February 22nd

Constant to-ing and fro-ing with the agency. Little changes here and there. I mix all the music back into the pictures and send movie files. It makes life a lot easier.

I had promised to take Django out on one day of his half term holiday, but have been so snowed under that it has been impossible. Today, in spite of deadlines, I take him for lunch at the Wimpy. He loves it there. Sadly this is largely due to the free bag of cheaply made crap (and no that's not the food I'm referring to) at the end of the meal. It makes him happy though and does no harm in moderation I reckon.

Come back and head straight out to the studio. A couple more changes prior to a meeting tomorrow and then another job comes in for Alton Towers-!!

Decide to work some more tonight after the kids are in bed.

The phone rang as I was reading Django a story a little later.

When I got down stairs Amanda told me it was Margie.

I called her straight back.

It was midday in Los Angeles and Ian had died that morning.


She told me how much I had meant to Ian and that she had read my letter before he went to sleep the previous night.

She said it had made him cry and laugh. the latter being something he hadn't done in some time.

I said that I would phone some people and tell the sad news. I told her that I hadn't wanted to post my mail onto the guest book of their site and it was personal.

As it has now been digested personally and and Ian is, wherever he is (with Boz hopefully) I will share it with whoever might be interested. It went like this:

Dear Margie,

For the past few days I have been logging on the the Status site every couple of hours.
I have been doing this with a combination of hope and dread.
I read you recent comment this morning.
I pride myself in being a reasonably articulate individual, spending time and care on lyric's to express how I feel.
So I wrote some stuff down.
I then had to get into the west end for a meeting and thought of little else on my way there and on the way back again.
I re-read what I wrote and found that I couldn't improve on it.
Heres what I committed to to text:

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck ,fuck, fuck, fuck
Bollocks

That just about sums it up.

I am lost for words.

If, and indeed when, it seems appropriate (and it may well not ever seem so!)

Please tell Ian that I love him.
That playing with him was an honour.
That having him as a friend is a genuine pleasure that I will always treasure.
That to play live with one half of the Crimson that I saw aged thirteen at Watford Town Hall, was a childhood dream made flesh.
That King Crimson, and indeed The Schizoids, were an infinitely better band with him on the drum stool.
That whenever I eat at 5 hot Chillies, I will forever see the expression of joy on his face as he devoured each mouthful.
That I wish I was with him now, if only for a few minutes.
That in spite of everything, I still don't like Liverpool.
That my life was a better thing for knowing him and for working with him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, bollocks

I have debated whether to send this at all, for some hours.

I decided to send it anyway.

I am lost for words again.

Please take all this in the spirit in which it was intended.

I'm not sure I believe in much, but I pray (whatever that may mean) that you somehow find a way through all this.

I know that his journey this past few months has been made easier with you there for him.

I am grateful for that, at the very least. You were fighting for him, and the rest of us, every inch of the way.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, bollocks

Love

Jakko

February 21st

More discussions and changes to the new signature model with Ben at Crimson Guitars.
Read an update on Ian Wallace's condition from Margie.
This is not good, not good at all. I try to write something to them. But what do you say to a friend who will almost certainly be leaving us soon. I tried anyway.

A meeting at the offices of TBWA in the west end and I meet up with my friend Dom, but also several creatives that I hadn't met before. Gemma I have worked with on a number of occasions, but such is the abundance of modern technology that I seldom meet anyone. All the more reason to move out to the country side.

When I get back I start work on the changes for the Play Station ad.
I decide to send the e-mail to Margie and Ian.

February 19th

Half term and Amanda isn't feeling great. We went to a kids party on Saturday and have just learnt that the birthday girl is now down with chicken pox. Amanda had this for the first time a few years back when she caught it off Django. It wasn't pleasant. She's concerned that it's return is making her feel unwell in the equally unpleasant guise of shingles. We keep an eye on Amber for spots too.
Spent the day frantically finishing the job for the Middle east.

Some changes took me into the evening.

Feb 16th

In the past 2 weeks I have.

Continued composing and spotting to picture orchestral music with a middle eastern ethnic flavour.
Provided sound alike tracks of Matt Munroe and Muse.
Emulated some Japanese Kodo drummers.

Recreated an old Country and western track and a movie soundtrack.

Done a number of interviews for publications in the UK, Italy and Holland.

Continued designing my first signature electric guitar and sold a house for more than 3 times the amount we bought it for 8 years ago.

And It's only February.

February 15th

Take time off to visit houses in Hertfordshire. Drive round various ares to get the lay of the land. It's a beautiful and sunny winters day.
In the evening we go out for our Valentine's meal. We couldn't get a baby sitter yesterday.
It's the first time we've been out as a couple since Amanda's birthday last August.
The evening is marred by a row about the house we saw this morning. We don't have rows.

February 12th

We have been offered the asking price. We accept. We appear to have sold the house, but have nowhere to move to-yet.

February 10th

The weekend is packed with viewing. 2 of them second viewings. Keeping the house spotless and amusing 2 young children is not easy.

February 7th

Work on various adverts and the show in the middle east.
Uncut magazine runs a review of the album. The final line goes thus:

'In all though, by no means as preposterous as it might have been.' I laughed out load when I read it.

In the evening I meet up for dinner at a japanese restaurant in Chiswick called, some might say appropriately, 'Tossa'

It is Peter Sinfields 'Last Supper' Actually it's his second last supper. About 18 months ago he was due for an operation. Nothing life threatening, but something he's put off and a 3 hours procedure none the less. Not a big fan of hospitals he arranged a meeting of pals for a meal. It was then that they discovered, during test's to gauge his general state of health, that he had a serious heart problem. SO he never had that operation, but a quadruple by pass instead! He looks remarkably good and healthy this evening. We are here as he is to have the original operation in a few days.
It was nice to catch up and see him so well.

[postscript: Peter's operation went well, and his is making a sprightly recovery]

News from across the pond is not so encouraging. Our dear friend and colleague Ian Wallace is having a bitch of a time getting over the aftermath of his operation on his oesophagus. We can but hope and send as much love as we can summon.

February 5th

Ben Crowe, of Crimson guitars calls. He is intending to have a stand at the London Guitar Show in April. He will be showing his first signature guitar. The 'Robert Fripp'. He has asked me i I will play on the stand. As ever I say yes. I ill no doubt panic later, as is my way. He also discusses the possibility of making a 'Jakko M Jakszyk' signature guitar and launch both of them at the show. I need to give this some serious thought.

In the evening I travel to Paul Crockford's office. Tonight we are attending the folk awards. Danny Thompson is receiving a 'Life Time Achievement award. Some years back I got Paul and Danny together. I knew that they would get on. And indeed they do. Paul is now Danny's manager. It was a lovely evening and I felt honoured to have been with my pal to see his worth recognized after all this time. I sat between Paul and Dann'y pal Mick Wadsworth. Mick is currently manager at Gretna. He used to be Bobby Robsons right hand man, but left Newcastle to manage Southampton. A decision he now regrets. Still he enormously good fun and great company. Danny's award is p[rented to him by Peter Gabriel, whose speech was both touching and full of genuine affection for Danny. I'm not afraid to admit that a tear or two were welling in my eyes.

After I bumped into Ade Edmonson. His wife Jennifer was presenting an award. I hadn't seen him in years and it was lovely to catch up. We exchanged contacts and agree to go for a curry in a couple of weeks.

February 1st

Dominic calls with a brief for Play-station. Historically I do lots of demo's and changes for them and I still don't get he gig. Still I'm keen to break my duck with them. So off I go.

Speak to Alan at the PR agency. Reviews in the print media are slowly appearing and various leads are being pursued. He is hopeful, I am cynical. Meanwhile I have been directly contacted for review copies from magazines all over the world. A number of them, Italian and Dutch, have even asked for interviews. It's England that is tough and peppered with politics.

Work is now piling up and we try to get out the Hertfordshire for house hunting too.

January 26th

Spend the weekend up in Hertfordshire looking for a suitable new abode as the house that we'd fallen in love with has proved problematical. We spent an evening with Steve, who has a professional insight into panning in the area. He told us, basically that because of the properties boundary and the fact that it lies in green belt land means that we will not be able to build a new studio. The only option would be to buy some land off the farmer next door, and even then it might not be possible. So we cross it off our list.

January 25th

Drive up to Loughborough to spend 3 hours on Dick Heath radio show. Very nice of him and he's been amazingly supportive of the new record.

January 21st

Spend the evening in the company of Peter Blegvad, his brother Stofa and John Greaves. It is indeed, The Lodge. This is the first time we have all been together since Peter's Launch show of 'Choices Under Pressure' at the 12 bar some years back. It's always a pleasure. Much reminiscing and laughing ensues.

January 15th

As I have just said to someone in an e-mail, January is a bitch. It just can't help itself. Regardless of whether you try to ignore the festive season, the days and weeks that follow somehow just seem to slowly crank back in to action.

I like to work in January, but seldom is there a deadline to hit. What I do have is time. Time that I should really be getting on with the many things I wish I could get on with when I'm snowed under. I just seem to find all sorts of nonsense to distract me. This year it's selling the house and pursuing a new one. Not exactly nonsense obviously, but a huge distraction none the less.

I have been accused on many occasion of being a workaholic. However I think I'm a binge worker. When I do get going there's little to stop me.
I have started to look at the live tapes of Rapid Eye Movement from '80-'81. This as the band that I was in with Dave Stewart and Pip Pyle. A great deal of the material was never recorded and some of the writing is very good. Having spoken to Dave he's agreed to have a listen to my tweaked version of about 3 tracks, then make a decision on whether to proceed.
Dave from the agency calls about another cat food commercial. A different brand mind and a mad combination of a brief.

This evening we watch a TV show. Not a subject I usually write about, but this is different, as you will see.

The show is on BBC2 and is called 'Trust me I'm A Healer'
This is the second show of the season. Last weeks episode featured a suitably eccentric individual. Greasy hair, thick glasses and living in a council house. We follow a patient receiving treatment from him. She's an older woman who's been diagnosed with liver cancer. Her condition appears to have improved after her first visit. The healer is later seen in his living room summoning up up an anti cancer genie and placing it inside a small bottle of water. The interviewer never appears on camera, you just hear his voice. His approach is even handed, initially anyway. His main technique is to give the healer sufficient rope, then lets him get on with it. The healer asks the narrator if he can pass the bottle with genie in it to his patient. He drives with it to see her, only to find that she has died. The healer seemed harmless enough and maybe he filled her days with hope, when they might have been filled with fear.
Tonight's protagonist is a very different kettle of fish.

Steven Turoff practices psychic surgery.

A previous BBC program 'Watchdog' in an item called, as I recall, 'Britons worst quacks', featured him producing bits of bloody tissue via secret filming. Bits of this 'Tissue' were later taken from his bin, analyzed and discovered to be from a chicken.
Anyway tonight we see him driving in a new luxury car, his wife has one too. We see him in his large detached house with a swimming pool and large gardens and he tells the camera how much he earns. He seems rather pleased with himself.

When he speaks he sounds more like an east end market trader or cabbie. Not that there's anything wrong in that you understand. But he doesn't speak in quiet tones or quote from obscure biblical or philosophical texts. Indeed he claims he doesn't know what he's doing. His surgery is packed full of hopeful people, some who have traveled across the world to get to his clinic in Chelmsford.

During the course of the program we are shown interviews with 2 of his patients. One, a woman in her 60's, tells us that she had been diagnosed with lung cancer and given little chance of survival. She then explains that Mr Turoff opened her up, bent back 3 ribs and then pulled out the offending tumor. When asked to see the scar she said, with great pride, that the beauty of this kind of surgery is that the scar heals completely within 24 hours.

The second interviewee was a young man in his early 30's. He'd been diagnosed with a brian tumor and given a year to live. It was now passed that year and he claimed that the psychic surgery had ridden him of the cancer.

Unlike the previous week we were not told of what happened to these patients. So I don't know what happened to the woman.

I do know, however what happened to this young man. Within a couple of months his cancer came back rather aggressively. He died last summer.

How do I know this? He was my brother in law.

The well healed Mr Turoff's wife seemed rather uncomfortable with the whole thing. As the program progressed the camera began to linger on her face as her husband fielded questions and queries. At one point she felt compelled to leave the room. We also saw him traveling to eastern Europe. Dressed in robes and his words being translated from English the crowd view him as a kind of messiah. One suspects that he's beginning to believe in his own publicity.

I am reminded of a trip that Amanda and I made 5 years ago. We used to fly off to India come Febuary/March time and just veg out on the beach. On this occasion we became rather friendly with a group of guys from Kashmir who would travel down to Callengute for the holiday season to sell jewelry and precious stones. They had a shop just off the high street. They invited us over for diner at their apartment one night. One of the men began to talk about his travels down from Kashmir on the bus every year. He said that in the past 5 years he had met an increasing number of people whom he described as 'White European women of a certain age, who come to india to 'Find themselves'. On his recent trip he found himself next to one such woman. She told him about the Guru she was coming to see. She explained who he was and how enlightened he seemed. Our friend said that he hadn't heard of this guru. He did, however, recognise the man in the picture the woman then showed him. He told me that previously the same man, without the robes and serene look, had owned a couple of fruit and vegetable shops in town, and that last time he saw him he was complaining that they didn't earn him much money anymore.