Music is a huge part of my life. When I was young I had a bash and lets just say I didn’t set the world alight with my efforts. Enthusiastic yes, talented less so. That said I still have a strong appreciation for good music done well. Irrespective of the genre, type, style as long as it is performed well it has the ability grab my attention and maintain it.
Let me try to give you an example. Earlier today I was sitting down to write a book review. I tend to chuck iTunes or Spotify on in the background as a bit of music tends to get my old brain working. Half way through I realised that I have stopped writing and instead I’m day dreaming about being a spy. Where had this thought come from? The book I was writing about had nothing to do with spies but some how Bond had managed to sneak in there.
Before I go any further I should clarify when I talk about Bond I mean this guy.
|Sir James Bond|
What do you mean ‘Who is that?’ Dude it’s only David Niven as Sir James Bond from the 1967 version of Casino Royale. The closest thing you’ll get to perfection my friend.
The music though is the key. If it is done well I am so easily distracted it is frightening. The track in question was this marvel.
This is a work of Burt-Bacharachien genius. Brashy and ballsy but also delicate. Jazzy and epic at the same time. I adore the multi-layered sound. I can’t drive but this always makes me day dream about driving a sports car along a long stretch of winding road somewhere in the south of France. (I have no idea where this comes from either. It’s good though isn’t it).
The Return of The Curse of the Brown Trousers
A while back I wrote about my panic after buying a brown pair of trousers. After their arrival and I tried them all appeared to be well and I thought that chapter of my life was over. NOT SO. After a only a couple of weeks this happened.
I bent over and bloody things only ripped on the arse. Weird thing is I dont even have that big an arse. If anything my arse is somewhat lacking. The good news is that fortunately Mrs Cheesecake is a dab hand with a needle and thread and she swooped in and fixed them. I’m pleased to report they haven’t ripped since.
I have a love/hate relationship with coffee. If I drink to much it gives me a headache and makes me a a bit narky. So much so that I made a decision about a year ago to stop drinking it. I have over the last couple of weeks I have start to dabble again but on a much smaller scale. Why? Because it is time to get myself down to Starbucks and get myself a redcup. The Eggnog Latte will be mine. Oh yes it will.
I got these in the mail this week and I had to share.
|Awesomeness in book form|
The only question.Where to begin?
Enough of this light hearted procrastination…..onwards!
The Venerable Sir Pablo Cheesecake