Breaking News!

New blog in development (stop)

First post immanent (stop)

I have found my va va voom (again) (stop)

www.TheWesternCwm.com

File Closed

It started with a chance encounter with Sting's son and now it ends with, well, nothing. I have thrown in a picture of fireworks on the Mersey to celebrate Liverpool's 800th birthday celebrations to spice things up. I am spent. I am not the person I was when I started writing this blog but I am not sure that I have 'grown'. If I have grown I am not sure that I like what I have grown into.

I don't know why I write here anymore. I have lost my passion for it.
Liverpool Headlines has reached its conclusion for me.

I thank you for reading what I have written. Take care

Take My Hand, Knot Your Fingers Through Mine

Sat in Lord Mountbatten's old residence as Miranda walked up the aisle I couldn't help but get butterflies, I imagine it is normal for your mind to wander at time like these and mine was walking for miles. She looked beautiful as you would imagine a bride would on her wedding day and I got a lump in the back of my throat as the bride and groom read their vows, genuinely taken over by the occasion.

Dinner was provided later in the afternoon and I was given a special honour of sitting with the brides mother's family. I was sat between Grandmother and a celebrity couple, Tim Henman and Leanne Battersby from Corrie, and given that we were all northerners on a jolly down south we had a good time. We were laughing so much that people began to stare but when gran turned to me and asked "do you eat rice?" there was little else that could be expected to happen.

The evening reception saw the arrival of more familiar faces and as you would expect there was dancing with glow sticks. Oh, I should mention that I rescued the intoxicated groom from drowning in a big pond and that when everybody but the Bride, RC and I were left in the hotel bar we had drinks with coaching staff from Ipswich Town FC.

I Think I Just Touched A Sock

I have a wedding this Friday in St Albans. My to do list for the week includes losing about half a stone, finding a new suit, finding a date, watching the England v India ODI in Manchester and to start unfriending people on Facebook. It is going to be a busy week.

PQ and I caught up over the weekend and we visited the Amistad ship at the docks, I was hoping to see Morgan Freeman and PQ was hoping to see some pirates. Although her need to be close to all things piratey is close to being an obsession I think it is a little more sane compared to my need to video mug celebs. The best we came up with was the ships engineer from Massachusetts and I convinced him to be my Facebook friend. I think he agreed so that I would leave him alone, given that I was video mugging him at the time I can't blame him for taking any get out that came his way.

Given my busy schedule I am going offline for a while. Think of me while I am gone. It is not a "and I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and hell followed with him" style goodbye. More of a "smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for breakfast"

The Anthracite Statues Of The Horses Sleep In The Fields

Listen. It is night moving in the streets, the processional salt slow musical wind in Tithebarn Street and Hackin's Hays. We walk in the narrow aisles of industry. The rain hides behind the clouds, the breeze stands still and allowed us to pass.

Time passes. Listen. Time passes.

Alone until she dies. I who kissed her once when she wasn't looking and never kissed her again although she was looking all the time.

You can hear the dew falling and the hushed town breathing

Now behind the eyes and secrets of the dreamers in the streets rocked to sleep by the sea I walk the narrow aisles alone.

Outrage: Mutiny On The Bounty

Everyone was going on about the arrival of the Black Pearl over the weekend, the Echo had the headline "Black Pearl Sails In On Mersey Mission" and PQ was literally giddy with excitement. I assumed that the Black Pearl was coming to Liverpool as the Echo stated the ship was "the Black Pearl, featured in the Johnny Depp Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy". Not much wiggle room there.

Now I know as much about pirates as much as the next man but when I wandered down to the docks I saw the HMS Bounty which looked liked this


which is not the Black Pearl and looks nothing like the Black Pearl which looks like the image on the right. I feel betrayed. It wasn't a fake Black Pearl. It was a different ship entirely.

Thankfully this was cleared up before people boarded and they managed to raise £25,000 for the Cutty Sark which was probably set on fire because they told some disgruntled tourist they were about board the Starship Enterprise. The Daily Post cleared things up.

Its A Piece Of Cake

The Preston Food and Wine Appreciation Society met again last night and on the agenda this week was "how to seal a bottle, cork or screw top?". Given my recent trip to Portugal, home of the finest cork makers on the planet I made a strong case for corks. Any opposition was swiftly dismissed as heresy and the discussion was won. But later that night...

Myself and the Playwright had a joke face off during which I was giving him a run for his money with classics such as "I have a nut allergy, when I was at school the kids used to feed me revels as a form of Russian roulette" and "A man orders a pizza, he is asked if he wants it cut into six pieces or eight and he says 'make it six, I couldn't eat eight' " but for every doctor joke, the playwright had a dentist joke. For every knock knock he had a husband and wife.

As I was close to defeat Tim, who was shouting his support for me in my corner in between shoving smelling salts under my nose and pouring water over my head, threw in a few 'Man walks into a bar' but the Playwright was in his element and was too powerful for us. He landed a "its easy to distract fat people, its a piece of cake" square on the chin and I was out for the count. I think I had one last "two cannibals are eating a clown and one says to the other, 'does this taste funny to you' " in me but, like the Ali's and the Tyson's of the joke telling world, the Playwright had shown is pedigree and still had plenty in the tank.

Tim threw in the napkin.