I've been lucky to attend three weddings over the past 12 months - lucky because once I hit 40 I doubted I'd ever go a wedding again.

They've all been a real treat. I've enjoyed the ceremonies far more than I did in my surly twenties and the nosh seems to have got even better over the last 20 years.

But what I particularly enjoyed was the dancing. It brought back a lot of memories of shaking a tailfeather in clubs and uni - the wait for the right tune to hit the floor so you don't peak too early (Lovecats is ok, but Teenage Kicks might be on soon), the adaptation of the indie shuffle to any tune (move feet and arms a bit, look at floor), the attempt at Hairspray-esque dances to anything from the fifties or sixties, and dancing for the first time to promising newcomers such as the fancy dress chanteuse Lady Gaga.

It made me think - where can the over-40s have a bit of a bop these days?

There are house parties, of course, but there's a danger of trampling over small children or knocking over treasured ornaments with an over-enthusiastic, Morrissey-esque flourish of the arms.

I've been thinking of going to a Belle and Sebastian night, but fear, even here, an old duffer like me will have alice bands and cardigan buttons flung at me by the fey hordes.

So, do any maturer readers still go dancing in clubs? And I mean dancing to pop and rock, not regimented salsa classes or anything like that.

I trust I'm not the only person on here who highlights Christmas TV highlights in the Radio Times or other listings mags.

Television is still a key part of Christmas for me, if only to drown out the post-sprout trumping and crackle of purple Quality Street wrappers.

But I wonder if TV is becoming less important for some over Christmas, what with computer games such as Call of Nature, or whatever the young people play these days.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to the Les Dawson doc, Ben Elton on 80s Comedy (he's very quiet over Cameron isn't he?) and Come Dine With Me with Sean Hughes and Duncan Norvelle.

Are Le Donk and Scor-Zay-Zee and the Pixar film Ratatouille worth watching? Is the Doctor Who Xmas Special going to be good this year for a change and not the usual mawkish tripe? What are your highlights?

I watched the documentary of the British Lions tour of New Zealand in 1971 last night and was particularly struck by the amazing Barry John.

In all the helter-skelter of the matches he never seemed rushed. He waited for defenders to run at him, then jinked and always beat his man. The oppostion fell for it time and time again.

He seemed far too frail to survive on the rugby pitch and it was a bit of shock to see him today with his big moony face.

Did anyone think the programme was Welsh dominated or was this an accurate reflection of the tour? There was little mention of the great Mike Gibson, for example. And I wanted to know more about Carwyn James. How exactly was he 'troubled and complex'?

The Lions seemed to thrive on accurate, well-timed passes and great support play. I wonder how they'd get on today when defences seem to be always up in the faces of the opposition.

Here's a link to the programme and a clip of John against Scotland in 1971.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/i/b014b5j9/

Haven't heard anything about him since he left Radio 2 last year.

He was a great stand-up, a spiky interviewer on The Word, a good foil to Vic and Bob (Jack Dee tries to do the same trying-not-to laugh schtick but isn't as good) and a funny presenter on Never Mind...(until he became too grumpy at the end).

But I thought Lamarr had found his calling as a DJ. He'd be ideal for Radio 6, but maybe he's p*ssed on his chips by criticising Radio 2 for not putting him on earlier. I have to admire him for sticking to his principles and leaving but it's Radio 2's loss, especially with some of the bland music they play.

When was the last time he did any stand-up? I saw him a couple of times in the late 80s and early 90s and he was excellent at conjuring up funny material on the hoof on stage, usually from audience reactions. I've only seen Frank Skinner do that better.

Yaxu are playing at The Basement, in York, tomorrow (Sep 23). Here's the blurb from the venue's website:

'Yaxu will be playing a solo live coded ambient gabba set for noisebox, using his handmade Tidal environment.

As one third of Slub he has rocked crowds across Europe since 2001 including at the Sonar, STRP, Arts Electronica, Transmediale, Secret Garden, Sonic Acts, Lambda, Make Art, Ultrasound and Piksel festivals.

He is something to do with various UK dorkbot electronic art events, the placard headphone festival and the recently launched ChordPunch label promoting algorithmic music for ears and feet'.

Coded ambient gabba?

Handmade Tidal environment?

Dorkbot electronic art events?

It all sounds like something that used to be on the listings on Chris Morris' radio shows, but I confess I haven't heard of any of these phrases before.

In the middle of a loud, hectic song, I love it when a band 'take it down, take it right down' (as Iggy once said) - the guitar's reduced to a tiny strum, the percussion to a tickle on the cymbal.

There's a tension because you don't know how quiet they can go or for how long. But at some point the band are going to come roaring back louder and faster than ever.

I love the live versions of Sister Ray for that reason - the quiet lead guitar, the 'Who is that knocking?' vocal, the drums coming in and the song picking up pace and intensity again.

Or Shout by Otis Day and the Knights in Animal House - 'a little but softer now, a little bit louder now'.

Here are Van Morrison - Cyprus Avenue and Glenn Miller - In the Mood

What about you?

Best photo in the latest issue is of Nick Lowe in his thick black specs. They go so well with his white hair.

So who are your favourite spectacle wearers?

For me it's got to be Stephanie Flanders, the best TV/radio economics correspondent.

I'd never really noticed how pretty she was until she wore a fetching pair of glasses during a Budget debate. It's fair to say the hubba indicator rose by 100 per cent to hubba-hubba.

He’s faster than most. He can spot a gap no-one else can see. He can place a kick to perfection, catch a high ball under pressure, produce a try-saving tackle. He can dummy, he can shimmy, he can score. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Wigan Warrior, the finest rugby player playing today – Mr Sam Tomkins.

I was brought up on the Wales rugby union team of the 70s and marvelled at players like Barry John, Phil Bennett and Gareth Edwards and their way of making the impossible come true - when they were surrounded by opposition players, with apparently nowhere to go, they'd suddenly find space and were away to the tryline.

Apart from Jonathan Davies, the Wales rugby union and British rugby league great, and Wales’ Shane Williams, I haven’t been excited about a rugby player since then – until I saw Sam.

He has a chance to show what he can do on a national stage when Wigan play Leeds in rugby league’s Challenge Cup Final on Saturday at what should be a packed Wembley Stadium.

I love Sam's all-round ability. He’s only 5ft 10in and 12 stone but he can power his way through a heavily-defended line or bring down a huge forward. Not many 'Fancy Dan' half-backs can do that.

But it’s his outrageous attacking play which truly amazes. When a pass looks like the only option, he’ll suddenly go off on a mazy run, throw an outrageous dummy or charge his way through the tiniest of gaps. You can’t believe he’s going to score but he usually does. He’s only 22 but has the confidence to try anything.

Sam seems to have gone top another level this season – he’s top try scorer in Super League, he’s made the most clean breaks and is the biggest ‘tackle buster’.

What a contrast with the England rugby union team. Judging by the game in Wales recently, their strategy is less blood and thunder and more thud and blunder, with no-one seemingly having an original idea to open a defence – it’s back to the Charlie ‘Crash Ball’ Kent 'glory' days of England rugby union of the 70s.

With many national papers barely covering rugby league these days, players like Tomkins are undervalued while more prosaic rugby union players are hailed for skill that is commonplace in league – the pass out of the tackle or the run from deep, for example.

Ah well – come on Sam , come on Wigan!

Here he is in action, complete with Eddie Hemmings' Partridge-esque commentary.

The message about the dangers of airbeds at sea is lost in a host of boom-booms, ha-ha-has and silly voices.

This is about the only YouTube clip of 'old skool' Basil. Sadly there is no video of his duet with Demis Roussos where Basil, in a cape, shrugs his foxy shoulders in time with the big fella.

And no clips of Basil laughing so much his head is stuck up in the air. 'Ha-ha-ha....ha...ha....ha!'

Old skool Basil, with his laughs, his snooty looks up and down and his 'yes', 'yes' interruptions of Mr Roy and Mr Derek's stories, is one of the few things I still find funny from my childhood.

I wonder what happened to Mr Roy? He's looking very groovy in this clip, but I bet when he went out in the 70s to Chico's nightclub, or some such bell-bottomed establishment, he must have got fed up with just being known as 'Mr Roy'.

...or done the twist?

I love those old dance routines - they're so much more interesting than the 'indie shuffle' (move feet slightly, look at feet while doing so).

Whenever there's a sniff of a Hammond organ on the turntable, I can't resist getting up and doing some sort of swim mime, thumbs over shoulder-type dance.

Does anyone else get into a Hammond dance frenzy - or tried the Madison or some such routine?

(Clips - Madison Time from Hairspray, Jimmy McGriff - I've Got A Woman)

One of the best short films, apparently comic but with a haunting ending. Who's got him?

A work colleague in his late 40s/early 50s mentioned he wanted to see a particular band partly because he liked them and partly because it was a matinee gig, explaining that because of his age he liked gigs at that time.

Being of similar vintage, I thought: 'Yes! I know exactly what you mean.'

Matinee or early evening gigs shouldn't be for the under 18s/16s, who want to be out late, drinking petrol (or whatever 'the young people' do these days). They should be for the over 40s.

Think about it:

No last train twatfest with the shriekers, drunkards and iPod boom-bang-a-bangers.

No jostling with the psychopaths in the late night taxi 'queue'.

No lanky students with no awareness of personal space standing in front of you just when you've found a good spot to see the band.

No groups of slack-jawed youths sitting down in the middle of the venue and blocking the way for everyone else.

No unnecessary drinking of awful lager for hours because the band are late (they usually have to be on time for a later show), so no going to the toilet in the middle of the gig.

You're back home by 9pm at the latest - slippers on, real ale poured and in time to watch a documentary about owls, or some such, on BBC4.

You've probably read that some US shops are complaining about the 'offensive' title of the new Arctic Monkeys LP Suck It And See. It always amazes me that some innocuous English word or phrase can take on a whole different meaning, even in other 'English speaking' countries.

It reminds me of the time I met an Australian cricket fan in a Manchester pub around the time of the 2005 Ashes. His speech was pleasingly punctuated with 'bloodies', 'bastards' and 'buggers', but when he talked about Shane Warne's alleged infidelities, he described Warne as 'a bounder'

I couldn't believe it. Bounder reeks of English upper class language from early in the last century or before and seems like one of the inoffensive and ridiculous words you could use now.

When I asked the Australian fella about why he used it, he explained that if he called me a 'bloody bastard', it meant I was a good bloke, but bounder was a serious word for him - showing he really disapproved of Warne's behaviour.

I don't know how typical this is in Australia and, to be honest, both of us were well-oiled, but I found his use of 'bounder' fascinating.

I'm also intrigued by words or phrases that don't translate into English. For example:

Esprit d’escalier (French)- the witty comeback you only think of hours after when you should have used it.

Saudade (Portuguese) - longing for something or someone that you love and which is lost

And does anyone in Scotland use tartle? Hestitating while introducing someone because you’ve forgotten their name.

Of all the thousands of journalists who've written for the weekly inkies and rock monthlies over the last 40 years, why is Paul Morley the only one who appears on nearly every music review and documentary programme on TV?

I do like him - he always has an opinion, he rarely says the obvious and he's got a pleasingly hangdog face. He can funny, interesting, ludicrous and pretentious.

But when he appeared on BBC 4's Easy Listening doc on Friday, I thought, come on - give someone else a go.

Yes, you occasionally see Charles Shaar Murray and Nick Kent, but why aren't Tony Parsons, David Quantick, Stuart Maconie or John Harris on these sort of shows any more? Why don't we hear from authors such as Simon Reynolds or Jon Savage? Or from distinctive writers such as Everett True or Ian Penman?

The other thing about Morley these days is that I'm not quite sure what he really likes. I know people can change as they grow older, but would the man who skewered Phil Collins in the NME in the 80s be really pontificating about easy listening now?

(By the way, his sister made a tremendous documentary about returning to Manchester. Does anyone know what this doc was called and if she's made anything else?)

How about this for gig-going? A Radio 6 listener revealed last night he intends to travel from his Doncaster home to Betws-y-Coed on Saturday to watch a band, then onto Southampton the next day for another gig. And he's travelling by train.

He's going to see the Wave Pictures at The Joiners on Sunday. I didn't catch the band and venue for the North Wales gig, as I was distracted (in a sad blokey way) by thinking about which route he'd be taking on the train (Doncaster - Leeds - Manchester - Llandudno Junction - Betws - back to LJ - Shrewsbury - Birmingham and onwards, I reckon).

The train journey is an event in itself, especially from Wales to the south coast, and I'd probably be feeling a bit jaded by the time the Wave Pictures came on. Then again, if it's a cracking gig, who cares? The journey will make it extra special.

The furthest I've been is from Keele, Staffordshire to Leeds in a freezing Morris Minor to see the Violent Femmes, and Ormskirk, Lancashire to Betws-y-Coed to see the Super Furry Animals. On both occasions I was worried I'd conk out - either on top of the oppressive sleet-ridden M62 or in the middle of nowhere in Wales.

But even 30 miles away from home, there's that delicious tension of having to catch the last train home and waiting for a killer song. Do you stay and run for it? Leave early and walk leisurely to the station? Or stay to the end and try to sleep in brightly-lit waiting rooms?

Any other gig marathons?