Sunday 3rd April 2005

So I settled down in front of the computer for the remainder of the afternoon and the rest of the day. Or so I thought, at the time. Someone came online, which in weeks gone passed would have sent me into sheer ecstasy. That was then, this is me now. Instead, I noted the presence of them online and continue to do, whatever I was doing. (Obviously it was not that interesting because I can’t remember much about it). Then, to my shock and surprise an MSN window opened and they said, “Hi”. While this alone was a cause for a minor celebration, the plot actually begins to thicken, from here on in. Bear with me. This surprise conversation was leading to another more substantial surprise. Mentioning a minor event taking place in Central London and passing on an open, if not personal invitation to come along. I pondered, as I often do and was never that definitive man of action, which I sometimes play up to. Should I go? It boiled down to a similar matter of how much I wanted something and whether such a dilemma can be resolved by following my heart. What did I have to lose? In prospect was another boring Sunday evening, doing nothing in particularly exciting. Yet, still I needed my mind eased by a quick discussion with some of my closest friends. Friends that had been there from the beginning.

I called Nav on his mobile, and like a superhero responding to their call sign he came online, as the phone was ringing, so I duly hung up, to begin a conversation online rather than via voice. I did not have time to explain everything on MSN, so I reverted back to the phone and called his land line, when I got hold of him, I explained the situation and what options were open to me. His final words rang in my ears, as I decided to go for it.

I got dropped off at High Wycombe station at 17:59, only to hear my train rattle by as I purchased my ticket. I should have waited for the next train, which was just over thirty minutes away but instead I wanted to get there ahead of time. So I got my sister first to drop me at Gerrards Cross, which was about twenty five minutes away, but my train was to reach the platform in under fifteen. There was a need for speed and the need for another option. Without wanting to drive a crazy distance, my sister dropped me off at Uxbridge underground station. I raced onto the platform, vowing to take the next available train into the City. This was my first stumbling point, unknown weekend disruption. I should have gone onto the Piccadilly train but opted for a Metropolitan line service because initially this was the quickest way into Central. How wrong I was be. The tube took to me Ratners Lane, where I got off and waited for the next Piccadilly Line train to keep me around North West London. Having a few minutes spare, I rushed across to the displayed tube map and quickly calculated my route, via Ealing Broadway and the Central Line direct. A few minutes later, while I had confirmed in my mind the route, the next train came along the platform and I boarded, looking and my watch, watching the sun set in the distance. My mind working overtime to calculate my estimated time of arrive, 7pm was slowly drifted off the horizon and I would be lucky to get there for 8pm. Determined to make an appearance of some description, I send a brief text message, hoping that some news was better than no news. Not having time to check for a delivery report I made my way, on the final leg of my journey. As I came off the tube train at Ealing Broadway, I ran at speed to the Central platform, to jump onto the next train heading back into the city, with just a few minutes to go. The night was drawing in and we headed Underground, the number of commuters increased and I smiled at the thought that I no longer had to bear this time of journey for work and only for pleasure.

As my tube journey came to an end, I scaled the dizzy heights of the escalator at great speed and then, after passing the barrier, heading up to the quiet pavement of Oxford Street. The roads were fairly busy with several night buses and taxis driving past. Once I got some bearings I found the bar and headed in. Nervous, apprehensive my head was racing. I grabbed a drink, to steady those nerves. Following on from my journey, I feel I justly deserved this moment to relax and take a deep breath. Had this whole episode been a waste of my time and expense? I was to discover this shortly. Sitting down, I took a long gulp of my drink. They were going to be downstairs, I took out my phone and dialed those digits. My heart began racing again, and the phone rang. The phone was answered and a friendly warm voice. I got up from the chair and turn around, heading steadily for the stairs, making a slow, firm descent into the function room. So many thoughts rushed through my mind, but the most important thing was to make eye contact and smile. This was the moment, I had waited nearly three months and was not expecting, to happen for another few months.

Now, back to my notes. Yes, this entry was supposed me all about music. Music because I had little else to tell the world. That was what I thought at the time. I was listening to Coming Around Again by the fantastic Carly Simon the other day, and as usual, when it comes to these great well known songs, I wondered if anyone had been bold enough to attempt a cover. This meant a trip over the Covers Project. To my surprise this had been updated and now featured of all things a blog plus iTunes and Amazon sponsored linkage. This was a major improvement, even if more ad intensive interface. Carrying out a quick search, I noted that one of the bands to undertake a cover were Copeland. I tried to download the file on my favourite Peer to Peer program, finding a file but not being able to download it. It was not until this weekend, several weeks later that I finally opened my ‘Shared’ folder to discover the song laying there. I listened and was hooked within the opening introduction. I then searched deeper and discovered that they had actually recorded a whole album last year full of their favourite covers, dedicated to their fans. A taster, for them, while the embarked on recorded their next studio album. The full story is all there, on their official web site. An album that was finally released last month.

The BBC are well renowned for selecting the perfect music to sum up the feelings of a nation. They have been doing it for so many years, they have become perfectionists at the art. In June 2002, when England were knocked out of the World Cup, they played Oasis – “Stop Crying Your Heart Out”. After the heroics of the Arsenal squad in the FA Cup against Sheffield United in the replay, once again the Beeb chose the perfect track. Although at the time, it was only the music and not the credits that came to me. I e-mailed Match Of The Day to get the details. Instead of a response to my e-mail, another fellow was given the golden answer. Feeder – “Feeling A Moment”. Great video to this song too, but for the honest response, you need to read the exploits of the biggest Feeder fan, I know. Maybe next week, my weekend will be slightly less adventurous and I will be able to go into further details of my ongoing passions.

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