VSPS

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The Vivian Stanshall Preservation Society

VSPS Newsletter Issue 4

VSPS
....Road
LEIGHTON BUZZARD
Bedfordshire
June 1994

Dear Chums
As you know, the Vivian Stanshall Preservation Society was set up to enable Vivian to send information bulletins to his many chums in the UK and overseas. Unfortunately, owing to Vivian's ill-health, my frequent house-moves and a host of other difficulties, regular newsletters haven't proved possible - and I do apologise for this.

This being said, I'm delighted to enclose a letter to you all from Vivian, giving you some fascinating news about his current projects. Further bulletins will be sent as and when available.

Next mail-out will hopefully be the Vivian interview carried out by Adrian Taylor for Ptolomaic Terrascope. (A thousand apologies to Adrian for the long delay). Adrian works as Graphics Co-ordinator at London Zoo, where he is also NSF Union Group Secretary. He is an avid collector of records, tapes and videos - particularly anything which could be filed under 'psychedelia'. So if onyone out there wants to send him lists of audio and/or video material, he will be happy to send the same with a view to a swap. Please note, swaps only, no sales, no money involved! Adrian can be reached at: ......... Road, Layton, LONDON E1.

STOP PRESS: On 30 June there is to be a Bonzos evening at London's National Film Theatre (NFTl). I understand that the event is members only, but you may wish to try contacting the box office (on 071-928 ....) for further information.

That's all for now. Hope you enjoy the enclosed.

All the best

Sue Dyson

Letter from Viv

12 June '94
From a Turkish cafe somewhere in the dank stews of Crouch End!
Dear Fellow Sufferer,
I've commenced then been distracted from several letters to you over the last 2 years.

I discussed this, my shameful guilt with Sue & she thought you'd likely enjoy the 'fragments' any road - so hereafter they are. In mitigation I've been hospitalized quite a few times for shocking spiritual crimes against myself.

At the mo' I'm embroiled in a long article for MOJO magazine, collating some Bonzo Doggerel to present to Faber & Fabers' fabulous & fabulous poetry & poetry editor. Illustrations required for both!

But most pressing & importantly am buffing up the text & music for a new RAWLINSON END CD

When I tell you I've had to fillet Rawlinsonia from 18 notebooks! Excluding the main Rawlinson reference books - you'll appreciate the granite. no-muckin'-abart, concentration required.

Have made much, much more than a sufficiency of music to enliven or obfuscate this picaresque rubbish & as for the spoken lumps or those pieces performed quasi-parlando, if you must: I estimate I've some 3 hours worth of waffle.

If only I'd the wit to use a word-processor or the loot to employ a semi-literate & dressed secretary! If I could disgorge my mind & iron it or blither to a short-hander...

Then!!! I might find the time to finish the stacks of paintings & bas-reliefs that litter & squeeze my too cosy flat screeching' Complete me! Abuse me!
'You ole Tosser
!'

Dammit! il, I had the 3 heads of Cerberus or the many arms of an Indian goddess I wouid - might even try to relax whatever that means?

Still. I will companion a bereaved & unhappy friend to Whitstable for a few days. And gorge like Gargantua on whelks & winkles. I used to go to Whitstable ev'ry year with my doughty Irish grandma as a little boy. We always had a beach-hut. Grandma bedizened in Victorian black lace & huge befeathered black hat snoozed away the summer in a deckchair. I fished for eels to be horribly boiled in the hut, stamped on sandcastles or spent dozens of the lovely big Old Pennies in 'Silver's Arcade' - which housed 'The Drinking Bear'! My favourite. Mr Silver would brook no electric nonsenses in his amusement emporium & even back then his machines were antique.

All this provided the sentimental lyric to 'Postcard' on the 'Doughnut' album. I hope Silver's Arcade is still there & unchanged. I doubt it. We'll see.

There's a chance I shall be filming in Allicante for nearly a fortnight in June. It's not the challenge of the film 'The Changeling' I fear - it's the bloody heat! I abhor it. The sun is quite acceptable in certain paintings or thru' a few tinted widows. But meeting the effulgent, impudent, penetrative bugger face-to-face, even in this country is....well, I feel meself a bit lobsterish at the very thought.

Honest! I spent 2 English summers sitting, like Marat, in a bath of cold water: a coupla planks to support typewriter, music, 'phone & phonofiddle & wait for the night.

Semi-demi-dammit! I've just had a call from a PR person......

I AM GOING TO SPAIN! 'More sun-block, mein Fuhrer? tomorrow we march nach Zululand?' And anti-dehydration granules an'all moosh! Sweet Jesu! in a month I'll look like a withered rosehip with all the energy of an onanistic squid. And an acid temper to match.

All my scenes are al fresco and my costume: lacy, silk shirt with stock, long brocade waistcoat, velvet pantaloons & hose + high-heeled buckled shoes and all topped with a very tight velvet frock-coat well... it's ideal in 120 degrees innit?

To be continued. Gotta go. May your mad gods bless you.

Vivian



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