A herald!

So, back again, at last, eh?

Point one, you'll see the Valves has been somewhat expanded, with the addition of other blogs for you to try and the like, and I've also been experimenting with some other technical whizz bangs you might notice!

How are the various quests going, I hear you ask?

Well, six weeks in I'm five pounds lighter, which is not disasterous, but is on the worrying side. I've even had the old exercise bike defrosted to try to shed further pounds. I'm worried, however, that all it's doing is building me up into a God-like superbeing rather than reducing me to the svelte lamp-post I aspire to become!

At least one report will be published this month, so that's something, and I am committed to having further reports drafted by the end of February. Fingers crossed.

The ebay sales are going OK, but I'm not getting the prices I really want for some of the items and others have stubbornly refused to sell. If it isn't sold after 3 auctions it goes to the Charity Shop. I can't believe no one wants my near excellent condition McCartney biographies.

I'll have to console myself with the encouraging words posted about my blog (hint, hint!)

No, but seriously folks, and I mean this most sincerely, just knowing several people have been here is enough...

"A sign of a healthy and energetic culture"

....indeed blogs have been much in the news recently, not least because of this woman, Judith O'Reilly, whose blog Wife In The North, about her experiences moving from London to Northumberland has landed her a £70, 000 book deal. If any publishers are looking in, I'd settle for £65, 000. This story was reported by the Sunday Times, who a week previously had published a story basically saying that Brian May, poodle-haired guitarist and Buckingham Palace straddler, was a bit grumpy on his blog. As, indeed he is, but is this news? Brian himself (of whom more hereafter) asks the same thing.

Another star with a blog is already celebrated antipodean, Clive James. James' website is shaping up to be a fantastic place to spend any spare time you may have, containing as it does many articles and essays unseen for a number of years, as well as his "Library" interviews. At the risk of becoming an unofficial Clive James fansite, I'll direct you here, if you need reminding what all the fuss is about.

(P.S. Clive's weekly Points Of View on Radio Four are already required listening for all. If I ruled the world this is the kind of regulated whimsy children would receive from an early age!)

Rock Music For Twelve-Year-Olds

Which brings me rather neatly to Queen. I occasionally find that a blast of Queen can set me up for the day, other times their over-blown pomp-rock is the very last thing I want to hear. The past few weeks, however, have been a veritable Queen fest for me. They are an excellent distraction from the exhaustion of the exercise bike and I've also very much enjoyed Seven Seas of Rhye, Bohemian Rhapsody, Don't Stop Me Now, Crazy Little Thing Called Love, A Kind Of Magic and Headlong blasting out of my iPod as I go about my mundane business. I've made up a playlist based on their Greatest Hits albums, although I've done some major rearrangement when it comes to Greatest Hits III, as might be expected.

My current feeling is that they were an immensely talented bunch, from Roger Taylor's precision drum work on the likes of "Flash" to John Deacon's melodic but never over-fussy basslines on "Under Pressure" and "Another One Bites The Dust". Don't forget quiet, unassuming bassman Deacon also wrote such pop classics as "I Want To Break Free", "You And I", "Spread Your Wings" and "These Are The Days Of Our Lives". Of course, Brian May blasting out two-part guitar solos that start conventionally but then slamming down the whammy bar on the legendary Red Special to produce the "Brian May version". Last, but certainly not least, F Mercury Esq., praise for whose showmanship often eclipses the strength of his voice, listen to the nuances of something like "Save Me" or the way his "It ain't much of askin'..." seems to lift the whole band up from nothing following the guitar solo in "I Want It All." In fact, even it's use on the DFS sofas advert can't dim the brilliance of "I Want It All", definitely on my Desert Island Discs list this week!

"Life is a series of small disasters we try to get through"

Thus spake Michael Palin, whose "Diaries 1969 - 1979" have been taking up most of my reading time since last I posted. Like many diarists or autobiographers, Palin is quite hard on himself, especially about taking the advertiser's shilling in the early '70s. Much fun to be had for Python fans in this volume as Michael is often quite revealing about his fellow Pythons, with Cleese (selfish), Idle (obtuse and rather greedy) and Chapman (drunk) particularly coming in for criticism. His "nicest man in showbiz" reputation is assured by his agonising over how changes to their working relationship post-Python effects Terry Jones. This has led me to embark on a highly enjoyable voyage round "Ripping Yarns", which I recently got on DVD. The commentaries (featuring Palin and Jones) are excellent, even if they do spend a lot of time laughing at their own jokes, a trait I share, and Palin continues the obsession with his teeth that comes across strongly even in the (heavily abridged) diaries.

The most surprising aspects of the diaries for me were Palin's staunch socialist beliefs which are unwaveringly given in the early '70s. Frustratingly his reaction to Mrs Thatcher's election in 1979 has not been included, so whether or not he had mellowed with the introduction of money and comfort to his life is not clear. More pressingly he wrote a novel in 1977 that he then seemed to discard. As a great fan of his only published novel, "Hemingway's Chair", I was simulataneously elated and disappointed that it's unlikely this work will ever see the light of day, shame.

Celluloid Scribblings

Ending up with films again this time, saw "Notes On A Scandal" last week, and enjoyed it muchly. I haven't read the book, so I can't comment if director and minor National Treasure, Richard Eyre, has taken unspeakable liberties with it. I did feel that there should have been a warning to patrons that the film contains scenes of Judi Dench in a bath and that viewers of a nervous disposition should avert their eyes.

One of the greatest things about the film, and any British film really, for me, is seeing actors you just don't see on the big screen very often. In this case the excellent Phil Davis (star of the wonderful, much lamented "North Square", someone must be able to seed this to UK Nova, surely!), the reassuring Tom "George Thomason" Georgeson and the ever welcome presence of Julia "William!" MacKenzie. This last was even more surprising due the presence in the cast of Joanna Scanlan, long suffering Terri in "The Thick Of It" who is the spitting image of Ann Beach, who played "Only me, Sonia" from next door in none-more-80s sitcom "Fresh Fields".

We also managed to catch up with "Little Miss Sunshine", which is life-affirming, touching and, above all, funny. I wouldn't be at all surprised if it sneaked up on the outside to take the top gong at next week's Oscar ceremony.