![\"Long](\"https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2026\/09\/main-4-1024x1011.jpg\")
<\/figure>\n\n\n\nIT IS THE SUMMER OF 2005, AND A 64-YEAR-OLD ENGLISHMAN LIES DYING from a chest infection in Vancouver General Hospital, British Columbia. Barely able to speak, he motions for his partner to press play on a small cassette deck by his bedside. As the strains of Sister Rosetta Tharpe\u2019s Up Above My Head echo through the ward, Long John Baldry quietly passes away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As moving as the scene is, it was an undeniably anticlimactic exit for man who presided over the early \u201960s birth of British blues, etched out templates for John Mayall, Eric Clapton, The Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin, and personally discovered both Rod Stewart and Elton John. However, Baldry was no mere proselytizer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
White, blond-haired, dizzyingly tall at 6\u2019 7\u201d, a defiantly \u201cout\u201d gay man at a time when that was still a brave and dangerous decision, Baldry cut a flash and filigree figure in the nightclubs and dancehalls of \u201960s London, yet today his presence is largely absent from British music history. Just what happened?<\/p>\n\n\n\n John William Baldry was born during the London Blitz, on January 12, 1941. Enchanted by the blues at age seven, after hearing Sonny Terry And Brownie McGhee\u2019s Silver Fox Chase on the BBC\u2019s Kaleidoscope, by his teens Baldry was snapping up Jimmy Witherspoon and Muddy Waters 78s. Skiffle led Baldry to Huddie Ledbetter\u2019s original version of Lonnie Donegan\u2019s 1955 hit, Rock Island Line, and he took to busking Soho streets the following year, and playing blues in the city\u2019s coffee houses the year after that. \u201cJohn knew what was going on,\u201d says Eric Clapton, an early witness to Baldry\u2019s showmanship. \u201cHe grasped the whole genre. He was a scholar.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Also in those early audiences was one Reginald Dwight, of Pinner, who would later change his name to Elton John, partly in tribute to Baldry\u2019s first name. \u201cHe was a fantastic blues guitarist,\u201d says Elton. \u201cJust him on his own, singing Leadbelly stuff, was amazing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n In 1957, Baldry fell in with the emerging blues and skiffle scene converging around guitarist Alexis Korner and blues harp man Cyril Davies\u2019s London Blues and Barrelhouse Club. One of their frequent haunts was the upstairs room at the Roundhouse pub on Wardour Street. Baldry, Korner, Davies, and other influential musicians such as Ken Colyer, even \u2018trad jazzer\u2019 Chris Barber had all bonded around a deep love of the blues. This proved to be extremely contagious, and Baldry shared their passion. \u201cI think that\u2019s how Alexis touched me,\u201d Baldry explained to Nick Orchard in 2003. \u201cIt was that pioneering spirit. It set our little corner of the world ablaze, in the early \u201960s.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p><\/blockquote><\/figure>\n\n\n\n \u201cI cannot believe I never realised that he was gay. I didn\u2019t realise I was gay at that time\u2026\u201d<\/p>\nElton John<\/strong><\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n IN 1962 BALDRY, KORNER AND DAVIES ATTENDED THE American Blues Folk Festival in Manchester, thrilling to Willie Dixon, John Lee Hooker, and Memphis Slim. The previous year, Korner had launched his seminal electric group, Blues Incorporated, with Davies on harmonica and Baldry as vocalist. The first amplified blues band in Britain, Blues Incorporated featured a rotating cast of Korner\u2019s fellow blues aficionados. Their inaugural residency was at Ealing Jazz Club, with Baldry\u2019s old school-chum, Charlie Watts, sitting in on drums. A 19-year-old Mick Jagger guested on vocals while fellow future Stones Bill Wyman and Keith Richards watched from the audience. Keen to learn, Brian Jones borrowed many of Baldry\u2019s prized blues LPs. He never returned them. Meanwhile, Baldry\u2019s reputation edged north.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBefore I came down from Manchester to form the Bluesbreakers,\u201d recalls John Mayall, \u201cLong John was [this] distinguished figurehead\u2026 an important link between trad jazz and British blues.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n A subsequent residency at the Marquee caught the ear of producer Jack Good, who recorded their debut album, R&B From The Marquee, for Decca in later in 1962. After his appearance on the record, Baldry embarked on a European solo tour, cultivating a taste for brandy and continental cigarettes, that would add an extra roughness to his already raspy yowl. On his return in \u201963, Korner and Davies had fallen out. Baldry joined Davies\u2019 new band, The R&B All-Stars, then resident every Sunday at the Eel Pie Island Hotel. With a singing voice like a cement truck on a Mississippi gravel road, and between-song banter that suggested a half-cut Noel Coward impersonating Winston Churchill, Baldry turned Davies\u2019 All Stars into a major draw.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt was unbelievable,\u201d said Ian McLagan in 2005. \u201cI\u2019d never miss [them]. They played like they were 45-year-old Chicago residents [but] in the intermission when Cyril would break for a drink, which he did often, [John] hit the stage with three buxom West Indian backup singers, The Velvettes. I was amazed. He\u2019d sing more sophisticated blues than Cyril, and looked so smart, towering over the audience.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mick Fleetwood, then drumming with The Cheynes, was similarly transfixed. \u201cHe was bigger than life,\u201d says Fleetwood. \u201cHe [had] this incredible gangling body, static, immaculate [and] very good-looking. I mean he knew about English tailoring, he had the whole deal, and he knew the shit.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n After the perpetually unwell Davies succumbed to endocarditis in January 1964, Baldry inherited the All Stars, renaming them The Hoochie Coochie Men. The night after Davies\u2019s death, Baldry was on-stage, in tribute and defiance, at Eel Pie. Watching was a shy teenager with a lager in one hand, a blues harp in the other. After the show, the mop-haired lad stood on the platform of Twickenham railway station, drunkenly playing his harmonica. Waiting on the same platform, Baldry made a hasty introduction. By the time their train reached London, young Rod Stewart had joined The Hoochie Coochie Men as second vocalist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the spring of 1964, just after United Artists released Long John\u2019s Blues, Baldry accepted an invitation from his old mates, The Beatles, to appear solo on their TV special, Around The Beatles. Millions of Britons witnessed Baldry belting out an incendiary I Got My Mojo Working, while the cameras cut to the Fabs, singing and cheering from the wings. Having met the group in Hamburg, Baldry continued to expose them to his collection of authentic blues records whenever he played Liverpool. In a 2006 e-mail to this writer, Paul McCartney called Baldry \u201can important part of the \u201960s scene,\u201d adding, \u201cI saw him quite a bit, on and off. He came round to my house for tea. He was a bit of a mate and a lovely man.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n But as Baldry\u2019s reputation grew, so too did a self-destructive cycle of overwork and self-medication with alcohol, coupled with an often mercurial temperament. \u201cI think he got very distracted, as a person,\u201d says Mick Fleetwood. \u201cHe was such a drama queen really, and he was not frightened of anybody, which didn\u2019t do him any good\u2026 He was probably almost impossible to manage, because I think he knew how good he was, you know? He would get impatient\u2026 \u2018Well my dear boy, I\u2019m not going to be doing that.\u2019\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n By the end of 1964, Baldry claimed to be losing upwards of \u00a3400 a week, despite solid bookings. Rod Stewart saw the writing on the wall and left The Hoochie Coochie Men to go solo. But he was back in a few months, when Baldry asked him to become equal member, alongside Julie Driscoll and Brian Auger, in England\u2019s first supergroup, Steampacket. Auger says Steampacket were a kind of arranged marriage proposed after Baldry\u2019s manager voiced concern that The Hoochie Coochie Men were \u201ctotally out of control\u201d. As well as keyboardist, Auger acted as musical director and tour manager. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt gave me the chance to play in front of a lot of people, John\u2019s audience,\u201d explains Auger. \u201cThen John was saying, \u2018I\u2019d like to have this other guy in the band called Rod Stewart.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Auger also wanted to bring in a female vocalist, Julie Driscoll, then working in Yardbirds\u2019 manager Giorgio Gomelsky\u2019s office opening fan mail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Steampacket were modelled, says Auger, on the Sam & Dave revue. \u201c[I\u2019d] go on, play a couple of Jimmy Smith tunes and some kind of jazzy, funky teasers, then Julie would do her stuff \u2013 she was into Nina \u2028Simone and Tamla Motown. Then Rod could come on doing a lot of Sam Cooke and Tamla, with me and Julie singing backup. Then, finally, John came on with some straight Chicago and Delta blues, but also gospel stuff, which was great for us, \u2019cos we could all sing backup. It was incredibly successful. We were working like four, five, sometimes six nights a week!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Having debuted at the Marquee in July 1965, Steampacket opened for The Rolling Stones, and turned in a show-stopping appearance at the fifth annual National Jazz & Blues Festival in Richmond, alongside The Yardbirds and The Who. \u201cIt was one hell of a band,\u201d says Rod Stewart. \u201cWe were earning \u00a3500 a night, and we didn\u2019t even have a hit record.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n By the summer of \u201966, however, Steampacket had become the victim of their own success. Auger, who did all the tour driving, and had to lug his Hammond organ on and off the stage, with little help from the band, grew resentful. The group\u2019s managers arranged a conciliatory August residency at the Papagayo club in St Tropez but the booking destroyed any remaining shreds of goodwill. \u201cJohn\u2019s drinking started to get the better of him,\u201d says Auger. \u201cHe began not showing for the second, third or fourth set. In the last two weeks, he just didn\u2019t turn up at all.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Back in England, Auger and Driscoll left to form The Trinity, while Stewart joined the Steampacketesque Shotgun Express. Baldry was on his own again, with little to show for Steampacket\u2019s brief time in the sun. \u201cI was with United Artists,\u201d Baldry explained to Mod magazine The New Breed in 2001. \u201cRod was with Decca, Brian and Julie were with Parlophone and none of the labels would agree. So we never ever recorded.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n THERE WAS SOME BRIEF CHEER WHEN BALDRY\u2019S friend, Andrew Loog Oldham, invited the singer to comp\u00e8re The Rolling Stones\u2019 1966 homecoming tour, but if cavorting with the Stones wasn\u2019t bad enough, life back in London was even more reckless as Baldry had become fast friends with London theatre maven Lionel Bart who, in addition to sharing Baldry\u2019s sexual preferences, was equally fond of wild indulgence. Giorgio Gomelsky recalls seeing Baldry and Bart in action, at private parties at Bart\u2019s Fulham home. \u201cJohn was a bit of a dandy,\u201d says Gomelsky, \u201cand Bart had done very well for himself in the West End with Oliver! We were often invited to Lionel\u2019s house to play for him. He was very generous, gave us great parties, and all the various pills that everyone was taking at the time.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cLionel\u2019s house was a den of iniquity,\u201d says Rod Stewart. \u201cAll sorts of things used to go on round there, with two-way mirrors and sausage sandwiches\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Fleet Street turned a blind eye to after-hours Baldry, while his public persona grew ever more mainstream. On record he was veering towards a lightweight Walker Brothers sound, even crooning a syrupy version of Make It Easy On Yourself on his 1966 LP, Looking At Long John.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Still needing a group, Baldry ended up at the Cromwellian in South Kensington to ask about their house band, Bluesology, another Steampacket copy featuring Marsha Hunt, Stuart Brown and the future Elton John, Reg Dwight. Peering out from behind his Vox Continental, Elton recognised Baldry from his coffee house days and his work with Steampacket. Bluesology quickly agreed to accompany Baldry on his next tour.<\/p>\n\n\n\n By now, he was desperate for a hit. Having seen Georgie Fame\u2019s career transformed by his 1965 Number 1, Yeh Yeh, Baldry wanted a little of that madness for himself. In 1967, Pye bought out his United Artists contract and paired him with in-house hitmaker Tony Macaulay, who offered the singer a lachrymose pop ballad ominously entitled Let The Heartaches Begin. Baldry mimed the tune on the November 22, 1967 episode of Top Of The Pops. It shot straight to Number 1. Mission accomplished.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s amazing what one hit record can do,\u201d Baldry told Maureen O\u2019Grady in Rave magazine at the time. \u201c[It] really has power\u2026 I get asked for my autograph in the street, which I don\u2019t mind, but I just can\u2019t stand screaming girls!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n As 1968 began, Baldry and Bluesology found steady work on the northern cabaret circuit, commanding a rumoured \u00a320,000 a night. But Reg Dwight, still only the piano player, was growing restless. \u201cIt was very embarrassing,\u201d Elton \u2028recalls, \u201cbecause we\u2019d be playing a very bluesy set and then suddenly, halfway in, we\u2019d stop and John would have the backing track to Let The Heartaches Begin on a tape recorder. We just stood there while he sang to the tape.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Elton remembers that Baldry was \u201cfantastic to work for\u201d, but clearly a \u201cbrandy man\u201d, prone to self-destructive behaviour. \u201cI cannot believe I never realised that he was gay,\u201d adds Elton. \u201cI mean, I didn\u2019t realise I was gay at that time\u2026 Of course, when I came out of the closet, John was very, very happy about it.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n In fact, it was Baldry who talked Elton out of a doomed marriage to Linda Woodrow, just a few years later, in 1969, convincing him to see the truth of his own sexual orientation. \u201cYou\u2019re a butterfly, and butterflies are free to fly. Fly away,\u201d was how Bernie Taupin later described it when writing lyrics for Elton\u2019s autobiographical album, Captain Fantastic And The Brown Dirt Cowboy, in 1975.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOne night John, Bernie and I went to the Bag O\u2019 Nails in Kingly Street and got incredibly drunk,\u201d says Elton. \u201cJohn said to me, \u2018Why are you getting married to this woman? You are more in love with Bernie than you are this woman.\u2019 Of course, I knew he was right. I wasn\u2019t in love with Bernie in a carnal way, but certainly as a brother.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n At the advice of \u201csugar bear\u201d confidant Baldry, Elton went home, still drunk, and called off the wedding that night. \u201cSo John Baldry was the catalyst for Someone Saved My Life Tonight,\u201d says Elton. \u201cWithout that it could have been an entirely different story. He really did change the course of my life, bless his heart.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n However, Let The Heartaches Begin closed as many doors as it opened. Follow-up single Mexico, based around the BBC\u2019s official 1968 Olympics Theme, reached Number 17 in the charts but the Let The Heartaches Begin album divided critics at the precise moment when the blues sound Baldry had cultivated was gaining acceptance across the Atlantic. He had forsaken his roots to go pop, and was now stuck in a limbo between the two worlds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHell,\u201d he later told one interviewer, \u201cif I\u2019d stayed with the whole blues thing like Mayall and the rest of them, I probably would have achieved a greater degree of success. But you know, sometimes we all make silly mistakes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cJohn was one of the best 12-string blues guitarists Britain ever had,\u201d says Elton John. \u201cUnfortunately, he kind of laid that to waste when Heartaches became a hit.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n AS THE \u201970S BEGAN, BALDRY WAS GOING nowhere, living with his pet goat, Mayley, in a Muswell Hill flat he rented from Rod Stewart. Sensing it was time for an intervention, Stewart and Elton joined forces to reintroduce Baldry to the world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOne of the things Rod and I could do,\u201d says Elton, \u201cwas produce a side each for John. We were his two prot\u00e9g\u00e9s, and now we could [give] something back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The result was John Baldry: It Ain\u2019t Easy, released in America by Warner Bros in 1971. The album\u2019s two-track opener, Conditional Discharge \u2013 Baldry reminiscing about his early busking days, over Ian Armitt\u2019s barrelhouse piano \u2013 smash-cut into the super-heavy Don\u2019t Try To Lay No Boogie-Woogie On The King Of Rock And Roll, featuring blistering guitar work by Ronnie Wood and Sam Mitchell, and received generous airplay on American FM radio, necessitating Baldry\u2019s first ever US tour. England wouldn\u2019t have Long John to kick around any more.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Baldry blazed through North America on tour with Savoy Brown and Fleetwood Mac. His road manager at the time, John Francis Peters, became fascinated with the contradictions in Baldry\u2019s personality.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cJohn could walk out on-stage, in front of 5,000 fans, and just deliver,\u201d says Peters. \u201cPeople would [already] be in awe because of his height. Then he\u2019d open his mouth up and start singing and floor everybody, every night, no matter what condition he was in. But when you\u2019re doing this for three weeks, every day a different city, the reality, the intensity of life, sometimes just overwhelmed him. Getting John on a plane \u2013 I would literally hold his hand. He would shake, sweat, and break out in rashes. But he never missed a show. He\u2019d do it no matter how he felt. I feel that his drinking was possibly a way of trying to heal that extremely sensitive part of him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Rod and Elton dutifully resumed their roles for Baldry\u2019s eccentric Warner Bros follow-up, 1972\u2019s Everything Stops For Tea, which featured Ronnie Wood\u2019s Lewis Carroll-inspired cover illustration, depicting Baldry as the Mad Hatter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI only did two or three tracks for him on that one,\u201d says Rod Stewart. \u201cI think I used the same guys on Every Picture Tells A Story, like Madeline Bell, and Maggie Bell. The title song, Everything Stops For Tea, was a Noel Coward number. I loved it when John sang all that stuff, so I said, Why don\u2019t you try it on the album? He did a marvellous job with it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Elton\u2019s contributions, meanwhile, employed his Honky Ch\u00e2teau crew, including Davey Johnstone and Nigel Olsson, on New Orleans standard Iko Iko, Willie Dixon\u2019s Seventh Son and John Kongos\u2019 Jubilee Cloud. But despite even more extensive touring throughout the USA and Canada, Everything Stops only troubled the lower reaches of the charts. Warner Bros failed to renew their option. Baldry\u2019s next two LPs, Good To Be Alive and Welcome To Club Casblanca were released on Casablanca. Both sank without trace, and Baldry began to exhibit signs of depression, exacerbated by heavy drinking. Brief respite came at New York\u2019s Studio 54 in February 1978, when Baldry fell in love with the man who would become his constant companion for the rest of his life, Felix Rexach, who everyone knew as \u201cOz\u201d. <\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p><\/blockquote><\/figure>\n\n\n\n \u201cJohn\u2019s drinking started to get the better of him. In the last two weeks, he just didn\u2019t turn up at all.\u201d<\/p>\nBrian Auger<\/strong><\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n Baldry and Oz left New York for Toronto, where the Canadian arm of Capitol Records released the cheekily-titled Baldry\u2019s Out! in 1979. Rollicking and confident, it was his most solid collection since the Warner Bros years. A fired-up duet with Kathi \u2028McDonald on You\u2019ve Lost That Loving Feeling was a minor hit in Canada and Top 5 in Australia, while the impact of the remarkable follow-up, A Thrill\u2019s A Thrill, an earnest dispatch from the leather-clad underworld of the downtown gay club scene, resulted in a extra 200,000 LP sales in Canada alone. But success was once again short-lived, and the Capitol deal fizzled after a succession of subsequent releases yielded increasingly diminishing returns.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Baldry and Oz settled down in Vancouver, British Columbia, with Baldry returning to the blues and lending his booming voice to animation work. In 1997 he won a Juno Award (Canada\u2019s Grammy) for Right To Sing The Blues, and paid tribute to Huddie Ledbetter with his final LP, Remembering Leadbelly, in 2001. He swore off cigarettes and vodka in the \u201990s, after a bleeding ulcer sent to him to the emergency ward, but his health remained poor. He suffered from epilepsy and stayed away from nightclubs for fear the flashing lights might trigger a fit. He developed gout and found it harder to move his massive frame along the streets of Vancouver without a cane. By March of 2005, he had also developed osteoporosis and underwent hip replacement surgery. His faithful prot\u00e9g\u00e9, Rod Stewart, checked in on him from time to time, and helped out financially, but by April, Baldry entered intensive care, never to return. \u201cWe would talk over the phone every couple of months,\u201d says Stewart. \u201cHe always put on a brave front.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Looking far older than his 64 years, Baldry passed away on July 21, 2005. The official cause of death was listed as severe chest infection, but it may just as well have been Baldry\u2019s full appetite for life that ultimately did him in. \u201cYou know,\u201d says Brian Auger, \u201cI stayed in touch with him right \u2019til the end, because he was one of the most genuine human beings I\u2019ve ever met in the music business. He was very kind and intelligent; you could talk to him about just about anything. He was really a gentleman.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI think you can have all the talent in the world, but you do need a little bit of luck,\u201d says Rod Stewart. \u201cMy luck just happened to be that he was on that railway station and he heard me playing the harmonica and singing, and he believed in me. It\u2019s a tremendous debt.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI loved knowing and working with him,\u201d concludes Elton John. \u201cIt\u2019s extraordinary that people have to wait until they die to get mass recognition. He never recorded the big blues album he should have done at the time but he was one of the great blues pioneers of British music.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n This article originally appeared in MOJO Issue 268.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" He was the tall, flamboyant singer who revolutionised British music in the 1960s. Influenced The Rolling Stones, The Small Faces, Fleetwood Mac, Eric Clapton and The Beatles, discovered Rod Stewart and quite possibly saved Elton John\u2019s life before alcohol and addiction took their toll. So why isn\u2019t Long John Baldry better known today? Paul Myers speaks to friends and fans about the singular life of the era’s most unlikely musical hero.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":77,"featured_media":1043,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_lmt_disableupdate":"","_lmt_disable":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1042","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-mojo-presents"],"acf":{"article_authors":"","send_as_draft":true,"send_as_paid":true,"send_as_featured":true},"modified_by":"akindell","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1042","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/77"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1042"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1042\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1095,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1042\/revisions\/1095"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1043"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1042"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1042"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/flatplanplus.io\/mojov2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1042"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}![\"Steampacket\u2019s](\"https:\/\/flatplan-plus-content.s3.eu-west-1.amazonaws.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/25\/2026\/09\/Image-2-3-1024x1024.jpg\")
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