Music Played13 items
Simon & Garfunkel Baby Driver
Top Of The Morning With Terry Wogan, Sony Music TV
I Am Arrows Green Grass
(CD Single), Mercury, 1
The Police Walking On The Moon
The Very Best Of The Police, A&M
Candi Staton Nights On Broadway
Bee Gees Songbook (Various Artists), Connoisseur
R.E.M. Man On The Moon
Simply The Best Movie Album (Various), Warner Strategic Market
Diane Birch Valentino
Bible Belt, Virgin, 1
The Bonzo Dog Band I'm The Urban Spaceman
The Ivor Novello Winners, EMI
The Waterboys The Whole Of The Moon
Now 1991 - The Millennium Series, Now
The Very Best Of Supertramp, Polygram Tv
Maroon 5 This Love
(CD Single), J
Neil Young Harvest Moon
(CD Single), Reprise
Guns N’ Roses Sweet Child O' Mine
The Hits Album 10 (Various Artists), Hits Album
Joan Armatrading Love & Affection
The Very Best Of Joan Armatrading, A&M, 3
Yesterday we spoke to Richard Hammond from his shed of all places...But sheds really do hold a special place in our hearts and gardens, so with summer in full swing, we thought we’d discuss the joys of sheds. Uncle Wilko from readersheds.co.uk, and is widely regarded as the international authority on sheds and was only too willing to share the love...Readers Sheds
We were bowled over by the BBC's voice of cricket Jonathan Agnew who joined Simon live donw the line from Headingly to discuss this most summery of pursuits...
Special Agnew Confession: The Wheelie Bin Racers
My confession, or should I say ours (certain members) from my local
cricket club, stems back to the Ashes home series of 1997, namely the
Headingley Test Match.
It involved a short 'tour' of the first two days at the Test Match including a few drinks on the infamous Western Terraces at Headingley, together with further refreshment after the days play & well into the night in Leeds city centre.
The confession 'antics' in question, happened on the Friday night or as I vaguely recall, the wee small hours of the Saturday morning whilst returning to our allocated digs, they being rooms let out during the Summer period by the University when students were not present, which were conveniently close to the Headingley Ground.
These digs were situated at the top of a pretty steep hill, which was pretty exhausting to climb at the best of times, let alone after a day of "Tour" fun!
So, imagine a certain group of 'lads' returning to prepare for the long journey back to the Midlands (we had to be back for an important League Match, scheduled for a 1.30pm start the next day) at around 4am.
We decided to finish the 'tour' off in grand style, and having a competitive edge to most sporting related deeds we undertook, we decided that racing wheelie bins up a hill was a very suitable climax to our weekend, so we grabbed a number of the bins which were waiting for collection at some point, and began racing them to the top of the said hill.
Upon finally finishing the race at the top, we were just about to turn in for an early night, when somebody decided that it may be more fun racing them down hill, but this time not running with them, but just pushing and letting them go of their own accord, the one reaching the bottom first being the winner. Upon completing this final act of the night we turned in.
It was only when returning the next day in the car, whilst listening to Test Match Special on the radio, that we learned the full extent of our wheelie bin racing during the wee small hours of that morning.
A certain commentator was doing the pre-match amble leading up to the
Saturday days play from Headingley, when he broke off to consult a certain famous Yorkshire opening bat, who was doing the summarising, to ask when the bin men start their collections in those parts, as, earlier that morning he was awoken by the 'noisy bin men' clattering the bins and causing quite a disturbance. (His hotel happened to be at the foot of the hill!!) From which he failed to return to sleep & was feeling quite 'jaded' that very morning.
To my knowledge, the bin men didn't then operate on a Saturday morning,
so it couldn't have been them, which only leaves us as suspects!!!!
So, first of all apologies to the bin men of Headingley who had to
retrieve the scattered bins from the bottom of the hill and return them to
the top and secondly to Aggers, for disturbing his peace and slumber that
Confession: A Spark Of An Idea
Dear Father Simon & The Not So Forgiving Collective (As I found out!)
Its John the Civil Engineering student again. The one who got 2/3 absolution (it sounds better than not forgiven) for ripping the roof off his boss’s car.
Well It's now 6 months on in the winter of 1978 and I have yet another story of misdeed to place before you…
Having returned to University I now needed a car myself. During my 6 months working (and Escort destroying) I had saved a paltry, indeed derisory, sum for this purpose. Accordingly all I could afford was a rusty clapped out old banger. But remember this was 1978 and most cars were rusty old bangers back then.
I figured a car auction must be the cheapest place to make my purchase and so one Saturday I took myself to the nearest one. The oldest and cheapest cars were all parked together and would be going through today. I wandered around the sorry collection of tatty old bald-tyred bangers. It really was more like a scrap yard. But when the auction began and they started to come under the hammer they were still fetching more than my pittance I could afford.
Dejected I decided to leave but just at that moment a new car drove in through the gates and I was instantly in love… She was a cream MG Midget.
Well partly cream but mainly orange due to rust on the doors… and the bonnet… and the roof… ok and maybe a little on the wire wheels. In fairness the inside was pretty tatty too.
Ok… she was in a terrible state… but the engine sounded good and the tyres had plenty of tread and I desired her more than anything, but surely I could never afford her?
I followed as the little car was parked up in the back of the auction house yard and the driver told me she wasn’t going through that day but would be in Wednesday’s sale.
The following Wednesday I was back! My pathetic savings still burning a hole in my pocket and my hopes high; the little Midget was exactly where I’d left her, and as I approached I could see there was a lot of interest. A mixture of dealers and private punters were milling around her and looking inside. Some were making notes in little books. Frankly Things looked very bad!
What’s more over the 5 days her battery must have gone flat because her bonnet was up and there was a huge portable charger connected to her battery. The crowd moved away leaving me and my new love alone. Sadly I knew she could never be mine.
It was then that I committed the dreadful deed. Without really thinking about what I was doing I leaned over the engine, popped off the two middle sparkplug leads, swapped them over and popped them back on again. I re-emerged and looked around. Nobody had seen me, and so I drifted off into the crowd as fresh admirers came to check out the little car.
Eventually her time came and a guy in blue overalls took away the charger, closed the bonnet and got in to drive her into the auction. Now from my microscopic knowledge of cars I expected my action would make it impossible to start her. But No! As the key turned she burst into life. But what a racket!! It was like an old lawnmower with nuts and bolts rattling in a tin can, she vibrated terribly; shedding rust behind her as she loped into the auction hall. Inside I could hear all the old lag car traders mumbling about “Big ends gone” and “Crankshaft regrind”. The general consensus seemed to be that a major engine rebuild or a completely new engine was in order.
The auctioneer started the bidding higher than what I had in my pocket but there were no takers… He dropped the starting bid… but it was still more than I could afford. Silence around the auction hall. All this time the little MG was coughing and spluttering and shaking violently like she was going to rattle herself to pieces. As a last resort he dropped the starting bid one last time to exactly what I had in my pocket… One hand went up. Mine!!!
For what seemed like hours, but was in fact only 30 seconds, the auctioneer desperately tried to elicit a second bid but eventually came the “Third and last time” call and he banged the hammer. SHE WAS MINE!!!! I scooted off to pay and pick up the documents and keys.
Back outside I found my little Midget parked up and popped up the bonnet and swapped the leads back over again. Then I got in and with bated breath I turned the key… Would she have suffered as a result of her ordeal? Nope! She sprang into life as perky as anything just as good as she had been the previous Saturday.
Me and my Midget stayed together throughout my remaining University years only being traded in when I graduated and got my first proper job. Most of that time I spent fighting her rust, she broke down nearly every week and she hardly ever started but I was smitten and loved her all the more for it.
So then I seek forgiveness from whoever sold the car in the auction because they got less for it than they might otherwise have done, but I hope they take solace in the fact that she did go to a very good home and I loved her to the end and miss her even now! For my sin I seek full and total forgiveness for this guilt I have carried this last 32 years. i.e. not the 2 out of 3 you gave me last time… Err… Second time lucky?