with it. Or maybe not.

You have to look at these things, for a while, and then they speak to you. I’m not joking.

I cannot urge you to paint any more than I do. Please paint, please do.

Take it from me - I thought I was shit, passed my ‘O’ level and walked out of my ‘A’ level. I did that because I am mentally strong but because I thought I wasn’t good enough.

I walked. And people have told me I should write a book. Of course, I never will because I am too lazy and don’t have the confidence. I never have the confidence to do anything but I can paint. But YOU can do this. You can write novels or poetry or paint or just about anything.

Now I had a blank canvas and now it’s pink. You have a blank page. I might write on mine and you might write on yours. They will be different but no less valid. I might paint on mine and you might write or draw on yours. What’s the difference?

What looks good on pink? Green maybe? What looks good on white paper? Black ink maybe?

What is good on a silence? A song maybe?

Give it a try.

A long while ago, I spotted a woman who had lost her car.

Trouty and I were loafing around inthe Pestco carpark looking for fivers.

I said to Trouty, ‘Look, she’s lost her car’ because I’m, clever like that.

The carpark is massive. Her car was small. So we stood and watched for a little bit.

Then, the other day I spotted a woman who was in the same predicament. She had lost her car. But then, BINGO, she used her carkey thingy that made it go BLEEP.

It was a hire-car and she didn’t really know what it looked like. But the carkey thingy made it go BEEP.

I thought that was quite good.

Yes, I know it looks like an anemome at the the seaside.

It really is a skyscape and it isn’t quite finished yet but I was quite pleased with it.

No, its not signed.

The photographs that I take of my paintings never look how they look in real life. The bloody light is all wrong for a start.

Just thought I’d show you how it was coming along, that’s all.

Oil painting fascinates me.

So I knocked one out and it didn’t take me very long. Because it was crap. A splosh of white spirit, I thought, may have soothed it but it didn’t.

When Thirst Hall catches fire and an accelerant is held to blame we will all know why.

I never draw anything before I paint. I just paint. I use the same brush and a bit of kitchen roll. And then I hate whatever it is for about six months which is about how long it takes to dry. Then I look at it again and think, ‘Oh well, maybe it’s not too bad’.

Today’s effort was a skyscape. It didn’t take long; my best stuff never does. I use a filthy brush (I should go to art school really) but at least I’m painting again.

Yes, I did take a photo. No, I won’t post it here - it’s not good enough.

Nothing ever gets signed until I’m happy with it. This is why I’m always happy to let photos of my works onto the WWW. Anyone can have copies of my photos of my stuff but the real stuff is hanging on my walls or under my bed. Musicians get unhappy when their stuff is blagged all over the net but I couldn’t care less. Copy my stuff (and, yes, I HAVE found you using it) but the real stuff is still mine. Unless I want to sell it of course or, more usually, give it away. I have nothing else to give.

I know that my work has got about and that’s fair. Once it’s gone it’s gone and nothing to do with me any more.

This skyscape is troubling me though. I know who I’m going to give it to but will it be ready in time? I’ve got to varnish it twice (you wouldn’t believe how much difference varnishing makes) and it’s not even finished yet.

But at least I can dub myself ‘artist’ and there aren’t many people can do that.

So there.

Today to see Doc Holiday.

He has to have everything that I’ve got. I suspect he eats about 50 Mars bars a day to try and make himself diabetic. He’s so jealous.

The train there was 24 minutes late. What a cheek. It costs £2.40 to ride on a train for 6 minutes. You could fly to Prague for that.

Doc Holiday has a cough. He said it was Newcastle cough. But I’ve got a compluter so I looked it up - I won’t be out-illed by my doctor. Symptoms are a cough and a runny nose but I’ve had that for weeks. He tried to trump me by demanding a wazz sample but then I beat his flush by reminding him that I need a retinal scan and an Hba blood test.

So, yet again, I out-illed him. And I called him by his first name. And he still has a copy of one of my oil paintings nailed to his wall.

Then I went to NotWaste(ful at all) who are my very own bank to get some money out of the machine. I checked my balance and asked for some quids. The machine didn’t like it. My card got eaten.

I asked the lady who was waiting behind me to go into the bank on my behalf in case the ATM went even more mental and spat my card and money out. She was nice and she went inside on my behalf while I stared at the machine. Just in case.

She came out and said I would have to back into the bank myself. So I did.

“Hoi, psst, scuse me but where is my card?”

“Old and bent”

“Well never mind about me, what about my card?”

I got my card back and got my money.

Then I went to Waitrose to buy some treats for someone I know. How they have the fucking nerve to charge what they do amazes me.

But I had decided to have a nice day, even though it was raining HARD, and made sure that I was polite to everyone and talked to lots of people.

I’ve asked for a poster that I rather fancied for when it gets taken down - maybe I’ll get it, maybe I won’t.

And that was my day, so far.

I was going to wait until the deathivesary came round (November 23rd) but I couldn’t wait.

One night, when I was feeling very low, her music was recommended to me.

Judee Sill went nearly thirty years ago and her ashes were scattered in the Pacific. Same old story, I’m afraid; heroin.

She was addicted, cleaned herself up, made some beautiful music that was heavily influenced by Bach. Then she had two car accidents but wasn’t allowed opiates because of her prior habit so she went back on the street stuff.

Yes, she does sound a bit like Joni Mitchell but she was part of the ‘Laurel Canyon’ sound just like everyone thinks that Badfinger were a Happy Shopper version of the Beatles.

But listen to this. Trouty doesn’t like it but, then, she doesn’t like Joni Mitchell either.

I chose this clip because I love her stillness when she finishes playing. I also think that it’s one of the loveliest pieces of modern music. Please listen and I hope you agree.

Judee Sill playing ‘The Kiss’:

Bloody fireworks, I hate them.

Like the blessed Spike Milligan I can’t stand unnecessary noise.
I can’t tell you why or explain it or anything. There was a load of whizz-BANGS going off so I went round to see my nearly-neighbours and asked them how long they were going to keep going.

What a surprise. They were observing the firework code and the man I spoke to told me that they only had one left. I bade hime a pleasant evening. What a nice man.

Then it all started, rockets going off and all that.

And then it started wazzing down with rain. Really chucking it down.

That would about the time that the fireworks stopped annoying me and all the sossidges and burgers got served up in a fresh rainwater sauce.

Haha bloody ha.

The sooner that selling bombs to people is made illegal the better.

It seems I haven’t been banned off LBC97.3.

There’s a quiz on at 03:00 on Wednesday but it got moved to Thursday for some reason.

The idea is that if you get a question right then you can put a question into the pot.

The question I answered was this:

What is the next number in the sequence (and I was in bed and didn’t even have to write it down) 4, 6,8,12…?

I got it right although it was supposed to involve some ding-dong atomic physics or something.

If you want to phone in next Wednesday morning at 03:00 the answer to the question I posed is [transmission interrupted]

You will be pleased to know that I am right, yet again, this time about the price of said vehicle.

Trouty took notice of the price stuck on the window…

£2995

So that’s a whole grand off so far.

The shape of the vehicle is rather lumpy but as for the colour? Trouty said it should have been mentioned in the LOG-book (Geddit? - See what she did there?)

The BOTTOM must be falling out of this market as with any other.

As industry has died this country now lives on fines and compensation. Doesn’t look good to me.