Latitude (n) An expression of Latvian pomposity.
I forgot to mention yesterday – as I got carried away with the relationship between the rock world and the classical world – that I spent a small fortune on music. I found a double CD of vintage sex songs, i.e. jazz and blues numbers from the twenties with somewhat racey lyrics. My favourite so far is ‘I Need More Grease in my Fryin’ Pan’ and the sublime ‘Banana in My Fruitbasket.’
The age of Andrew Stone, lead singer of Starman (featured in the marvellous Pineapple Studios on Sky One) is still a mystery to many people and the subject of many google searches. One forum had a posting from a lady who remembered him from school and thinks he is at least thirty-four. I think he’s forty. I’m looking at the neck, and I’m thinking ‘That neck is forty!’
He claims he’s heterosexual as well, but my Gaydar is beeping like a Chernobyl Gayger Counter.
Recently, Andrew went on ‘a lads’ night out’ with his baby manager, Rob. I think he must be lying about his age as well. He claims He’s twenty-one but I suspect he’s twelve. They filmed Andrew trying to chat up some young women in a spookily empty pub which was intended to bolster his butch image, no doubt, although ultimately he came across as a creepy lesbian stalker. Poor Rob stood about looking slightly embarrassed, rather like a teenager who finds himself in the same bar as his drunken mother.
My culinary exploration today was The Hairy Bikers’ Cornish pasties, for which I had a recipe downloaded from the BBC website.
The recipe, so I surmised, gave the amounts to make one pastie, which was a little alarming as it suggested I use a dinner plate as the template for my pastry circle.
However, it did turn out to be a very lovely, if massive, pastie. I ate half of it with chips and saved the rest for another day.