Self-portrait, of the artist as an older man.

 I thought it best to update the blog, by updating you on what I'm like, after a two-year hiatus. The answer? A lot fitter. A lot skinnier. Seriously, I'm a twenty-eight-inch waist, for God's sake. I don't think my waist looked like that when I was eighteen. The reason behind all this should be clear from the photo: I've been cycling. Constantly.

it started as a way to deal with lockdown, and regain the freedom of movement that I felt I'd lost, but it ended up being an obsession. I'm intensely relaxed about that, though. It's lovely to hyperfocus on something again. It's very similar to the way I approached skating when I was a kid - I wanted to get inside it, and learn what it felt like. It was about emotion and purpose, about philosophy, as much as it was about frontside grinds. It was about understanding location, context and the space around me (and inside my head). I went on a journey around the local streets, but in the words of XTC, became a man who sailed around his soul.

 The Sun rises on the blog, once more. Social media is becoming a swamp, and I've fancied some anti-social media - and these days, that's blogging. It's solitary, contemplative, and it feels like no one really bothers to do it much - an immense shame. So, with this shot of an Ashtead sunrise, I hereby pledge to try and "give it a go", one more time. 

Westway has been such a huge part of my online life, and it's been there at times of need. So, I'm going to try and rely on it again.

More thinking

While in the New Forest, for a family holiday. I thought of time running in both directions, again. How my self - now, could affect my self, then. I actually rolled it around in my head, until it took shape. The shape of something I half-remembered, from my childhood. A memory that bubbles up, every once in a while. It all feels quite...cinematic. A widescreen look at a narrow feeling.
I can recall standing in a field, by the entrance to Dauntsey's school - as the path to the school winds past fields and stream. I stood by the bank of that stream, looking at a viaduct, and the trains that passed to the east. Heading up to London. I can hear myself saying "take me with you", under my breath. I can still feel that back then, life was passing me by - now, has it still? Or do I want it that way?
I'm not sure.

I always thought stories had an end. Now, I think they never end.

What's a day in the holidays actually like?

Today felt very...standard. Archetypal. Some dozing (twenty minutes!), some baking (Marnie wanted to make cupcakes - again) some work (ROCCR stuff, as well as a bulletin for tomorrow) and some lunch (hummus, peppers, yoghurt)
So, I was grateful that I started off the day, on my bike. A quick loop around Epsom common, then around Horton Park, and then Ashtead common as well. With the sun rising over the trees, and no-one else on the trails, at all. With the smell of leaves, and soil, and Buddleia, and brambles. I think a fairly decent word for all of the assault on my senses would be "fecund".
Would like to do it again tomorrow, but I suspect that the weather may thwart my plans.

I went out on my bike today.

And it made me feel like a kid again. Everyone says that, I'm sure. "Oh, I felt like a child, it was wonderful". But this was something else. I mean, I really did feel young. Like I'd regressed. Like I could see, somehow, How I was. I could feel the same way. And oddly, time seemed to be flowing both ways. As fast as I was heading towards old age and death, I was running as hard as I could, in the opposite direction. To be who I was, and to feel what I feel. All of it was there, every instant. How odd is that? All from a bike ride.

Needed a quick break.

Every now and again, you have to do it.
My year is starting to turn around, gradually. The two big foreign JJ jaunts - which were huge sources of stress - are now over. There's another tour in the Autumn - but that's 3 months away. For now, I can relax a little, and focus on the Kids, and ROCCR.
But, I'm also looking at my life, more than I used to. One of the benefits of sobriety seems to be the sense of living, absolutely, in the moment. I feel like I've got my memory, and my memories back, and they swirl around my head, constantly. I can feel, smell, taste, the things I di - ten, twenty, thirty years ago. It can be a little bewildering, but at the same time, it's filling me with a pure sense of wonder.

Sitting on the bed

Listening to the kids having a story read to them. It's been quite a quiet bedtime tonight-  which is a blessed relief. Milo can certainly be....challenging, at times like this, so peace and tranquillity is something to revel in.
It's been a drifting day if I'm honest, but I did manage to get out to the gym and swim. I'm going to do my best to exercise as much as possible, this week. It's been tricky, over the past few weeks, and I'm feeling it. Haven't put any weight on, but I feel out of condition. I need more energy and drive.
and today has been soundtracked by Miles, as so much of my time is. 1958 Miles, to be exact. I'd love to know if there's a mono CD of it - that would be amazing. Must dive down a Google rabbit hole.

And this seems strangely fitting

Well, perhaps not so strange. There are times when it's just me, on this journey. Even if it means it's just me, thinking about everyone else. That's a vital part of togetherness - the solitude that engenders complete understanding of who you are. Then, you can work out how to do that dance, around all the people you love, and let them into your world, as you fall into theirs.

Breakfast again.

I feel slightly lethargic today. I guess that it has something to do with not exercising for a while - I've just been too busy. Need to get out there and do it, really. It's a Monday, so it's a perfect time - the cleaner is busy in the house, so lazing around here isn't any fun, and to underscore that, the builder will be here doing the bathroom. It's a soggy, drizzly morning, so it seems like a good idea to get out and hit the gym. Could swim? In the rain? That's always a cathartic thing. As ever, my exercise is more about a state of mind, than a state of the body.
A great weekend (well, for me) as I managed to go and do some DJ-ing. It always chills me out and makes me think. I have a million ideas flying around - and I need to rationalise as many of them as is possible.

Sunday Morning

Suffused with a strange mix of melancholy, and contentment. Like  I'm being pulled in a couple of different directions. IT's early, and I'm having breakfast on my own - as is so often the case. Noodles, coconut milk, green tea. A glass of cranberry juice, my multivitamins. Everything is quiet, it's just me, and the birdsong. At times like this, time seems to slow to a crawl. I'm looking around the house - it really needs a tidy - that's my first job, once I've drunk my tea.

It's nice to be busy

But then again, sometimes, you can be a bit too busy.
this week has ended on a rather high note though - with a business meeting that sees me wander off into an area I've not really inhabited before. I'm running with some ideas that have been bubbling up to the surface, ever since the demise of Pledge Music. Essentially, it's very, big news, indeed. I'm excited, let's put it like that.
But all of that is just the start of a journey that can twist and turn, and whose destination is still somewhat obscure. I'll be updating you all, as and when.
Apart from that, it's been a week of some chaos, as the process of replacing two of our bathrooms has begun. Mess, noise, and the sense that your house isn't your own: I don't love renovations, I must say.
I've managed to escape, on a couple of occasions, but utilising the gravel bike. It's a Pinnacle Arkose Two, and it's huge fun. 27" wheels, drop bars, ten speed. It's really nippy, around the paths on Ashtead Common - it absolutely shoots up the hills. A little bumpy over the top, but you can't have it all. I do think I need some dedicated clothing though - road gear just isn't cutting it.

Apologies

For the few days that I've not posted: as ever, the Jones stuff got in the way.
We played in Manchester last weekend, at the Academy, for Gigantic. A day of worries over traffic, issues with technology, and changeovers that aren't quite long enough. But, it was one of those occasions where it doesn't matter - at all. We played an absolute blinder. At one point (in the middle of "IBYT", I think) I was overcome by an absolute wave of adrenaline, and confidence. I felt absolutely bulletproof. There was a sense of....mania, perhaps. I almost laughed, with the sheer power of it.
So, a wonderful gig.
And we stayed in West Didsbury - not one of the areas I particularly know, in Manchester, but as luck would have it, it's right next to the Southern Cemetry. One of the largest in Europe, it's a really bucolic, and meditative location - and on a Sunday morning, when I needed to get my head straight, it was perfect to just stroll around. I could feel all of my thoughts and plans, rationalising, and falling into place. It was - in a sense - the counterpoint to the mania of the night before  - but held a similar sense of amazement for me: I walked into the hotel again, feeling that I'd had some sort of Epiphany. I thought about my life, wife and children. About my hopes, and dreams. About my mortality, and my will, my strength, and my failings.
Above all, I thought about the past. There's a line in "The Devil You Know" where Mike refers to the "ghost of the past". It's always rankled me, somewhat - and it took that Cemetery walk for me to understand why. The past isn't a ghost at all - it's very much alive, for me. I don't want to live in it, or live it - but the lessons it taught me are what makes me me. the past walks by my side, as I step into the future, it holds my hand, shows me the way, silently. Everything I ever did, and everything I will do - these two strands, joined together.

I watered the lawn today

That sounds like an innuendo, doesn't it? It's not, really. But I spent a hugely pleasurable half hour, just me, and a garden hose, standing there watering the lawn. I couldn't quite believe something could be quite so calming. Very Zen. Really, I need things like this, at the moment. This year has been....frenzied, I suppose. It's been a non-stop battle with logistics, and personal life, and family. I've felt torn between all of these things, and it's left me quite down. So it's nice to zone out, every once in a while.
Time to forget, and drift, and enjoy life, has been in short supply. I think that's why the Sao Paulo trip ended up being such an absolute pleasure. It was a chance to just be me, in a hotel room, with no knock at the door, no phone ringing. Yes, there was a gig to organise - but we had a chaperone, ad most of the plans were in place. I could just get - mindful, for want of a better word. Free to take in every tiny detail, to enjoy it all, to remember it all. Even now, I can recall what it felt like to sleep in that room, the look of the city outside my window, the taste of the food. I can feel the warmth of the sun as I walked to Faria Lima station. I can feel the pavement beneath my feet, and the clouds above my head.
Every now and again - that's what you need. TO not just live life, but to connect to the process of living.

The cattle are back

They're grazing on the common again. Back for the summer months, on the high and low meadows, and Horton meadow, too.
It all makes me rather happy, if I'm honest. It's that thing about the passing of the seasons, tied up with a bit of renewal. I can remember them leaving, as the autumn was closing in - and I've spent much of the ensuing time, walking the common, tramping over the fields, the paths. I've seen the landscape change, shrink, and die back, over winter. Then, to emerge, the other side, in spring.
It all feels like a privilege, to see the process, and to feel like I'm a small part of it - even if it's just as a bystander.
Getting the cattle back is all part of it. Bring it on, I say.

Back home again

Tomorrow, lots of stuff to do. Top of the list - finish the D160 form, for the US gigs.
Some shopping, some admin.
Today was more BFLF, as me and Dylan played Fabric, which was - frankly - amazing. Would have loved to have done a proper, LOUD set, in there.
Plus, a beautiful day to travel to and from town. There was a moment, standing on the platform at Vauxhall, when the Portsmouth train hurtled through, the sun came out, and the buildings towered over me with this wondrous, friendly embrace. I felt genuinely happy, and content.