Homo Lone

My parents are in Wales. They've gone there to buy a new dog, and won't be back till tomorrow lunchtime, so I'm left alone with three parrots and a few bits of housework to take care of.

The plan for today was to record some songs while there's no one around to be distrubed by my dubious singing voice. A few things got in the way, like not feeling so good, and being unable to find a pair of headphones that work properly.

The micromixer arrived in the post, with assorted cables. It mixes four stereo signals (or eight mono ones) into a single stereo signal, and it should be just perfect for the kind of basement recording studio where two microphone aren't nearly enough, but sixteen is too many. Also good for live concert recording where there's no mixing desk to tap from.

One item was missing from the package because Maplin are out of stock - a new pair of studio headphones. Well, the day wouldn't be complete without a little irony.

The radio news is full of inane commentary about Islamic women's clothes, mostly from people who don't know the difference between a hijab and a niqab. I'm reminded a little of the controversy over miniskirts 40 year ago, but in reverse.

There's the same notions of women emancipating/prostituting themselves by showing flesh, women being honoured/opressed by chothing men make them wear, women being modest/repressed, and free/duped.

Holland and France have considered banning the veil in public, presumably on the grounds that if women are controlled enough by white men in government, they'll stop being controlled by brown ones in the home.

What's C doing now? Paddling a paper-thin canoe between crocodiles on a river, learning the Peruvian names for all the alcoholic drinks in the bar, or lying in a hospital bed being intensely annoyed that his body won't do what he tells it? Whatever it is, it's probably more interesting than sitting in a messy bedroom wondering what's going to happen when he gets back.


  1. I don't care what you think of your own writing, I'm telling you you should be writing fiction. So go and write a short story please. Then we can all come to the launch party and drink champagne. Mmm.

    I Love the title of the post too.

    It irks me that you have such talent but are so self deprecating.
    - rant over!

  2. Ah, but if I wasn't so modest about my towering abilities, I'd be insufferably smug! ;-)

    I keep having ideas for stories, and never get to write them down. Alright, I'll try to write something, the next time an idea hits me.