MM on 'a free ticket to behave like a sex maniac in public'

Hey hey, my my
Rock n roll will never die
- Neil Young

1977 was a momentus year; not only did Muxloe enter the world but the King of Rock n Roll finally left the building. You've probably noticed that this week marks the 30th anniversary of the death of Elvis. I declare that I love Elvis, not in a pilgrimage to Gracelands kind of way, but believe that the man deserves his title. At school we did a task of arguing a case for one historical figure not to be thrown from a hot air balloon. I chose Elvis Presley. Sure the music rocks but its so much more than that. On being drafted into the army and sent to Europe his only comment to reporters was "the first place I want go is Paris and look up Brigitte Bardot"....he was the incarnation of rock n roll!

My personal view is that those who don't like Elvis fall into one of two camps.

1. Those who've never given him a fair hearing
2. Those who are plain and simple wrong.

I see parrallels with my day job forever telling kids that the important thing about history is not so much what we know now but what they thought then. Forget what we know now about sightings of Elvis in chip shops, of Chinese lookalikes in karaoke bars, of the jelly and bacon sandwiches or the sweaty Vegas years and think of what Elvis meant at the time.

The Washington post's obituary of the King explained;
"In 1956, when Presley came crackling out of every radio and speaker in the land, young Americans notions about independence -- from parents, from religion, from the values of the time -- were forming. Elvis became "The King" of rock 'n' roll, but also of the emerging youth culture. He was a young, hip-thrusting, white singing music that was essentially black. Part of his attraction was that the '50s teenagers viewed him as epitomizing everything they thought their parents feared they would become -- cocky, slick, brash, tough, black-leatherclad, motorcycle straddling, stiletto-shoed."

After his first appearance on national TV one critic wrote
"It isn’t enough to say that Elvis is king to his parents.....that still isn’t a free ticket to behave like a sex maniac in public before millions of impressionable kids. According to a scholarly friend of mine, Jackie Gleason, we’ll survive Elvis. "He can’t last,’ said Gleason, 'I tell you flatly, he can’t last.' "

If you're one of those that don't understand exactly why Jackie Gleason was wrong and Elvis did last then my homework for you this week is to download and listen to Heartbreak Hotel. What a voice! I defy you not to shake your hips to that bass. The primitive solo is the root of every axesmith from Lou Reed's guitar on Heroin to Kurt's interlude on Smell's Like Teen Spirit. It was all delivered in a style that sent the girls wild and inspired the likes of the Beatles, Brian Wilson and Dylan. And then remember that it was recorded over 50 years ago - genius!

As John Lennon said 30 years ago this week - "The King is dead. But rock 'n' roll will never die. Long live the King."

Go on! Go download Heartbreak Hotel and listen to it with fresh ears, you won't be disappointed....tell us what you think in a comment (but please identify yourself!)

MM on rainbows....

The recent uncertain weather has created some fantastic St. Reatham skies, including this double rainbow.


As with about 1 in 20 men I am red-green colour blind. It's no big deal, I never wanted to be a pilot, an electrician or a fireman anyway....although you can be sure I'd have looked dandy in the uniforms!

It's something that is hard to explain to others, people seem to think that either I see in black and white or can't recognise all reds and greens - that's not the case. All colours are a mixture of the primary colours and my eye picks up yellow and blue more dominantly that red - therefore my eyes acknowledgement of colour is different to 'normal'. I have no problem with traffic lights and I can see that grass is green but I find it difficult to pick out a red poppy in field of long grass.

Obviously by its nature I can't comment on if this is true or not but the map diagram shows how different eyes see the same image. The first map is what 'normal' eyes see and the others show to 'normal' eyes how people with different types of colourblindness see the same map. I think my perception is somewhere between the second and third maps.(click on the picture to enlarge the image)

The only time I ever ever regret being colour blind is when I spot a rainbow - I can see them in the sky but to me it pretty much looks like a series of bands in yellow or blue, I don't distinguish all the different colours.

It would be amazing to see a full rainbow. I've always had the romantic notion that the woman I fall in love with will some how be able to show me the rainbow....just as in one of my favourite songs; 'It's all over now baby blue' by Bob Dylan. "I met a young girl she gave me a rainbow."

To show that beauty is possible in even the most unpromising surroundings I've posted here photos I've taken from Muxloe Manor over the last few years of St. Reatham skies.

MM on missing the morning muse....

One potential candidate to be Muxloe's Muse was a cute and stylish maiden I met catching the daily 8.43am train from Streatham Common to London Victoria. After some coy catching of each other's eye, the flash of a few smiles and some initial flirtations things have gone off the boil somewhat with the train-station princess. Every morning I think 'maybe I should rectify the situation and get the ball rolling again'. I approach the station full of noble intentions to engage her in conversation but somehow they whither and die when she looms into view. I feel like I'm 12 again - too scared to talk to a girl!

At the moment I'm reading David Copperfield by Charles Dickens and this whole phenomenon is obviously nothing new. Copperfield is recounting about the time he went to see Little Em'ly, a girl he fell in love the summer before. He'd been desperate to see her and was full of things he wanted to say.

“A figure appeared in the distance before long and I soon knew it to be Em'ly.......when she drew nearer, and I saw her blue eyes looking bluer, and her dimpled face looking brighter and her whole self prettier, a curious feeling came over me that made me pretend not to know her,and pass by as if I were looking at something a long way off. I have done such a thing since in later life.

Little Em'ly didn't care a bit. She saw me well enough; but instead of turning round and calling after me, ran away laughing.”

I know how he feels, I wonder if the station princess knows how little em'ly feels too....

MM on a man needing a maid and a muse...

Neil Young once sang 'I was thinking maybe I'd get a maid, find a place nearby for her to stay'. Judging by the state of my bedroom and frequently unironed shirts I'd have to concede that maybe a man does need a maid. But more than a maid, what muxloe needs is a muse.

On my recent visit to Madrid I was mesmerised by a painting in the Reina Sofia art gallery. It was a portrait of a French woman, Sonia De Klamery, by the Spanish artist Anglada. His muse managed to elevate his creativity and what was so stunning about the painting was his evidently passionate desire for her. I need a muse like that. My book needs me to have a muse like that. Someone who can inspire me to write, someone who lights a fire inside, someone who shows me all the world's colours. Or, to borrow a phrase from Siegfried Sassoon, someone who can touch 'my lips to song'. I need a Sonia De Klamery.

My life and the Elephant Orphanage would both be enhanced by the filling of my vacancy for a muse. I think I could get used to living on a boat with my very own Sylvia Plath. Any potential candidates can apply within....muses preferable but maids also welcome.

“And she and I would sleep on a boat
And swim in the sea without clothes
With rain falling fast on the sea
While she was swimming away, she'd be winking at me
Telling me it would all be okay
Out on the horizon and fading away
And I'd swim to the boat and I'd laugh
I gotta get me a Sylvia Plath.”
- 'Sylvia Plath.' Ryan Adams

MM on Monster Magic....

Though my book, the Elephant Orphanage, has yet to see the light of day, the soon to be masterpiece already has a front cover. This image was created by my old friend Monster and is based on photos from the real life Elephant Orphanage taken on a fact finding trip to Sri Lanka with Muxloe a couple of years ago. (no sign of the photos of the women washing their family's clothes down river from where a whole herd of elephants was bathing and crapping!!!) Not only is it, in my humble opinion, a magic peice of art to grace the novel it also acts as inspiration and motivation for me to finish a first draft once and for all. Cheers Monster.

MM on nowhere special.......

Today I'm doing some temp work....as I have been for the last couple of months. Consequently the Elephant Orphanage master-piece is somewhat on the back burner as reality bites and it turns out the life of a penniless would-be author is not as romantic in reality as the notion might suggest. Temping is a drag. In some ways its not too bad; it gets me out of bed in the mornings, stopped me going stir crazy, and my temporary colleagues are good fun, but on the whole its a drag. Especially on a day like today when the rain is falling and clock ticking oh so slowly. I'd rather be anywhere else than here today. Literally anywhere. All of which reminds me of one of my favourite endings to a film. Its the final scene of Blazing Saddles when the Waco Kid and Jim's escapades are over, their work is done and they're wondering what to do next.

Waco Kid - where you heading cowboy?
Jim - nowhere special.
Waco Kid - (pause)...nowhere special....(wistful sigh)....I always wanted to go there!

I know what he means. Whats your favourite ending to a film?

MM on momentus meetings.......

If you'd undertaken a family fortunes style survey of 100 British people back in 1988 'name something you'd never expect to see in 2007' then I suspect that, along with the return of the mullet and the slogan t-shirt, high on the list of answers for Les Dennis to reveal would be "a photo of the Rev Ian Paisley sharing a 'someone's just farted' gag with Martin McGuinness". Which all goes to show that no matter how preposterous it might seem sometimes anything is possible!

MM on Madrid.......

After the scandalous debacle of the 'dirty protest' incident I decided that it was time to bury the hatchet with my long time friend and comrade Sound Theory. A friendship born in the revolutionary hot-bed of mid 90's Hampshire, burgeoning on the beaches of Mexico and Brazil and cemented marauding down the right side of south London's football pitches was all too much to throw away on the back of some silly scatological shenanigans! It was with some trepidation (necessitating valium to calm the nerves) that I arrived in Madrid. Of course my apprehension was misplaced as Sound Theory proved himself to be the bigger man by making the first move in this new age of detente, by immediately offering up the local peace pipe on my arrival. Many know that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Sound Theory knows that the way to Muxloe's heart is via his favourite spanish nibble - the empanada. Accordingly friendship was re-affirmed with the offer of a slice of tuna empanada pie adorned with a heart. The cold war is over.

Sadly Madrid proved to be a miserable rather than magical experience. The sun failed to shine, the tapas was bland, the beer was flat, the madrid girls were mingers and I was laughed at for my red face. Of course all of this is complete lies and the opposite can be understood to be true - except that is for my being laughed at for having a red face,(damn that spanish sun and my english skin) that much is true!

Madrid was actually magnificent. Highlights in no particular order included; an average of an empanada a day, 'people watching' in the Retiro park, the opportunity to spend more time and get to know the enchanting Mrs Sound Theory, an authentic 'yorkshire pizza' at an abbey themed Irish bar, a party hosted by a man called Bruno who looked like he could feature in a 70's cartoon like Marmaduke or Pigeon Street, gaining an insight into and developing an affinity for the ever expanding 'weltanschauen' (german - world/life view) of Sound Theory, watching a feast of footballing tricks by a team of South American wonder kids, enjoying a siesta whilst the Polish cleaning lady ironed ST's shirts and a quiet hour's contemplation in the courtyard of the wonderful Reina Sofia gallery. Muy bien!

My only regrets were the second valium and that my trip didn't last longer.

MM on miners.....

This week marks the 21st anniversary of the explosion at the Chernobyl nuclear power plant. Do you remember it? I do. I remember being annoyed that we were banned from playing on the grass or in the sandpit. It was also annoying that fresh milk was considered contaminated so we had to have toast for breakfast instead of our usual cereal. And for a 9 year old boy nothing was more annoying than that when it rained we had to stay in doors. Some of the people of Ukraine with their bereavements, abandoned homes, cancerous bodies and deformed babies may remember it for different reasons........ and our governement continue to insist nuclear fuel is vital to our future. I'd say renewable sources are more vital!

This is an extract from a poem by Mario Petrucci from his collection 'Heavy Water' which deals with the miners, firemen and soldiers who were ordered into Chernobyl to clear up the mess. They were not told of the disastrous consequences these acts of heroism would have for their futures.

Miners (Chernobyl 1986)
We came out fainting
like girls. Our black wouldn't wash.
We knew this was no ordinary ore.
That each grain we dug was worth a life......
..........And now there are those
who will not stand near us. To them
I say - How will you bury us? And so
we are all agreed. All we brothers -
from Kiev. Moscow. Dnepropetrovsk.
We vow to bury one another. This
is impossible they tell us. It cannot
be done. It can. We are miners.
We know how to dig.

MM on the Muxloe 5 aside team....

An insistent trader in an Istanbul bazaar once told my Dad that whilst he may not have many pennies in his pocket he was nevertheless rich thanks to the good fortune of having 3 sons. Turns out that Pappa Muxloe's only gone and increased his considerable wealth by having two more. That's right it's taken 33 years but he's now managed to assemble a 5 aside team's worth of sons - though by the time the latest arrivals are old enough to play competitively the forerunners, especially Reathamrocks, may no longer be in the kind of physical shape to keep up!


Despite a premature birth and a shaky start in life, my twin baby brothers are now fighting fit and ready to be introduced to the world. Here they are with their favourite (ok equal favourite) older brother Muxloe.

First up, the elder by 10 minutes, is Ben - look at those blue eyes! Ben is destined to be rugby league international which I've decided based on his determined outlook and broad shoulders.


Next up, the true baby of the family, is Alex - how cute! Due to his, already apparent, creative temperament and dainty fingers it is decreed that Alex will be a concert painist of world renoun...

....Actually I don't mind or care what these two become because I'm so proud of them that their being happy and healthy will be enough for me.....so long as they chose Swindon Town over Nottingham Forest that is!

MM on my old man and something he loves....

Back in the Muxloe Musing early years, well 2006, I lampooned my old man for the many things he professes to hate……. of course I did point out what a loving man he is as well. He loves lots of things, including fresh air, whistling, hitting a sweet drive, watching Swindon Town win, watching Conservatives lose, beating anybody at anything, quaffing champagne and scoffing chocolate. Whilst truffles may be his favourite, he also loves Easter eggs and frankly he just doesn’t care who knows it!

MM on monkey magic.....

On Friday I was, somewhat to my surprise, blown away by the Arctic Monkeys at the Astoria.

Check out my chimpomatic review

MM on mail.........

Muxloes Musings today launches its 2007 appeal - don't worry there will be no Blue Peter style 'bring and buy' sales or lanky haired and foul mouthed Irish punks telling you to 'give us your fookin money'.

Last week I arrived home at Muxloe Manor to find a parcel waiting for me. It was a 'care package' posted by my friend and erstwhile 'co-singer' Sugar Kane all the way from the other side of the Pond (not forgetting added contributions from the cool Concorde Crew!). This was a surprise that it is no exaggeration to say made my day, nay make that week......and it got me to musing.

In these days of the information super highway how often do people send snail mail post? Not very often I suspect, mailboxes only ever fill with bills and take away menus - it seems that old fashioned post is just too 20th century. Wouldn't it make your 21st century day to find a card, letter or parcel amongst the junk?

So Muxloe's Musings have decided to launch an appeal for every reader of this humble blog to send something unexpected by post to someone who you think will love to receive it. That's all, nothing more nothing less - do it for Muxloe, get out there and pop something in the post. It'll make somebody's week.

.......and how about leaving a comment letting us know what you sent to whom and how they reacted.....(actually maybe this is turning into Blue Peter!)

MM on random tunes and fantastical places....

As regular MM readers will know I have a penchant for Lidl caviar. Whilst stocking up this weekend, wandering down the day glow aisles with a fuzzy head and desire to be somewhere else, anywhere else actually, I had my Ipod set to shuffle. Surrounded by screaming kids, trolleys ramming my ankles and a plethora of signs proclaiming of Lidl offers ‘that’s cheap’ the shuffle skipped to ‘Higher than the Sun’ by Primal Scream. A truly great song this is a tune I’ve listened to in some seriously special places – the Great Thar Desert at sunset and the ruins of Tikal at dawn spring to mind. It occurred to me that shopping in Lidl was as far removed from Bobby Gillespie’s original vision as could be possible. But in a way, maybe it was everything he was trying to preach;

“My brightest stars my inner light, let it guide me…….I’m floating in a space free of time, I find a higher state of grace in my mind…... I’ve glimpsed I have tasted, fantastical places, my soul’s an oasis, higher than the sun…..”

Maybe Bobby might actually be proud to think that no matter how mundane things get, in my mind I’m still living the dream!

All of which got me to wondering – where have you been when a totally out of context or inappropriate song has provided a soundtrack to the moment? Answers in a comment please (remember you don’t need to sign up to comment, but please identify yourself)…….. I’ll set the ball rolling; a family in Sri Lanka invited me to a lovely crab curry dinner. Thoughtfully they played on a loop the only English record they had - ‘Like a Rhinestone cowboy’. At first this was mildly amusing but soon became extremely tedious. Being the polite well raised young man that I am I did not complain, however it ran so long that it mercifully became amusing once more. Over to you.

MM on music musings.....

setting my sails on the coat-tails of sound theory I have started writing for a music review website (see my debut review on 'the earlies' at London's Scala) any positive/arse kissy comments would be welcome to boost my standing in the chimpomatic pecking order. in the words of those boys who are beastie 'check check check it out'. (click on 'chimpomatic' in the 'links' section below left but please come back!!!!)

MM on moving to Minnesota and moving into my 4th decade.........

Muxloe nearly flipped out and lost the plot last week. So much so that if there'd been just a few more pennies in my account then I'd have run away to Minnesota without so much of a hint of a goodbye to anyone. This is true, it was a serious plan but all this will have to be a musing for another time....in the mean time you patient followers of MM have waited long enough. So here is the first of the clips from the MM hiatus highlights package including all the important news from my absence. Best to imagine this with a 'life of reilly' or paul hardcastle soundtrack like the goal of the month competition or top 40 countdown from days or yore.

In January I hit 30. A top quality evening was held to celebrate/commiserate this momentus moment surrounded by many of my favourite people (some of whom were less favoured after plying me with deadly black sambuccas). This photo has been cunningly mocked up to suggest that I was blind drunk but in actual fact on moving into my 4th decade I also developed a hernia, so am just doubled over in pain...honestly the sambuccas are irrelevant. As I said in my thank you email at the time 'the best thing about turning 30 is that I've had time to collect so many amazing friends'.

Anybody able to help me out with other reasons to be thankful for turning 30 'cos frankly I'm currently struggling?

MM on treating 'em mean and keepin 'em keen.......

In much the way that Muxloe refuses to text girls he's taken a shine to in a vain hope they will even notice the 'treat em mean keep em keen' tactics, I've taken a hiatus from MM recently. But fear not I'm back! It seems such tactics might actually work as regular readers of MM - I hesitate to term them fans - have kicked up a fuss the like of which hasn't been seen since his Bobness went electric back in '65. A concerted campaign of nagging was surely enough to prompt MM's resurrection but one particular regular had to take things too far........


.................On a recent visit to Muxloe Manor, great friend and supporter of this humble blog, Sound Theory, decided enough was enough and took the campaign to another level. Though he insisted that the dirty protest on the top step of the death trap stairs must have been carried out by a local fox, the law of primary school playground (justice which Muxloe still adhere's to) suggests that 'whoever denied it, supplied it'. (see photo for exhibit A in the case of Muxloe v. S. Theory) The prosecution argues that proof of this guilt surely comes from the legal precedent that as the first to 'spot' this dirty protest Sound Theory is condemned under the ruling that 'whoever smelt it dealt it'. Shame on you Sound Theory - though you did at least bring me to my senses for which I pass on a thousand thanks! How do you respond to this charge?


News from Muxloe's magical mystery tour and absence to follow, thank you for your patience and stay posted folks.......

MM on own brand caviar........

An outlet of the Lidl chain last week opened around the corner from the Muxloe abode in St. Reatham. Snobs amongst you may snigger that this is a sign that the tone of the neighbourhood has now been lowered ......... but you'd be wrong! This development just means that we no longer have to trek to Harrods Food Hall for our basic groceries or indeed have staple foods shipped in from Russia. Granted its not bulgara but then I always felt that was overpriced and a bit 'obvious'......

MM on the prawn sandwich brigade

On Tuesday evening I went to Stamford Bridge to watch Chelsea take on Lefski Sofia courtesy of free tickets from my good friend Sung. Now don't get me wrong I was grateful for Sung's generosity and would bite her hand off if such an offer were made again, also it was an absolute pleasure to watch live champions league football and finally I appreciate the circumstances of my being at stamford bridge is ironic considering my forthcoming musing (you'll sense there is a but coming here...)

But ..... it was ultimately a rather depressing affair. We were seated in the once famously fearsome Shed end. This is how a Chelsea fan living in the states remembers visits to the Shed in the 70s and 80s, on hs website 'shedendblues'. (The photos show the Shed as was and is today)

We'd bunk the train up from Reading, dodge the underground and pay our 50p under 16 rate to stand in the Shed End - the atmosphere was always electric - guaranteed to get crushed if Chelsea scored - and if the footy was no good there was always the North End idiots putting on the half time show.


Sadly we found that the Shed had less atmosphere than such other grounds as Chesterfield's Saltergate or Scunthorpe's Glandford Park which I have visited in the past 12 months. Never in all my footballing years have I seen so many suits, tourists, late arrivals, public school scarves, trophy girlfriends, middle aged men with gelled hair, people leaving their seats during the action, flashing bulbs, and over-sized pepsi drinks all in one place. All of this accompanied by not a single chant from the Shed through the whole game, no abuse yelled at the officials and an exodus of 'fans' 10 minutes before the game even finished. No doubt traditional fans have been priced out by the bankrupting ticket prices and sadly football is all the poorer for it. Give the game back to the fans!

MM on the wessex grass not always being greener.....

"tell me why
is it hard to make arrangements with yourself?"
Tell me why, Neil Young

Regular readers of Muxloes Musings will know that I am not working at the moment but instead trying to write my novel - The Elephant Orphanage. The pursuit of this passion and dream is not without its sacrifices, not least the imposition of a sense of solitude, financial hardship and periods of self doubt. Emails from friends this week have reminded me that though the attendant drawbacks may be different we all have issues relating to finding a happy blance in our life.

I am currently reading Thomas Hardy's first published novel - 'Desperate Remedies'. Hardy can be an acquired taste but I love it, not just because the landscape of wessex is so evocative of a life that my west country and hampshire ancestors must have lived. More than anything I consider Hardy a genius who must have been a very sage man indeed. He imparts insights and deals out pearls of wisdom in such a succint but poetic manner. Anyway I wanted to share a passage that has bolstered my resolve to continue with my own book and might well be pertinent to all of us pondering the uncertainties of life.

Springrove is a young Dorset man who has just fallen in love with Cytheria but is intent on moving to London to make his name as an architect. Hardy muses that 'the man who works up a good income has had no time to learn love to its extreme; the man who has learnt that has no time to get rich' I'm not sure if that is too pessimistic but it strikes a chord at least. The succour I have got from Desperate Remedies regards the following passage; Cytheria has encouraged Springrove to pursure his dream, even though she realises it will impinge on their own chances of happiness together. He replies "men must stick to a thing if they are to succeed in it." He's right and this has increased my determination to push on with the Elephant Orphanage, however he also instills a sense that this shouldn't be done with the burden of regret or envy for a different life. Springrove notes that if they want to succeed men should 'not give way to over admiration for the flowers they see growing in other people's borders.' Hardy then outlines this notion by wisely pointing out that

"Adherence to a course with persistence sufficient to ensure success is possible ....when there is found in them a power of assuming conviction that in the outlying paths which appear so much more brilliant than their own, there are bitternesses equally great - unperceived simply on account of their remoteness."

I guess he's reminding us that the grass isn't always greener. As to adherence to a course, I suppose he's echoing the motto of Muxloe's Musings and my message to you all to 'keep on keeping on'.