You know you got soul...

The Church of Scotland must be spinning in its grave...flogging off a kirk as a bar is one thing, surely, but as a casino called 'Soul'?

Weddings and holidays

Neil (nephew on Susan's side) and Liz, were married in the fantastic St Peter's Priory Church in Dunstable, scene of Thomas Cranmer's cowboy court back in the day to railroad through Henry VIII's first divorce. The divorce papers for Catherine of Aragon were apparently nailed to the door, just like Luther's Wittenberg pronouncements. This is where the Church of England took its first formal step towards independence.
Anyway, it's all been knocked about a bit since, notably in the disestablishment of the monasteries and before and during the Civil War, but it's still staggeringly impressive. It's like a giant stone machine for worship.
And despite its antecedents, a wonderful spot for a lovely wedding. Martha and I played Debbie Scott's Eileen's Waltz while the register was being signed, and a couple more rousing Shetland tunes at the reception, which was at Whipsnade Zoo. Hence the train,
which took all the guests on a trip around the animal enclosures. Steaming! Food was great, the band excellent, atmosphere splendid and a good time was had by all. Such a good time, indeed, that Neil and Liz didn't want to leave.
Luton Airport is just along the road from Dunstable, where Susan's sister, Jane (mother of Neil) lives with her husband Kim. A million thanks to them for hospitality before and during the wedding, and on our return from Spain. Where it was hot. My old pal Stewart Cunningham was there (he's the shadowy figure with the cigar)along with a whole bunch of other old friends, so there was much barbecuing. It was funny being on the Costa Brava - scene of so many childhood holidays in San Feliu, just along the coast from where we were. It's phenomenally busy these days. My favoutite bits were breakfast on the balcony and the evenings, when it got a bit cooler. Apart from that, I tend to wrap up in hot sun. One malignant melanoma is enough.

We visited Gala Dali's castle in Pubol (that's her car - an orange Datsun for Mrs Dali) and that's Susan in the archway in the lovely preserved village down from the castle. I couldn't help but be amused by local products Horniman's Tea, which is truly horrible, and Don Limpio floor cleaner.

Back from lovely Spain aboard the revolting Ryanair

I am banned by the friends with whom we were holidaying from saying exactly WHERE we were in Spain but it was VERY NICE! And on the Costa Brava. Hot, though.

Ryanair, however, were horrible to us. Something has got to be done about the excess baggage nonsense: "You can pay £15 per excess kilo or go to the back of the (enormously long) queue." It's about moneygrubing and nothing else. That bag was the same weight it was when we flew out. And did we get any compensation for one cancelled and paid for flight? Nope.
On my way to Aberdeen from Luton so just one quick picture. Oh, and Neil and Liz's wedding went wonderfully well - pictures to follow. A million thanks to Jane and Kim for their hospitality. Speak soon!

London calling to the faraway towns...

Six hours down the motorway, plus an hour's break, and we were at Susan's sister's house in Dunstable. I hired a gigantic Vauxhall Vectra SRI estate, which was big enough for all the wedding paraphernalia (Susan's nephew Neil is marrying Liz on Saturday)but felt, and I never thought I'd say this, slow and flimsy compared to the wee Citroen C4 diesel.
Yesterday, we took the train from Luton into London to do things I'd never done - go for a boat trip on the Thames and visit the Tower of London. Visiting the Tower was a result of re-reading Neil Stephenson's epic Baroque Trilogy, but proved a bit wearying and disappointing - not enough Mary Queen of Scots (in fact, not ANY Mary Queen of Scots) and the whole thing was rebuilt by the Victorians anyway. It's been a museum rather too long. Crown Jewels were very...glittery.
The South Bank has been beautifully sorted for riverside walking and, well, spending. Hay's Galeria is nice in a Princes Square sort of way (we had bagels there, among table-stalking pigeons).
The Thames Clipper service is more of a water bus than anything else, but impressive. Fast catamarans, and they all have BARS! We bought all-day tickets and I was tempted to just spend the day drinking and wobbling about on the surprisingly rough Thames (hey, come on, it's the holidays), but there was, ahem, shopping to do.
So James and I repaired to the Marlborough Head in North Audley Street for a libation while Susan and Martha Primarked in Oxford Street.
Terrible problems finding anywhere to eat in the evening - everywhere was solid - and the underground was a nightmare - hot, dirty, crammed and with enormous delays on the Central Line. It was a relief to escape back to Dunstable, though the rest of them have headed back into London today. I pleaded exhaustion and Open Golf Coverage.

T in the Park, Amy W and back to Glasgow

Three days at T, and now it's Monday and I'm back in Glasgow, wondering how my face got so burnt...Amy W turned up, barely spoke, sang relatively well and managed not to totter off her high heels. The rest of Sunday? Counting Crows were magnificently out of place. The Kings of Leon were, again, a complete mystery to me: Why do people think they're any good?It's like a scratchy, tuneless version of Skynyrd. Paul Heaton needs to learn his words, which seem, as ever, excellent. What was that Eddie Jordan thing all about? Does any multi-millionaire with a vanity pub band get to play at T? Though the way The Robbers were treated with studious contempt at their Hospitality gig may have taught him a lesson. Next minute, though, they're on the Pet Sounds stage. Bizarre.

Dreadful news about the death (natural causes, apparently) of a 32-year-old and the stabbing of someone else. Don't think I'd like to camp at T again (it's four years since I did so), and frankly, age was telling against me by the close of play yesterday; all I wanted was a quiet place to sit down and have...a cup of tea.

It seems obvious to me that the festival will eventually have to try and distance itself from Tennents. Surely the days of alcohol sponsorship on this level are numbered? I'd expect the Scottish Government to move on the issue within the next couple of years, and it was evident from this year's attempts to promote 'safe drinking' and the 'Healthy T' initiative that the organisers can see the writing on the wall. The wall-to-wall BBC coverage of what is at the moment a major promotional vehicle for booze, raises issues that Auntie will have to deal with too.

As for the toilets (Pee in the Park, indeed)...it's hard to see what else can be done. Female urinals? Women were using the men's troughs by mid-afternoon yesterday. Feminism or desperation?

Boozing will always be part of what has become a rite of passage for Scottish young folk, but the brutal commercialism of the Tennents presence sits uncomfortably with Scotland's new 'moderation message'. More changes next year, I suspect. How long does the Tennents sponsorship deal have to run?

Anyway, some real highlights: Alabama 3 tore King Tuts apart - Paolo was, I thought, stunningly good and the new material is fantastic. The aforementioned Counting Crows made an old muso very happy. Rage Against the Machine were enormously impressive, in a jaggy steamroller sort of way. Reverend and the Makers were the junior A3, but dear goodness, the Rev's voice is a bit wobbly. Hot smoked salmon pasta from Loch Fyne seafoods was exceptional. The Relentless bike stunt show was a treat. And the man with the ladder (£4 for three shots at climbing it without falling off, £20 if you succeeded) must have made enough to buy a house. Sometimes the simplest ideas are the best.

So, roll on, err...Belladrum, Wizard and Connect!