London Calling

As I write these words, the old bone-shaker is at the garage being fine tuned in preparation for the journey and by the time you read this we should be speeding our way down the M11 towards London, where Mrs S has an important three day artistic gig in the heart of the sprawling metropolis. And me? I'll be ticking off a few odd jobs for my two elderly East End-based Aunts. Curtain changing, plant watering, a little gentle tidying - you name it, I'll probably be dusting it. It promises to be a flat out, non-stop, nose-to-the-grindstone few days for me, with interruptions only for extended coffee breaks (with hefty slabs of homemade cake, natch) and taking the dear old ladies in question out for a leisurely lunch or two. I'll be glad to get back home on Tuesday for a rest.

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I've managed to catch at least one London date (often several) on every UK Bob Dylan tour since 1981. The one exception was in November of 2005 when work pressures prevented me from attending. So imagine my utter dismay when I checked the setlists online following Bob's Brixton Academy shows, to find that he'd commenced his encores with a brief snatch of 'London Calling', a direct nod to the city and of course, the mighty Clash, the only band that mattered.