Bernard Manning Sings The Smiths

Glasters

Being hardened veterans of camping while 4,000 metres up a mountain, and in tribute to Bernard Manning, we are watching this year's festivities from the comfort of my Chesterfield. The Glasters vibe looks present and correct, lots of menacing clouds circling the Tor, paving the way for some teepee and beautiful sunset action. Ooh, I can almost smell the patchouli and grab the lentils. Funniest moment so far has been seeing a clearly loaded Gruff Rhys being interviewed and breaking into his own internal monologue on several occasions. But the Furries were ace, and Bunf may have cultivated his beard for a while, but I've never seen it looking so elegant. Not too impressed with The Fratellis, they sounded quite weedy to these ears. And what's with the check, Jack Penate?

Reason for writing about Glasters: There's just not much happening with me at the moment. We're skint, and moving house, and I'm looking for a job, and I've got a few magaziney and musicey things developing, and, well, everything's kind of just ticking over in a post engagement kind of ambience.

Other stuff: The beggars at top of street have got things sorted. One on each side of the road and one weaving in and out of traffic.

Reading: The Last Raj - William Dalrymple

Aghast at: Dalziel and Pascoe - like, when's Pascoe gonna be found out?

A Manning to all men?

As predicted, the loss of Bernard Manning has not gone unnoticed in this little media corner (actually more of an edge than a corner) of Lincolnshire. Roy Chubby Brown lives in Louth, just round the corner from Robert Wyatt and Barbara Dickson - its all so W5. Our token long-in-the-tooth sub has mourned his passing, and admired his 50 years in the biz, although we are yet to see Royston V with his hat at half mast mourning through the streets of Louth . Me, I just enjoyed hearing old relics like Frank Carson and Stan Boardman being hauled out to mourn "the hardest working man in showbusiness" (erm, surely that's Prince?). You could hear Kirsty audibly squirm on Radio 4 as old "it's a cracker" retold Manning's material while I tried to avoid putting the car into a ditch between Great Limber and Barnetby Top. But I was struck by a thought - surely Bernard's appearance in his boxers in India looking like Kashmir in underpants was the forerunner for Jade Goody's own forays into the sub(in)continent.

Watching: The Last King Of Scotland; Hot Fuzz; Bobby

Listening: Vetiver; Charlotte Hatherley - The Deep Blue; John Shuttleworth - I Can't Go Back To Savoury Now

Rain

Hard to believe that two weeks ago we were in the Andes climbing through cloud forests and that now I'm driving through torrential rain in the deepest darkest wolds of Lincolnshire. My journey to work today was like the Wicksteed Park splashboat on a continuous loop. Crazy shenanigans. Times like these are ideal for the shuffle facility on the IPod - nothing like randomness to battle the elements. Today I negotiated a burst canal near Caistor to Galveston by Glen Campbell, then avoided a jettisoned lorry to the stylophone and saccharine of Morning Girl by the Neon Philharmonic. Total warped juxtaposition, but kinda cool.

That beard

Anyways. So I grew a beard at Machu Pich. There has been speculation since that said beard would look a bit Badly Drawn La or like "the gypsy in Snatch". Here's the published proof that I looked kinda cool with a nine-day growth. This pic was taken just hours after me and Dee had got engaged and we'd avoided the American tourists by making a heady retreat for the hot springs of Aguas Calientes.

Now we're back. Spent Sunday driving up the east coast looking for adventure and finding only smugglers cottages in beautiful Flamborough, home to a lighthouse and Cliff End's Cliff Top cafe. On the journey there we noticed many people setting up picnics in lay-bys (fold-up chairs, chequered cloths, scotch eggs, the works.) Others were just stood at the roadside watching the cars. Great entertainment in Skirlaugh and Rise, it seems.

Oh, and we had an offer accepted on a house. In an email to a mate, I said that Barton was the former home of Robert Elmer Kleeson, the original Texas Chainsaw dude. Apparently he travelled over here to marry his prison penfriend. I'd like to reiterate that we are not buying the house he lived in.

Watching: Gavin and Stacey (although not for wedding ideas)

Listening: Os Mutantes - Ave Genghis Khan

Back to reality

And so all that remains of our south America odyssey is a slightly dicky tummy and a slew of fab polaroids. Did I say it was brilliant? Of course I did. Luckily, me being treated like a hero in Lima by a gaggle of Peruvian refugees and doing the conga with a bunch of over 75s has not gone to my head, cos by Monday I was back in the dark place. Even Wyatt's jazz beard can't lift my post-holiday spirits. On Friday - feted. By Monday - writing a headline for a school fete outside Sleaford. Them's the breaks.

On a plus note, my sea shanty inspired creative writing project got a first at Hull University (the only one in the class). It seems penning shanties is my natural writing style. Pity there's no money in it - avast!!

Listening: The Cribs - Men's Needs, Women's Needs, Whatever

Photo explanation: a llama at MP and some of our spectacular peaks

What the deuce?

So I go away for nine days to Peru and when I return, I've dropped to the bottom of the Hull Bloggers League?? Even Chris Ramsey's gone ahead of me. Shocking, quite frankly, and proof that no matter how worthy pitting our wits in the treacherous Andes for Help The Aged was, Hull Bloggers vote with their virtual feet. So in an attempt to reel you all back in, here are some handy pointers to our trip to Peru.
1. The week before I went to South America, my boss said I had an attitude problem. Within three days of getting to Cusco, 3,000ft above sea level, I had an altitude problem. Three flights, two trains, several buses, many countries, an ocean and a backpack, all for the sake of one letter.

2. Me and Dee got engaged at Machu Picchu, looked on by an alpaca. A handy hint - making a wedding proposal at 4,000 feet may be many things, but candlelit it ain't - we both smelt and hadn't washed in days.
3. Don't order the guinea pig. The Peruvian national dish makes them very proud. They don't need an excuse to eat it. So proud, in fact, that they don't need to go through the inconvenience of preparing it for westerners. The Guinea Pig Dee ordered arrived looking like it had been koshed, then dipped in batter, grilled and served with a bit of lettuce. It even had teeth and was so like my pet guinea pig we named it Snuggles. Asking for it to be prepared, rather than looking taxidermed, the waiter merely cut it up into five pieces with a cleaver.
4. The work HTA does in Peru is totally vital. We raised an astonishing £35k between us, and visited a project in the slums of Lima which humbled us all. Thank you so much to everyone who contributed to our fundraising total.
5. Going to Peru and the Andes was a dream come true, and memorable for all sorts of reasons. Magic.