Of course, so much has changed since I made my first tentative steps into the world of show business in the early 1970s. A musician's lot was very different then - there was no interweb, no mobile wristwatches, no nano-nino hard-drives the size of a tie pin. No, records were the only viable currency back then, unless you wanted to run the risk of forking out for a cassette that would probably get mangled by the player within a week or two. Nowadays, of course, artists can pipe themselves straight into other people's ears through the wonders of microchip technology and there's a fortune to be made if you can come up with a ring-tone irritating enough to make half the population want to commit hari-kiri. Obviously, I prefer to keep my artistic integrity by steering clear of such crass commercialism. You won't hear any of *my* songs advertising Hovis or the nation's favourite building society. The bastards promised me they'd have a listen, but...
So nowadays, I tend to live a pretty reclusive life; it's a fairly mundane routine really. Up at 5.30 am, pop down to the gym, do a couple of rounds of Thai boxing (excellent for the cardio-vascular, I'm told..) Then it's back home to flop out in front of BBC Breakfast - it's never been the same since they booted Natasha Kaplinsky out, has it...although I'd give that Wendy Hurrell one, in a trice... 9.15 on the dot I put in a couple of hours silver surfing. Obviously, as someone who's benefitted greatly from the material rewards society has to offer a talented female impersonator with an ear for a crafty tune and an uncanny sense of the twists and turns of the popular music zeitgeist, I try to pay something back by helping those whose lot in life hasn't been so fortunate. I do a lot of work with young offenders - keeping in touch with them online, trying to keep their spirits up as they rot away in their air-conditioned cells, off their heads on pot having bizarre sexual misadventures with bogus asylum seekers. Well, just read the Daily Mail if you don't believe me; apparently, in terms of crime, being in prison is almost as bad as living on a council estate these days. They want to lock some of these people up...
Lunch time comes and goes; I might wander down to the local pub for a brisk tissue restorative before heading back home for an afternoon nap. All a far cry from my hedonistic Glam Rock days, I'm sure you'll agree! I was off my bonce on Bostik half the time; I'm surprised I can remember anything about it at all, to be honest! Although I do have a vague recollection that I spent most of 1977 living Romy Haag in a bedsit in Berlin. Wonder how she is? Lovely lass - if a bit on the *hirsute* side, first thing in the morning if I recall...Nowadays, I like to relax in the evening, watch the box, maybe read a bit of detective fiction and then 'early to bed early to rise' as we used to say; I'll like as not be tucked up in bed by 10.30pm.
Of course, all of this will change next year when I go back on the road to promote the re-issue of my back catalogue; the "That's Your Flamin' Lot Tour' we're calling it; 50 shows in 50 cities all crammed into a period of little more than three months. Blimey! I'll be well and truly shagged out by the time I get home from that! Good job my doctor is busy stocking up mon prescription drugs as we speak; otherwise I'd *never* get through a schedule as tough as that at my age! So, I'll be anything but reclusive in 2010, what with all the shows and the reissue and all the attendant media work. Oh, and on top of all that, I get my Freedom Pass!!
xxx
Bob
