Locked in?

OK, so I had planned on leaving 'Smiling at Magpies' alone until after tomorrow, but, to be quite frank for a second, I might effing burst if I don't write about the evening I've had. RIGHT NOW.

The folk thing that Chumbawamba (again, my sincere apologies for previous mis-spellings) actually turned out to be the main event in the 'Festival of Political Song', it was at St George's Hall in the delighful re-emerging city that is Bradford (and no, I'm not about to get 'all Linda Barker' about it either).

Like many of you I'm sure (and I'm so terribly ashamed to admit it) I only really knew one of the Chumbas tracks before - and knew of a previous escapade with a certain 'Two Jags/Jabs'. However, I hope you understand I am always open to a second opinion and always keep an open mind - about absolutely everything.

It turns out I do know all of the members of Chumbwamba, I just didn't know who they were and what they did. Phil, I'm so incredlbly sorry, given I was at your 50th birthday party on the night after the cake comp and brought several friends along (one of whom arrived and promptly fell asleep on a chaise for three hours) I should have at least asked when you so kindly invited me at the launch of Impressions Gallery back in early September.

So, what a night again. I've bought CDs and shall eagerly await the launch of the new Chumbas album. New tracks include:

(I wish I could) Sing About Love
Add me (my Mother said she wished she'd never 'ad me') - inspired by the crazy facebook and MySpace culture we live in.

My current favourites on 'Get On With It. LIVE' include:

Song On The Times
Hard Times of Old England - they updated it before Billy Bragg even thought of it
Homophobia - "the worst disease. You can't love who you want to love in times like these"
Learning to Love
and...
On eBay

Effing brilliant. Thanks guys.

I've always wanted to go to a gig and say "I'm with the band", which I know is pushing it a bit, but as I said I'm so incredibly starstruck by you all now. I'm just glad you were all still talking to me afterwards.

After I signed off earlier, Casey called to say that her friend Alice would call round via mine to collect me in a cab. The cab turned out to be a mini-bus and Alice turned out to be Alice Nutter - former Chumba and incredibly talented and successful scriptwriter. Her episode in Jimmy McGovern's 'The Street' airs on December 6th. This happens to be the same night as my big Thirsty Thursday bash that I'm orgainising - more to follow on that soon - but I shall certainly V+ it - please do the same.

My other fellow mini-bus riders to Bradford also included the ever-delightful Mrs Emma Bearman, Casey Orr and Danbert Nobacon - another incredibly talented musician.

Other artists tonight included the incredible Tracey Curtis, Oysterband and Dick Gaughan. Bloody wonderful.

I have offered to take on Alice Nutter as a client on a barter basis, she did say she can't inject my arse with vitamins to sort out my cellulite, but she has offered to blow vodka up my arse with a straw - eight sessions. I shall maybe take you up on that ever so kind offer one day lovely Alice!

Funny funny night.

So, the 'locked in' isn't just an astute and wise observation on our current, previous and future political nightmare, it also refers to the fact that I managed to lock myself in my cellar earlier today - I was still too traumatised by the experience earlier to talk about it.

There I was, having disinfected the cats' room, taking beds and soft toys down to the cellar to put on a hot wash. Because Connie is now allowed free-reign again, I shut the door between my kitchen and the cellar steps behind me, to prevent losing Connie for days in the junk yard that passes for my cellar. It wasn't until I'd done this - something I've never needed to do in my previous five and a half years of living here - that I realised there's no handle on the other side.

Fight or Flight?

There's just no other option than Fight when you live by yourself, and the only people who have your key are your Mum (who lives 50 miles away) and your Freda (who's not back until next Thursday). I shall thank my Mum for my upper body strength (she reckons she has arms like a navvy) and my Dad for my runners legs as I managed to kick, elbow and shove the door off the frame. So that's another job for my handyman when he comes round. And my kitchen was looking so fab!

More tomorrow I'm sure

Clancy xxxx