Some time in the summer of 1973, or possibly 1974, I was surprised to be awoken from my slumbers late one night by my mother, who, in a surprising and highly unprecedented gesture, invited my little brother and me to get up and watch a TV programme of which I'd never heard, called M*A*S*H. I loved it, and watched it whenever it was shown after that.

Some twelve years later, after the series had finally come to an end, the BBC started a long run of M*A*S*H repeats from the very first episode. I recorded as many of them as I could, onto VHS tapes.

Eventually I had a large collection of VHS recordings of M*A*S*H. I kept them for many years; until the series was released on DVD in fact, two or three years ago. But I never watched them. Somehow, even after I had every single episode on DVD, the mood to watch M*A*S*H just never took me.

It vaguely bothered me for years that I could never get round to watching this programme I loved so much as a young person. And it irritated me especially that for about 20 years a large stash of video recordings had taken up space in my various homes, never to be watched.

Well, in February this year, I finally mustered the resolve to watch them. I decided that I would watch every single episode, in sequential order, in 2008. I started my M*A*S*H marathon at the end of February with the pilot episode, originally broadcast in 1972, with the intention of sitting down some time on or before December 31st to watch the final episode, Goodbye, Farewell and Amen, first shown in 1983.

In fact, my journey came to an end tonight. I have watched every one of the two-hundred and fifty-one episodes of M*A*S*H in the last eighty-two days; an average of three per day. There hasn't been a single day in that time when I haven't seen at least one episode. On most days I have watched two or three, and on some days I have watched four or five. I have watched M*A*S*H on the train to and from work on my Nokia handheld, I have watched M*A*S*H on my computer at work at lunchtime, I have watched M*A*S*H on the TV in my bedroom and in my living room. The Korean War lasted eleven years for TV viewers in the 1970s and early 1980s. It lasted three years in reality, but for me it lasted twelve intense weeks. I honestly had tears in my eyes when the joyous news came tonight that the war was at an end.

Incidentally I discovered a few days after starting my epic journey through M*A*S*H that I had commenced it twenty-five years to the day after the series came to an end. Goodbye, Farewell and Amen was broadcast originally on February 28th 1983, to a record US television audience.

Phew! Another blog entry and no-one's pegged it.

Rush's original drummer, John Rutsey, died earlier this week at the age of 55, apparently from a heart attack brought on by complications due to diabetes, a disease with which he struggled all his life.

If truth be told, John represents something of a footnote in the band's history. After six years with Rush from the very beginning, he decided to leave shortly after their self-financed debut album was recorded, when Rush was still an unknown band making a living playing the Toronto college and bar circuit. They were on the brink of their breakthrough, having secured a record contract and a US tour.

He was replaced by Neil Peart, with whom the band went on to gain great acclaim and success, and who finalised the Rush lineup that went on to record another 17 studio records and far too many live albums over the next 30-odd years. John is pictured on the right in the following photo, probably taken sometime in early 1974 and scanned from a concert flyer.

He was always something of a mystery figure to me, if that's not putting it too strongly. Perhaps 'obscure' would be more honest. I've only ever seen three or four photos of him, including the image that adorns the rear cover of the Rush debut album. He gave up professional music and maintained a very low media profile after leaving Rush, and he had been out of the band for two and a half years when I discovered Rush for myself in early 1977.

While the first album contains one or two bona-fide classics that would hold a place in the band's live set for many years, it is not considered one of the great Rush records. Nonetheless, he was integral to the birth of the band, and for that he will be fondly remembered by a great many people.

The following statement from his former bandmates appeared on rush.com today:

Our memories of the early years of Rush when John was in the band are very fond to us. Those years spent in our teens dreaming of one day doing what we continue to do decades later are special. Although our paths diverged many years ago, we smile today, thinking back on those exciting times and remembering John's wonderful sense of humour and impeccable timing. He will be deeply missed by all he touched.

Alex & Geddy

I love the reference to his "impeccable timing".

I'll try to write another blog entry before someone else dies, if that's not tempting fate.