The debonair Basil Marigold's

2016 is proving a particularly tough year if you happen to be a musical genius. The great, musical, one-offs are being snatched from us: Firstly, Bowie was taken away, and now another artist, known by only a single name (and at one point, not even by a name but a symbol!) has gone, too. His name was, Prince. Prince, for those that are unaware, was arguably, one of the most important artists of the last 40 years. The proliferation of African American musical styles from; funk, R&B, hip-hop and soul owes something in someway to the music of, Prince. Along with, Michael Jackson and James Brown he brought music from the streets into the mainstream and then became a global superstar. His blend of outright funk, allied with a talent for producing some of the most beautiful lyrics made him unique. He stood apart from the music of his time. Artistically, in much the same way as, David Bowie, he was decades ahead of his contemporaries. Prince, knew this. He knew his own talent. He o...

The Goblin King 1986: I was 10 years old. There was a film released called, Labyrinth. At the time puppetry was quite popular in Hollywood. The CGI of its time, I guess. It's a wacky film, but at the time I loved it for this reason. It also had, apart from puppets, human antagonists. One of these was the goblin king, Jareth. A 10 year old me, knew him as Jareth. The nearly 40 year old me now knows him as, David Bowie. His death was announced this morning, at the age of 69. He'd been fighting cancer for 18 months according to the press release. This fact, seemingly, only known to immediate friends and families. This weekend passed, I'd been listening to his new album, Black Star, on Spotify. His latest release, in a career that stretches back to the mid to late 1960's. I listened, enjoying the music, unbeknownst to me the artist who created it, delivered it, was dying and no more than 2 days from death. A legend. Robin Ince, posted these words on Twitter this mo...

One of my favourite sports is darts. It is a very simple game. As a sport it requires great levels of trained skill and, occasionally, a little bit of luck. However, when played well, it can be the most exciting sport to watch because it has such excitement and drama, intertwined with a gladiatorial aspect of one man, or women versus another opponent. Currently, with BBC coverage available, the BDO (British Darts Organisation) world championship is taking place with the final tonight. I started watching many years ago and I've sadly watched the BDO after the great schism, decline in quality as some of the best players split with the BDO to form the PDC in the early nineties. Up until this point the BDO was the monopoly organisation, from where you could start in your local pub team. If you had talent you could then become a county player and take part in the inter county leagues (I discovered only yesterday that both, Derbyshire & Nottinghamshire county games are played at, Pin...

Since last August we've had family membership of English Heritage. We have managed to find ourselves taking advantage of this in; Devonshire (God's own Country, by the way, He, being Devonian. Seems patently obvious to me), Yorkshire (God's Holiday county, when He's not in Devon) and the East Midlands. These visits have been lovely, mainly because I like my buildings like I like my knees, ruined. It is the various state of ruin that intrigues me. From pieces of wall, that provide a foundation footprint (Roman Forts on Hadrians wall), to near complete structures (Dartmouth Castle, being a great example) and then, everything in between. They have, at times, both surprised and disappointed my expectations. Mostly, surprised. And some, well, they have quite frankly struck me with awe. Awe, both in structural size and the human ingenuity required to build structures (and wealth, always comes back to wealth. Privilege too, of course). The highlights so far have been the...

One of the things I will, invariably, do over the christmas holiday is to take note of the yearly Obituaries. This year is no different. The list are usually, listed as, 'Notable People', because, obviously, un-notable people die too! I suppose I prefer the term, 'notable', to 'Celebrity'. Notable is a far more acceptable term to me, as it implies, a person of note, who has achieved something of worth. Celebrity, tends to be a description of someone, who is both vacuous & dead behind the eyes. However, this year, I have just read my first one on the BBC website. And as always happens, I come across one person that I look at, and think, No, surely not. Please, no.  This year; Nigel Terry. Here follows, great shouts of...Nigel who?? (And then tell yourself off, for not knowing who he was!). If, as I happen to be, you are into the rich and wonderful myths that this country has produced since the dark ages then you will know, King Arthur. I think of all th...

When I was fairly young, Perhaps a couple of years older than my eldest daughter who is now 6. There was a programme on the BBC which was made into 6 parts and was created for children's Televison, during the christmas period IN 1984 (It ran up to Christmas eve). It was called, 'The Box of delights'. It must be remembered this was created when the BBC produced programmes that hadn't been dumb down for the audience. This story was adapted from the books by, John Masefield, whom from 1930 to 1967 was the Poet Laureate . It is a sequel to the first book, the Midnight Folk, which contained a lot of the same characters. The Box of delights was chosen to be adapted. As an 8 year old it was a stunning experience. The story was a little bit scary at times, exciting and for the time the graphics seemed quite advanced (though 30 years later you see how far we've moved on), but it has been forever burnt into my mind as something that happens at Christmas. The advent (geddit?) ...

I looked with horror at the date of the last post, January 2015. Almost 12 months have passed and I have written nothing here. I used to write fairly regularly and I enjoyed it also. At times it was very therapeutic and I attempted to make it at least a little witty, if possible. A struggle for some, any, creative muse to strike me has been a little part, of the whole, of not contributing here as much as previously.  Sometimes, I have a wish to speak but have no way of saying it; a total blank. There is a book called, 'I have no mouth. And I must scream'. It is, science fiction. A disturbing portrayal of a dystopian future - I recommend it. The title however, has always stuck fast in my mind. I have found myself this year (and to a lesser extent, last year), feeling this sentiment. Ideas and thoughts never stop but the inability to translate them from thought, to a solid narrative, is a horrible feeling. A disconnect from what goes in, having no way, in which, to come out. If...