Campfire Songs Part 4: The Barrowlands

Parts 1, 2, 3

This song is probably my favourite to sing with a group of people because it is quick ruckass and also because I like The Barrowlands. The legendary dancehall might be a gig venue now, but it's got as many awesome memories for me as it does for my parents and then my grand parents, who have told me stories of dances there in days gone by. I imagine in 20 - 40 years talking about The Garage, Bamboo and maybe Shack in the same reverred tones as they use for the Barrowlands.

Anyway, I was reminded of the song at my recent family reunion as a family member talked about the songs wanting the lyrics. I don't know if she truly believed that I know the song off by heart, but I do. My gran finds this hilarious. Anyway...

Who goes doon to the Barrowlands, honey oh honey?
Who goes doon to the Barrowlands, honey baby?
Who goes doon to the Barrowlands
Aw ra wee hairies in the land.
Come to the Barrowlands toni-ight.

Oh swing yer maw
Swing yer paw
Swing yer granny through a wa'
Come to the Barrowlands toni-ight.

Who's the conductor on the bus, honey oh honey?
Who's the conductor on the bus, honey baby?
Who's the conductor on the bus
he's goat a face like an octopus.
Come to the barrowlands toni-ight!

Oh swing yer maw
Swing yer paw
Swing yer granny through a wa'
Come to the Barrowlands toni-ight.

What'd you see at the picturehoose, honey oh honey?
What'd you see at the picturehoose, honey baby?
What'd you see at the picturehoose?
Donald duck and Mickey Moose
Come to the Barrowlands toni-ight!

Oh swing yer maw
Swing yer paw
Swing yer granny through a wa'
Come to the Barrowlands toni-ight.

Who's the fella with the hair crew-cut, honey oh honey?
Who's the fella with the hair crew-cut, honey baby?
Who's the fella with the hair crew-cut
I bet he goat a scabby nut
Come to the Barrowlands toni-ight!

Oh swing yer maw
Swing yer paw
Swing yer granny through a wa'
Come to the Barrowlands toni-ight.

Who's the bloke wi' the denims oan, honey oh honey?
Who's the bloke wi' the denims oan, honey baby?
Who's the bloke wi' the denims oan
I bet his best suits in the pawn
Come to the Barrowlands toni-ight!

Oh swing yer maw
Swing yer paw
Swing yer granny through a wa'
Come to the Barrowlands toni-ight.

---
Now I can't remember if there are other verses (there must be) so I want people who remember more (like, who might've sang it at a campfire recently) to comment. :D

Snapshot

I found a mixtape from 2003. It's a good snapshot of my musical taste, then unmatured, from the year that I started University.

1. AFI - Girl Not Grey

2. Beastie Boys - Sabotage

3. Politik - Coldplay

4. Foo Fighters - Learn to Fly

5. Garbage - Stupid Girl

6. Incubus - Are You In?

7. Jimmy Eat World - The Sweetness

8. Linkin Park - Faint

9. Lostprophets - Shinobi Vs. Dragon Ninja

10. Mesh STL - Maybe Tomorrow (This is the first one I actually didn't know, I had to Shazam it)

11. Ocean Colour Scene - Profit in Peace

12. Muse - Hypermusic

13. Papa Roach - She Loves Me Not

14. Radiohead - Just

15. Rage Against the Machine - Sleep Now in the Fire

16. Red Hot Chili Peppers - Under the Bridge

17. Serafin - Tings Fall Apart (had to check Wikipedia)

18. Stapleton - International Departures

19. Tears for Fears - Mad World

20. The Offspring - Pretty Fly (For a White Guy)

21. Turin Brakes - Mind Over Money

"Diane?"

"Damn fine coffee! And hot!"

Twin Peaks is my favourite television show not of my generation. What I mean is that it's one of the few shows from before I was watching TV that I truly love. It's weird in perfectly the best ways of all, and Dale Cooper above is very close to the greatest FBI character ever created, and that's coming from someone who owns Seasons 1 through 7 of The X Files.

"Diane, 11:30 a.m., February Twenty-fourth. Entering the town of Twin Peaks, five miles south of the Canadian border, twelve miles west of the state line. I've never seen so many trees in my life. As W. C. Fields would say, I'd rather be here than Philadelphia. Fifty-four degrees on a slightly overcast day. Weatherman said rain. If you could get paid that kind of money for being wrong sixty percent of the time, it'd beat working. Mileage is seventy-nine thousand three hundred forty-five, gauge is on reserve, riding on fumes here, I've got to tank up when I get into town. Remind me to tell you how much that is. Lunch was, uh, six dollars and thirty-one cents at the Lamplighter Inn, that's on Highway Two near Lewis Fork. That was a tuna fish sandwich on whole wheat, slice of cherry pie, and a cup of coffee. Damn good food. Diane, if you ever get up this way that cherry pie is worth a stop. Okay. Looks like I'll be meeting up with the, ah, Sheriff Harry S. Truman. Shouldn't be too hard to remember that. He'll be at the Calhoun Memorial Hospital. I guess we're going to go up to intensive care and take a look at that girl that crawled down the railroad tracks off the mountain. When I finish there I'll be checking into a motel. I'm sure the sheriff will be able to recommend a clean place, reasonably priced. That's what I need, a clean place, reasonably priced."

I've updated.

Gone is the old name, no point in it. This is the blog of me, and I like it that way.

Here's to another few years of writing unread drivel, yeah? I'll drink tea to that.

Some Short Notes on TV Shows I Like, 2

Dexter
What’s it about? – Thanks Dad… Dexter is a blood spatter specialist that works in the Miami Metro Homicide unit, and is one of the best in his field. The trouble is… Dexter isn’t that law abiding – he’s a serial killer, tracking down and killing those murderers who have beaten the system or have not been caught. He’s been trained by his father, Harry, to not get caught. In the first season, a similar serial killer is doing the rounds, and Dexter is a little bit jealous.
Why do I like it? – It’s a clever idea, if a little stupid at the same time. Dexter is a strange character for you to like. The whole turmoil of actually not wanting a serial killer to be caught when he is chasing a serial killer is simply put breath taking – how can I like the cold blooded killing machine? Also, the show is full of gore, swearing and sex. Lots of sex. For a serial killer, he gets his a little too much for my liking.
Why do I love it? – It’s all down to the characters. Dexter himself is so interesting a creation and so perfectly played by Michael C Hall, its hard to think of Dexter as anyone else now. Rita is the sweetest girlfriend in any TV show ever… the Police on the other hand are as fucked up as Dexter. Take his sex crazed half sister Debra, or the dodgy LaGuerta, or the only cop that realises Dexter’s a bit of a weirdo, Doakes. It’s a good series and well worth looking into.

Limmy’s Show
What’s it about? – Sketch show featuring Limmy. Nothing more than that.
Why do I like it? – It’s a Glaswegian comedian making funny things about Glasgow in a Scottish accent. Think Chewing the Fat but done with my sense of humour. The pilot last year was hilarious on first viewing but was picked up by myself and my mates and the phrasings entered the common lexicon. The series starts on Monday on BBC 2 Scotland and should (fingers crossed) be awesome.
Why do I love it? – Mostly because I like the guy himself – via Twitter and his blog he’s been more active in real life than on his show and that’s a cool way to gain fans. The show also has some pretty cool characters, namely John-Paul, the ned that anyone from Scotland will recognise and Jacqueline, the drug addict from Priesthill who hates “priesty bastarts”.

Tones of Town

I like to write, and I like to listen to music. Compile these two together, I like to write about music. Hence Colin and I attempt at a music blog a while abck that lasted for long enough to have been good fun (but has been dead for a year, especially after my tinkering with it a few months ago when I was bored. Huh. Anyway…) I have started to write a blog with loads of other like minded bored people. It’s called Tones of Town.

Click it here.

What?

I dream some really werid shit, as defined by one of my other dreams that I have wrote about. It’s rare for one to really have me thrown for a loop so much I actually have to mull it over after it has ended, but when you dream like a David Lynch film being watched backwards… you gotta think about it. This dream… well, I don’t know what to say, but everything I write took place. I might be MENTAL.

Firstly it started in a boat. The boat was like a long corridor, like a canal boat, but there was no doors on any of the walls. The cast went as follows: Steven, my mum, a boy with short hair, two dogs, a man called Chop and a faceless man that I assumed was me. We went up to the roof and sat on the roof of the boat like a Bateuax Mouche in Paris and looked at the city scapes. I asked the boy what his name was and he replied “Claire” which I laughed at. He then repeated “Claire” as the boat went along.

We then disembarked and boarded a small train. The train was very similar to a coffin… with the lid off. The tracks were smaller than the other railway tracks and the train was very low down. We sat at the platform for a while as the bigger trains roared past and I mentioned “We are going to be late” and with this the train started to move. Chop asked me “Fifteen or Twelve?” and I answered back “Changes” and the train suddenly went faster before slowly stopping on a hill.

The train then split and myself, Steve and my Mum rolled back down the hill to the bottom, valleying there. The two of them jumped out and dived into the back streets of the city – at this point the dream turned into black and white. We roamed the streets looking for a way into wherever we were trying to get to. I had no idea in the dream where I was trying to go. We then accidentally end up in the lobby of the Hotel. Chop, now the receptionist asks me again, “Fifteen or Twelve” and I now answer “Twelve”. I grab the key and run to the lift, and go to the fifth floor and to room Twelve. There are three body guards at the door wouldn’t let me. I then turned around and ran down the stairs.

At this point, like most dreams, the hotel had changed I couldn’t find the door. I was stuck in the hotel and finally found the lift. I jumped into the lift and the doors, now like an old style lift were gratings, shut on me and Steve who had suddenly appeared at my side. He then said “This place is made of things that don’t exist” and the lift descended to the canals. We get back onto the canal boat, now driven by Claire, as I start to wake up.

What the hell was that all about?

Aberdeen, Glasgow, Brussels, Bruges, Rotterdam, Amsterdam, Edinburgh Part 4 – Food, Reviewed. Like those two Burglars Off Masterchef.

I went on Holiday to Aberdeen, Glasgow, Brussels, Bruges, Rotterdam, Amsterdam, Edinburgh and these are the posts from this trip.

Brussels 1 – Salmon Tagliatele
This was our first night eating and we might have shot our load a little too early – as we were sat down by the waiter his children were taking cardboard boxes out to the bins. I think we had jumped into the restaurant just as he had opened the doors. We had travelled across the Grand Sea, so were famished, and we had to eat. I had Tagliatele, in a creamy sauce with Salmon, much to the surprise of no one. It was very nice, right portion size, good salmon, well cooked, loads of spinach which amused no one just yet, because Shayan had yet to point out that I laugh like Popeye. Shayan, once again provided the banter, by pronouncing the French for Orange Juice “Juice do Oraonge” instead of “Juss de Oraon”. 7/10
Brussels 2 – Moule Frites
Stunning. Simply put, a massive bucket of mussels and a bowl of chips. So easy to eat and to make I will be trying this next week in my own house. The addition of Mayonaise as standard is also the way forward for chips and should be rolled out across this country right away. 9/10
Rotterdam – Steak, Rare
Steve’s choice was in Rotterdam and he chose an expensive steakhouse. It was very good – for me and Jonathan, who decided to have from the grill. I had a massive steak, chips, and free access to a salad bar. Jonathan had fish, and too a side and salad. Steve and Shayan both went for pasta (in a Steakhouse) and got fuck-all. Serves them right – my steak was amazing and the chips were good. Jonathan liked his too. Steve and Shayan rued their choice and paid for it by having to dance like loons at the beach club. I dance like a loon because I am a loon. 8/10
Amsterdam 1 – Chinese Food
Mr Tongs was a good choice because of the size of the portions. Once again, however, I made the error of ordering noodles as well as rice. I do this all the time, I am not going to stop anytime soon. Until they start putting noodles in the rice, then I am still going to be spending £3 extra every time. After choosing satay-ed prawns I smugly awaited my food and found simply the worst starter I have ever had – warm peanut butter smeared to distraction all over coldish prawns. This is the culinary equivalent of buying a Ferrari and asking for it to “come in the colour of shit”. Bad choice. Luckily, Jonathan is a mentalist and actually liked the combination, so I swapped. The main course was abundant and sweet and lovely, being chicken in a sweet (but not very) sour sauce. Inside in a massive pineapple. Was most excellent and set us up for a night of drinking and going to see a show of some description. 6/10
Amsterdam 2 – Hard Rock Café
Once again we all made a mistake. Choosing to go to Hard Rock café was obvious as we all like it, and knew what we were getting ourselves into, so not a problem there, but once again I make a mistake and buy a starter. Not as big a mistake as Jonathan who, under the teutlage of Steven, orders nachos to start and when asked “do you want meat, chicken or pork on it?” answered “Yes!”. It cost around £40 after this mistake, the brunt of which Jonathan took on his chin. My main of the classic burger was exemplary, and rounded off a good upturn in the food stakes after the previous night’s horror show.
8/10