Balls. The people next door seem to be renovating their loft, which is where my music-room-cum-office is. The scratching and scraping has been getting menacingly closer by the day, and I think it's right next to where I've been practising, now. So the builders will have had a lovely time listening to me doing operatic vocal exercises, scales, arpeggios and working out new song ideas. Hey! What if they've been secretly recording all my new song ideas??? I'd better be careful, you know... If only!
The point is, my idyll is being invaded. I say idyll - really it's a bit too cramped, lopsided and drowning in scrappy bits of paper for it to be Beautiful Homes. But there I was, feeling smug because nobody else seemed to be living immediately next door, so I could play and fart about (not literally) on the piano to my heart's content. And now that dream is being shattered. Damn these people who can afford to buy the whole house and renovate into the loft! Just where do they get their money? I bet they're people-trading in the Congo or something. And they've got a 4x4 (I think). Scoundrels! But now I'm just getting carried away.
On the subject of satirical songs, a common remark that has been cropping up either at gigs or talking with friends recently is, "Ooh, I'd better watch out, 'cos maybe you'll write a song about me!" I understand their anxiety. Who wouldn't fear being taken to task in one of my caustic, cutting and downright searingly funny songs?!?
However, contrary to what certain songs and this blog might suggest, I don't actually hate everyone and everything. Just certain, probably rather obvious, targets. Well, some are more obvious than others. Surprisingly enough, I do actually want some people to like my songs and to have some friends at the end of all of this! So never fear if I meet you on a gig or something. I'm not likely to go home scribbling furiously about what a twat you are. Unless you really are a twat, of course.
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