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Lazy Boy
22/09/2007
Have just finished applying a second coat of Danish oil to the floor of my garage conversion/potting shed/ recording studio. It doesn't sound like the most strenuous of tasks, I know, but I can't move my head to the left or walk upright and am currently unable to alight from my Lazy boy recliner without a loud, involuntary grunt. Those wandering, unprepared into earshot could be forgiven for thinking that Anna Kournikova had popped round for some Robertson's barley water and was in the process of executing a forehand smash.
So, of what possible interest could this mean to you? Well, quite possibly none whatsoever, but this does mean that soon I will be able to move my mountain of hugely expensive recording equipment into said garage conversion/potting shed/recording studio. I will then be faced with the task of connecting it all together with the 2 miles of cable currently piled in the spare room. Assuming all the sticky labels are still in place from when I last dismantled it and I'm able to employ the services of the local Sherpa community, this should take me no longer than a few weeks.
I'm lying, of course. If the truth be told, technology has advanced somewhat in recent years. Most of the recording process can be achieved using a laptop plugged into something the size of a box of fish fingers (haddock). On consulting the oracle (ebay) I discovered that my "mountain of hugely expensive recording equipment" had the market value roughly equivalent to that of a large sliced loaf (wholewheat) and so, with a heavy heart and a light wallet, 90% of it has already been dispatched to the nearest available skip. Anything saved was on the basis of how many flashing lights and dials it had.
The consequence of all this is that the excuse "I've just moved house and haven't got anywhere to work" will no longer be valid. I'll have to think of something else. Meanwhile, I've got other things to deal with. Abramovich is on the phone wanting some advice of team selection and there's some random bird in tennis gear raiding my fridge.
Wait, I think I feel a song coming on!..... Sorry, it was just wind.