Please don't sit alone like me.

 Gradually emerging. But still taking. some time to work out what's going on, inside my mind. anyone got any tips? 

But seriously, I'm cool. I just need to get it together.

x

oh you'd be surprised how we race while our lives erased

 Yeah, now I've had enough, really. Need to reset my mind, and my life.

Right on the kick drum.

Tired, so tired.

 And I'm not quite sure why.

It's not been an especially hectic day, not especially frustrating, or miserable. But I feel happy to have reached its end. I did manage to get out on the bike, so at least there's that. And my IJ suddenly started playing this - which has reappeared in my musical life, over the past few months.

It's a wonderfully aimless song - that sense of beautiful drift, of quiet determination (and not so quiet, at the end!). It was a relic of my Xfm day, which is where I first learned to love it. So many memories of my life shifting, in 1999 and 2000. I'm guessing that's why it holds such a special place in my heart - it has an inbuilt narrative, which constantly reminds me of where I was, what I did, what I achieved. 

My difficult year.

It's time for me to own it, really. Failure is as much a part of my life as success. And the fecund is as much a part of my makeup as those fallow times. It's time that I grab hold of all that bedevils me and cling tightly to the pain and disappointment to learn its lessons. 

 

Memories, and Regrets.

 So many of each. And, i'm not even sure that person who triggered this little wave of thoughts will ever see this. Oddly, I'm also quite sure that it doesn't matter, any more. Though I look back with so much fondness, at our time together, the wave of emotions are things which concern me, things which I need to evaluate. Things which I can, and will, learn from. 

I remember fun fairs, paisley shirts, a birthday party which led to it all. Long walks back from the tube station - some of which were more eventful than they should have been. Rainfall on the roof of a tent. Watching the world pass by, on the Picadilly Line out to the suburbs, being unsure what I should do. 

I was younger then, but I was also so foolish, so unprepared to deal with what life was delivering to me.

I regret that now.

And I've been attempting to reset my spirits

By doing one of the things that always seems. to help: retreating into the music I loved as a kid. But it's not just about the music per se, it's more than that. What I always look for is music that seemed to surround not just me, but everyone, at that time. The albums which filled the racks of the shops. The albums which - no matter where you went - a mate seemed to have a copy. Ubiquity, crossed with popularity. I loved things which were musically great, but were part of the fabric of life in general. They were bigger than just my own taste. Pink Floyd are a perfect example of this - I mean, yes, the albums are amazing, but they were also this huge, monolithic.....thing. Something which stretched out across everyone I knew. 

And that's making me feel happy. It's the end of the 70s again, and I'm sitting in front of a Dansette. This is playing, and all is well in my world, but it's OK everywhere else, as well. 

It's almost nice, to know you're not alone.

 My mental health has been absolutely crushed by the last couple of months. By trying to navigate a minefield of decisions, principles, family situations, personal logistics, band politics - you name it.

Attempting to reach a final position has felt exhausting and, most of all, lonely. I feel like I'm the only person in the world struggling with this.

But - evidently, I'm not. 

downturn, update.

 Well, yes.

My mental health really dropped off the edge of the cliff, there. Kind of explains the lack of updates, doesn't it? (Having said that, the good ship Westway is still looking ridiculously prolific, in terms of 2025 content, so it's fine.)

But it's been a trying time, it really has. chief among the factors - US touring. It's looking like this won't happen this year, because - well, it doesn't take a genius to figure that out, does it? But there are some other, personal factors in the stew of issues, and it's been hard, on the whole band. Many emails, travelling back and forth. I'll try and whack something on the FB page, ASAP.

Anyway, at least I've been able to cycle, A LOT. Honestly, without that, I don't know what I would have done. That sense of escape and freedom has been a constant source of comfort, but also strength for me. 

There's always a point, on my rides, where my brain finally ceases to swirl around in the doom loop, and I approach some sort of clarity. Repetition, in the form of pedalling, seems to bring me out of my funk. Plus, other grooves can take over. Normally, it's Motorik beats, which rise and tick along in my mind. A welcome release from the devils which have beset me over the past couple of months. 

If you'd like to know what that sudden Motorik pulse of clarity sounds like - well, it's usually something like this.

I'm at that stage

 where my mental health is taking a bit of a downturn.

So, I'm doing what I have to do to get back to me again. Obviously, that includes a lot of riding my bike - but increasingly, it seems to manifest itself in listening to albums I loved when I was 14. I'm not sure why, but I'm guessing it's a comfort blanket.

Today's slice of my youth, then - is taken from the first Riuchard Hell & The Voidoids album. Bought on a school trip to Windsor, in 1979. Sneaked away from my classmates, and somehow, found a record shop. Back then, it was almost a sixth sense: I could look at grids of roads, and predict where I should look. I guess it helped, that in those days, Record Shops were considerably more plentiful than they are now.

But, the album quickly became a part of my life, despite being the least stereotypically "punk" record in my collection. A lot of that is down to the sheer genius of Robert Quine, on guitar. Here was a guy who looked like an accountant. Balding, small glasses. Kind of dorky. The least rock and roll person imaginable. Yet every time he picked up a guitar, punk attitude dripped from every pore, and fantastically emotive screeds of brutal noise burst out, filling my head with their surges of pain, of anger, of beauty. 

Quine is unlike any other guitarist I can think of: his is a tone full of pure creativity, and it's never held back by tradition

or any other expectation. It's mind-expandingly brilliant. The sort of thing which makes my life better. And that's why my ears are full of this right now.

Yeah, THAT is what I need!

Namely, a new project. When it comes to bikes, I've always been obsessed with the idea of a build - so, the last TCR was " what would it be like to build the last great rim brake bike, ever?"

And I did it, and it was worth every twist and turn, and every moment spent sourcing parts, and agonising over choices. So, I'm going to do it all over again! This time, though, it'll be significantly cheaper. The MO is - "Can I get a disc brake winter bike, up and running for less than a grand?"

I think I'll actually be significantly under that - perhaps 600 quid. That's not counting all the bits I've already got, which is another of the central themes of this build, namely: do I have enough in the loft, in the shed? I think I do. 

The list of parts I've got, already - hanging around upstairs, or in the shed, or lying around the house:

1. A Groupset - Dura Ace 9100 crankset, Ultegra 8020 shifters, Ultegra front mech, 11-32 cassette, chain
2. Bars - a set of 3T Ergonova Pro's. They're only Alloy, but they're light, and they're 38cm.
3. Ultegra bottom bracket
4. Spare saddle - a Selle San Marco Mantra Carbon FX.
5. Wheelset - Roval Alpinist CLX1's. With Dura Ace Rotors, Vittoria Clinchers (30's) and TPU tubes.
6. Bar tape - a spare pack of Supacaz Suave.
7. Stem - an old Giant Contact SL (110mm) - I've even thrown on some titanium bolts

The parts I've had to buy:

1. A set of Caliper bolts £5
2. A new rear mech - £70
3. New headset bearings - £20

The frame - it's another TCR! But this time, an Advanced Pro. That's going to be £450. Overall, £550, plus about £50 for my mechanic to recable the groupset, and cut the steerer. 

So, I'm hoping it'll be a decent winter setup, with the added bonus of being something which could travel, too - easy to pack up and down, get in a bike box, etc. There won't be integrated cables, the seat post is easy to remove....perfect!

Plus, the bonus is that it won't be the absolute pinnacle of components. The Tarmac, and the Rim Brake TCR have had no expense spared - they're dripping in Dura Ace and everything is specced as high as it will go. That's wonderful when it comes to the riding experience, but in the unlikely event that they were lost in transit, they'd be a nightmare to replace (if that was even possible)

So, in essence, I need a daily beater, and this is what I hope I'll achieve. The build should commence in around a week. I'll keep you all posted! 

Still feeling a little lost

 A bit of a failure, if I'm honest. Less of a man. 

But, you just have to let out a huge sigh, and carry on, don't you? That's always been the way, for me. But it's tricky to shake that sense of deflation, of pain. 

I've been fighting some actual physical issues, over the last three weeks, and I think they've become intertwined with my mental state: I've always suffered from collapsed arches, and my right instep has obviously given up the ghost. It's led to some severe knee pain (I think this is caused by the foot pronation) and that nagging worry in the back of one's mind: have I knackered my knee, like I did a decade ago? that wouldn't be great, to put it lightly. 

so, I've been putting a lot of emphasis on trying to improve my posture and my walking. Some orthotic insoles, some barefoot shoes, for use around the house. So far, thankfully, it's working. not, perhaps, a silver bullet - but a definite improvement. Last week, I couldn't kneel down - that's now changed. So - baby steps.

I'm listening to things like this, whils all of the above, stews in my mind. Lee Perry always makes things better. Don't ever forget that, people. 

Everything's not lost, though

 

Because I can still get onto a bike, and ride to the top of my local hill, and stop, and get off the bike, and see this view. 

This makes everything feel better, for me. It makes me think that life's good, that it's worth living. Because what's out there, is always better than what's inside. 

It's been one of the most consistent things

 Over

the last few decades.

this sweet slice of rockers reggae. Proper Channel 1 vibes, as well. There's something very....balanced about it - sometimes, things like this can veer off into sweetness. Or they can get too militant - just too strident. But this straddles all of those disparate zones, and stays true to all of them. 

Plus, as a bonus, the video above plays the single, and the version too. That's as it should be, obviously.

Also - just checking the posts for 2025, I'm on course to have my biggest year of activity, since about 2010, which is nuts, isn't it? Ah, now - if there was only someone reading it. 

And i'm still deep into 1987.

 Of all of the songs on the playlist *points down*, this is perhaps the one which stirs most emotions in me.

It makes me think of a wave of feelings, of passions, of love and physicality. There's something pneumatic about this - but then again, what else would you really expect? This is Prince at his most obvious, his most pleading. But there's tenderness underneath the hormone rush, and that's what's always got me, most of all.

So, that's what's been in my head. And really - that's all! I've seemingly come to this odd place, where my mind has been singularly unable to fixate on much, at all. I'm feeling empty, hollowed out and more than a little useless, If I'm honest. I'm hoping it passes, and passes soon. I'll do my best to ride it out (literally and figuratively), that's my default. 

It's a colder, possibly wetter morning tomorrow, but I'm determined to head out to those lanes.

I'm all about 1987

I know it's one of those years that gets passed over, every time. the uncoolest part, of the uncoolest half, of the decade that makes a lot of people shudder. But that year means so much to me. It's a year where I was working, was learning to love life, and to be in love, too. I'd met Emma, and life really didn't get much better. It felt like everything was opening up, to me. Opportunity, chance, possibility. the future was mine, If I could just decide what to do with it, once I grabbed hold. Everything from 1987 is suffused with a glorious surge of optimism and power - a sense that I didn't quite have the answers, but I knew which questions to ask. Viva 87!  

and here's a playlist, with what the year meant to me

I'm still hammering the Bures Band album

So, who are they, I hear you ask?

Well, a bunch of young dudes from Perth, Australia, who sound as though they've been here since the Laurel Canyon days of the late 60's. But in reality, they've only been together since 2022.

 what amazes me is how accurately they can channel that sound - and yet, it never falls into the trap of feeling like it's empty nostalgia. It's simply made with love and respect. 

RIP, Clem.

Clem Burke has left us - which is obviously a tragedy, but it's another small part of my youth gone, too. I do hate getting selfish about losing people, but I can't help it. 

Blondie were a large part of my life, at the end of the '70s, and the beginning of the '80s, but I wasn't alone: they were probably the biggest pop presence in everyone's life, behind ABBA, maybe. To me, they'll always be the sound of school discos, the light in the eyes of the girls in my class, as they learned to grow and find role models and idols. They were a force of positivity and hope, but also of dreams and romance. There was a power, but a sadness too. As an example of all of these things, have some of this: still one of all-time favourite Blondie moments.

Why I ride

 

Well, basically - it's so I can see things like this. This was taken at about 8am, this morning, at the bottom of Wonham Lane, as it turns off from the Street, in Betchworth. It's the sort of bucolic image that makes me glad to be alive, and glad to be able to see it from the saddle of a bike. Glad to be inside this wonderful landscape, and glad to feel as though it's letting me in. Like I'm a part of the wondrous nature that surrounds me, in this part of the world. 

It was a breezy, bright morning - but damn, it was cold, too. I ended up back in Longs, which was slightly disappointing. I thought Spring was sufficiently here, that it would be nothing but bib shorts, from now onwards. 

Not quite!

Out with mum

 For her Birthday. Fish & Chips, at the posh place in Hatch End. A lovely day. It's been obviously hard, for Mum, since Dad passed away, and being there for her, has been a source of strength, and comfort. Pretty difficult on the roads, I have to say - sat in traffic on the M25, both ways. Over an hour and a half - ugh! Quickest I've done the journey has been around 50 minutes, so that tells you all you need to know.

It's been a lovely Sunny day here in Epsom, and I've finished it by watching Marnie swim. that's another source of pride, and a real sense of awe, for how good she really is. 

Well, that was tiring, but amazing.

 First UK shows of the year - at the Shiiine Festival in Skegness, then back to Esquire's in Bedford.

As expected, being on the road with friends, band members, and crew is just the most joyous experience. It's such a genuine pleasure to hang out with people who are basically family. Even the crew—we've worked with John, our FOH, for more than 20 years now! Skegness was somewhat bracing, and slightly down-at-heel, but it was an absolutely incredible gig. I'm not even sure why! Earlier in the day, it seemed as though the general organisation and crewing of the venues just weren't up to the usual standard of the "Shiiine gigs, which normally run like clockwork. There were questions over stage access, set-up times, depressing room access, tech specs, the lot. But, as soon as we stepped on stage, it was as if a weight had suddenly lifted. We tore through the set, everything worked, all the songs went over perfectly, and the crowd went bananas. So, we left the stage just an hour later, feeling like completely different people. The wave of adrenalin took several hours to subside.

The next day, we were already exhausted, when we got up (never a good sign) and it was going to be yet another long day. The journey from Skegness to Bedford was thankfully relatively short, so we checked in a little early, into the hotel (a rare luxury, for us) and the entire setup/soundcheck experience was flawless. but it was one of those days which saps the energy (and there wasn't much to start with!).

Gig time was 9.15, so we weren't off until nearly 11pm, back to the hotel for about midnight, and then we all ended up drinking and chatting in the hotel carpark, until about 2 am, with the sting in the tail of the clocks going forward, robbing us of an hour's sleep. Maybe got about four hours, maybe a little less. Consequently, today's has been a real slog. I keep looking at my watch, thinking "Can I go to sleep, at half-nine?"

Rock'n'Roll, what a business, eh? 

Out on the road again.

 First gigs of the year, this weekend!

So, we're headed off to Skegness (Oh, the glamour!) and Bedford. Touring, and the logistics of doing shows are becoming ever more complex, time-consuming, and expensive. But there is still a magic to it. I love the feeling of calm, once the gear is loaded into the van, and we actually start driving. At that point, it feels like you leave so much of your unease, or anxiety behind. Plus, the constant laughter and sense of community from being among friends (though it's more than that - we truly function as a family)

We've created bonds, over thirty-five years, that are absolutely unbreakable: revelling in that, for a few days, whilst looking at the world go by, is one of my life's greatest pleasures.

But there's still work to do, before I leave. Specifically, I've not even packed a case! I must head upstairs (I'm in the office, blogging) have a shower, get everything together. 

Gah! So busy!

 It's always like this, when things start ramping up towards some live shows. We have the Shiiine festival, in Skegness, on Friday, then back to Bedford Esquires, the following day. With rehearsals on Thursday night, it's basically written off most of the end of this week, plus the weekend. It's going to put a dent in my training, that's for sure. Ah well.

But riding has been such a pleasure, over these past few weeks. The weather has been (mostly) great, the roads around Rusper (my new favourite playground) are fast fun and inspirational. Plus, I'm fit again! Well, perhaps not entirely, but I'm getting back to my best.

This level of activity does have an effect on energy levels, though: I'm absolutely exhausted, come bedtime. I'm sitting here, on the bed, typing a blog post, looking at the time (9.15pm) and wishing I could just be alseep, right now.

I do feel like I should leave you with this though - it's the sound of my internal jukebox. Sunny, positive, and bucolic. Yeah, that tracks. 

It's not just fitness that's returned, I've felt a lot more love, in my heart. That's a good thing, isn't it? There were days when it was all so empty. I'm hoping I've turned a corner.

Even better, though.

 I've been back to those Surrey Lanes, and my mind is gradually returning to some sense of normality. I don't think what's happening over the other side of the Atlantic has been helping me, to be honest - it's just such a confusing, awful situation over there - and it's all compounded by the fact that I'm always thinking about returning to do tours. And should I? Considering all that's happening over there? 

Oh, I don't know. 

At times like these, I find it instructive to ask the question: "Will I feel better about my life, if I'm listening to some Miles Davis?"

the answer is always, always yes.

Feeling a bit better.

 Getting back out into the sunshine really helped.

I went back to Tanhouse (currently my happy place) and enjoyed a Courgette and Feta Muffin, which was absolutely spectacular. 

Muffin time

I'm finally getting fit again, which is really heartening - I think I was just in a rut, and getting out of it took some time. Just riding the same roads that I had ridden a month or so ago, I can feel the strength returning in my legs, the resilience, the extra lung capacity, the general strength. It's going to come in handy, sometime towards the end of June, as there is a bike trip on the horizon. More on that soon. and more, I think, about another jaunt to come - yeah, JJ are touring once more. No details for now, suffice to say it'll be abroad, and it'll be awesome (though, let's say, somewhat different from the last time)

The bike jaunt is filling my mind already - I'm starting to think about gearing, about what spares to take, how to teak the bike. I absolutely love stuff like this - bring it on!

Today has exhausted me.

 I feel....saturated, I suppose. Like I can't take any more, I'm full. It's not been particularly hectic, but I don't seem to have the will to answer any more questions, do anything for anyone, or sort anything out. I need to be outside, on the bike, heading down a country lane, as fast as I can go.

But, no matter how I feel, events will still come at me, the train will come down the tracks. whether I like it, or not. I think the question for me is: in the face of that train, what do I do? My plan is - grab it, and then hang on. For dear life.

New music

 Every year, I start a playlist, for that year. A repository for new things, new sounds, stuff that'll send me off on voyages of discovery, or just fill my mind, my heart and my head.

2025 has actually got off to a very strong start, indeed. there have certainly been years, in recent memory (maybe 2023? I'm not sure) where I literally couldn't be bothered. Where everything just left me cold. so it's heartening to find that my critical faculties are still in some sort of half-decent shape: that I'm still able to search out things to obsess over.

This is a great example:

Everything else about 2025 has been a shitshow, really, hasn't it? But the soundtrack is making me hopeful that love and peace and goodness still exists. Because beautiful music still exists. 

I love it when things turn into an obsession

 Case in point: the Merce Lemon album.

I absolutely hammered "Backyard Lover", late last year, but since then, the album has wormed its way even deeper into my consciousness. There's an almost painful melancholia on show - a steely-eyed resolve, a vulnerability that borders on determination. I can't recommend it highly enough: it's awesome.

I've been cycling again today - down Partridge Lane, to the Rusper Road. Lanes that I've not previously traversed - that's something which always fascinates and inspires me. the landscape is there to be explored, remembered and understood. I feel like I must commit these routes to memory, to allow them to become a part of me.

I need to do loads of things, over the weekend - Admin, some social media postings for Late Transmissions, and the Joneses too. Remember my musings on touring? Well, it looks like plans are afoot.

And it's not only gigs - there's a new album on the way, as well. I think it's better than Passages. That was archetypical Jones - this new record is an attempt to push the envelope as far as it will go: it'll confound, and thrill, in equal measure. I can't wait to share some stuff with you.

I think I need to be on tour.

 I'm craving something. Time to be myself, I think. The quiet, that only ever comes when the noise in my head is deafeningly loud, on stage. the smiles that only arrive when it's all so serious, and that weight is on my shoulders.

I think that's why I miss the boat, so much. On that cruise, I was in the midst of so much movement - this giant mass of metal, powering through the waves, yet there was a stillness in me. If you want me to be even more pretentious, I miss the singularity of purpose that emerges from those sorts of dualities. 

So, I'll start plotting, and I'll get back to you.

It's that view again

Box Hill Viewpoint

A quick check of my Strava suggests I've been up Box Hill around 300 times, which is crazy. But, if it's generally accepted to be a rite of passage for cyclists, then that rings even more true, for those of us who live in Surrey. I can be at the base of the hill in around 25 minutes, so it's effectively my local climb. 

And that, up there, is the view that greets you, when you reach the summit. I'm fascinated by the view - partly because it's beautiful, but also because it changes, all the time. There are times when that sky is a deep blue, and seems to go on forever. Times when threatening clouds roil over the weald beyond. Times when the fog over Pixham inverts, gently blanketing the woods on the horizon. It's an extraordinary sight, no matter what time of the year you look out from the viewpoint. 

TOday, I was on my way back from Rusper, hurtling down the mad mile, to Tanhouse Farm shop, for my usual double espresso and slice of cake. I love how cycling seeks to emphasise those simple moments of pleasure, that make everything fall into place. 

 

Gosh - a day away from the bike!

 I really wanted to keep on going - but, at the same time, you have to listen to your body, when it tells you "no". That's just one of the rules. I don't make them, I just follow them. And, it doesn't necessarily have to be your body screaming that it's in pain - a gentle whisper of tiredness is quite enough.

So, today has been quiet so far. Lots of admin (this always makes me feel better) and a quick bite to eat in Epsom, for lunch. Weather has turned, a bit, too. How annoying! I was hoping to keep pushing away at the bike rides, as spring finally took hold. Instead, it feels like we're taking a step backwards.

I've also done some minor mechanical things today - chief among those was the replacement of the pedal bodies for the Assioma Duo's. They were five years old, and I must have put at least 40,000km on them, so it's hardly surprising that they'd reached the end of their lifespan. A welcome side effect of new pedal bodies is just how quiet the bike is, now. The old pedals were contributing so much noise, so much rattling. The bike now feels taut, sounds silent.

Back on the decks

 It was a BFLF in Farnham, today - I'm trying to nail it down, but I'm sure it's the fourth time we've done it, in that particular location. It's so good to get back on the decks with Dylan. It's been a few weeks since we've seen each other, and it's always such a pleasure. Laughter, until we're nearly crying. I think we've now been a proper DJ team for around a decade, which seems like a ludicrously long time - but it's been wonderful. I do think it's been an inspiring process for both of us as well

. We've learned a lot - but we've also learned from each other. There's no one I'd rather play out with, let me put it that way. I trust Dylan, implicitly, when it comes to DJing. 

Lots of traffic on the roads today, the M25 is closed, at the junction with the A3, for another bridge demolition. those are the two roads we would have otherwise used, so as you can imagine, it wasn't the easiest journey. Overall though, helped by it being a glorious sunny day. I did feel a small pang of sadness that I wasn't out on my bike. maybe tomorrow? I think I had better - it's looking like it'll be the last tolerably warm day for around a week: after Monday, the cooler temperatures will return. 

My mind is still a little distracted, It has been for the last few days. I'm not sure why: I need to let it rest, a little. 

finally, I appear to be fit again.

 Well, back to a decent level of fitness, anyway. Over the last 18 months, I've got slightly rotund, I've definitely let my fitness slide, and I've not been able to ride as much as I'd like. 

I think that's at the heart of it, really. I've just had a couple of years packed with work, gigs, touring, and logistics. It's been impossible to string together a regular pattern of training. But, over the past three weeks, I've been on it, and (crucially) I've been outside. I'm so lucky to live in this most beautiful of locations - and I've thrived, in the open air. My preferred training patch is definitely now the hinterland past Betchworth, down towards Gatwich Airport, and then back via Newdigate, and (eventually) Box Hill/Lodgebottom Lane. 

Plane coming in to land, at Gatwick

When the weather is good, there really isn't anywhere else I'd rather be. And the route I take now heads back via the Rusper Road, past Tanhouse farm shop, so I can throw a slice of Chocolate Fudge Cake in my belly. Win-win. 

I've felt a little melancholy today, and I'm not sure why, though. Like I'm missing someone, or something. As if there's a hole in my life. A vacuum. I'll head off to bed, crawl under the sheets, and let my thoughts unwind. that's always a good remedy.

Weird weather

 But, at least it got better! This was at about 10.45, this morning, passing Gatwick Airport. thick fog, with the planes taking off overhead obviously subject to delays - the departures were much wider apart than usual. And, I have to say, the fog in this photo isn't all that bad, either - around twenty minutes previously, passing through Norwood Hill, I could hardly see the road in front of me. 

After Gatwick, it did improve slightly, and by the time I had been through Wimlands, and Friday Street, it was much better. the ride back up the Newdigate Road was glorious: fast, flowing, fun. Plus, I was lucky enough to be able to drop in to Tanhouse, for a pit stop. A wonderfully earthy espresso, plus a slice of Chocolate Fudge Cake that coated the ribs and set me up for the journey home.

It wasn't all plain sailing, mind you - on that return leg, my top gear started slipping. I'm fairly sure it's a stretched chain. I must have put at least 5000km on this one, which is plenty. I've been scrupulous about lubing it, and cleaning it after rides - but I do put in some strain, with all that climbing, and the winter weather will not have helped, at all. So, it's time for some remedial works.

Tomorrow, I'll be back on those roads, but it'll be on the Giant, not the Tarmac.

Today has been about sunshine and samples.

 This was the sample. About 50 seconds in. No prizes, obviously. 

Just jaw-droppingly amazing - and such a powerful moment. Sends chills up the spine. 

And the sunshine?

Well, that was from being back out on the bike, obviously. The weather this morning was just perfect. I was out a little earlier than I would have liked; just before 10am, when I left. The roads were still a little slick, and greasy, but once I had passed Esher, everything opened out, and the Sun filled the sky. 

I headed out past Esher, through Cobham, and up Hatchford Hill. Past Bridge End, through Ripley, then up Hungry Hill, and the full length of Ripley Road. This photo is at the top of the road, just before turning back onto the main road, and heading for home. It was a life-affirming experience, being out in the Sun again. I know, it wasn't exactly warm - but that'll come, too. 

Genuinely terrifying

 There were certain points in this video, where I got the fear, big time. A couple of the corners - I didn't think he was going to make it. At these sorts of speeds, there's not much room for error. Having said that, it does look like it's basically the most exhilarating thing, ever.

Oh, and one more thing, at one point, he's doing 80kmh. That's actually 10km/h slower than my fastest speed, on a road bike. Looking at this video, I'm actually tempted to vow that my days of going very, very fast are over.

Busy Weekend

 It all seems to have completely flown by, that's certain.

A bike ride on Saturday morning, once the fog had lifted, then childcare for the large part of the rest of the day, as Pip was out on a jolly (Brits afterparty, lucky for some)

That meant I had to do the run with Marnie, to her Swim Gala in Maidenhead today - up and down the 25, and the M4, on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Thankfully, the traffic was kind - this makes a huge difference, trust me. 

Being in the car for a protracted amount of time allowed me the luxury of diving deep into some of my recent Spotify obsessions, as well. Chief amongst those is Pale Blue Eyes - beguiling, and cerebral indie-Krautrock. This is chiming heavily with me at the moment: a renewed push to get on the turbo trainer has meant I've been listening to LOADS of Motorik Playlists, and bits of what Pale Blue eyes do, have fitted in, nicely.

Enjoy.

Memories

 Hilton Garden Inn, Oakville

Some memories popped onto my Facebook feed today, making me look back at the world tour that ended late last year. What an incredible time - 35 shows, from November 2023, in Japan, finishing up in Esher, the next November. In between, we visited the USA three times, went to Canada, Australia, played all over the UK... it was possibly the most fun I've had, as a member of the band. It wasn't without its challenges, don't get me wrong: at certain points, the sheer weight of responsibility almost overwhelmed me. I certainly felt that my mental health took a sharp turn for the worse, at a number of times. Learning to balance my life, between times of intense activity, and those periods of rest in between, was hugely difficult. 

But I wouldn't have changed it for the world. I sat and pored over the photos, this evening, and selected just this one, to represent what it was all like, for me. A hotel room, in Toronto. My base for about three days. What felt like an oasis of sanity between some hugely complicated travel days. there's my suitcase, by the door. My laptop bag, on top. the two bags that followed me all over the globe - through airports, in vans, into venues. Pushing that case into hotel rooms, lugging it onto the bed, opening the zip. Letting my life, in packing cubes, bags of dirty laundry and washbags, tumble onto the bedding. There's the generic hotel bathroom, repository for the same old toothbrush, the cologne, and the shaving cream. There's a TV on the wall, but it's never switched on. I've not watched a TV, in a Hotel room, for over a decade: it's my sanctuary, my place of rest - television would be an unwelcome guest. 

I stayed in dozens of rooms like this, for the tour. Different views, from the windows, but much the same sorts of places. All of them welcoming, to me, for a short time: but equally, they would all let me go. 

Life on the road is transitory - in that sense, it's like all of our lives. But the transitory nature of road life has its own magic: a glory in the tiny monotonies that make it all tick.

I love being out on the road - and can't wait to do it all over again.

Wow!

 John McKay, the guitarist for Siouxsie & the Banshees, who left at the start of the tour for "Join Hands", alongside drummer Kenny Morris (causing a massive scandal, at the time) is releasing an album of recordings made shortly after he departed the Banshees. It absolutely sounds like a lost post-punk classic, and is incredibly nostalgic, for me. Hearing something sound like a time capsule of 1978, is a Proustian rush. 

It's been a while

 since I felt confident enough to recommend a new young happening band, to all of you hipsters out there. I mean seriously, who's going to care what an old fart like me thinks?

But, I really do think this lot are fantastic, and have some real spark of genius. Whether that translates into any real sense of greater commercial success is up to you lot, I guess.

From what I can tell, they're a loosely organised art collective (hurrah!) sometimes reaching anywhere up to a dozen people, with shifting roles. they have a full-time tambourine player (YES!), whose primary role seems to be summed up as providing "vibes". Honestly, if that isn't a reason to love them, I don't know what is. 

but who are they? And, what do they sound like? Well, they're Mandrake Handshake, and they sound pretty much like King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizzard listening to Krautrock, while simultaneously skinning up on the sleeve of an old Hawkwind album.

And look - they're great live, too. That'll be the "vibes", I reckon. 

Overwhelming relief.

 I've been rather unfit, of late.

Some of it is my fault - bad diet, laziness, drift.

some of it has just been a sense of mild depression and self-loathing, I suppose. mixed in with a large amount of residual grief, following Dad's death. Even writing that down feels strange, alien, and unsettling. 

But it's left me unable to truly enjoy the one thing that makes life noticeably better: getting onto my bike. It's been compounded by the fact that these last eighteen months have been one of the most successful periods for the band, in over three decades. We literally haven't stopped, and that's meant that my work has ramped up, too. I've been buried in logistics, planning, and music. So, trying to exercise, and ride, has been a frustrating pattern of stop/start. It's been almost impossible to build and maintain fitness, so - as you'd expect, fitness has taken a nosedive. One of the really obvious manifestations of this was my reluctance to get onto the turbo trainer. that had previously been a place where I could just get on, smash my way up a mountain, and marvel at the insane levels of effort. I could see the result, sweat my way into fitness and feeling healthy. 

But when fitness takes a dive, so does your confidence. You don't feel like heading back to those hills, because at the back of your mind is the nagging thought that you won't live up to your previous performances. You'll feel like you're failing. So you don't bother.

But, little by little, I've hopped on the trainer, these last few days, and I'm learning to love it again. I'm nowhere near heading up the Stelvio, or Ventoux, just yet - but today, I managed a PB up Puerto De Tudons. Faster than my last attempt, which was actually four years ago. I'm feeling much more energised. Here's to getting healthy again, and banishing all those other demons, too.

Here's the climb, I'll start the video from Sella, as that's the segment on Strava. It took 40 minutes for me, from there to the summit. Around about 215 watts, for those 40 minutes, which really isn't too bad. 

Onwards and upwards.

Back to Donuts

 Almost a decade ago, I started listening - really listening- to "Bitches Brew", by Miles Davis. I mean listening in a constant sense, not just infrequently. I think there was a period where I played it at least once a day, for a month. And then, at least two or three times a week. It enabled some sort of meditative state, in my mind. Hearing it became calming, for me. I relied on it. 

In the last few years, although it's still in rotation, there's a new pretender to the throne. I must have listened to "Donuts" a thousand times, and it still floors me. To take so much that's already been formed into musical language, then reshape it, into something else entirely? I can't quite comprehend its beauty, sometimes. There's a looseness to it, a fragility that can only come from an analogue heart, beating its way through the digital realm. And the sampling! Oh my word, it's perfect.

In fact, listening to this - a collection of all the samples on the record - is filling me with a melancholy wonder. 

Donuts, I love you.

Sunday morning blogging

It's early.

I'm sitting on the sofa bed, in the front room, wondering when I'll hop on the trainer and get a ride in (the weather looks rotten, for the rest of the day). I have a cat sitting next to me, the house is quiet, and the sun is beginning to peek over the houses outside. It's a lovely, peaceful start to the day - and one which comes as a relief, following on from yesterday. that was Milo's birthday celebrations, so we had a houseful of (just) teenage boys, eating Pizza and being lunatics, for a couple of hours. 

Marnie is off to SSP today, so I may be dragged into town, with a boy and his birthday money, desperate for Lego. Hey, there are worse things. 

Another task for today is to fettle a Spotify playlist for as much Motorik as possible. I've found that it's particularly well suited to indoor cycling - that relentless tension, the beautiful monotony. Spotify has its own suggestions, of course - but, as you'd expect, they're patchy, and algo-driven. Sod that.

I am my own algorithm, and I get to say what I want. 

This popped up today

 And I suddenly realised, it's basically my favourite era, for U2. It's that period between October and War - when they were still finding their feet, but musically, they were a simplistic, post-punk thrash, of a band. 

I mean - this is, fairly transparently, an attempt to sound like Wah! Heat. But it's marvellous. Soon, everything would be Red Rocks, and flags, and bombast. US remixes, filling dancefloors. A move towards the big, brash and obvious. 

But in this transitional period (Fire, Gloria, A Celebration) they were untouchable, to me. And, without getting into complex musical analysis, it's just wonderful to hear a song that's so basic! "A Celebration" feels like it's got about three notes. And it's all the better for it. 

I note, with some interest

That posts on this blog, for the year, are now more than at any other time than 2019. That's hugely comforting, and it gives me a small glow of pride, too. Within a month or two, it could be the most amount of posts since about 2012? 

Hey, blogging is the future, after all.

Web 2.0 posse, let me hear ya.

 

A day of business, some drift, admin and boat thoughts.

 Seriously, how am I still thinking about being on board?

Sunrise on the promenade deck

It's been - what - three weeks? And I'd get back on that ship, in a heartbeat. I loved being amidst the absolute silence of the waves, in the stillness of the early morning, watching the world slide gracefully by.

Hell yes, I'd do it all over again.

Today though, has been a day on dry land. Or, it would have been, had it not been bucketing with rain for most of the time. So, instead of heading out onto the open road, I took a day away from the bike, and used my time to catch up on lots, and lots of admin. 

Some of that involved some Google Meet action, and I'm constantly amazed at how much better than Zoom it is. Over the past six months, I've migrated all of my business over to Google Workspace, and it's been revelatory. The ability to scale up one's dreams and ambitions, backed up with some hugely user-friendly app ecosystems. It's changed the way I do business, but also the way that I think about business.

This is required viewing.

 Seriously, it's one of the most amazing things I've ever seen. Recreating the entirety of The Human League's "Don't You Want Me". I'm not kidding here - every single second of this is pure genius. 

Back outside

 Though it may be the last time for a week or so, looking at the weather to come. But, as ever, nothing acts as a salve for the tortured soul, quite like heading up onto Ranmore Common. I even made it up the hill, in about 7'30", which - given my parlous state of fitness - is nothing short of miraculous. 

I also managed to absolutely hammer it down Staple Lane, in a PB time. Considering I'm on a rim brake bike (so, theoretically, less secure and "safe" feeling than a disc brake bike) again, a bit of a miracle. 

This TCR is making my heart, and my mind sing, at the moment. I'm in love with this damn bike.

A long weekend

 Enjoyable, but rather tiring.

Saturday, was out - -out! - in London, for Andrew's birthday, at a pub in Clerkenwell Green. Going to London feels almost novel, now - after so many years when frankly, I'd have been horrified to have been doing anything else. With the advent of kids, one's social life changes, for sure - and being back in the centre of town filled me with a tangible sense of longing and nostalgia. I loved feeling the pulse of the city streets, the possibility, the romance, the frenzy and the silence. 

Got on to the 10.48 from Victoria, so I was not massively late. A relatively easy journey, if I'm honest. But the night was sufficiently late. to make the following day the more tiring of the two weekend days. 

My family was over for Christmas, basically. Somehow, we'd engineered a situation where Xmas just didn't fit into anyone's schedule, and the jaunt to Mull completely blew a hole in all of the previous plans. So, festivities were postponed until a suitable time. Factor in my little jaunt to the Caribbean, and it meant we got together for a festive bash - in February. Ah well, it was still lovely. And I'd not seen mum for a few weeks, so that reunion was especially lovely. Some hearty soup, cheeses with chilli jam, chocolate cake, presents, laughter, reminiscing. 

Thus, the start to the half-term week has been rather gradual. I've not done a lot today, but feel much better for being rested. I've done a supermarket run, cleaned both dishwashers. Helped Marnie exchange a birthday present, in Epsom, as well as paying Xmas money into her bank account (which she fully expects to spend this week, at Westfield). Milo has a Birthday Party to attend, and I've got a house to tidy. It almost feels like I should be telling you about a day of drift, were it not for all this...stuff, that seems to have filled it up.

Oh my word, I love this bike.

2023 Giant TCR Advanced SL

Managed to get outside today - hurrah! And I also managed to drag this bad boy out of the shed. What a life-affirming ride! there's something so immediate, so responsive and so thrilling about this bike. Partly, that's the weight (it weighs a scarcely believable 6.24 kilos, without pedals), but it's also just the DNA of the frame. It actively wants to go fast, it wants to surge ahead (whether you do, or not!). yes, it's mechanical gearing, yes it's rim brake, yes, it's got exposed cables on the headset. It's a collection of tech which is now sold as being "obsolete", and yet it can hold its own against virtually anything else. My SL6 is a thoroughly modern setup, but this TCR is a match for almost any aspect of the new pretender. it gives a little away for the discs, on sketchy descents, and I'd love to be able to throw some wider rubber on, but apart from that - it's perfect. Riding this today (out past Claygate, back through Oxshott, and Leatherhead) put a giant grin on my face, that's still there, hours later.

Must see if I can do it again tomorrow!

Happy Valentine's Day

To a little flower, somewhere.

 

I'm sitting here listening to "Angels In The Architecture". Ah, 1987. A year when I was blissfully happy, and most of the rest of my life was yet to unfold. But that year still resonates, in terms of the music I loved, and still do. It was a period of my life where everything seemed ti imprint itself on me. Everything left its mark, left traces of its DNA. The choices I made, the directions I took - all of these things still echo across the years. I'm not sure why it was the year that I truly became myself, but it was. I think it could have something to do with so much of my "traditional" narrative arc finally subsiding. I'd done school, childhood, college, and University. I'd tried being in love, having girlfriends. Lots of things I believe I should have done. but 1987 felt like the year when I was finally free to do things just for me.

I was on a path to self-determination, I guess. And let's face it, I've never really stopped, with that, have I?

Up to town

 A quick visit to the City, this morning - financial planning meeting. I love this part of London, always have. It just feels…solid, impermeable. There’s a comfort in the geometric layout of it all, in the sense that it’s all built on older foundations. The ghosts of London past always seem to be calling out, to me.

And I’m now heading home, which means I’m actually blogging on a train, which feels very modern indeed. I’m on the 11.25 out of London Bridge, currently speeding past Forest Hill. My Dad would have loved it. He’d have been pointing out things from the window, and telling me how many other suburban branch lines connect to the line I’m on. 

Time for me to head into Epsom, as well. need to get supplies for the weekend.

Missing that damn ship.

 And I'm not quite sure why.

Well, fairly obviously, I'm missing it because I had the absolute time of my life when I was on it - but it seems to go a little deeper. Do you know how I sometimes post about having days that just drift? Well, being on the Ship is the best place to feel like that. It allowed me to let that feeling run, to immerse myself in inactivity, yet still feel engaged, and thoughtful. I loved that.

This also ties into my opinion of cycling—that I need to feel the world moving around me, that I need momentum. Being on the sea allowed me to zoom out, to look down at myself, to assess my place in the world. 

That's what I miss. 

and yeah - I had a drift day today, so that would certainly explain why this has been uppermost in my mind.

Tomorrow is another day. Financial meeting in the morning, then shopping in Waterloo and plotting food for the weekend, when my Mum's coming over to visit. I may have to bust out a Minestrone. 

February - a month full of birthdays

 So, here's the first. Marnie is fifteen! I'm quite amazed, as to how the years have passed. But not only that, I'm in awe of how much has happened, in that time. It's quite comforting, to close my eyes, and sink back into a sea of memory. From West London to Epsom. From Radio, back to the band. 

I've managed to get back on the bike, for the last four days in a row. Tomorrow, it'll be five. I'm rather hoping that the weather will be dry enough for me to get outside - even if it's only on the winter bike. The trainer is fine, but nothing can compare to being on the road. For me, cycling is about momentum, about movement, about feeling as though I'm somewhere - anywhere - in a wider world. That world is still rather dank and dreary, as I watch it through the widow of this front room. Hopefully, tomorrow will be slightly brighter.

How wonderful to see this again

 I'd forgotten that it even existed! It's obviously a whole load of my old Dailybooth photos, cut together, a second at a time. 

Dailybooth was great - obviously, it presaged other photo-staging sites: without it, no Instagram, that's for sure. So, in the end, it was hugely influential. And, its influence lives on in sites like BeReal (which, similarly, I love) 

Bit of a dull start to the day

 And somewhat miserable, too.

Feeling harangued, and hectored. Doesn't really help me find the joy.

But hey ho. Ever onwards, and all that.

Indoor training setup

So, in situations like this, the remedy is always to get on the bike. Or, at the very least, get on the trainer. It's a poor substitute, but it'll have to do. That's me, somewhere in Zion National Park, in Utah. A long, long way away from a dank morning in Surrey, with the shutters closed, and the world seemingly asleep around me. I've managed to get onto the trainer both days of the weekend, and I'm really hoping I can carry on the streak: some sort of situation where I get an hour in, every single day? That would be fantastic. At least until the weather improves, anyway. Plus, of course, if I manage to get outside, at any stage - that's another two hours. I'm feeling like I need to get back to fitness. 

Lots to do today - Milo swimming, and it's Marnie's birthday tomorrow (where does the time go?) so I'll need to source the usual accoutrements - balloons, cakes, gifts. 

Time to reassess.

 I don't think it's any real secret to say that I've struggled, a lot, recently. With Dad passing away, and the first US tour falling apart - all of it started to get to me.

But then 2024 was a really wonderful year. We did so much and achieved so many goals. Literally every single gig was a triumph., Every single show packed with happy people. But that didn't come without a lot of pressure. I've said before (on this very blog) that I've felt burdened, by the weight of expectation. It's not just my outlook - it's the hopes, dreams and expectations of everyone else. that extend outwards, from the other members of the band to the crowds, everyone in the venues, and everyone in supporting roles, in our orbit. I hate letting people down, so sometimes, that fear translates into a sense of dread about the future. A paralyzing anxiety that nothing will go as people hope it will.

Trying to break that cycle isn't easy. And if you get stuck deep inside, as I did at the end of the world tour, it's challenging to come up for air. There's such a wild swing of emotions, between those happy days on the road, and the stasis which follows. 

So, heading off on the cruise was just what I needed. There was a serenity and a grace to looking out at the ocean; a real feeling of understanding my place. I wasn't expecting that, so it was doubly gratifying, to feel that peace coursing through me. It made me realise how far this journey has taken me, and it made me understand the highs, and the lows, a little bit better.

The view from the Quiet deck - port side, level 5. 

Now I'm home, I'm spending a few days processing all that I went through, and letting those lessons sink deep inside of me. It's just what I needed. 

Another wonderful day

Arriving at Cozumel, at about 6 am

Sunrise over Cozumel

Our lunch spot - Senor Iguanas

Grabbing a drink at the port

 

I'm really getting used to this life, on board. It's like a floating city, which seems fairly obvious - but there is one subtle difference that seems to be where the magic lies. In any normal city, you are surrounded by small levels of chaos: people bumping into you in the street or seeing someone who's angry or confused. Perhaps there's traffic, zooming around, and stepping off a pavement feels threatening. You normally factor all of these little deviations into your daily transit through life - but on a boat, they're not there. There's a unanimity of purpose, with everyone on a ship like this. Everyone is here to do much the same thing as you: have a great time. It's not a simple homogenous levelling of the playing field, there's still a huge range of people and outlooks - but it removes a lot of the stressors, without you even noticing. Life gets easier, more laid-back. 

And today has been a very, very laid-back day. We got here (Cozumel) overnight, and slowly approached the dock, finally mooring at around 6.30 am. The boat spins on its axis to accomplish this - which was amazing to experience. After breakfast, we nipped into the port for a look around, but then left the boat again, just before noon, to hire a Taxi, crossing the Island in its entirety. Lunch was on the East shore, at Señor Iguanas  where we ate wonderful Mexican food, drank cocktails, and laughed until our sides hurt. One of those days.

Back to the port for another drink, and back aboard, to tidy my room, and prepare for dinner. Might go and hang at the Lisa Loeb show tonight, and maybe - just maybe - try and catch up on the sleep I've missed.

Having a moment

 Oh, my word.

I've just been looking out at the world. a pitch black night, a gently roiling sea. Tiny crests of waves, buffeted by warm breezes across the Gulf Of Mexico. Above me, there's these small wispy clouds, and above them - nothing but the inky sky, forever and ever. Tiny little groups of stars, hanging in the sky.

When we first started, as a band, I can remember heading to Spain, on our first-ever foreign trip. I was always so amazed that just a piece of music could lead so many people to be checked onto a plane. To be flown to another country. just for music. Just for a song.

And now, it's thirty-five years after I thought like that. And we're still doing this. And it feels just as powerful - but there's now more resonance. Back then, it was someone else's song. Now, I'm as much responsible as anything, or anyone else. I helped put all of us on this boat. I put myself on this boat. I did all of this. And it blows my mind. 

First gig - done

First show of the Cruise

First Sunrise, from the Helipad

View from my Balcony

Well, that's the first one, done. It was perhaps the one I was most nervous about, as we were all in a strange place, due to exhaustion and Jet Lag. But in situations like these - it tends to go one of two ways: either it kind of overwhelms you, or it forces you to fight back, and the tension leads to this fantastic sense of euphoria. you end up feeling quite bulletproof. Last night's show was definitely in the latter category, but that also comes with a price to pay. You end up with an adrenalin high, which, with a 1am finish, meant that most of us slept rather badly. Just what we need.

But, I was awake in time to see the sunrise, and scooted off to the quiet deck on the port side, to grab some photos. I basically just stood there rather awestruck. It was almost contemplative - one of those times when you feel glad to be alive, and your sense of where you are zooms away from your usual close focus, to this widescreen acceptance of a broader picture. I was slightly lost for words. 

Anyway, breakfast is done, a small nap might be a good idea, and then it's a wine tasting in the afternoon. Life on board looks great, right now. 

 

TIme Zones

 Well, jet lag hit me, like a freight train.

Had a lovely dinner, and finished around 7.15. Decided to try and nap for an hour - passed out almost instantly, and got exactly one hour of deep, jet-lagged sleep. At that point, I just knew I was exhausted, and that to try for any more might be a bad idea. But - I also thought - well, maybe just another five or ten minutes.

Massive mistake. Passed out for yet another hour. This time, the jet lag sleep was even deeper, even more like a fever dream. Woke up almost exactly sixty minutes later, now feeling like I was tripping. 

On top of that, despite this laptop, and my watch telling me the correct time (we're on at 11pm), my phone had somehow transferred to another timezone and was now telling me the gig was in three minutes. As I was still in a strange, tripped-out state, It was tough trying to reconcile the fact that my watch was telling me one thing, and my phone another.

But - it is just an hour to go. Damn, that wasn't much fun. I'll now attempt to drag myself into the land of the living and do a gig. 

I'm on a boat!

The Central Atrium

 Standing on the helipad, at the bow of the ship

Well, it's been a pretty insane 24 hours, as it always is, at the start of a tour. And, using the word "tour" feels kind of odd, as we're essentially in the same place, for the next five days. Two gigs, a wine-tasting and an interview session. That's our workload. But getting here was a pretty long day. Up at 5am, then packing the case. Into a cab at 11am, from Epsom, and off to Heathrow. Then, after a really painless check-in, into the lounge to work on schedules for the release of tickets for the EMF/JJ shows in October. 

From there - onto the plane. And here's where it gets very cool: it was actually pretty empty. That just doesn't happen anymore, at all. With the advent of online ticketing, and multiple systems crawling the net to allocate tickets, most airlines can predict passenger loads, adjust schedules, and provide just the right amount of planes, with just the right amount of seats. The end result: most planes these days are packed - especially in economy. Because if there were spare seats, they'd be aggressively sold, until capacity is reached.

but somehow, this Virgin plane was lovely and empty. I've not seen wide open spaces like that, for at least 20 years.

Stretch out and sit where you want! 

But, it was a long flight - ten hours, down to Tampa - with a noticeable headwind for large parts of the journey. It's one of those flights where the engines are fighting waves of wind - they sound like they're constantly spooling up, then almost being switched off, which is somewhat disconcerting. But, it was fine. We got to Tampa around 8pm, local time, hotel by around 9.30pm. Then, to a bar called The Bricks to celebrate Alan's birthday. From there, I went back to bed, to try and pass out. Only a partial success - I was awake at about 3.30 am, but grabbed another hour or so, in fitful napping. Checkout at 9am, off to the Harbour, to check in, for the Cruise. We were ushered into a lounge, for a private function - essentially welcoming all of the "talent" (always makes me laugh) and giving us instructions for the next few days. Then, time to check the guitars on the hire pull list, visit tonight's venue, and try and powernap before soundcheck. that's in around half an hour's time. Then? Get some food, get some sleep, and we're not on until 11pm. So it's a late one. I suspect that jet lag will hit us pretty hard, at some point. Not much we can do about it, so we'll just have to make the most of things. 

Oh, and this boat hasn't even moved yet - we're still docked. If I post tomorrow, I'll try and get some shots of the open seas. Honestly, this is one of the oddest things I've ever done, but at the same time, it's quite thrilling.

I'm off tomorrow

 So you can expect postings on the blog to be somewhat interrupted, I think. I have no idea what the internet policy or cost is, on the boat - but I'm guessing it'll be quite steep.

*Sigh*

but I'll try not to let it stop me. I've become rather accustomed to this little blog, again. Wouldn't like to be seen to be neglecting it, oh no. 

Today then, is the last day before I head off across the globe, and I'm currently avoiding anything that looks like comprehensive packing an organisation. Instead, I'm blogging, and learning about Be-Bop Deluxe.

Never you change, Iain. 

Time for some sleep - then, early breakfast, pack that case. Check, check again, and recheck all of the band stuff. Jump in a cab at 11. Off to Terminal 3, we leave around 3pm. More tomorrow, If (and only if) I can drag my sorry behind into a lounge)

A little more organisation

On the software, for the next two shows.

I run NI Kontakt, and there have been a few minor issues since upgrading recently. Today, it was all about trying to merge instruments (or, .nki files) into a collection of different instruments, grouped together (basically, a set, for the band - this is known as a multi, or a .nkm)

The program wouldn't merge anything together and even kept shutting down. Turns out that the "merge when loading" option had been automatically deselected by the upgrade - I literally would never thought of checking. Anyway, one small tick in the box, and I'm all sorted. Phew!

 And, as I prepare to set sail on the seven seas (or, whatever) this photo is bringing me a lot of joy, and a small wrenching of the heart, too. That's Marnie, helping Milo with his homework. Amazing stuff, I wouldn't have believed it, had I not seen it with my own eyes.

I've been through the set and got the shopping done. I need to get a few things done before I'm away - getting clothes sorted is top of the list - and I need to book a cab.

But today, my work here is done. Time to think about the kid's tea.