Chaz n Dave

The walk from Fiona's flat to the train station in Hove is about fifteen minutes I guess. I always think it's good to start the day with a walk; get the blood flowing and all that. The two locations are separated by a grid system of roads which offers myriad possibilities when selecting a route. I'm still not actually sure I know which street leads direct from the main shopping street in Hove to the station. They all look the same, lined with exhaust-smeared, yellow-brick Edwardian terraces, so I snake my way slowly up there like a knight on a giant chess board.

West Worthing High Street continues to be a quirky place, despite the arrival of the much-anticipated Co-op, which has become the only chain store in the area. It's such a welcome relief to see nothing but independent shops, particularly ones which are quite so unusual. There's even one which only sells sci-fi comics, like something out of the Big Bang Theory.

The posters blue-tacked in the shop windows are particularly special. I guess in London we get used to seeing images for West End shows in cafe widows, or, up in Highgate, neat little printed invitations to historical society events and musical soirees. In one of the shop windows in West Worthing, I saw an advert for a Chaz n Dave concert, and in another, a Toyah and Big Country tour was being promoted! Chaz 'n Dave, eh? Do you think they're still the original blokes, or are Chaz 'n Dave a franchised brand like the Sugababes or Bucks Fizz? Do you become too old or jaded to be one of them? I think I'm right in saying that, at one stage, there were two Bucks Fizzes, one of which had three of the original members in it, and the other which had just one, plus him off of Dollar. Thingy Van Day. I think cries of misogyny have meant that the women are now forced to pull the men's trousers off in that iconic moment in Making Your Mind Up. Ancient blokes being forcefully stripped down to their undies? How deeply undignified. It brings a whole new meaning to the lyric "if you wanna see some more..." Yes, I'd like to see a walnut-like dangly scrotum, a colostomy sack and a pee-stained pair of boxers! I shudder at the thought...

Today was another long day in PK's loft. As predicted, it was the third movement which required the most remedial work. Not only is it something of a beast, but also, because it was the first number we recorded and rough-mixed, it's riddled with problems. There are some incredibly dodgy bits of singing; moments where I'm sure some of the performers closed their eyes, opened their gobs and simply hoped for the best! Bless them, we've all been there! Those terrible, meaningless passages of score you promise yourself will all miraculously make sense in the recording studio, Mopping up after that sort of sonic trifle isn't the easiest thing to do, but we'll get there. I'll need to return to Worthing on Thursday to finish things off. Fortunately what we have on the Pepys Motet is time. Why rush something which has already taken so long?

On the way home, the train stopped at Hayward's Heath for what seemed an eternity. It's a station where trains seem to get longer or shorter depending on where they're heading, and there's always some safety announcement going on about making sure you're sitting down as the process of coupling of uncoupling carriages takes place. I stared out at the sunset: not a hugely impressive affair, but a strangely captivating phenomenon was taking place, where (I think) car lights from somewhere in the distance outside the opposite carriage window were reflecting on the window I was looking through. The effect was that the sky around the sunset was intermittently filled with bright flashing lights of the strangest shapes. At least I hope that's the explanation for what I saw. If there's been an alien invasion in East Sussex, I was its witness. I'll be blind tomorrow, of course, and this blog will have been censored by giant carnivorous plants. Speaking of which, does anyone remember the televised version of the Day of the Triffids? It was on just after the Kids From Fame. Wednesday nights. I'm gonna say 1985.