At the bungalow of rock.

I'm heading off to the ancient city of Carthage with Anathema in a couple of days after having spent the last two weeks at their studio-in-a-bungalow in Yorkshire, helping them to record their much anticipated new album. It's sounding pretty good so far, thanks in part to the fine engineering skills of Les Smith. The bungalow is an odd place to be - a twenty minute walk from the nearest shops or pub (note the singular), in neither town nor countryside, sat in the middle of a scratty building site next to a golf course by the M62. The sense of isolation felt by those who have spent any length of time there becomes graphically apparent when one notices how faces light up at the prospect of a drive to the nearest Asda, usually courtesy of Les and his big van. On arrival at the supermarket everyone usually heads straight for the "Whoops!" counter, unless of course they bump into, say, a member of My Dying Bride as happened just the other day. Asda appears to be the store of choice for the budget-conscious local metal musician. Some form of endorsement deal might not be a bad idea.

Anyway, the "Whoops!" counter contains all the reduced stuff that's on or near its sell by date, and they don't half knock it down you know (green beans for one pence?), unlike tight-arsed Tesco's on Stroud Green Road back home. The thing I don't get is why they put a sticker saying "Whoops!" on a reduced item as if they've somehow made a mistake in not selling it at the full price, rather than having been merely unfortunate not to do so as is more than likely the case. In reality, writing "Damn it!" or "Bollocks!" on the sticker would more accurately reflect the circumstances by which the item came to be there. "Whoops!" is what old ladies say when they spill tea. Don't beat yourselves up Asda, it's not your fault.

So, Tunisia on Thursday afternoon for a gig in a big old ancient cathedral. More information will follow.