Anyhoo, don't tell me what happened on 'I'm a Celebrity' last night - I haven't watched it yet. Though I'm sure David's gone down a storm with his campmates. Have they all voted to kill him yet?
Tragically, Lisa and I didn't live to see the Day last night. We were too busy putting on our glad rags (mine weren't as glad as Lisa's, which is why I'm not in the photo) and hitting the town for the musical event of the season - Roddy Frame's first visit to Brighton in more than three years. The last time we saw him we had to travel all the way to Southampton, which was obviously lovely, but given the choice I'd rather not have to spend the night dodging bullets in a crime-ridden ghetto. I get enough of that at home.
It being a momentous occasion, I took both yesterday and today as annual leave, thereby giving me the chance to spend a few hours looking after Amelie, and leave myself more knackered than if I'd been at work. But after downing a few cups of strong tea, we handed our daughter to her Grandma, and headed off to the Brighton Komedia. I've mentioned here on about three previous occasions that whilst being a nice venue, the Komedia also happens to be equipped with the kind of seats that can cut off the circulation to your buttocks and give you gangrene. Frankly they make Vinnie Jones look soft, and are just as likely to cause you physical pain on a night out.
So I took a cushion. Again. The fact that I'd stood through an entire It Bites gig with one in my hand, didn't put me off. I offered one to Lisa, but she said she didn't remember the seats being that hard. She obviously doesn't read my blog.
Anyhoo, I think it was towards the end of the support act that Lisa started complaining that she couldn't feel her legs and needed some paracetamol to cope with the pain in her lower back. Being both a gentleman and someone who likes to say 'I told you so', I offered her my cushion, but she declined on the grounds that she'd probably never hear the last of it. She ended up folding her coat into a ball and sitting on that instead.
As for that support act, it turned out to be Emily Maguire, a young singer-songwriter who was actually very good. She looked a bit like Big Sis, only ten years younger and not as musically talented. She mentioned that she swapped her luxury home in Britain for a tin shack in the Australian outback, so that's another thing they have in common.
Anyway, Emily was very impressive, and I would have bought her CD, but rather than joining the queue at the merchandise stall, I chose to spend the interval stealing a Roddy Frame poster from the foyer. I still think it was the right decision.
As for the man himself, here he is again...
I filmed a total of four songs, the others being On the Avenue and Hymn to Grace. They may not have been the biggest hits of their day, but the 320-strong audience all seemed to know them. The gig was a sell-out, so it's now official: Roddy Frame is more popular than Andy Abraham, the singing binman. That's something to put on your CV.
Anyhoo, needless to say, Roddy was superb, and made me wish I'd carried on playing the guitar, instead of getting a job and working for a living. Lisa insisted we hang about in the bar afterwards in the hope that he might put in an appearance, and agree to sign her CD. We waited for a good twenty minutes, but sadly the only Frame we saw was the empty one where I'd stolen the poster. It's probably just as well though. Lisa still maintains that Roddy Frame is the only other man she'd be willing to have children with. So given her fertility levels, a close encounter in a bar could have been a recipe for disaster. She'd have fallen pregnant just posing for a photo.
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