Last year I had the pleasure of playing for a wedding at Blenheim Palace.

Those of you with nothing better to do on Wednesday, Feb 27, may wish to switch on your tellies and watch Masterchef on BBC 2 to maybe catch a glimpse of yours truly. The BBC filmed the wedding breakfast for the show’s grand final.

The food was pretty good - the gig you’ll have to judge for yourself!

Just a quick note to wish all my friends a very happy new year for 2008. I’ve been far too busy to bother much with the blog, which is both a good and bad thing at the same time.

Early in 2008 the address of the blog will change to a sub-folder of the goldstraw.com domain. The reason being that I’m currently in the process of recording two CDs of my music, which I will use goldstraw.com to promote.

Look out for me on t’telly next year, too. I haven’t yet had a transmission date through, but the BBC’s Masterchef filmed at wedding at Blenheim Palace earlier this year where I and Laura from All Angels entertained the guests. So there should be at least a few fleeting seconds of us at work in the programme!

On another note, just a confirmation that wethemidlands.com will be closing when the hosting renewal falls due in February. It was a nice idea, but the practicalities of getting a living wage out of self-employment have meant that I just had no time to run with the idea in the end. If anyone’s interested in taking the idea on give me a shout.

One last piece of news before I head off into the blue for another god knows how many months - and that was my latest cancer check-up earlier this month. All is well, and I’ve got another six months on my MoT.

Have a great new year, everyone.

I received a note this morning from the Express & Star, informing me that as they were scrapping the newspaper’s classical what’s on column, they no longer required my services as a freelance journalist.

After 20 years of service, the news was delivered in a brief, two par e-mail from the current features editor. I expected nothing less.

A strange feeling has hung over me for the rest of the day. I felt that odd rush of insecurity that haunted me at the beginning of self-employment. It’s difficult to say why - I was paid only £20 per column and so its never been exactly central to my business plan. But still…

I guess it’s a kind of delayed mourning. The final confirmation that a phase of your life has gone forever.

Later in the morning, I found the antidote to the feeling. I went to the bank and paid in the latest stash of cheques, which came to over two and a half thousand quid.

So I’m doing all right. God’s got his eye on me. And these days, I am really only left with one regret.

That I didn’t do what I’m doing now many years earlier.

Don’t bother worrying about the creeping onset of the police state, it’s already here.

According to the BBC, the charity Childline is gearing up to help a new swathe of upset and disturbed kids.

Who can’t cope with the death of a major character in the new Harry Potter book.

Are today’s children not taught the meaning of the word “fiction” any more? Or have our bizarre attempts to insulate kids from everything other than jam and cake reached insane new heights?

As for Childline, you may wish to reflect on this blatant piece of headline-grabbing next time one of their representatives sticks a collecting box in front of your face. As with the NSPCC, the empire builders running the show appear determined to go way beyond its original remit in an attempt to seem relevant and keep their jobs.

It only occurred to me this morning, as I dragged myself out of bed, that it’s roughly a year since I started working for myself. Miraculously, I’m still here and solvent.

It’s certainly brought a refreshing unpredictability to my life. For example, last Saturday I was at a girls school in Nottingham, playing the piano for ballet exam rehearsals. No sooner had I wound up there but it was off to wildest Wales, Powys to be precise, for another gig with my friends in the Fairplay function band.

As usual, we rocked (pity the weather didn’t!), but we didn’t get off stage until about one in the morning and by the time I got home to Weston Coyney it was close on 4am. That left me about three hours’ sleep before I had to roll out of bed again and slam down the A50 to Nottingham again for the actual ballet exams. All rounded off nicely by nearly falling asleep at the organ during evensong!

Despite sporadic yet determined efforts on my part to de-rail it, it would seem that The Diet is working. Today I deflowered a hole on the belt of my suit trousers. Oo-er, missus…

…consists of these six words:

Tony Blair Middle East Peace Envoy.

Hmm.

Seems a while since I posted a picture of myself on the blog - and normally they’re “horror” genre ones to show off my latest scar or whatever. I can’t promise this one won’t give you nightmares either, but it should show at least some weight loss. Yes, Vikki and I are both on diets - low GI since you ask - and I have to say it’s not going too badly. Strangely, I miss chocolate less than I do savoury snacks - I couldn’t care less about chugging down a Mars Bar but would happily kill for a Twiglet!

So, according to our man in Kabul, Britain can expect to be entangled in Afghanistan for the next 30 years. Leaving aside the hopelessly optimistic spin (with all the might of the Red Army, the Soviet Union couldn’t last a decade in the same place), who the hell will benefit from that?

It doesn’t take a diplomatic expert to conclude that even two more years of the Brits in Afghanistan will result in more hatred heaped on the British worldwide, more dead soldiers and civilians on both sides.

The lesson to draw from Iraq and Afghanistan is that you can’t engineer a revolution. The only “regime changes” that stick are the ones brought about when that country’s people are so utterly sick of violence and injustice that the do it for themselves. So if the Afghans want to stick to their ancient system of tribal rule and a social code that belongs in the Dark Ages, let ‘em.

Perhaps someday, there’ll be enough enlightened free-thinkers in that region to bring about true democracy and universal suffrage. But until there are, the only alternative appears to a lethal, imperialistic quagmire.