She could clean the house for hours or rearrange the flowers

At last someone's pointed me in the direction of the version I really love ...

Friday night and the lights are low

Abba was one of those bands whose music everybody liked, even though at the height of their fame it was terribly unfashionable in certain musical circles to admit to it. The songs were crafted with stereotypical Scandinavian professionalism, which although it sometimes made them slightly clinical they never seemed to fall into the 'churned-out soul-lessness' trap that other successful bands have succumbed to. So when friends suggested getting a gang of us together and going to an open-air performance of Abba music at Warwick Castle, performed by the English National Orchestra and cast from the stage production of Mamma Mia, (bring a picnic) we thought it'd be great fun.

They certainly wrote some great songs; we just hadn't realised just how badly they could be performed! If those singers were more than understudies it made us very glad we've never travelled to Town to see the stage show. Still, the picnic was good and we met some nice people there, some of whom had decided to get totally into the spirit of the thing and dressed up as Abba members (several OS Agnethas!)

The driver of the minibus that took us there was extraordinary. He didn't really know where he was going, he didn't get out of 2nd gear (but didn't go fast enough to strain the engine) and every time someone spoke to him he slowed down to reply. Not a natural multi-tasker! We were pleased that it was a different driver for the return journey ... but I'm not sure he was thrilled because by then we were well into singing. Not Abba stuff - Beach Boys, Monkees and rugby songs. It was difficult singing the harmonies because of the challenge of working out what key the melody was being sung in. All of them, I think! It was great fun going out as a group so it wasn't a totally wasted evening.

This could be the last time ...

... this year at any rate, that I post a blog about Cropredy. But at last! Someone's put up this year's version of Matty Groves, and the follow-on choon. Remember that this is very near the end of a four-hour set, with only the finale to follow.

Ahh, magic! That's why we go to Cropredy each year.

And it will be my last

Watching 'House' alerted us to a fab band. We hadn't heard of zero 7 before. Off to the record shop!

Hold your head high

It struck us last night, as we leaned against the bar, that once again we’d come out into a freezing night to watch granddads play great music. Yes, we went to see The Zombies and they were great. Boy, could they play? Terrific stuff; even the vocal abilities were still strong. Colin Blunstone could still hit the high notes in ‘Say You Don’t Mind’, and Rod Argent can get great sounds from the keyboard. And he still has a good head of hair – not as long as the old days, but still thick. (You notice these things after a certain age.) The current lead guitarist (Mark Johns) created some stunning sounds, and visually reminded me of Ned, many years ago, and badly smudged. His hair was similar, but not as lovely, and Ned's much more handsome. :) The bass player (Jim Rodford) in particular was knocking on a bit. I didn’t think he had any teeth, but Ned assures me he did, and that it looked as if he’d paid for them too. Put it this way, he was in a ‘successful local band’ when he introduced his 11-year old cousin (Argent) to rock music. The drummer was Steve Rodford; Jim's son. Was it nepotism? Perhaps he was on work experience - or maybe he was cheap! However I think it was probably due to his ability to play.

I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important ;) Mally, when I snuck you in the back (via mobile) for that great track. How was it at your end?

I don't want to talk about it

Tonight I have a sore throat, which I narrowed down to a choice of two causes: either I'm coming down with bird flu, which seems unlikely because I don't feel the urge to eat Trill, gaze into mirrors or hit little bells with my nose, or I've been joining in too enthusiastically with the CD I bought the other day. I often sing along to most music (if it's a piece new to me I tend to be a nanosecond behind the note) but these songs are in a key I can hit without distressing either dogs or passing whales. I've had a lovely afternoon with Disc 2 (A Night In) of The Story So Far by Rod Stewart. Great stuff.

*Currently drinking Badger's Golden Glory, a beer which smells of mangoes. Interesting and not unpleasant.*

Come up and see me

I’ve been playing some of my Happy Music today. It is remarkable how soothing even very up-tempo music can be, as long as it reminds you of happy times. If I am having a meditation session, staring at a candle-flame, I like to listen to “From Genesis to Revelation”, “Demons and Wizards”, or “Relics”. Unfortunately there aren’t many opportunities to do this, because my copies of those albums are all on vinyl, so I’m limited as to where they can be played. Attempting serenity and tranquillity in the sitting-room with the rest of the household running amok all around is pointless! But given the opportunity all of those can transport me way outside my head into more colourful times, and after the first shock of the return the present seems less grey than when I left it.

Steve Harley was yesterday’s saviour. Listening to his early records (Judy Teen, the Psychomodo and the rest) instantly returns me to my teens, and doing exciting things, such as getting the train to London for the day, meeting up with schoolfriends and scouring the shops in Kensington High Street. We could easily spend the whole day in Biba – the shop was a magical place. There were the most gorgeous clothes in stunning colours, which were affordable even on our very limited funds, and it all smelt exotic. It was a beautifully sunny time when the present was easy and the future bright. The world was opening up to us, and all the paths offered glimpses of thrilling possibilities.

So despite being caught between realities, which is more than a little confusing, I must thank Steve (and the rest of Cockney Rebel) for the memories. You do indeed make me smile.