From yesterday's Times: in an extract from a new Prince biography, at the time when he was happily married and awaiting fatherhood...a band member visits Chez Nelson...
' A barefoot, pregnant Mayte answered the door. Then Prince descended a flight of stairs in big bunny slippers. "He was so happy", [the visitor] remembers...'

After such a joyful and daft image, it's so sad to read on about the tragic outcome of the impending event.

Page 11 of new issue. Avoid at all costs, or be eternally traumatised. You have been warned.

...my father died today.
I can't say we were close; he was seperated then divorced from my mother during my childhood, and afterwards familial politics forbade me to really re-connect with him in the ensuing years. I guess from a distance he was somewhat bemused at my perennial studying and inability to get 'a proper job', and I was probably frustrated and angered at his eternal role of bon viveur in his preferred locality of the pubs, happy to be with his 'friends' rather than making an effort to be closer to his boys. It's only in the past few years that we seemed to reach some level of understanding and a kind of peace with each other: I was happier to accept him on his own terms in his chosen territory; he, I think, came to realise that there was a point to all the studying, as I came to gain professional status. He was never a great conversationalist, and certainly wasn't one to show his emotions, but he let me know in his way that he was proud of me, which is probably what any son, however estranged, looks for from a father.

In the last few days, as he was stricken with multiple cancers, he was able to share with me whole parts of his life, thoughts, emotions that were completely new to me. Symbolic of this was his revelation that a particularly favourite song of his is 'Summer Wind' by Frank Sinatra (returning to his house, I found a piece of paper upon which he'd even written out the lyrics). He in turn didn't know that I'm a huge Sinatra fan; so to share that mutual recognition in such extreme circumstances has left a piquant but precious connection, and will help to sustain fond memories of what was lost, and perhaps by the end, what was regained.

So, here's to you Dad. Take it away, Frank:

to raise £3m for her to get dressed again?!

... and me. I'm not 18, I'm 48. Vince is 63.

(and I don't mean Reg).

(And don't ask who Reg Sinatra is).

Anyway, for me today, the answer is Frank:

Tomorrow, it may well be Elvis.

Mr Entwistle would have been 66 today

...Sorry, was there someone else?

The new novel by great white hope of American literature, Jonathan Franzen, has been recalled by publishers for, er, ...."Corrections":

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-11451600

Probably just me, but I found this quite amusing.

Those taken by the God debate currently raging on the blog may be interested in Horizon this evening, BBC4 at 9pm:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00tw1tl

but I've just learned that I've achieved a First in my BSc (Hons) Social Work degree. I'm rather pleased.

So what further excuse do we need to show one of his most sublime songs, sung by the divine Ms Hoffs?

Then

And now

I love The Bangles...

Well, chaps and chapesses, what's the verdict? A few immediate reactions: Matt Smith was fantasticallybonkers; Karen Gillan was feisty/foxy in equal measure as Amy; the script was sharp, with some great one-liners ("You're Scottish! Fry me something!"); the pace of the action was a bit too frantic; and, as ever, THE MUSIC WAS TOO BLOODY LOUD and drowned out some of said script.
The previews of forthcoming episodes look rather exciting...

isn't this taking electioneering too far?

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk_politics/8580571.stm

http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2010/jan/07/yoko-ono-book-john-lennon

In other shock news today:

- Pope to declare his Catholicism

- Bear set to shit in woods

Went to see the prematurely-decried Sherlock Holmes this afternoon and was handsomely (hansomly?!) entertained. A rollicking adventure yarn which stays true to Holmes's meticulous sleuthing without being slavish to the unimpeachable Brett blueprint. Downey and Law make an effective double act, vigorous muscularity leavened by wry humour. The villain is suitably diabolical, the females feisty, and there are ominous portents towards Holmes's own future travails and the horrors awaiting in the new (20th) century. Having avoided Ritchie's oeuvrethus far, I don't know if this is typical of his cinematic style, but I found it entirely suited to this enjoyable take on the mythology.

And for those who were distraught at the dark glasses, he only wears them in one scene.

Anyone else taken the plunge?