Thank goodness.

 Managed to get back out on my bike, yesterday. For the first time in what felt like forever. A quick pootle over Headley, then dropping down Pebble Hill, to the lanes around Leigh, Norwood Hill and Brockham. If If I'm honest, this is absolutely my favourite part of the county, to ride: so quiet, wonderful views, great roads. 

And here's a quick image, to show you that I'm not kidding about the views. Just a lovely view down the valley which falls away from Punchbowl Lane, to the south of Pixham. In the distance you can see the North Downs - Box Hill, where I would be cycling to. I love viewpoints like this, where the sky seems to weigh down on me, where the fields roll away, and the county stretches out so gracefully. I'm lucky to be where I am, to be able to do what I do. Views like this always make me grateful, for everything. 

One more thing

 I do feel as though I should share this information - I've been listening to The Archers, recently. I love it. Doesn't just remind me of my youth - it reminds me of my time in the countryside, too. Win-win. But it feels a little strange committing time to a soap opera, that really hasn't happened for decades, in my life. 

I am currently trying to devise a strategy where I can still listen to it, even if I can't get reliable internet on the boat (each episode is only about 30meg - they can almost be emailed!

A day of drift

 But, tantalisingly, it does feel as though the weather will be good enough, tomorrow, to head out on the bike. At long last! It does feel as though this winter has gone on forever - both in a temporal sense, as well as a psychological one. 

I'm the rat, emerging from the maze. Or something.

So today felt like things were going to happen. But not quite yet. 

Walked around Ashtead again, this time up and around Shepherd's Walk (via Gray's Lane), and back along Rookery Hill,  past the City Of London's Freemen's School. Lovely old building - and, Joe Strummer's alma mater, which never fails to make my spirit soar. I've also been busy with logistics and management stuff today: couple of potential festival nibbles, in the US, and offers for UK shows too. All of that and I'll be on a Cruise Ship in two weeks! I'll never stop being grateful for the band, and the opportunities it brings. 

More Walking

 And another amazing day - so cold, but so clear. I strolled up part of Stane Street - the Ermyn Way, through Ashtead, and towards Cherkley Court. Pretty amazing to think that this part of Stane Street would have been in use almost a couple of thousand years ago. 

Came across the remains of this burned out car - I'm fairly sure it's an Astra GTI, a hot hatch, that's been nicked, and then set on fire. I don't think it was burned here, but it appears to have been moved. I'm also fascinated as to how the little scrotes who took it managed to get it up to Stane Street in the first place - this is just a track, and there aren't any points of access, for vehicles, at all. I'm going to hazard a guess and say they drove it via the car park at Green Lane, and then over open fields. that would have killed the suspension, and possibly the engine too. After that, it was only ever going to end one way: in flames, sadly. 

Shoes

 

A beautifully clear and crisp day. A morning walk, in the mist and sunshine, with the frost under my feet. So periodically, I looked down at my feet, crunching over icy ground, only to have my spirits lifted by the sight of my Doc Martens. I've got a pair of cherry red "Made In England" ten-hole boots, just a wonderful pair of shoes to walk around in, as you'd expect. but the reason I still have a pair is less to do with the efficacy of the shoes, and more about the heady rush of nostalgia that surrounds DM's. 

At my school, literally, everyone wore them. I'd guess that around 75% of the boys had DMs. Cherry Red was a particular favourite - normally polished with black boot polish, so that, eventually, they'd end up the colour of a livid bruise. Proper 1970's hooligan style. I think I had a black pair, but what I do remember, is being obsessed with the look and the style of them, plus the way that a simple pair of boots afforded you entry to a wider group of your peers. Wear a pair, and belong. 

I'll always recall seeing the outline of the boots, as I walked to and from school, the curve of the toe-piece, the geometric lines along the sides of the sole. The network of creases that formed, as they aged. 

I can look down now, and I'm transported. It's a wonderful feeling. 

How I wish the weather would improve.

 Right now, there's only one thing I need to do - and it's get outside, on this. For my sanity, my mental health, my actual health.

I suspect I'll actually be out on the winter bike, or possibly the do-it-all Tarmac SL6 (it's disc brake, so a bit more friendly for those muddy, wet Surrey lanes) but this is the real joy of my life, when it comes to bikes. It's the absolute pinnacle of Rim Brake technology, and was built from the frame up, to be just that.

It's a 2023 Giant TCR Advanced SL0 frameset (the very last of their flagship rim brake frames) with full Dura-Ace 9100 (mechanical, natch), Roval CLX 50 wheels, Turbo Cotton 28mm tyres, and Fizik Cyrano R0 bars. It's got a Giant Carbon stem, plus a weight-weenie Selle San Marco Mantra saddle. Without pedals, it's a shade under 6.2kg, which is just insane. The damn thing actively wants to hammer up those hills, whether you want to, or not.

I'm not sure quite how it happened

 But I seem to have been listening to a lot of Emerson, Lake & Palmer, this week.

Truly, they were always a step too far, into the land of Prog, for me. But, I do really appreciate those rapid, and inexplicable swings in my taste, which lead me to delve into areas I've not previously anticipated. And overall - you know what? It's been a pleasant journey. Those "Works" collections seem completely self-indulgent, but the first few albums are great. 

But yeah - what's next, Camel? Gentle Giant? 

This is where my head is at.

 Absolutely incredible article about the way that Social media is corroding our society. In essence, SM is bad for trust in Governments, Media, Institutions and people in general. So, if you have people who lose faith in governments, they lose trust in what that Government is saying. As we've always hoped, it's the Government's job to give us the normal, boring facts about everyday life . Jobs numbers, statistics, reports. And now, social media has made an entire generation distrust all of those facts. They just want to "do their own research". Facts are dull, and conspiracy is way more exciting. There's a visceral thrill to the sort of whacked-out nonsense that SM gives us. So, that's what people want. I thought Trump was a bug, but he's a feature, of the oncoming wave of idiocy, that'll wash over us all. As we sit and preen, with our performative social posts, about our favourite fabric conditioner, how we're working with brands, and how we can monetise AI to give us a side hustle. 

That performative aspect of SM has been gnawing away at me, over the last few months. I've obviously been deep in SM, as the band has worked its hardest, throughout 2024. Honestly, I think that corrosive effect has been eating me alive. You end up in thrall to the cold, dead voice of social media, enslaved by the audience, working to stay afloat and alive. 

What I always loved about a blog was its authentic voice. This is MY voice. the blog is me. I can watch as the letters I type coalesce into recognisable words and phrases. There's no gap, between thought and expression (thanks, Lou). I'm not a performing seal, I'm not attempting anything other than to make my way through my own life. I'm free of any outside pressure, other than my own shitty impulses. 

At the moment, I'm contemplating changing, a little. Perhaps throttle back from Facebook, a bit. Save the more integrated posts about myself (longer ruminations on what I've been doing, the music I love, and so on) for here. Otherwise, I'm just harvesting likes and clout. I'm a performing monkey in a Zoo. And, on current evidence, it would seem that the Zoo is overrun with feral creatures, hellbent on eating each other alive. I'm determined to stop feeding the frenzy. 

And this was how my New Year began

 Main Street, Tobermory. Watching the birds wheel down, above the harbour. Sun fighting to break free of those clouds. Cold, crisp, quiet. A warm coat, a scarf and a waxed cap. Fists balled in pockets. The children dawdling, on the footpath to the Lighthouse, directly behind me. the first time I'd walked that route, since 2019. So much had changed, and yet this view remained resolute, similar. Hell yeah, Isle of Mull.  

Well, another year.

And a rather difficult one, if I'm truly honest. I don't mind telling you there were times when I felt unglued, unmoored, and totally lost. I do think I'm still struggling, in the wake of Dad's death. Plus *points down* that post down there? About the tyranny of expectation? That's been my biggest enemy. I've been singularly unable to vanquish that foe, and it's killing me. 

Oh well.

But, back to the present. With an incoming Trump administration, and a couple of other things like the looming death of decent social media (Twitter is gone, Facebook is on life support, after Zuck got rid of Fact-checkers today) it's dark times, it really is. And it's got me thinking: should I just have a blog, as my outlet, for this urge to document things? After all, blogs are absolutely wonderful, in that regard. So, I could even go back to how this place once was - giving you a bit of a blow-by-blow on what I've been doing. 

Would anyone care, or know, or respond? I have no answers. 

But - here goes. I've been busy with new songs, today. Well, old songs, I should say. We're doing motion, Chemical, Tongue Tied and Righ Decision? Bloody hell, how's that for a blast from the past? They're subtly different, and that difference is still kicking my arse, a little. New things, to learn. I'll keep you posted on my progress.

Thoughts on AI

 Here's my issue with AI. 

We developed the internet, which was fine, but we expected too much of it. We thought it would expand our consciousness - and turn us into better versions of ourselves. But it didn't; it just let us look further into our hearts. Look at what's on display now, the angry, bitter, venal behaviour that floods social media. The internet wasn't a gateway; it was a mirror. It's showing us, US. And we're not great. 

But that would have been fine - if we'd learned. It doesn't particularly seem to me that we have.

And now - there's AI. We took all of that machine learning and let computers loose, with the expectation that they'd create something wonderful - or that they'd replace mundane employment, freeing human beings to enjoy lives of unfulfilled promise.

Except that's not happening either. We gave AI everything we know, and expected it to be able to replace us, but it's just another version of us. Instead of a person idly scrolling on the internet, flicking through Instagram, wasting their life with something petty. AI gives us a program, idly reforming images (based on inputs we've given it), flicking through those images as they endlessly morph and grow into further iterations of minor inputs we've supplied. AI isn't going anywhere new, it's going to places w'eve told it to go. It's the logical progression to the internet as a mirror. That internet mirror showed us all the dark places, the faults and the foibles of our existence. Then, AI turned around and started to just pinball around through the fractal chaos of all that information, defining and redefining the strange neural journeys our minds can take. But we know the steps on those journeys; they're nothing new.

Instead of AI, we need a way to expand ourselves, not have a program crawl through the myriad pathways of the houses our minds already reside in. We need to escape the paradigm completely. AI represents something that's still inside us. It will reproduce and grow but can never escape that boundary. 

The next step for us is to identify what's on the other side of that boundary.

The tyranny of expectation...

 ..Is hanging over my head again. I need to find a way to escape its clutches: to wriggle free of the idea that other people's happiness depends solely on my actions.

I'm always like this, on the eve of a concerted period of activity from the band. Really, I ought to have learned my lesson, by now - but it doesn't seem to have happened yet. Perhaps realisation is the first step towards altering one's behaviour? Le'ts hope so.

It's been a particularly trying few days, if I'm honest. A few days that I would really rather forget. I've walked off a lot of frustration, and confusion. The one thing that could save me, is a bicycle. But the weather has been (typically, for February) absolutely appalling. I'm hoping that will change, tomorrow. 

Blast from the past

 Every time I listen to The Flys, I'm in awe of exactly how perfect they were: a seamless mix of new-wave optimism and power-pop dynamics. Hooks and melodies for days. 

This is the opening track from their (totally forgotten) second album "Own". But, it's a Peel Session version, which I'm pretty sure has never been released. It's very odd - there has been an otherwise comprehensive 2CD Anthology, collecting everything they ever did, yet the radio sessions remain missing. Normally these are the first port of call, when a label goes looking for extra material. I live in hope that one day, absolutely everything can finally be released. Until then - just play this nice and loud, cheers.

Every now and again

 You want something.

Something that'll make you want to destroy planets, spit in the eye of God. 

This totally fits the bill.

Turn it up, people.

In other news, life is hard, getting harder. 

A lazy Sunday.

 Is there really any other kind?

But I managed to get back on the turbo trainer today, so my Strava stats for the week look vaguely respectable. I'm definitely down, as far as fitness goes - but it does feel like the power is still there. I do need to work on my cadence a bit - I suspect that's a lack of endurance riding. 

I've been busy keeping a diary for this year, as well. It's nice to have that, in concert with this digital alternative. The analogue version was a Christmas gift, and it's a lovely green Moleskine. A page a day, which seems like a perfectly good ratio, too.

Mind you, it is only January. Best laid plans, and all that.