Safe as milk

The death of some old rock star or musician becomes a regular and (as the heroes fall) a more poignant event each time. Today it's the Captain (first person to use that moniker as I recall) who has shuffled far beyond this mortal thingy. As part of that elusive "sweet song of youth" memory, I remember sitting upstairs listening to Beefheart, downstairs my parents were watching the Black and White Minstrels. In many ways that sums up the generational divide that took place then, certainly in my life in the early seventies, it says something about what might be considered weird now and mainstream then. Progress, prejudice, knowledge and the dawn of art rock.

Sainsbuy's cafe: beware the hot chocolate snowball. A mind bending, overdosing sugar rush that pushes the on the boundary of good sense and health, almost like some sweet poison, not sure I could stomach it again.