After the many welcome sugestions from fellow bloggers on what to get the old man for christmas, I decided to venture into Cardiff and hunt out a suitable gift for the man who has everything. On my way he rang to say he quite fancied Sergio Mendes and Brazil 66 if I wanted to get him a CD. At last, a breakthrough!. So off I trott in search of my redeemer. Upon entering the emporium that is His Masters Voice, and after clawing my way through small children, truants and pensions who had strayed wildly from the jumper department at BHS, I found myself lost and confused. Where was Sergio?. After a series of frantic text messages to pop's I was informed he was to be found in the 'world music' section.

Upon entering said section my search proved fruitless. I searched and searched to no avail. Getting slightly annoyed now and pining for my usual stress relief of a Pringle sandwhich, I approached some pimpled knave to see if he knew where Sergio was.

'Excuse me, but I'm looking for a CD by Sergio Mendes and Brazil 66, it's got a woman holding a cigar on the cover, I can't seem to find it'.Silence.
The pimpled knave starred at me. I starred at the pimpled knave. I starred at the Christmas tree hoping it would make eye contact. It didn't. Pimpled knave asked some young girl who's attire was more akin to a scullery maid. She too, knew nothing.

'Well, I'll go have a look for you, but I've never heard of him before'. Pimpled knave said. 5 minutes later he returned saying he couldn't find anything. Darn and blast it. So I returned to the aisles in search of something different. However to my delight and relief I found Sergio. He was hiding in the section Marked Sergio Mendes.
So 2 lessons have been learnt today.
1 Always remember your alphabet when music shopping, and
2 NEVER trust a pimpled knave.

One thing strikes me as I browse my Ipod. I really need to sort out where my loyalties lie. I'm one of those people who have what is often termed, ecclectic tastes (that's dad's fault.. he keeps cropping up here doesn't he?). From Abba to Warren Zevon and everything inbetween, you name it, I have it. But is an Ipod and all its content really a true reflection of your musical tastes and inclines?.

Don't get me wrong, I love my little portable pod of musical delights and glow with joy when I'm able to download the latest edition of the most excellent podcast that is Toffee Sunday Smash, lie on the sofa and get misty eyed and whimsical at the thought that if I was around in the 60's, I'd be listening to these great tunes by Skip Bifferty, Electric Prunes and Blossom Toes on an old transistor radio under the duvet...But something is missing.

My CD collection does not reflect what is on my Ipod. My shelves are filled with artists from Zepplin to Nick Cave. Serious artists with deep lyrics, and fab album artwork. So why does my Ipod have such random tunes as Climie Fisher's Love Changes (Everything)???. I like to hold things, pull out those glossy booklets and album sleeve notes, regail in the acknowledgments and technical information, and try and find inconsistancies in the printing, and sometimes, on a rainy afternoon, re-arrange my CD's into alpabetical order/genre order/colour order etc etc.

You can't do this on an Ipod. Am I being old fashioned? yearning for bygone days and happier times? Or should I just get down with the kids,download random songs and embrace my Ipod identity?.

Dad's are fickle creatures. Those of the 50+ pursuasion are the most fickle of all. Especially those with a more obscure musical taste bud. This dad don't do disco. My dad, one of those mythical beings who's vinyl collection takes up most of a small county is said fickle creature. As Christmas is fast approaching and the clammy hand of doom is looming ever closer to my shoulders, I'm consumed by fear and trepidation as to what to buy the man who has everything.

Socks and underwear are the safe choices but there are only so many packs of said items a man can own in one year without becoming a mobile Primark. So thoughts quickly move onto the one area I know he'll appreciate. Music. But alas, a problem has arisen. With such a vast musical taste as my dad has, one is struck with a number terrible decisions.
Do I buy these glorious examples of music? will he appreciate the effort I went to to hunt out said album? If I casually ask, would you like album X, will he say 'well, I already have the b-sides/rarities/Stawberry Alarm Clock remix,unless there's an exstended prog-rock/psych/garage mix with Lute intro and 400 page colour booklet, then best not to', Do I buy it without asking him, give it to him, and he then uses it as some form of insulation for the loft, never to be seen again, except by some rogue pigeon?

These my friends, are my worries. What do you buy the man who has every album ever made, except, possibly a rare Indian tabla interpretation of Dark Side of The Moon???.

Maybe its socks this year after all....

Well here I am yet again joining the blogging world for another attempt at world domination. I have numerous blogs, none of which I've actually written in/on/for. I do however, intend to use this one and hope that those who decide to read my little corner of the web find it most enjoyable and delighful, in a whimsically whimsical way. So raise a glass of a beverage of your choice and toast my entry into The Word's blogging world.

Love and Lollypops

Beckie