Drummers drumming

Brother, here we go again.

I am launching a moderately ambitious writing and numeric project for the festive season.

There are 12 posts to go before I reach 200 (100 for last year and 100 for this - neat, eh?) and a famous festive tune which fits quite nicely with the remainder of posts for the year. I am also aiming (without much anticipation of success) to achieve 2,000 songs in my iTunes library, 1,000 pics on my Flickr account and 1,000 Twitter tweets by the end of 2008. Wish me luck!

Here's a starter for 12 - drummers. Bernard Matthews has been unnecessarily twizzling around my head, especially after watching Dubya on the White House lawn, but my thoughts turn instead to the fine art of banging the skins.

Drummers have been close to my heart for many years, blessed as I am with no musical ability whatsoever. I was bitten by the Phil Collins bug early on, and kept a cushion 'drum kit' in my room as a young teen, thrapping away to Supper's Ready on the Dansette. The sticks were two inexplicable short and thick bamboo rods (one would often see long and thin ones, let's face it) which somehow found their way into the house. They would routinely be launched into the imaginary audiences who sat and watched my scintillating solos come to a crashing crescendo.

I once took the stool in a garage performance - with Thee Cybermen - of Sub-Mission and though unwatched it was among the greatest experiences of my life.

So, here's a festive shout to all of those mad people who keep us in the groove:

Ginger Baker, John Bonham, Sheila E, Mitch Mitchell, Mongo Santamaria and all the others. Bang on!