Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Spot The Aussie Bum


No need to go into the demographics of their customer base here but as aficionados of close fitting male undergarments will know, "AussieBum" is a well known brand of Australian swim wear.

For a while, the company in question sponsored our surfboat team. As any "boatie" will confirm, there's really no substitute for a wedgie to give that extra grip on a slippery seat as you power out through the surf.

Here, the crew from Perran's own team line up for a bout of rigorous buttock flexing. These men can crack a nut between those cheeks without flinching. Moreover, one of them actually is an Aussie bum. A pair of Speedos on the way to the lucky reader who spots the derriere from Down Under.

Ladies Team will be posing next week. There is method in my madness...muhahaha!

Monday, July 21, 2008

Beach Bum's Shack...


... is undergoing renovation. At the moment, it looks a little bit like the pic above - and that's after some serious Feng Shui and a whole lot of creative Hoovering (technically, it's a Dyson). There's a caravan in the drive, and a neighbour's cooker involved. I'm getting bored with my brother-in-law who keeps phoning me up and asking me if I'd tarmac their drive (politically incorrect "travelling person" joke).

I point this out by way of an answer for the legions who have emailed me concerned about the hiatus in posting. I'm sorry - but if you've ever had "the builders in", you will understand.

Normal service will be resumed as soon as I can move my PC from the bedroom back to another part of the shack that isn't being rearranged like a cheap set in a twister. Sea Nymph doesn't approve of the hum and the tapping and as most of this tumbles out of an evening, my keyboard action has been seriously curtailed. She's reading "An Angel At My Table". It's about a schizophrenic Kiwi, who wasn't - but just missed out on a lobotomy when her poetry was recognised for what it was. Like I said before, "art will out". "Switch off the feckin PC", I've just been told. I just have to get that shot of our boaties and their wedgies up soon. It'll have to wait.

Wednesday, July 09, 2008

Paddle Surfing Is Hot!

Despite what Laird Hamilton says, combining a surf board with a paddle strikes me as the sporting equivalent of an evolutionary dead end. I'm sure I can be convinced otherwise but this bloke isn't going to be the one who turns it around for me.

As news circles the globe about the Kilauea volcano going red-eyed and spewing lava like a glutton in a vomitarium, one man and his paddle board gets close in to see the action for himself. Looking like he's set on offering himself up to the Fire Gods, the expression "stoked" takes on a whole new meaning. Apparently his wax melted and he burnt his toes. Duh. That's pro-surfer (I rest my case) C.J Kanuha - pictured below with some mates. He's the one with the eye patch and the crazed look. No matter, he is, as they say,"the man".

Monday, July 07, 2008

A Beach Boy And Some Ukuleles


“I don’t know why everybody doesn’t live at the beach, on the ocean. It makes no sense to me, hanging around the dirty city. That’s why I always loved and was proud to be a Beach Boy; I always loved the image. On the beach you can live in bliss.”

Dennis Wilson's sentiment adds some weight to the views of those who argue that he was the only Beach Boy who really was a Beach Boy - more so than the old chestnut that, unlike the rest of the band, he could actually surf.

I've been letting the magnificent 2 CD Pacific Ocean Blue "Legacy Edition" wash over me like the waves I'm missing, and I'm finding it an altogether marvelous experience. Dennis, where have you been all my life?

Mention the ukulele to a certain generation here in GB, and two words will shortly follow: George Formby. To accuse an entire nation of having no musical taste would be harsh but I still struggle to comprehend why George was such an immensely popular performer in England. It was WWII and I suppose anything sounds better than air raid siren's wail.

"Whatever", as my Nippers are fond of exclaiming, but Mr. Formby was responsible for me ranking the ukulele alongside the kazoo as an instrument of torture. Now two more words: Jake Shimabukuro - and if you compare and contrast these clips of Jake (below) & George (here) - you'll see why I'm a late convert to the Hawaiian "jumping flea" or "gift that came here", depending on what story you believe that most accurately translates the Hawaiian name for this variation of a Portuguese instrument that was brought to the Islands in the nineteenth century.

So the Gods of music are getting their revenge - the ukulele is coming at me from all angles. Now that I've removed the tinfoil from around my head, I'm receiving ukulele vibrations from the ether on a regular basis. With the fanaticism of a convert, I've an order in already for the Ukulele Orchestra of GB's CD that I heard snatches off on the wireless last week. After slagging off George Formby, their version of his "Leaning On A Lamppost" in the style of the Red Army Choir is irresistible.


And just today, I had a fine smorgasbord (there's a word you don't hear very often) of a lunch at a mate's house where he whipped out a recently purchased ukulele and treated us to an impromptu rendition of "I'll See You In My Dreams" that, I've subsequently discovered, Joe Brown played to wrap up the Concert For George (Harrison not Formby).

George, like Dennis, was a member of another legendary band who was overshadowed and underestimated by the rest of his buddies and the public for a time. In the end art will out and we are always richer for it.

Saturday, July 05, 2008

You Know It's Summer In Cornwall When...

This kind of story makes the headlines (again) ...


... and I spotted a sign something like this at the Boxheater junction...


...and the weather forecast looks like this.


Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Beach Bum Hamstrung


"I'm not best amused" was an odd, archaic phrase a friend used from time to time. It rather fits the bill. I've been drinking Jamesons and doing some Jackson Pollack to stop my mind from wandering where it will go. My Summer is stuffed.