28/02/2011

Woke up feeling refreshed after my brush with the law - watching Al Jazeera into the early hours made me realise how close I’d come to getting totally stoned.

I’d been wondering all week what the mournful wailing was that I was hearing 5 times a day – it sounded eerily like the Mayflower every time a pass goes astray on a Saturday afternoon.
The staff at the Hotel reliably informed me however that rather than a disgruntled football crowd, this was the sound of the Muezzin calling the faithful to prayer down at the Grand Mosque. Now I’m a cultured kinda guy – I never miss the panto down at the Theatre Royal when its in town – so I thought we’d go down & check it out – I also wanted to see if the Muezzin fancied the tannoy & the 50/50 draw job at Home Park (unpaid of course) after hearing that some wag put Madonna’s Holiday on yesterday at half-time – they know I HATE Madonna. If I’ve told them once I’ve told them a million times Lauper not Madge!.
Besides, the little I knew about the Muslim faith told me it might mean half an hour’s peace from the missus.
We were just in time for the Dhuhr, or noonday prayer, and were welcomed in, to see what it was all about. The architecture is incredible, loads of elaborate mosaics, just like that underpass under Royal Parade used to look. Got me wondering how much Barr Construction would charge per Minaret. Well the Imam was in full flow – stirring stuff, much like one of Little Pete’s team talks. Now I love my gigs and I was getting well into it and was trying to ask the chap next to me whether the gift shop did audio CDs, but he was really quite ignorant of me no matter how much I tugged at his sleeve – then when I got a packet of Frazzles that I’d found at the bottom of my suitcase out, two of the burlier members of the crowd got me under the armpits & escorted me out! I wasn’t keeping them to myself either I offered them around. I don’t think it helped matters when at the end of the first prayer the missus stood up pointing at me & chanting ‘Your not singing anymore’ at me from the upstairs gallery.
I may have only been there a little while but I really felt that I’d gained a great deal spiritually speaking, I’m thinking of changing my name to Baulus Bin Derriford (literally Paul, Son of Derriford) and I’m going straight to Peverell Park Library for a copy of the Koran as soon as I get home.


Number 6 Chriiis Clarke!!!

Golf this afternoon – totally trounced the missus in spectacular fashion – apparently the course was designed by Ernie Els but for my money its not a patch on the pitch & putt on Central Park. For one the views are better at Central Park and secondly they don't mind if you play the course with an open can of Stella.
Got tomorrow all planned already - found out by chance that the Dubai International boat show kicks off tomorrow, see if I can’t pick myself up a nice schooner, get Roman Abramovich on speed dial & race him up and down the Thames.