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Matt Harwood is not
The Lounge Walrus
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Tell me a bedtime story
 Last night I had a dream I was at a Herbie Hancock concert, for some reason being held at a youth hostel in the middle of an enormous lake. I have a vague idea of who reads this, so I can say with confidence, most of you were there, and you seemed to enjoy the music. Oddly, Ed Feast, a friend of mine from Grantham, was the featured pianist, rather than the named artist. Herbie was using his guitar-keyboard-thingy mostly. Afterwards, Herbie and I were sailing a dinghy, and I asked if he'd let me come over to the US some time and jam with him, Lionel Loueke, and the rest of his band. "I know the bassline to Chameleon and everything". He said "No way, man!" which on reflection, is probably what he would say in real life.  It's odd. Last time, indeed the only time, I saw Herbie play, I was generally speaking buried in Access queries and spreadsheets with no idea of how to escape. A few days later, (5 days to be precise) I decided to escape here, to Australia. Right now, I'm working for a company who asked for a data entry clerk and got me. As a result of a little problem-solving and time-saving I've been doing for them, I'm buried in Access queries and spreadsheets again, largely of my own free will. So maybe, in a roundabout way, the dream was trying to tell me I was actually quite happy being buried in Access and Excel problems, and that despite moving to the other side of the planet, I seem to have sought out more of the same. Or maybe that's far too tenuous a connection and, as usual, I'm thinking about things too much. Either way, it was just nice to be on a sailing boat with one of my favourite musicians. Labels: Dreams, Jazz
Aren't dreams weird?
 I had this really strange dream last night. I was at Ben and Emma's first wedding anniversary party. That's strange in itself, as I know I'll be out of the country when that comes round. It was in Camden. That's also weird, they'd never host a big party in Camden. Plus it wasn't camden anyway, as it was the countryside. Beautiful rolling hills, green fields, and a little country railway that brought us there. Steam trains too. I walked through the village and arrived at this beautiful church hall. I think I was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, though everyone else was very well dressed. I kept thinking "but they're already married, I saw it, why are they getting married again?". It was very confusing. All the usual suspects were there, we had a great time, but I remember leaving pretty early, and going back to Camden station to take the train to Kings Cross. On the walk back to the station the whole wedding one year, anniversary the next thing suddenly made sense, but it seemed rather late to bring it up. In the end I decided to walk to Kings Cross, so I set off into the woods, down a single track road (single track roads and large wooded areas being abundant between Camden and Kings Cross. It took me a couple of trys though, because at first I started walking on the rail lines instead of the road, which is always a bad idea. I'll never know what this means. Labels: Dreams, London things
Ravenous Guinea Pigs
I had a dream last week some time. In my dreams my house is always the same house. Sometimes it's a flat, sometimes it's a terraced town house, sometimes it's a colossal country mansion. Somehow they're all the same, or they share some rooms, or something. Occasionally the house will be a combination of the above, and sometimes it'll become a ship or a hotel or a boarding school or any number of other places. It's still my house. That aside, there was a large area of the house (a terraced 3 storey townhouse on this occasion) that I had boarded off, and I knew that several months ago I had abandoned three hamsters in the area. Pulling back the boards and venturing into the area I had boarded off I found three guinea pigs, mouths dripping with blood and a look of intense hatred in their eyes. Not quite like the below, think more blood, some of which had dried around the mouth, and more teeth on show. I ran.  Labels: Dreams
Sleeping, waking, dreaming
Last night I saw the clock show 2am, 4am and 5.30am. By the last one I had resigned myself to being awake until the proper morning. In fact, most nights have been really patchy since I dreamt about Terry Wogan. Maybe somewhere in the dark depths of the mind, I do genuinely think some sort of Dream Wogan is trying to kill me?! Maybe by sleeping for an hour or two at a time, I'm trying to escape from the evil Irish assassin, by not ever giving him long enough to find me and kill me? Maybe I should take back what I said about Frank Sinatra?  Labels: Dreams
My meeting with Frank Sinatra
On Friday night, I had a dream. I met Frank Sinatra. And I was chatting to him about his music, and his amazing talent. And I said "Yesterday at the office, we were listening to you sing Mack the Knife, and it was really excellent. I mean, there's a deep, rich quality to your voice, and listening to it is like having warm butter poured into your ear, without the nasty side effects". He seemed pleased, though I don't remember what he said. I never seem to remember the things other people say in dreams, they tend to just be there. That's probably indicative of something, though I can't be bothered to figure out what. Anyway. "But afterwards", I continued, "We listened to Ella Fitzgerald sing the same song. And you know what? She pisses all over your version."  He took it quite well, considering his Mafia connections. I expect to be assassinated in my dreams by the end of the week. Unless I can get some of Ella's connections to help keep me safe. Labels: Dreams
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