In case anyone is... I'm not anymore. As you might have noticed.
I'm usually on Facebook/twitter... even tumblr recently.
But since it's Eurovision, if you were one of the few happy with my yearly Eurovision Blabbering, you can now find it here:
Much love to you all.
Or to the few that still see this post pass by...
And what does it teach us about love, the greatest thing of all?
That love kills (Belgium) and yet Only love Survives (Ireland) on this Lonely Planet (Armenia). That Alcohol is Free in Greece, that Tomorrow (Malta) I feed you my love (Norway -oh dear). Straight into love (quite narrowminded of Slovenia, if you ask me), You (Sweden), You and me (Switzerland), Gravity (it rhymes (!) Ukraine), Believe in me (UK). Yay with the rhyming! Oh, and Samo Shampioni (Bulgaria), of course.
You think you’re lost and don’t know where to go
Look up to the starlit sky, reignite the fire
And that, my dears, is literally the only fucking thing I know about this year's Eurovision.
I've not heard a single song, I've not seen a single clip, I've not heard any speculation about who's breaking the glass stage (is there a glass stage?), what backdrop works for whom and why there are no overweight gay gentlemen singing solos dressed in lime green. I know nothing. Nothing.
I will be annoying my old neighbours (hello there football loving old people), as well as the new ones (hello there, maffiosi-type looking Spaniards) with three nights of Eurotrash and parties.
I have to enjoy it now, I've only got some ten years left before our eldest starts rolling his eyes at his mums and their friends and their antics on Eurovision night... I can just picture it now "but Mum... there are no guitars... what is this?" The horror!!
24/03/1949 - 20/01/2013
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum,
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message She is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
She was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever : I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now : put out every one ;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
You know, I’ve heard a lot about Engelbert (what a name) but I don’t think I could name a single song of his. Thankfully there are still some things I am too young for. But that’s something I’ll never again be able to say after this year’s song contest. Despite the lack of Bombastic Red Army, this is not bad at all. I’m pretty sure we won’t be getting a clothes change (I should hope not), Engelbert will probably not be dressed in leather or do energetic backflips and I doubt he’ll be showing off his biceps. But this should definitely, definitely be top ten. And I’m always up for a trip to London.
France: Anggun – Echo (You and I)
An English song title, France? My, how the times are changes. Next Spain will be sending in a song that doesn’t have “conmigo” in the title... oh hang on... no, the times aren’t changing all that much after all. If you’re a fan of strange videoclips featuring men in ugly underwear and a woman in a corset, I’d suggest you check this out. But I wouldn’t really bother turning up the music. Though, who knows, it might grow on me.
Italy: Nina Zilli – L’Amore E Femmina
Maybe I have a thing for Italian ladies, but I love this song. Love it! Ms Zilli comes across as a woman who takes no crap from anyone, so I don’t dare say anything horrible. I wouldn’t want to be at the receiving end of her wrath. But this song... yeah baby!
Azerbaijan: Sabina Babayeva – When the Music dies
Well, Sabina, when the music dies, we all go home. There would be no song contest (well, we could do something with pyro and a wind machine but without music I suppose), no Azeris would have been kicked out of their homes to build a new stadium, a lot of money would have gone to other stuff (probably just in rich people’s pockets, so don’t worry about it) and I would be doing something sensible with my time instead of writing this blog. Moreover I’d have the three minutes of my life back I now spent listening to a faux-American boring ballad. So it’s not all doom and gloom, is it.
Spain: Pastora Soler – Quedate Conmigo
Dear god, I hope some uptempo songs come through from the semis or this will be one big snoozefest. I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s all very good and very ... whatever. I’d just rather something I can dance to. Well I suppose it’s better for the baby if I don’t try to do anything like that, so maybe it’s all for the good.
Germany: Roman Lob – Standing Still
Well. At least he’s very nice to look at. But after 41 songs, I’m sorry Roman, this doesn’t do anything for me anymore. Excuse me while I put some Pet Shop Boys on before I succumb to a bout of melancholia.