Author: basgallop

Where does the magic go

where does the magic go? – jimmy bozeman and the lazy pigs
we had some good times didn’t we? we had some laughs
seems it’s all behind us, somewhere in the past
where does the magic go, where does the magic go, where does the magic go?

every moment is forever, every place has its time
and when i think about this, i can only keep trying
where does the magic go, where does the magic go, where does the magic go?

these are the best of times for what its worth
the feelings that we shared can’t put into words
where does the magic go, where does the magic go, where does the magic go?

14 December 2012 21:57
Photo Montage many pictures from Zlata Lodi, songs by Lazy Pigs, we wrote and recorded these while living at Zlata Lodi

aaaw not the same without the vid which i can’t seem to get off facebook

Richard Basgallop the words of the song kinda say it all, the lazy pigs lived downstairs in the squat (u zlati lodi) in prague and played on the bridge most days, listening to it and starting to look through the many many old pics on the squat page, amazing old memories! some of them made me cry, 20 years. x thanks helena xxx

Christmas

aww happy christmas everyone, lovely to come on here and see all the seasonal greetings and foolish festive snaps
not always the easiest time of year for everyone, i struggle a bit with not being a traditional nuclear family unit (moon unit?! zappa)
so blooming well done to one and all of you!!! (its a bit like musical statues where will we be when the music stops this year)
but hey pass the stilton and port, nosedive into the brandy butter! a lot to like in the days of abundance and sloth.
right best see if i can goad the kids into a walk, doesn’t seem very likely, then iPlayer slobbery. Merlin? Dr Who?
happy boxing day! pressies galore vibes! x

mince pies

mince pies are alright…. sotto voce, begrudgingly, i have eaten one and a half this year and counting, and quite tasty actually, after an entire lifetime of loathing them… these the days of revelation… i was wrong… eating humble pie?

Richard Basgallop look a knitted mince pie! … and aggh you can now add more than one pic to a post, that will squander even more of my days!

Richard Basgallop …and santa is in a yoga asana… and has peculiar horn like deely boppers, further inspiration to take up knitting

Megan I still hate them

worlds end (from 21st Dec)

Happy Solstice, new Bhaktun thingummibob vibes!
may all beings be well, may all beings be happy
my moment of tranquility came this morning half way up mount caburn, never where you expect it, after a trains cancelled dashing daughter to school
devoid of vigour i didn’t even make it to the top, just paused on a bench near a copse of trees
such strength and stillness, the trees looked like brittle twigs, but have you ever tried to push one over? i have! such obstinate power. you’d have to be a woolly mammoth, a rather chubby waddlesome one at that
anyway just sat and meditated for a while, warm sun, an edge of chill in the air, the continual chuck chuck warble sound of pheasants, a suprise unseasonal tweetle twerp of a song bird
the rumble of my stomach, the distant waterfall of the a27, the grubby clamour of mind… opening my eyes to a diamond sparkle in the grass, snail shell in my pocket, a sheepdog on the far hillside chasing spiral patterns
well, not an extraordinary transfiguring rapture, but, yep peace enough
so wherever you may find yourself, perched atop a ruined mayan ziggurat? else in the thin air high in the himalaya, above the temple of fire and ice at mukhtinath scrabbling precariously down from the thorung la pass… or at work… or tucked up in bed with miserable sniffles
i wish you well, and whether we feel it or not (some days do, some days don’t… as it is) know that we are together, we are one, and the force that holds us.. om shanti. love x

Richard Basgallop: pic is dawn this morn.. and 2 songs. primal scream wafflesome version (as me).. and dusty, brightons finest, a song to sing in the car!

Nigel Happy Solstice! Woken up by the motel toucan but feeling it safe to venture closer to Mayan territory .. so leaving wondrous panama. Come visit us In Nicaragua for the new year string! X
21 December at 13:21 via mobile · Like

Nicky Happy new ear :))))) xx
21 December at 17:39 · Like

end of the world

ugghh is it possible to overdose on honey ginger and lemon? can one dwell too long in a lavender and jasmine bath… beyond even twiggly wrinkled prune fingers
its the end of the world (possibly) and i’ve got a mild attack of the sniffles. snotmageddon.
mildly disappointing really
still i’ve got the best bobble hat in the entire universe.. and huge quantities of chocolate. not all bad
see even REM weren’t always boring old windbags

aggghh i’ve just remembered smiley happy people… noooooooo!

wind

watching the wind on the surface of the water
flattening the waves, plumping up the froth, shrapnel stipple pockmarking the surface
playful agog, then it is gone, to alight elsewhere, some capricious djinn
to be a sailor, when all is calm, idle, marooned on the placid expanse of ocean
to whistle for the wind, a gentle summoning, subterfuge, an act of sympathetic magic
tacit acknowledgement that the wind, with all its blustery pomp cannot be controlled
that when it wants, and only then, it will fill the slack sails with its burden brute force
i like wind because it is invisible! rejoice in the bleeding obvious, known only through its consequence
hung out washing dancing on the line,
a fire just as it catches, wind coaxed, the joyful fury as the wood surges into flame,
prayer flags, colourful, aloft, in the high himalaya, clap flapping their prayers to the heavens
else the augury of birds, a seagull that stalls, stukhas then slow dives to the waves
a hawk as it hovers, a subtle manipulation, the angling of bone, sinew and feather, miraculous stasis midst the roar
mastery. to blend with its element. grace

………. its fun, waking up, writing words and at the same time half heartedly perusing facebook! x

Winters Jog


ice cream head! best cosset me noggin tea cosey stylee, back from an early morning jog, trust me ice cream head is much better than colly wobble goolies
…off in my jogging pantaloons following the frost sparkled pavements up to the cliff tops
Running across the ice brittle grass, stiff bristled as a crunchy ocean bed of sea urchins
clip clop, kept on looking around for a horse, but just the sound of my own passing over the iron shod ground
i love coming across horses on a hill side in the early morning light, it is not their full fettle movement, but the utter stillness, entranced, dream phantom still
i digress, below, like liquid nitrogen(?!), the sea is frozen into a wave… the hunger, the loll tongued stare of the steppenwolf
the water cradled within the harbour walls is calm and gentle, stippled… like cling film on jelly
surrealy the only sound to break the stillness (to quell the rattling in my head) are chimes, a few wafted bars from an ice cream van!
i imagine mr softee, wintering in his mobile home, apron and feather duster, with a sigh, with a smile, unable to resist pressing the button, simple nostalgia for summers sake
anyway i get to my turning around point, where i get the first glimpse of brighton, usually a shrug and ‘naaaah’, but today, the low slung orange sun behind me
and there, with the furious snarled grimace of the sun god, or more likely the rictus grin of a cartoon character stung by a wasp, i raise both my arms, the long shadow reaches out, gaping to the horizon
and tho it might be fanciful to claim to have blotted out the whole of brighton, i did, at least, obliterate peacehaven heights… some might say a very good thing

he he i love a bout of early morning poncification! to make up for it, a lovely pic of finn from way way back when! stanmer house in the background