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‘There was a sign hung around my dead cat’s neck. It said “Miaow”.’ – Kurt Vonnegut, Cat’s Cradle
Greetings again one and all, and I’m glad to report that all remains swell over here in quarantine.
I’ve been busying myself with further German lingo practice, rattling on my drum pad (no complaints from the neighbours yet…) and cleaning my quarters. Anything that can be washed and ironed has been so; the drains are sparkling and the backs of the radiators are spotless. I’ll do whatever it takes to avoid breaking into the beer rations before 5:30pm…
This temporary change in lifestyle has been a welcome opportunity to revisit a long-term project I’m calling The Ritter Review. This consists of reviewing, rating and ranking the Ritter Sport catalogue of chocolate bars, and I’ve enjoyed adding a couple more to the tally.
(Trivia: first produced in 1932, the bar was designed to fit into the pocket of a ‘sport’ jacket, thus the name.)
It was some years back that KNUSPERFLAKES scored highest. ‘Crunchy, nice texture and wide dynamic range. Giving. Neither the smoothest nor the meltiest, but that’s an observation, not a criticism. 79/100.’
PRALINE – for many a sleeper flavour – later stole the lead by a single point: ‘A joyous journey from start to finish, and a fine companion to coffee. Rich in flavour with an evocative smooth texture that conjures notions of sophistication. 80/100.’
But to my surprise, an excellent recent showing by WEISS + CRISP took it straight to the top of the leaderboard. ‘An excellent suck and a satisfying chew; likely early candidate for the Greatest Hits (feels like a track 3). 88/100.’
It’s still relatively early days so stay in touch for electrifying updates about new additions. Next up: VOLL-NUSS.
I’ve recently been reading Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut and I’ve found it sparky and funny. I first discovered his writing when I started playing drums for a band called Man Without Country. Literary types would often (incorrectly) presume they were named for Vonnegut’s book A Man Without A Country, so it seemed prudent to give it a look to ensure I wasn’t unknowingly aligning myself with some kind of hate manual or anti-Bokonistic text…
(Side-thought: books are incredibly good value for money. Even purchased new, most are around £10-12. Using Audible as a gauge, the average book takes 10 hours to read, making the cost around £1 per hour of page-time.)
(Speaking of Audible, I’ve been considering listening to the audiobook of Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch in a single sitting. It’s 32 ½ hours long so I might look for a gap when there aren’t any football games on…)
Anyway, A Man Without A Country turned out to be a brilliant read by a very funny and witty author, of whom I have remained a fan. Cat’s Cradle is no different, and I’ve been enjoying it more with every chapter.
It’s a sort of first-person sci-fi situation whereby the protagonist, an author himself, is writing a book detailing the day the Atomic Bomb was dropped on Hiroshima and sets out to meet the bomb’s (fictional) inventor Felix Hoenikker. (Pretty light and fun so far, right?). Hoenikker has long since died, but the journey ends up taking him from Upstate New York down to the fictional Republic of San Lorenzo in the Caribbean, of which he ends up President. Various encounters ensue, but most of the comedy comes from the cast of eccentric characters he meets along the way.
It’s witty and playful but thought-provoking and an exotic distraction from my quarantine routine. The more I read the more I enjoyed it, and Vonnegut is always very quotable. From this book, I liked ‘Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God’ which, in a strange way, resonates with my current situation…
There’s loads of great stuff with & about him on the BBC Sounds archive; I recommend his Front Row or So It Goes with Josie Long.
Anyway, the book makes a number of references to a Cat’s Cradle (Felix Hoenikker was playing the game when the bomb was dropped). Does anyone else remember doing one? It was a sort of weird playground routine with a loop of string which you passed between two people in a sort of sequence, the challenge being to keep it going.
It turns out there’s also a solitaire edition, so I figured why not spend some time learning it:
Although the temperatures here aren’t what they were a few days ago, the nights are still hot so here’s my current late-night-listen for when sleep is illusive: Len Deighton - The Ipcress File.
I also HIGHLY recommend Laura Barton’s American Road Trip, from which Episode 3 – California Bound – was broadcast again on Radio 4Extra last night. Inspired by the programme, I include today some favourite pics of golden times with golden people in the Golden State.
As requested by a couple of fellow tubthumpers, I’ll share a few drum pad exercises I’ve been working at en Quarantine.
When I began playing ‘traditional grip’, I put lots of time into finger control, but never paid a great deal of attention to the left thumb. I’ve only lately become aware of the weakness, so now seems as good a time as ever to tackle it…
The exercises below, taken from my notebook, might not be technically written correctly, but they should make sense! These are just for the left hand, and only your left thumb and hand should ever be in contact with the stick! No fingers at all.
There are two different strokes: the quavers are played with a twist of the left hand and arm (I’m calling it a full stroke). The semiquavers are made by bouncing the stick using the thumb. The hand shouldn’t move at all for these!
The left page contains separate exercises for each stroke, while those on the right page combine the two:
If you get bored doing these to a click, then I can recommend playing along to Tour De France by Kraftwerk. Music with a steady pulse can be a nice way to keep things fresh in the drum shed…
Time for my daily beer ration! I’ll write again soon…
M x
“The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable” – Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without A Country