Geoff’s new site.

Reluctantly checking my e-mail after almost a month away, I noticed that the very last message, sent at 01.45 that morning, was titled “Extra Gig Added – Tonight – NEAR STROUD”. I quickly realised that this was not, alas, from J. Dreadnought Esq., so I wouldn’t be bothering to make the 400-mile round trip to Gloucestershire this time (much as though I love Andy White’s music, his mailing list’s constant ability to surprise, and his even-more-obscure-than-the-Biscuits gig venues). Not that much of a PBR in itself, but it did make me wonder what has happened to the Lyrics Project contributor known as Jeff Dreadnought, and then, even more so, to certain of our formerly prolific fellow Projectistas who have fallen silent lately: Bobby String? Two Fat Feet? Should we send out search parties?

We’ve been away ourselves in Brazil and Argentina at a couple of football tournaments with our pub team. Dogs on the pitch, fellas wearing Brazilian #10 shirts swigging from bottles of lager and other fellas whose shirts and haircuts got me thinking of Kempes were all so commonplace that these matters would hardly merit a mention here. Nor would our keeper’s regular screaming at me (quite justifiably, I must add) after making his decent saves. Nor even would the fact that both of the tall-masted museum ships we visited in Buenos Aires’ equivalent of the Albert Dock last Friday were, their brass engine-room plates revealed, built at Lairds in Birkenhead. And who hasn’t got a story about their train replacement/replacement bus service breaking down at the Iguassu Falls and being replaced by a replacement minibus, which in turn got stuck in the mud so it was in fact quicker to walk?

No, the PBR that truly made this post inevitable happened on Sunday as we returned from the 35 degrees of South America to the -1 blizzards of Leeds. As our taxi driver struggled for control of his vehicle and bemoaned the lack of gritting on the roads, I ventured that perhaps the local council or Highways Agency teams had been unable to get to work at the weekend themselves. “I’d give them a free ride to work if it meant the roads got done”, he rejoined. A remarkable offer. So, in future, any stranded gritters out there can please call Arrowline taxis in Leeds. Spread the word, and then perhaps the “Mr. Universe” line can be officially installed as the last great unsolved mystery of our times.