Wyatt Last

I see my hero smoking, cackling, chatting about olives and tugging at old women's polyester slacks most days in Louth. But mostly smoking. When you see your hero most days up close, you become distanced from his star appeal. But today was my chance to finally meet Robert Wyatt, at a record signing in Louth for his new album Comicopera, released today, pop pickers. And I'm pleased to say I was nervy as hell, as he signed my new vinyl, wearing a body warmer and puffing on one of those fag replacement jobbies in the back of Off The Beaten Tracks in Louth, watched by an ancient woman clutching a Soft Machine CD. Pleasantaries exchanged, I returned to work, past a man in his 20s, wearing plaid and smoking a pipe. Heroes and strange-ones do turn up in the weirdest of locations.

Director's note: Due to being at the University of Hull library, I am unable to download pics at the moment. But a Wyatt shot, with my back and his front, thankfully, will appear when my boss's back is turned tomorrow.

I'm well back

Yes, I've been away, but as if some bloke making squelching noises through the powers of only his hands was gonna be my last contribution to the blogosphere. Pah!! No, me and Dee are "installed" in our new Lincolnshire abode, with no communication method yet established apart from shouting, so we've been stood on foreshore at set hours of the day, hoping our communication will carry on the wind and bridge to our old Hull haunts. Its not been a total removal-heavy, gashed fingers, to-me to-you type odyssey tho. I've been applying for jobs, developing a love of Pedro Almadovar (again, I know I should abide the restraining order), Thai "style" crisps, Talking Heads vids, and the weird ways of the brute and beastly shire of Lincs.

Listening: The Go!Team, MIA, Joy Division Live at Manchester Factory, various Studio One stuff.

manualist plays bohemian rhapsody on his hands!

I will be back soon ... in the meantime, enjoy the Manualist

Jury's out

....so Phil Spector then. Seems the jury can't decide, even though all the evidence supposedly points at the diminutive, wig-wearing freakazoid. One more fact for the prosecution - he has got previous. He smothered The Long And Winding Road with a string orchestra, y'know.

Hawleyisms

Gesturing to the crowd in the stalls at Bradford St George's Hall last night, Richard Hawley intones: "I've got some news for you three. It's 100 years to the day since the roof last caved in there. Anyway. Enjoy." Sets the tone for a night that includes the phrases "soft as a bag of tits", "Henderson's Relish", "pea and pies night" and a joke about Shirley Bassey pissing in a workingman's club sink. In between the clubland banter, Hawley plays the most elegaic, bruised and battered vintage rock n' roll, dressed in a splendid grey suit and modelling a range of fab cherry red Gibsons. Mouth of a docker, the voice of the Big O, Lee Hazlewood and Elvis singing about Sheffield landmarks. Splendid, quite frankly.

Paddington wear

I may be a bit late to this, but looks like being in the Paddingtons can have rewards other than hanging out in Queens all day. Young Joshh's girlfriend has been getting a fair bit of exposure in the quality Sunday's today, and according to the Telegraph, is living with the studious Pad in his west Hull, ahem, pad. I haven't seen her about, which probably means she hasn't been drinking in the Hole In The Wall or Sportsman. But her presence has surely notched Hull's glam factor up by at least 50 per cent. Jayz, she'd even make a walk down Spring Bank appealing.

And finally

It's taken 10 months, four failed house sales, one police helicopter, several tip trips, hundreds of shouty conversations with smooth-talking, potty-mouthed estate agents and jack-shit solicitors, but Dee's house has finally sold. Meaning we can move into this little beauty on the left next week. I'll miss my new storage buddies, comparing flood damage, moustaches and waterproofs, but think we're ready to start this incredibly exciting new chapter in our lives.