Meditations on a Man-Cave

It’s done. After months and months of procrastination for which no one other than myself can reasonably be held responsible, it’s finally finished. Or, depending on your point of view, it’s as finished as it’s ever going to be. The spare room at our place that, until now, has been a dumping ground for everything from unpacked boxes of books to low-level nuclear waste, has now been wholly transformed. It no longer has to suffer the ignominy of looking like a glorified closet or one of those rooms you’d expect to see featured on a ‘tenants from hell’ expose on tabloid telly. Nor does it need to be hidden from view, lest it should bring shame to the rest of the house. Not any more.
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Perturbation and Other Mouth Manglers

I don’t why I kept it. Tucked between a couple of paper backs was a thin, brown volume. On the front it read ‘Spelling and Vocabulary Work Book’. On the cover I had written my name (twice, for reasons that now elude me), my school and my phone number. It was, perhaps, somewhat optimistic to think that in the event that I misplaced my Spelling and Vocabulary Work Book that a member of the general public might call me as a matter of urgency. Stumbling across something that is little more than a glorified pamphlet is not exactly on par with find their wallet or a child. Not that I ever misplaced it.
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The Awkward Orchestra Debacle

They’re the odd couple in our local strip of shops. Side by side they sit, representing two very different worlds. The first is a Catholic bookstore. It’s closed on Sundays, naturally, and does a quiet but steady trade. The shop next door does tattoos. When I was growing up, these were referred to as ‘tattoo parlours’, but now they tend to prefer ‘studio’. That’s because the term ‘parlour’ was only ever used to describe businesses that operated under the shadow of infamy. Tattoos and pinball – both had the ‘parlour’ tag. Not now, though. Things have changed.
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Muffin’s Gonna Stop Us Now

It was inevitable, I guess. Sooner or later, it was my destiny that I should be lured back by the siren’s sweet and funky song. It was only ever really a question of when. So it is that after twenty years I have taken the bold leap back into music and joined a band. And not just any band, either. More a super group. By which I mean, of course, that we may wear capes when appearing on stage. So behold the melodic wonderment of my new band, as it will shortly establish itself as a veritable ear-worm factory. Ladies and gentlemen; I give you Blueberry Crumble Muffin.
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