Bedsit Disco Queen

Wet and cold today. My teeth passed their MOT with flying colours this morning. Some minor cosmetic work, no fillings, no pain. What always concerns me with dentists is how they disappear out of the room when taking xrays. If it is that dangerous what happens to the patient? The boat blind saga continues. The trial run yesterday was a success with one roman blind completed without major problem. Hopefully the completion rate will improve by time the thirteenth blind is done, otherwise we may be sleeping/showering/answering the call of nature in full view of the towpath for a month or two. Once the Yaris was scrapped I informed Club Toyota of the sad news and yesterday I received a cheque for the remaining unused membership period. A simple process done without hassle. Spanish Bank and Naval insurance please note. The next Tardis Two tasks to be addressed are registration, licensing and signwriting, plus juggling our ever decreasing funds. The latter being the most daunting. I have just finished reading Bedsit Disco Queen (how I grew up and tried to be a pop star) by Tracy Thorn. (Tracy who? I hear you ask.) Now 45 and mother of 3 Tracy began her pop career thirty years ago in the Marine Girls punk group before spending eighteen years as one half of Everything But The Girl,releasing nine albums and selling over nine million records. There are many ups and downs in the book with violent lifestyle swings from luxury to squalor and back again. If you like those type of stories you will love this. EBTG first came to my notice many years ago on an EP (remember those?)entitled "Covers". The exact opposite of punk. As part of the blind-making team I was despatched to a little knitting wool, knitting pattern, patchwork quilt cloth shop in the village, to purchase four meters of blind cord. The shop appears to have changed very little since victorian times, as has the stock. A little old hag appeared from the back like someone from the Hobbit or an old Dracula film. Long, knotted grey hair, cauldron coloured face and an oversize browny green hand-knitted sweater. Eventualy she found what I wanted and I quickly escaped via the victorian door, somewhat larger than the door frame, requiring considerable strength and/or bulk to close.