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?