Brick Match

Whilst trawling the internet the other day I found a smashing site called brickmatch.com where you can send a picture of your favourite brick and the company will match it (romantically or just for fun) with like minded bricks and even send you a sample in the post just to ensure suitability. I imagine if I had followed my dream and had become a hod carrier then I could spend a little too much time on this kind of site. Then, while on a roll I employed the wonderful blogger facility that is ‘next blog’ which is located at the top left of this page (just above the haybales) which took me to a plethora of fine sites (on the day) that seemed to have a Christian patchwork quilting type themes. All written by first person ‘Moms’ with 2.4 smiley kids and offering ’10 of my favourite things to do with butternut squash’ type recipes. Mmmmmmm nice!


Things then took a turn for the worst and something went horribly wrong and I stumbled across a very angry blog by a bloke who had limited access to his kids and a family guitar. In fact it was the YouTube type video of a beardy bloke on a stool at a music shop who was playing some classical piece at breakneck speed with lots of distortion but with no feeling that made me look a little harder. The moany bloke whose blog it was, then went into a tirade of verbal abuse about the guitarist complete lack of any passion and clinical uninterested delivery. Unfortunately, I have to say that I agreed 100% with this analogy and got me thinking of all the times that I have seen folks who seem to think learning an instrument / singing parrot fashion and bringing nothing to the table constitutes a love of music. (At this point all my friends are now pushing a large soapbox under my feet and nodding in unison with a slightly furrowed brow) I mean what’s the point? You also find that on things like the X Factor when you often hear ‘I think you made that song your own’ or ‘I felt every word’ because a nail technician from Huddersfield had managed to master a couple of lines of an Adele songs and forgotten to bring her asthmatic inhaler. Oh my God don’t get me started, but I want to hear Ben Folds Five rape and pillage Raindrops keep falling on my head at Burt Bacharach’s birthday party, or Elvis Costello spitting venom whilst singing Tramp the dirt Down not some sort of karaoke Lighthouse Family!

Now look whats happened, they have had to put me in my special 'button at the back jacket' again